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minervacasterly · 4 years ago

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Eleanor, by the Grace of God, Queen of the English, Duchess of the Normans & Duchess of the Aquitanians and Countess of the Angevins

“… the young heiress was fair enough to content any king … “Charming,” “welcoming” and “lively” (avenante, vailante, courtoise) are the words used by the chroniclers to portray her … Her education had not of course furnished her with the orderly intellectual baggage fit for an abbess. Though doubtless, like all the heirs of her race, she had her tutors, her real school had been a varied experience …” (Amy Ruth Kelly, Eleanor of Aquitaine and the Four Kings)

The END OF THE EAGLETS’ REBELLION AND ELEANOR’S CAPTIVITY:

“Henry had no need of trumpets to tell him that sedition in Poitou had not been quenched by the imprisonment of Eleanor. He had suppressed the rebellion that had threatened the Angevin empire with a success so signal that it was popularly attributed to the miraculous intervention of Saint Thomas. But to the prescient Angevin the conclusion had less the character of finale than of omnious prelude. The whole uprising had revealed, not only to him, but to his enemies, the extent of a many-sided discontent that needed only coherence to be overwhelming. The queen, though in his hands, remained the object of intrigue, the inspiration of her rival foot-loose sons and of the turbulent fortune seekers who found their profit in war and rapine. The king turned over in his mind the problem of what to do with his captive … To divorce her might be tempting; the grounds were excellent –treason and two more degrees of consanguinity than had been sufficient in Louis’s case- but he could not set her free in her own estates to make some new alliance of her own. Capable as he was of reading the lessons of history, he had no mind to repeat Louis’s fatal blunder. He needed legates to suggest to him how scrupulous the King of France would be in the interest of his vassal, if once she were at liberty. To keep her in custody (forever?) might hinder new intrigues … In the court there remained alone of the famous coterie of the Plantagenets the Capetian princess Alais. In 1176 she was sixteen. No fault was found with her person. She was comely, gifted, nobly dowered, and she too had been polished for her role in the school of Marie of Champagne [Louis VII’s third wife]. Why was the Frankish princess alone of all that noble company of dames choises left unwed in the palaces of the Plantagenet king? Why had other marriages been proposed for the Count of Poitou? The world made these inquiries and the Capets pressed them home. In 1177, in extreme agitation, Louis appealed to Rome to enforce the marriage of Alais to the Count of Poitou [Richard] on pain of interdict on all the lands of Henry Fitz-Empress on both sides of the channel … Giraldus relates that Henry, confident of his prospect of getting rid of the queen through his appeal to the Pope, intended to take the Capetian princess for himself, disinherit the fierce eaglets of Poitou as the bastard of a consanguineous marriage, and rear a new progeny to possess the Angevin empire. Giraldus, never more piously enthusiastic than when exposing Henry’s vices, declares that after his separation from the queen, the king turned openly to the evil courses he had long secretly pursued. Briefly he flaunted the beautiful Clifford, and when she had vanished from the scene, he made a mistress of his precious hostage, the daughter of his overlord, the bride affianced to his son. Did the Angevin mean to erase from his life story the chapter of his union with the disastrous Poitevin and go back to his earlier plan for a primary alliance with his overlord? It was recalled that before he had sold his birthright for Poitou and Aquitaine, he had sought a marriage with Louis’s eldest daughter, the Countess of Champagne …” (Kelly, Eleanor of Aquitaine and the Four Kings)

Henry II of England’s relationship and ultimate goal with Alice of France is still being debated. Whether or not he intended to divorce his wife (a woman who had given him plenty of sons) and who in spite of their rebellion, were of a fighting age to defend their respective dominions and perpetuate the new Plantagenet dynasty, is immaterial. Louis VII of France was against the match and so were most of the clergy. Following the death of their eldest son, the young King Henry; Eleanor and Henry II seemed to reach a peace of sorts.When Henry died, he was mourned by his subjects. Whatever his personal flaws, he had governed the country well and restored order to the anarchy caused by the civil war that erupted as a result of his cousin Stephen being chosen over his grandfather’s chosen heir, Henry II’s mother, Matilda. In spite of this, he left a strong inheritance to his surviving male heirs, among them his wife’s favorite, Richard who became the new King of England

“… he had left his inedible stamp on all of France and the British Isles. Until his last years he had mastered every king, duke, and count who had tested him. He was perhaps the most famous man in Christendom. And his fame burned across the ages to follow. For Henry II, king of England, duke of Normandy and Aquitaine, count of Anjou, Maine, and Touraine, and lord of Ireland, had begun a dynasty that shaped the future of Europe for more than two centuries.” (Dan Jones, The Plantagenet Warrior Kings and Queens who made England)

Despite their quarrels, Eleanor was well aware of the big shoes her favorite son would have to fill. And more importantly whom he’d choose to look after England when he went seeking glory in the Holy land and elsewhere.

“Richard processed to Westminster behind ranks of bishops and abbots, barons, knights, and the solemn officers of England ... Perhaps the proudest of them all was Eleanor of Aquitaine. To see Richard crowned king of England represented the apogee of his mother’s ambition, fulfilling as it did a famous prophecy of Merlin: “The eagle of the broken covenant will rejoice in [her] third nesting.” Immediately on Henry’s death, her beloved son had released her form captivity and restored the lands and revenues that had been taken from her as punishment for the rebellion of 1173; even before he had arrived in England, Richard had sent a command that his mother, now aged sixty-six, should occupy a preeminent place in English government. She had spent the weeks preceding the coronation traveling around the country, holding court, and extracting oaths of allegiance from the great and good of the realm …” (Jones, The Plantagenet Warrior Kings and Queens who made England)

When Richard I of England died, a part of Eleanor died. But she remained resilient as ever, doing what had to be done to safeguard the new king of England (her youngest son, John “Lackland”) throne. As a result, John came to her aid when she was about to be captured by her grandson, Arthur of Brittany, son of her late second son, Geoffrey. Since war had broken out between Philip II of France and John I of England, the former believed he could gain the upper hand by showing his first ace under his sleeve in the form of Eleanor’s grandson. The teen (arguably) had a better claim than his uncle. John was the youngest of the eaglets, Henry II and Eleanor of Aquitaine’s brood while Arthur was the son of their second son. Angered by Eleanor’s decision to support his uncle, Arthur pushed back by laying siege to the Castle of Mirebeau, where she was staying, in Aquitaine (modern day Western France).

Eleanor had been through all sorts of adventures and survived all kinds of treacherous plots and court intrigues. Her determination, wit, ambition as well as her struggle to preserve the courts of love and other knightly romantic culture through her granddaughter Blanche of Castile, are a testament to the incredible woman that she was. After that foiled attempt though, Eleanor opted for a rest that was long overdue. Like many aristocratic women of the medieval world, she took the veil and became a nun. She died three years later in 1204 and was entombed Fontevrault Abbey in the county of Anjou next to Henry II.

#history #middle ages #eleanor of aquitaine

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fortheloveoffanfic · 4 years ago

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Put Me In a Movie

Keanu Reeves x reader (A/n- And we’ve reached the end of this fic that apparently took on a mind of its on.)

Summary Prologue 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16

Warnings- Angst, kind of

Chapter 17- Movie Endings

Two dresses were laid out on the bed, both gorgeous, and just her style. One was simple and black, with a clean cut "v" neck with a fitted skirt, the hem falling above her knees and a bow adding detail to the low back. All in all, it was nice; a style anyone might be comfortable in, It was elegant and clearly the safe choice. But the other, that one was a bit racy, the kind that Grace, her stylist, had been nudging her towards. The champagne colored fabric sported an angled hem, and her legs would definitely be on generous display. The neckline was dangerously low and the whipsy fringe adoring the lower half of the garment was either going to be a hit or a miss with the fashion gurus. It wasn't exactly the safest option, both mechanically or when considering her new found reputation in the fashion world, but it was stunning.

Grace had left the final decision up to Y/n, and the team had prepared shoes and accessories for both. So, there she stood, in the bedroom of the hotel suite in London, just a handful of hours away from the world premiere of the movie that would be her introduction to silver screen. And Y/n didn't even want to go.

She should have been excited, part of her wanted to be, but it was proving to be a trying task because as hard as she tried not too, all Y/n could think of was how hard it would be to face Keanu again. She couldn't avoid him that time, pretend she didn't see him or cling to someone else and act like she was okay. That night, they'd have to walk the carpet together, take pictures with broad smiles and pretend they were on good terms. But they weren't, and it was eating her up on the inside.

With a heavy sigh, Y/n plopped into an accent chair near the window, unable to help it when her thoughts inevitably strayed to worrisome ones of Keanu. Was he okay with seeing her? Would he ignore like he had at the restaurant? Or would he try to save face and act as if they were friends. Thankfully, Jackson had dropped the whole, selling them as a couple tactic after her publicist had worked in over time to get him to change his mind, eventually convincing him that it would be all too cliche for the stars to get together.

Part of Y/n was grateful that she wouldn't have to suck up her feelings and ignore the obvious. But some of her was disappointed too, because, even though they'd split, and she'd kicked Keanu out of her apartment after he tried to apologize, Y/n still missed him. She still loved him. Above anyone else, all she wanted was him. Maybe if they'd gone along with Jackson's plan, she could have been forced to put aside her pride and let him back in.

But alas, nothing of the such happened and Y/n wouldn't begin to know how to patch things up if she ever went back to Keanu. Hell, she didn't even know if patching was possible; they made a mess, left each other with ruins of what could have been a great romance. He'd broken her down to someone who was scared, now more than ever, to love again, while Y/n had pushed Keanu into uncharted territory which he wasn't ready for.

And still, she loved him.

She would always love him. Even with the bitterness that lingered in her throat when she thought of everything they'd been through. Even when she reminisced on all the terrible things he'd done. Even when all she could think of was how much she wanted to hate him, all Y/n could do was love Keanu. Love him till it hurt, love him till her heart became caught in a cycle of shattering and repairing itself, love him until that was all that made sense about what they used to be.

Maybe she'd always loved him, for the very beginning, before it all started with one kiss in her hotel room in Chicago. Maybe that was why she'd fought so hard.

Tears pricked at her eyes, and while Y/n knew that she'd have to go out into the main room in a bit, to let the team help her get ready, she let herself sink into emotion for a while. The tears falling freely, though silently, and her chest tight, with a burning ache in the center.

A knock on the bedroom door had Y/n jumping up from the comfort of her seat, grabbing a tissue on her way to the door. "Yeah?" It was her assistant, a red haired girl who was just about her age.

"Um," she shuffled her feet, avoiding Y/n's gaze, "Walter," her manager, "Needs to see you. He's waiting, out on the balcony, down the end of the hall." And just like that, without even waiting for Y/n to respond, she was scuttling away nervously, not even sparing a backwards glance. It was certainly suspicious behavior for her too, usually her assistant was one of those energetic spirits, employing the kind of optimism that Y/n wish she still had. That evening though, she seemed nervous, like something was wrong.

As the troubled feeling settled in the pit of her stomach, Y/n tightened the knot on her black, floral dressing robe, shoved her feet into the nearest pair of fluffy flip flops, she marched out of the room with purpose, not caring if she was sparsely dressed beneath the silk cocoon. Grabbing nothing more than her phone, she slipped out of the suite, evading questions of Grace and the rest of her team, all more than ready to finish prepping her for the premiere.

As she hurried down the hall, headed towards the open veranda doors, nearly stumbling on a kink in the carpet on her way. "Walter-" Gasping, Y/n cut herself off when she saw who was turning to face her, the only thing missing from his outfit being his suit coat, his shirt well fitted and tight around his biceps. "You," she stuttered accusingly, clumsily staggering backwards, “You’re the one that wanted to meet here, aren’t you?”

“I didn’t want to ask you assistant to lie,” Keanu released his grasp on the cool metal railing, fully tuning to face Y/n, though not yet making any move to approach her, “But I knew you wouldn’t come if I’d asked,” he moistened his lips, “And honestly? I don’t blame you.”

Taking a minute to absorb his presence, Y/n breathed slowly, letting her eyes settle on him. He looked so different, and just the same, all at once. He’d trimmed his beard and hair since the last time she’d spotted him at the restaurant, and Y/n suspected that his impeccable grooming had more to do with the red carpet they were set to walk than his own volition and he looked just as dashing as he usually did, though, there was a sadness in his expression and a slight hollowness around his eyes, as if he hadn’t been sleeping well. “What do you want?” It took a couple minutes to rediscover her courage, but from the minute she did, Y/n had decided that unlike the last time, she’d listen to what he had to say. She was just so tired of fighting.

Keanu’s eyes followed Y/n as she finally passed through the threshold, leaving some space between them, leaning her hip against the guard rail and folding her arms. “I want…….” to fix this, make you love me again, erase every terrible thing I’ve ever done to you. Words were hard to come by, and nervously, Keanu managed, “You, Y/n. I want you.”

Tears pricked at her eyes, and Y/n sniffled quietly, her throat burning as she spoke, “Keanu…..I,” scoffing, she tucked some hair behind her ear, swallowing thickly, “I’m not going back to living like that with you, and-”

“No,” he cut her off, not for a second wanting her to think that he wasn’t putting his all into shaping up for her, “I’m not asking you to. I want to be the man you deserve, and you deserve someone who’s brave and can tell you exactly how he feels. And I know right now that man seems like Luke, and I hate that I’m here asking you to leave the man that makes you happy for one that broke your heart way too many times,” reaching out, Keanu took one of her hands in both of his, his breath hitching hopefully when she didn’t pull away, “But I am, because I want to change, for you.”

“I don’t want you to change,” Y/n’s broke pitifully, and a lone tear trickled down her cheek, “I never wanted you to change, I just wanted you to let me in, so I could love you for who you already are, so we could love each other,” placing her hand on top of his, Y/n sobbed quietly, “Keanu I’m so tired of trying to be mad at you. Its so hard.” Her shoulders slumped and her hung her head, and not long after, she felt the top of Keanu’s head pressing against hers, their hands jumbled between them.

“I’m tired of living without you,” he sighed, as they both sunk into the familiarity of being close, “I’m so sorry that I hurt you.”

“I’m sorry that I pushed you,” she sniffed, breathing his scent; musky cologne, cigarettes and leather. Y/n didn’t think she’d ever missed a smell that much. “I should have waited till you were ready, not forced your hand.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Keanu stepped closer and Y/n did too, “You gave me so many chances, I never deserved them, or you, not when I was acting like that.”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you,” Y/n weaned her hands from Keanu’s cupping his face, letting her thumb graze the apple of his cheek, catching his tear before it fell, standing on her tiptoes, “You deserve every good thing that’s come to you, you’re a good man Keanu. Behind every wall you put up, beneath every nasty thing you’ve said, I know that you’re good in here,” Y/n placed her hand over his chest, feeling his steady heartbeat against her palm.

It barely took a minute of her touch for him to remember what it was liked to be loved by her, how whole he felt, like if all else faded away, what they had would be all that mattered. Why hadn’t he let himself feel it sooner? Resting his hand over hers on his chest, Keanu bent his head so his lips would graze Y/n’s. “Do you still love me?” Their noses were touching and he ended his inquisition with another brief kiss, using all his restraint to not crash his lips to hers. To say he missed her would be an understatement. He craved Y/n, every part of her; the parts that were so undeniably perfect and the parts that she hid deep within, her touch, her taste, her smell, her voice. Her everything.

“I will always love you,” she whispered, the palm on his face sliding to the back of his head, tangling in Keanu’s neat hair, neither of them caring if she messed it up, “I never stopped. But I told you, I’m not going back to the way things were before.”

“And I told you, I’m not asking you to,” he kissed her, deeper that time, arms winding around her waist, holding her flush against his chest, “I want it all with you. If you’ll have me,” he swallowed nervously, rearing back a bit to search her eyes.

Caressing the back of his neck, Y/n knew she couldn’t deny him, it was inevitable. Everything that had happened form the moment they’d met had led up to them, standing on the balcony as London’s late afternoon turned to dusk; the sun setting, the sky darkening and their affections reigniting, “I wouldn’t rather have anyone else,” lost in his trance, Y/n knew that every word said between them that day was nothing less than the truth. Everything felt different; renewed and realer, he was hers and she was his, truly and completely and for as long as they’d make it last. And they had every intention of making it last for the rest of their forever.

“What about Luke?” Just remembering that Y/n had gotten back with him, Keanu didn’t want to cause any more destruction than he already had.

“We broke up, for good this time,” Y/n shrugged, “I couldn’t do it anymore, force myself to feel something for him when all I wanted was to be with you,” she clung to Keanu, their embrace consuming and healing at the same time, “Tell me this is gonna last.”

“It’s gonna last,” he confirmed, “For as long as I’m alive, it’s gonna last. And even after that, it’ll last, I promise. In fact,” he paused, nervous as hell for some reason, wondering if he was expecting too much too soon after their reconciliation, “I was thinking, if you want, we could walk together tonight. As a couple.”

“Are you sure?” Y/n knitted her brows, knowing that going public was a big step for Keanu. It meant that they were solid, exclusive, committed. A couple with a future, who wanted the world to know that they were only for each other. “I don’t want you to feel pressured just because you want us to work out. We can take it slow.”

Shaking his head, Keanu rubbed her back affectionately, and Y/n burrowed against his chest, “I’m not doing it because of pressure, I’m doing it because I want to, for us. I want the world to know that its sweetest, most beautiful woman chose me. So, what do you say, be my exclusive girlfriend Y/n?”

Beaming, Y/n tilted her head to look up at Keanu, his smile hopeful, “I’d love to Keanu. I love you.”

“I love you too,” he smiled wistfully and and when he leaned down to kiss her, one last time, just before he’d walk her back to her room to finish getting ready, Keanu reminisced on Ester’s advice back at the hotel, maybe it wasn’t a movie, but they could still have their happy ending.

******

Tagging- @harrisongslimited @paanchu786 @thesadvampire @fanficsrusz @fickensteinn @ladyreapermc @babygirltaina @septimaseverina @snatchedbylele @omg-imagine @21stcenturyyfoxx @magnificentclodpiebanana @allie1804-fan @keandrews @greenmanalishi @rdjloverxxx @danceoftwowolves

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join-the-joywrite · 4 years ago

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Hamish & Vera soulmate au headcannons

Part three of the first words au suggested by my girl, Sima, as anonymously demanded in an ask politely requested in the notes sjsjjs.

Will I cry? Maybe. Will YOU cry? Hopefully Probably. They'll be happy tears tho. I think. I hope.

(Wtf does Hamish even study, guys) Hamish always feels like there's something missing. The apartment doesn't feel like home. It feels strange and alien. He doesn't know what he's missing. Or maybe it's a who? Late in the night, Hamish will check his wrist and he'll wonder when he'll hear the words. He wonders what sort of situation they're going to be in. The days feel monotonous and like they drag on for years. Something is missing.

Vera doesn't go home for anything other than sleep. The past few years, drifting away from Hamish, wasn't so bad. She still went home, albeit very late, and she still didn't have much of a problem delaying leaving. It felt nice to be at home and remember the days when she had enough free time to lounge around with Hamis. Now, going home brought guilt with it. Everywhere she looked, he was there and she couldn't face knowing she had done it to him. Part of her hoped he'd never get hid memories back. She hoped she could live with Hamish having no idea who she was, but she knew she could never live with Hamish hating her. Vera often sits alone in the reliquary, staring at her wrist. Remembering the day she watched the words write themselves. For weeks, Vera didn't look at her wrist because she knew soulmates changed and she knew that Hamish might find someone else without all his memories. She sits behind the desk and fiddles with a ring handing from a chain around her neck.

The day Hamish gets his memory back, he doesn't know what to feel. Jack is very vocal about how pissed he is at Vera and Alyssa, more than the Order as a whole. Lilith just shrugs it off. She never expected anything different from them.

Randall waits until Jack and Lilith have left the den, probably to hunt down their knives that they'd both had at one point. "Hamish --"

"Don't, Randall."

"We don't know if she really wanted--"

"She's the Grand Magus. She holds the highest authority. Don't make excuses for her."

Randall leaves quietly. He knows how stubborn Hamish can get.

"We're going to make them pay," Jack tells the knights after they've been inducted. "All of them."

Hamish glances back to see Alyssa walk by. Yes, he thinks of Vera, all of them.

They need the necklace. They need to get a copy of it.

"Let me," Jack says, "I'll--" "No, I'll do it."

Randall is rightfully Concerned™. "Dude, are you sure? It could get--" "Ugly? Painful? For her, I certainly hope so."

Lilith, as Hamish leaves: So, um, is now a good time to ask about what happened during the ambush last year or . . .

Randall: you know what, I think you should talk to Hamish about this one......

I am a strong woman, Vera thinks to herself when Hamish walks in with a drink. I will not break, I will not break, I will not break.

Ultimately, she gives in anyway a few days later. Not to say that she's blameless. Hamish, despite all his burning hatred, still loves Vera like before. He's intrigued at how he can love and hate her at the same time. Is this what people mean when they say, "it's complicated"?

"Bring me something in a tall glass," she says, absently clicking the heel of her shoe against the floor twice. I want your attention.

"What happened to you?" "NOTHING. What-- what happened to you?"

Randall's still wary of the demon summoning, but he's noticed the look on Hamish's face. He hasn't seen that look in years. Big gasp from Randall. Big glare from Hamish.

Later, once the excitement is slowly dying down for Hamish and he settles down to watch his young friends thoroughly enjoy entertaining themselves, Randall scoots up to Hamish. "You are so weak for V." "Am not." "You've got her lipstick on your face." "Shit, really? Did Jack and Lilith notice?" "HA!" "Fuck you, Randall ..... don't tell them anything." "My silence costs twenty bucks." ".......fuck u"

"Let me dispel the rumours. We are all going to die." Hamish's amused snort is quickly silenced by the withering glare Vera gives him.

When Vera comes to and notices Hamish taking care of her, she's almost relieved. Then she remembers the threat, Alyssa, Kepler and most importantly, no getting close to Hamish until everyhting is all sorted.

"So . . . what's all this talk about wolves?"

Honestly, at this point, Vera thinks she's going to glare hard enough that her eyeballs pop. "You fucking IDIOTS! You lying fuck, you actually got me thinking you genuinely cared. And you, you little shit . . . . you -- you -- you -- fuck you. Where is my inventory?"

"It was stolen from us." :|

"Oh, so you lost it. No surprise there."

"That's a little harsh, V." "I told you not to call me that, Randall." "Sorry. Look, we'll get the sickles back. We won't--"

"Too late."

Losing Lilith only makes Hamish worse. He wants to blame Vera and the Order, he really does. But he can't. He knows Vera and he knows she's not selfish enough to do this for her own benefit. Fuck feelings, they just make everything so damn complicated.

Vera is pissed at Hamish for being so petty. Hamish is pissed at Vera for the blatant betrayal. Vera is pissed with herself for allowing everything to come to this. Hamish is pissed at himself for being unable to resist Vera. They're both pissed and not talking to each other and frankly, it's starting to weigh on Randall, the only one who really knows what's going on behind closed doors.

"You know, you really should talk to Vera." Gabrielle appears out of nowhere. "About what?" Hamish and Randall: terrified screaming for about half a second until they finally spot the tiny Acolyte.

"Nothing." "You two are up to something. I wanna know what it is." "Are you blackmailing us . . . to spend time with us?" "No. What d'you need to talk to the Grand Magus about?" "Getting you some heels so we can see you when you're approaching." "Very funny, Randall."

When Vera attacks the Prometheans (and Jack) with her emotional amplifier, it's not just the desperate cries of a baby ringing in everyone's ears. Among it all is Vera's own voice, her always doubting that she'd done the right thing in erasing the Knights' memories, her thinking about how much Hamish was going to hate her and that was a price she was willing to pay to keep him safe for as long as possible.

Among it all are nights where a very young Vera would cry alone, wiping at her eyes with a bare wrist. And then a much older Vera, hiding away in a vault, refusing to cry as she looks at the words on her wrist.

"I don't need your pity, Mr Morton," Vera says, hoping and praying that Jack doesn't care enough to put all the pieces together. "I'm sorry about your daughter." Vera doesn't turn back to face him. She's okay. She really is. And then a very quiet, very whispered, "and Hamish." Vera leaves before Jack can see her strength fail.

"Are either of you going to tell me why you're all on first name basis with the Grand Magus?" "It's a Knight secret, Gabby, sorry." "Fuck you."

Hamish is still being Petty and Pissed, so when Vera gives them the contract and Randall gets super upset, Jack's the one to tell him to lay off a bit. "I think you're overreacting." "And I think you're protecting Hamish's girlfriend."

Hamish, low warning tone and Vera, high yell: "Randall!"

"Am I wrong?"

"About which part?" Jack mutters, glad the joke makes Randall laugh. He can deal with one angry werewolf. Two is way too much a burden.

"Have you seen or heard from Hamish this morning?" "Why would you ask me that?" Jack gives her a deadpan look. Big sigh. "No, I haven't."

Hamish being missing shifts Vera's entire outlook. She's wasting all this time being mad and angry when she could have been using it to try and mend her relationship with Hamish.

"Is everyone okay?" Hamish grins because he knows that as pissed as they are with each other, she worries for him just as much as he worries for her. Vera would have to hit a very high bar if she really wanted to break off every tie she had to Hamish and Hamish is sure Vera doesn't want to even touch that bar.

Vera is completely stunned when Hamish literally throws Angus out of the room. In all honesty, she shouldn't have been, but still. She expected a little more restraint, given Hamish was still visibly pissed with her. On the outside, anyway.

"I'm sorry, Vera. I saw Angus and I just reacted. I almost died yesterday and now it seems like I might die anyway. Part of me wishes we never got our memories back. I could just go back to being . . . happy."

Vera doesn't turn back. "Would you really? Be happy, I mean. You have all the answers now. You know all the right questions. Would you really be happy?"

"Ignorance is bliss." "Not always."

And then the tartarus eruptions begin.

Jack runs into Alyssa at a Praxis location and the Knights recover a third of the Order's inventory.

"Tell me about these puppies." Obviously, Vera wants information about what Praxis is up to, but Randall deadass adopted the puppies so now Vera is subject to being lectured about the puppies. Okay, not lectured, she's somewhat invested in her new grandchildren. Hamish has a small smile on his face because Vera's still his Vera. Strangely fond of Randall despite all his annoying flaws -- just like Hamish himself.

Vera makes the three of them Magistratuses on the spot and Hamish looks like he's beaming at the promotion but really he's just so thrilled to see Stubborn and Petty Vera go up against Kepler.

"I'll order some wine." "Champagne, please. We're at war with Praxis, not good taste." And she's apparently retained what he taught her about drinks!

No matter what she does or what she acts like, the very core of who Vera is, her innermost self, will never change. And Hamish is glad for it, because that's who he loves. And the words mark her forever, so she'll never forget it.

"It's all right to let someone care about you." Vera shakes her head, because she's done horrible, horrible things and some would even call her irredeemable. She wants to argue and fight with Hamish because away from her is the only place he'll be safe. "V. . ."

Hamish is better at saying things when he doesn't talk. So he takes hold of her hand and gives it two small squeezes. I love you. He tucks a lock of hair behind her ear and trails his hand down to her chin before lifting her head, guiding her to look at him. His fingers tap on her neck. One, two, three times. I'm not going anywhere. I'm here for you.

And when everything dies down, Hamish swears to protect Vera. He and the rest of the Knights will protect her secret with their lives. Even if she weren't their Grand Magus, she's Hamish's soulmate and given how important Hamish is to them, it's no surprise Vera automatically is, too.

Besides, Randall kinda likes the Mom Vibes he gets from Vera. Gabrielle is jealous.

Vera finds Hamish taking a nap under the tree. He squints at her. "Don't make me look like an idiot. Get down here."

Vera smiles and joins Hamish on the grass. "I love you," she says softly, finally, finally finding the peace and joy she had before she and Hamish started drifting. She looks at the words on his hand, then the words on her own.

Soulmates. Someone who is always going to be there for her, no matter what. It's nice to have one, even though for most of her life, she thought she would never find one.

But the special thing about Hamish is that they had something really special long before they discovered they were soulmates. Vera smiled in the knowledge that Hamish wouldn't have done a damn thing different even if she still had s blank wrist. He loves her, she loves him, and frankly, nothing else matters.

FINALLY COMPLETE!!!!!! I trust this is satisfactory, my loves??

See other soulmate AUs that make me cry

#vera x hamish #hamish x vera #hamish duke #vera stone #the order #netflix #the hermetic order of the blue rose #the knights of st christopher #the knights of the blue rose #the knights of saint christopher #soulmates #soulmates au #please just give me the soulmate au i want #soulmate #soulmate au

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theateared · 4 years ago

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What’s Wrong With You? ❜

Summary: There's a reason that Murr’s career is almost entirely self-made. Warnings: N/A.

His eyes were drawn to the sticky mess covering the floor. What was left of his pudding cup had been smacked out of his hands, plastic spoon snapping painfully under the weight of a hefty palm. With disbelief, Murr shifted his gaze to look his manager in the face.

“What the hell? What’s WRONG with you?! I was just tryna enjoy a snack befer gettin’ back t’work!”

“What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with YOU?! You know that stuff will only make you fat. We’ve had this conversation a million times!”

The words stung more than he cared to admit-- not necessarily because of their implication, but because of his own struggle with an eating disorder. It had taken him a hell of a long time to get into good habits, and though he wouldn’t fall back into bad ones for the sake of one comment, it did make the gears in his head turn in that all-too-malignant manner.

Maybe he’s right. Maybe one cup won’t matter, but one cup everyday? Maybe that will matter.

After taking in a subtle breath, steadying the slight incline of his heartbeat, he replied in a calm but firm tone: “Yer bang outta line, Zach. However ya feel, ya can’t just go hittin’ shit I paid fer outta my hands.” He cut his manager off with a tut as he spotted a dark stain forming on his shirt. “Yeesh, y’owe me dry-cleanin’ money...”

The sound of the dressing-room door slamming shut made Murr look up at him. Only now was he beginning to feel slightly worried.

Zach hadn’t been his first choice for a professional opinion. However, when they’d met while he was working in Vide, the man had wormed his way into Murr’s good graces with his patience and humour. On the surface, he was mild-mannered and fun, somewhat quirky to boot, but Murr had soon realised that he wasn’t really the person that he thought he was. His fuse was short, he was a control freak, always wanting to micromanage every tiny decision he made about his productions, and he was aggressive. Though he’d never laid his hands on him, Murr suspected that that much would change - and he wouldn’t allow it.

“You’re just so fuckin’ UNGRATEFUL! You think you can do whatever you want just because some people know who you are! You eat shite! You don’t take care of yourself! You drink and smoke like an idiot! You don’t think that shit’s going to ruin your look? Your VOICE?”

“Listen, yer not my fuckin’ dad. Back off ‘n’ mind yer own damn business, alright? I ain’t yer DOG, Zach, y’can’t tell me how t’live.” He turned his back on the man then, eager for the argument to fizzle out. Hands searched his desk for his revised script, darting past a celebratory bottle of champagne for after the show. Part of him knew that it likely wasn’t a good idea to show him that he’d made some last-minute changes to the play, but he was desperate to divert the focus elsewhere. He couldn’t stand being talked down to like a child. Not even his father spoke to him that way. “Look, I have some--”

“I don’t CARE, Murr!” He lurched forwards to slap the papers out of his hands, scattering them across the floor. The star stared at him at a loss for words, mouth half-open in a desperate attempt to neutralise the situation, when suddenly Zach’s hands entangled in his collar. He pulled him closer with a vehemence that startled the huro, horns bumping against his forehead as he was met with a furious glare. It smelled as if his manager had been drinking, a hint of whiskey hovering on his breath. “What do I have to do to get you to fuckin’ listen?”

“Let go’a me…!”

“YOU’RE SABOTAGING YOURSELF!”

“GET OFF OF ME!” His voice was shrill as he shoved hard at Zach’s shoulders. The man staggered away from him - and the momentum sent Murr staggering back into the dresser, an arm stuck out haphazardly to support himself. The adrenaline had kicked in by now; he felt like a bird trapped in a cage, one that flapped and cawed and squealed, and his father’s words ran through his head like a strike of lightning.

You know your worth, son. Always be kind, always be generous, but don’t bend.

Murr’s gaze darkened. You don’t treat me like that. Nobody treats me like that. I’m not something for somebody else to control. Slowly, he straightened his stance, taking a deep breath in an attempt to steel his nerves before he pointed at him firmly. “Don’t ever lay yer hands on me again.” His voice dripped with venom so potent that it gave the drunk man a moment’s pause. He couldn’t tell whether he was affronted by being told what to do or if he was seriously considering the fact that he was wrong-- and he didn’t care.

At least, he didn’t until Zach squared his shoulders and advanced on him. “Or what, huh? What’re you gonna do? Don’t forget that YOU’RE in MY debt! Who’s gettin’ your name out here in Vide, huh?”

“I AM!” Murr retorted angrily, a thumb jabbing into his own chest as he glowered at him without restraint. If looks could kill, a glare from Murr would send a man straight to hell. “Don’t take the credit fer MY hard work! I’M the one singin’ ‘n’ dancin’ ‘n’ writin’ ‘n’ performin’ like a goddamn grease-monkey! This shit is MINE!”

“Like you’d ever get anywhere in Vide without a Vvder’s help!” Zach bit back, getting closer to him with every step. I’m going to punch this huro’s teeth in. I’m going to bend his stupid fucking horns until they snap. “You’re NOTHING here! You huros are all the goddamn same-- you’re all so PROUD.”

“Get away from me, Zach.”

“You’re all so EAGER to KISS YOUR OWN ASSES! You all pretend to work hard, but the only things you’re ‘fixing’ are the problems that you made yourselves, because your district is founded on false generosity and LAZINESS--”

“That’s NOT true!” Murr barked. Really, this realm wasn’t a great one. Though it was wondrous and beautiful, with surprises at every corner, things that could never be found on Earth, its people were so angry and hateful. Though Valor’s quest had done a lot to quell a lot of bigotry, it also wasn’t magically erased in one day. There was still a lot of work to be done-- which was precisely why Murr felt it appropriate to defend his district. It wasn’t out of patriotism; it was a direct response to a racist ideology that viders perpetuated every day. Even in spite of The Crossover, their districts very much conjoined at this point, some viders still fed each other the same dastardly lies like Nazis did with Jews.

Unacceptable. Disgusting. And what makes it worse is that you yourself are doing it. There’s no Big Bad making you think these things, or say these things-- you’re just terrible, and unwilling to learn.

Distracted, he fell when Zach’s hands met his chest in the form of a hard shove. For all of the grace that he possessed on stage, he tumbled to the ground like a sack of bricks, confused and dazed, staring up at him with a stupefied sort of silence. His manager wasn’t a very imposing man. He was a little smaller than him, and his stature was nothing to write home about, skinny like a weed; however, towering above him like that, with the intention of hurting him, Murr’s fight-or-flight response kicked in. Just as Zach drew back his arm for a punch, Murr hurriedly reached up, fingers coiling around the thick glass of the bottle and dragging it into his lap. Without even thinking about it, he hit it against the leg of his dresser, splintering the glass and spilling champagne all over himself and the floor. The jagged end was brandished like a weapon, teeth grit in a furious sneer, malicious intent clear.

In a fierce scream: “I SAID GET AWAY FROM ME--”

The dressing room fell silent then. The lights surrounding his vanity mirror were the only source of illumination ( he found it easier to proof-read and edit in dimmer places ), their space bathed in a baby pink glow. In any other context, one might have deemed it romantic; instead, Murr regarded it with the same quiet dread that he might a red room.

Slowly, Zach raised his hands, backing off. “... I’m drunk.”

“You’re fired,” Murr hissed in response, trying hard to hold back the urge to cry. Far from a crybaby he was, but adrenaline had a funny way of reducing him to tears. He was overwhelmed when it kicked in; torn between lashing out in furious anger and crumpling in on himself with unrelenting sorrow. He’d always been emotional like that. “Just go.”

“But--”

“I said GO!” He didn’t think about it as he hurled what remained of the glass into the nearby wall. The noise startled the other into a hasty retreat, the door barely flung shut as he disappeared from Murr’s life for good.

In the newfound quiet, Murr sat still. Slowly, he brought his knees up to his chest, chin settling atop them as his arms coiled around them like a snake. He didn’t cry. He didn’t yell. He didn’t work. He just sat there, willing his heartbeat to slow down, willing his eyes not to fill up, willing himself not to run back home to his parents now that his dream was almost within his grasp. They had too much faith in his ability to abandon the position he’d found himself in. Manager or not, he’d make his way in this district, and he’d do it despite all of the naysayers that expressed their doubt in him.

You can’t make it in Vide without a vider’s help, huro. Fuck that. I can do it.

After a few minutes to collect his bearings, hands no longer shaking, Murr slowly unfurled from his position on the floor, hands and knees climbed to as he searched for the pages his ex-manager had struck out of his grasp.

His heart sank when he was met something wet and soggy.

With mounting grief, the star slowly turned one of the sodden pages over. It fell to bits in his grasp, ink that had formed words now a blurred mess. He didn’t need to look at the others to know that they had all met a similar fate.

Tiredly, Murr sank back into his previous position, huddled in front of his dresser, the rosy light only touching the tips of his shoes; a black mark in the blushing light.

The show’s tomorrow morning. I’m screwed.

#🞮 — i think you're gonna be my biggest fan! ❜ ( murr. )#☆ — i never promised you your dream boy. ❜ ( main. )#☆ — i'm just here to destroy. ❜ ( ic. )#drabble *#/ JUST SOME DEETS ON ONE OF MURR'S PAST VENTURES!#AND HIS DICKHEAD OF A MANAGER AT THE TIME!#THSI IS THE FIRST PROPER THING I'VE WRITTEN IN A WHILE AYYY #might be gettin over that block!

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jenomark · 6 years ago

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New Year

○Pairing: Mark x Reader (Female) ○Other Members/Characters: X ○Genre: angst ○Warnings: kissing + implied sex ○Word count: 3,053

→Summary: After a break-up with Jeno, you realize you also lost Jeno’s best friend Mark, who means more to you than you previously thought. Mark shows up on New Years Eve to apologize. Will you face the feelings you always ignored, or will you keep letting the new year drag you down?

______________________________________________________________

2018 had been terrible. You started out the year feeling uncharacteristically optimistic. You drank the champagne you hated the taste of because you wanted to feel like an adult. You felt happiness at the thought of life giving you a fresh start to get things right this time. If you had known the whole world wished the same that night, you wouldn’t have felt as alone as life makes us believe we are.

Truly, 2018 had broken you. You found love for a little while. His name was Jeno. He had the most beautiful smile you had ever seen. Love happened like it did in the movies. You looked across the room and there he was, staring at you with stars in his eyes. He said all the right things. He felt right when you held him in your arms. When you kissed him, it was like all of his goodness could erase all of your bad.

With 2019 just a breath away, Jeno told you that you were no longer what he wanted. He said you wouldn’t open up to him anymore. You made everything a joke, never touching the serious side of things.

You cried a lot the first few days. Your friends left care packages on your doorstep to keep you moving, but all you could think about was the way he would walk up your steps with his hands in his pockets, his smile big enough to light up your chest. And you hated that one person could make you feel like this, but the pain amplified everything around you. His scent was stuck to everything and some of his t-shirts were still in your drawers. You wanted to leave him behind, in 2018, but his friends were still your friends. Although you hated to admit it, your heart was still a part of his.

When you told your friends that you were skipping New Year’s Eve, they promised they would bring the party to you. So, you wore a dress that Jeno hated and you let your hair hang loosely around your shoulders. Snacks and alcohol in hand, your friends poured through your front door at exactly 10 p.m. Some of them wore sympathetic masks on their faces as they leaned in to hug you. It made you feel sick to your stomach. Others acted like you hadn’t had a breakdown in the last two weeks. You couldn’t tell which group of people you liked better. Though you desperately wanted to move on and pretend like nothing had happened, and that you were a human devoid of any emotions, a part of you wanted to curl into a ball and cry for hours until someone had brought Jeno back to you and made him see that you had been trying to be who he wanted you to be.

“You look pretty,” one of your friends said. “You cut your hair.”

“Post-break-up looks”

And there it was: the pity smile. It flashed for a second before vanishing. You only had yourself to blame and you knew that.

“Anyway,” you said. “Happy New Year, right? 2019 will be better.”

I can do this, you told yourself. If you tried hard enough, you could almost believe it.

After the last guest arrived, you began to close your door to the cold. A body slipped through the gap. He stumbled in awkwardly, losing his footing and clashing into your umbrella stand loudly enough to make everyone look in your direction. Your eyes found each other’s, and he offered up a shy smile.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I thought I could make that.”

Seeing him brought back a flood of feelings you didn’t know how to save yourself from. You hadn’t seen Mark since you and Jeno broke up. He hadn’t reached out to you. No calls. No texts. No drop-in’s. Tears pooled in your eyes, but you wouldn’t let them fall. Instead, you opened up the door and walked out onto the porch to get some fresh air. Mark gave you some time to yourself before following you out. He was always so kind and you were usually thankful for it, but in this moment, it infuriated you.

“Why are you here?” you asked “You weren’t invited.”

“I know.”

“I want you to leave.”

“Okay. I’ll go.”

“Now.”

Mark moved forward with his arm outstretched but thought better of it and let his arm drop to his side.

“I know I should have said something,” he said. “I should have been there for you.”

“Don’t apologize to me. You don’t deserve my forgiveness, Mark.”

“I messed up. I want to make it right.”

“You hurt me.”

The tears started falling uncontrollably. You held your body close to you to fight the cold. You felt impossibly small, like a baby. You fantasized about reaching over and slapping Mark across the face to let him know how he really made you feel. His eyes were wide and cautious and child-like. You fought the instinct to confide in him like you always used to do. Your dreams, your thoughts and opinions were all safe with him, you knew, but the bitterness wanted to snatch all of that away from him because he didn’t deserve it.

“Can we talk?” he asked. “I’m not the guy you think I am. I wanted to talk to you, I did, but I just…you’re shaking.”

Mark removed his jacket and held it out for you to take. Quietly, you took it from him and draped it around your shoulders. You leaned against the stone pillar on your porch and closed your eyes. When you opened them, you wanted to see Mark disappear from your life. You would not let 2019 keep your heart broken.

When you met Jeno, your life was already full of love. You had so many friends who would move heaven and earth to make you happy. You had a job that you loved, plants that you managed to keep alive. You felt pretty in your own skin, and although there was always a little sadness eating away at your insides, you managed to keep surviving. Meeting him had brought new feelings and new friends.

“Why did you come here, Mark?” you asked.

He thought about his answer so long it made you anxious. You started replaying memories in your head. In the beginning, you ignored Mark. He tagged along with you and Jeno when you didn’t want him to. Mark became the third wheel in the most awkward situations, but you never said anything because he was Jeno’s best friend. He was the boy who sometimes made you laugh until your body ached and that had been the scope of your relationship. Somewhere along the way, you started paying more attention to him. You built up a friendship, and although it pleased Jeno to see his two favorite people getting along, you always swore you felt the jealousy. It was clear to everyone that you and Mark were similar people as time went on. Like two childhood friends, you stuck together through everything. Mark cared when you liked something, even if everyone else mocked you. He never judged you, or candy-coated the truth. There were parts of him you loved, and parts of him you wished you could be. When you lost Jeno, you felt like you lost Mark, too.

In theory, you wished Mark would disappear forever and take everything with him when he left. In reality, you missed him, and seeing him that night brought feelings to the surface you had been ignoring.

“I came for you.” he said.

‘I just want to forget everything,” you said. “I’m tired.”

“We can do that.”

You opened your eyes and watched him. There wasn’t any humor on his face. His little rounded teeth were hidden behind his lips and his jaw was tense. The only thought that came to your head was how handsome he looked standing there underneath the porch light, his cheekbones sharp, his skin soft.

“I had to.” Mark said.

“Had to?”

Mark nodded. “I don’t trust myself around you.”

His words made your insides churn. You felt too nervous to even look at him, so you looked at the ground where both of your feet were planted. You had bought these shoes when you were with Mark. He made you buy them because you never bought anything nice for yourself just because you could. He made a compelling point that day, and ever since, you had taken the extra mile just to do little things to keep yourself afloat.

You opened your mouth to say something to Mark, but your friends appeared in the window and motioned for you to come inside. You handed Mark’s jacket back to him and gave him the same sympathetic smile everyone else was giving you. You made it a few steps inside your entryway before you made the choice. You went back out to him. He was halfway down your front steps. You saw the parallel between Jeno leaving and Mark leaving. It made you feel crazy inside.

“Are you coming in ?” you asked.

There was uncertainty on Mark’s face when he turned back to you. You could feel the same choice sitting in his conscious, could feel the way it tore him up, too.

“It’s a new year,” you found yourself saying out loud. “ I hear we get to start over.”

You left the door wide open and went back inside. You didn’t have to look behind you to know that he was following you. Walking through your house, you felt eyes follow you. The attention made your face flush. You and Mark made it to the kitchen before it seemed like anyone in the house could talk again. The chatter, the popping of bottles, and the sound of the television drowning out the beating of your heart resumed.

“Are you hungry?” you asked.

“No.” he said.

“Thirsty?”

You didn’t wait for him to answer. You grabbed two glasses and started pouring from a bottle. Wine. You didn’t know what kind. He looked down at the cup and smiled to himself. You looked at him a little too long and the cup overflowed onto the counter.

“You’re a mess,” Mark said.” Can’t take you anywhere.”

When he reached over to help clean it up, you could feel the easiness start to creep back in. Being with Mark felt normal, even though there were all of these unspoken words between you.

“Not too long before it’s the new year.” he said, sitting in a chair across from you.

“Can’t wait.”

“I can.”

You didn’t know where to steer the conversation from there. Mark was a lightweight. It took only a few sips of anything before he loosened up and he was really chugging it back. You wanted to ask why he could wait for the new year, but you didn’t want the answer to be veiled with alcohol.

“Any resolutions?” Mark asked.

“None that come to mind.”

“I have some.”

“Okay.”

“Do you want to know?”

“Not particularly.”

Mark leaned back in his chair and laughed. He always laughed. When things were hardly funny, Mark would open his eyes wide and laugh enough for two people. He’d slap his own knee like what anyone said was the funniest thing he’d ever heard. When you first witnessed him laugh from his gut, it had taken you by surprise. His happiness was so infectious but it made you feel foolish on his behalf. It wasn’t until Mark made you laugh that you could feel the same joy he felt. You always wondered if other people felt as warm as you did on the inside when he smiled.

“I’ll tell you anyway,” Mark said. “I want to live my life as unapologetic as I can. I don’t want to apologize for things I do.”

“I’m glad the truth is coming out.”

“You’re taking that the wrong way.”

“How am I meant to take it, Mark?”

Mark laughed. “You say my name when you want the upper hand.”

“I don’t.”

“You do. You always have. It’s cute.”

You pushed the wine bottle towards Mark and told him to drink some more. The anger you felt was bubbling up and you could sense that he could feel it too.

“This isn’t coming out the way I want it to,” he said. “I’m trying to tell you something.”

“The floor is yours, Mark.”

“Can we go somewhere quiet?” he asked.

This time, when you passed by your friends to go upstairs, the room didn’t fall silent and no one looked at you. Everyone was tipsy and shouting over each other to be heard. Mark followed diligently behind you. You flipped on light switches as you went along, stopping at the last door at the end of the hall. It felt too still up there with just the two of you and the muffled voices coming from down below.

“We can talk in here.” you said, opening up your bedroom door.

Mark had never been inside your bedroom before. He walked around like he was in a thrift shop, picking up things and examining them. You pulled things out of his hands as he went.

“This is definitely how I thought your room would be,” he said. “A little messy..cluttered…pics of friends everywhere.”

When you went to snatch the photo frame from his grasp, he gently touched your wrist which caused you to reel back like you’d be electrocuted.

“Do you hate me that much?” he asked.

The look on his face made you feel sad. You had seen Mark sad on very few occasions and each time you kept wanting to reach out and touch him in ways you shouldn’t. Only one time you held his hand in yours and it was for a few minutes before the two of you felt ashamed at the intimacy.

“I could never hate you.” you said.

Mark sunk down in the chair next to your door and put the photo frame on your table, angling it towards himself.

“Was Jeno in any of these frames?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Does it hurt looking at them?”

“Yes.”

You expected tears, but there weren’t any left. You sat down on the edge of your bed and watched Mark run his thumb over a picture of you.

“He had this photo of you in his room,” Mark said. “You were wearing this yellow sundress and your hair was really long. Every time I saw it I imagined what it would look like in my room. I hated myself for wanting that.”

“I hated that photo.”

“You looked nice.”

“We fought the day he took that picture.”

“You fought a lot.”

“What do you know about us?” you ask him. “You were only there when he wanted you to be.”

“He talked about you often.”

“I can’t imagine him talking about me at all.”

“Well, he did,” he said. “Enough for me to fall in love with you.”

You could feel yourself wanting to run away. You kept the good thoughts of Jeno in the forefront of your mind. Your time with him wasn’t perfect and he hurt your feelings, but he had every right to go his own way. The guilt wanted you to get up, walk downstairs, join your friends in the new year and deal with the problems in your life at another time. If you had done what you felt was the right thing, Mark would never have kneeled down in front of you and rested his head in your lap. You wouldn’t have tangled your fingers in his hair, brought his head up so you can look into his glassy eyes. His lips would never have parted as you leaned in to kiss him so softly it felt like your lips barely touched.

There was a window of time where you felt like Mark would break the kiss and walk away too. After all, Jeno was still his best friend. And maybe you would have accepted his choice had you not been in love with Mark since the first day you met him.

“I was next to him that night,” Mark said. “I saw you from across that room. I saw you first.”

The memory came flooding back to you. You remembered Mark at that party. He stood there looking a little lost, a little like he didn’t belong. His hair was in his eyes as he watched you make your way across the room. You could feel his gaze following you. You liked the attention because you were single and looking for someone that night. It felt like the world was begging you to look at him too, but you could only see the outer edges of his body, like the rest of him was an overexposed photograph.

Mark leaned up to meet your lips. His palms were warm on your thighs. All of the time you spent together, you never thought about what this would be like. It wasn’t romantic. It wasn’t like in the movies. There were no thoughts, no expectations, no resolutions to be made.

“We’re both a little…” you began to say.

What you meant to say was that you were both tipsy, but there were many words that could fill in the blank. Confused. Sad. Lost. Lonely.

You let Mark’s hands roam your body, let his lips taste you. He kissed you slowly as if he had been planning out every spot. When you opened your mouth to speak, he kissed you quiet. There were many feelings threatening to boil over but you shut them up by leaning back on your bed and letting Mark on top of you.

“Tell me you want me,” Mark said. “That it’s me you want.”

You looked at the clock on your bedside table. It read 11:05 p.m. It was still 2018. You looked back at Mark’s sweet face hovering above you. Seeing him under the harsh yellow light was jarring. He looked younger than his years, and more scared than you’ve ever seen him before. You weren’t convinced this would help either of you, but it was still 2018 and anything you did now didn’t count for the new year.

“ I want you. I want you, Mark.”

#mark lee #nct #nct fanfiction #mark lee fanfiction #nct dream #nct u #nct 127

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chocolatemillkk · 6 years ago

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New Man (JS)

Request: I think one based on 'New Man' by Ed Sheeran would be a fun concept. Preferably with Jack or Joe? Thanks a lot! 💕

A/N: This was quite fun! Ed's lyrics were hilarious to read through

Part II

"You look like you've just eaten something rotten," Josh says as he tries to find what I'm looking at. He wouldn't see it, not anymore. The crowd swallows them and they disappear with all the other bodies.

"I just saw Y/N with her new man."

"Are they that bad together?" Josh asks.

"So bad it's giving me indigestion," I pick up my beer and try to wash the taste away. I knew getting drunk wasn't getting me any closer to moving on. I'm not sure what would, considering the way Y/N and I broke up. Out of nowhere, she had said she met someone new. She promised nothing happened between them but that didn't make me believe any less that she was with a slimy guy.

The crowd parts enough for me to see him again and his lips mouth the words to the song playing, the vein in his neck bulging as he was probably shouting the words. Idiot. An idiot wearing sunglasses in a night club. Jeez what did Y/N see in him?

"That bloke?" Josh nods towards him. "One with the tattoos."

"Hmph," I snort. "He probably doesn't even know what half of them mean."

Josh chuckles and we watch him in mutual silence. We cringe when he holds up a gang sign to the rap music.

"How did Y/N leave you for him?" Josh scratches his head.

"He's got a six pack and grooms himself like it's his bloody job." I didn't care how petty I sounded.

"She's got better taste than that. Probably just a mid-life crisis or something."

"Josh she bloody 26! That's hardly mid-life. He's just a charming bastard and I was the idiot who pushed her away the last month because she started talking about marriage and the future and-"

"But don't you love her," Josh looks at me. "Were you not planning on marrying her? It's been like four years?"

"Five," I correct him, taking another swig. "I just feel like we're so young. It scared me."

"You of all people aren't getting any younger. Maybe you should talk to her."

"I have," I mutter, making sure Josh couldn't hear. That was the thing, Y/N still messaged me.

The first time was a week after we split, she'd forgotten a scarf at my place and I'd found it in the dryer. I met her halfway, neutral ground, and we ended up talking before we left. Which led to texts, especially late at night. I couldn't figure out what it meant but I knew Y/N was just mixed up. She wasn't this girl. This girl that dated a gym rat who watched what he ate 24/7 and instagramed his cheat meals. She was the kind of girl with her nose in a book and wildflowers picked on her way home from work. I wondered if she still picked flowers for him.

"I should head home-you wanna Uber with me?" Josh suggests.

"I'll head home in a bit," I say much to Josh's dismay. He looks at me wearily, like he was trying to say the right thing.

"Just don't dwell on it too long. You don't want to be a creep standing here staring-"

"Thanks Josh." I cut him off. "I'll see you around."

Josh leaves, grumbling, leaving me alone with my drink-which I'd had a lot of I suddenly realise.

As I make my way to the toilets, I stumble on Y/N alone. Her eyes alight when she sees me and then settle down as she crosses and uncrosses her arms.

"Funny seeing you here," she gives a shy smile.

"In the club I'm always at?" I respond and she looks annoyed.

"No need for the hostility," Y/N rolls her eyes.

"How are you with a guy like him?" I demand in an explosion. Seemed like I wasn't holding back tonight. "Yo-you're the girl reading a book with a packet of crisps not the girl clinging to the arm of a wanker like him!"

"You don't know him," Y/N glares at me. "So stop judging him because you're jealous."

"Jealous?" I laugh. "Of him? Of his plucked eyebrows and bleached arsehole? Because he shares his kale salad with you while the twos of you watch the Kardashians? You think I'm jealous of his tribal tattoos that he's no clue what they mean because he's a bloody white bloke from East London! Wait, no I'm probably jealous of his wannabe wardrobe or that he wears no socks on with his shoes? Yeah, definitely jealous-yeah babe."

"You sure do keep track of a guy you're not jealous of," Y/N says defensively but circles of pink dot her cheeks.

"Because I still fucking care about you! I don't know why you're with him-surely he can't give you the love I give."

"He makes me happy!" Y/N shouts, raising her voice above mine for the first time.

"He-he makes you happy? And I didn't? Is that why you're texting me at night? Why you're here by yourself while he dances away like an idiot out there? Happy? Jesus Y/N I...fuck." I take my frustration out on my hair. I made her happy-I could still make her happy! Why was she so hell-bent on this dick.

She looks teary eyed and I feel guilty so I drag her to the back of the club and she follows despite what I'd said. It makes me realise how lost she really was.

"You're not this girl Y/N...I know the real you not this...kale-eating, fitness-obsessed, Kardashian-zombie. I...if you want to talk you can call me. Any time-I'm all ears for you. If he makes you happy, then be happy but if you're looking for love-I'm still here to give it to you."

"I wanted a different love from you Joe. The kind that came with a ring and a promise and even though I gave you five years of my love you freaked out. He makes me happy okay? Just...just go Joe." Y/N can't look at me, she folds herself inwards and turns away. "I just want to be left alone."

I open my mouth but I can't find the words to tell her I was sorry when I wasn't or that I loved her when I couldn't be in love with her. So I turn and leave.

•••

I'm slumped on my couch a week later, the boys are all over bickering over some game on screen but my eyes are glued to Y/N's new Instagram post. Her new man is lifting her above his head and she's laughing-she looks happy. But the picture looks tacky. I hated that guy.

I click her handle and start scrolling, looking out for the pictures when we were together and were actually happy together. I find one of our hands intertwined as we hold up champagne in cans to the camera. Y/N is obviously drunk by the giddiness in her eyes and the pink on her cheeks. I look at her like she was my everything. She is my everything.

How did I get marrying her to freak me out this much? Why did I run away and let her get away!

"Joe what did you see?" Caspar asks beside me. "It should have been a penalty right?"

"Huh?" I put the phone down. "I guess."

"See!" Caspar shouts.

"He wasn't even paying attention!" Mikey shouts.

My phone vibrates and I can't believe my eyes. It's Y/N.

Wanna go for a drink? Or lunch? I just wanted to see you.

I type quickly before she could change her mind, yes

"Joe!" Caspar says in my ear.

"See-he's not even watching." Mikey points to me.

"What's gotten into you?" Caspar asks.

"He's still broken hearted over Y/N-leave him alone." Josh says with no feeling.

"Aw, do you want to talk about it?" Caspar asks, concern erasing his earlier expression.

"Actually I'm stepping out," I lean away from Caspar. "Byron please make sure the boys don't destroy the place."

"Wait you're leaving?" Jack asks. I make a vague excuse and leave as quickly as I could. Y/N had texted me a nearby pub and I make my way there.

"You came," Y/N looks tired when I see her. When I tell her she gives a small smile, "Haven't been sleeping too well. Stress from work."

"Your manager being an idiot again?"

"More so than usual. We all suspect his girlfriend's dumped him."

"Which girlfriend? The cackly laugh or the one that wears only red bras under her transparent shirts?"

"Babe they're the same one-she just had her nose done."

"You're joking-I guess that red was too distracting." I take hold of the glass the bartender hands me and Y/N and I look at each other and start laughing.

"This is so easy with you," she wipes her tears but when she looks back at me they look sad.

I don't know what to say, not wanting to start another argument so I just look into my glass as we shift in place.

"Want to grab a booth?" She suggests.

"Yeah," I walk behind her and notice her newly highlighted hair. "Nice hair."

"Oh," she touches the ends and smiles. "Thanks. Brian told me it would complement my skin tone and it really does!"

"Hm," I supress the urge to roll my eyes. Brian.

"Don't get like that," Y/N clucks. "He's really sweet Joe, the other day he remembered I like hydrangeas so he bought a plant for his balcony. And he always makes sure I'm alright like that time we-"

"Okay." I stop her from going on. "I really don't want to hear about your new man if that's alright. I'm sure he doesn't like hearing about me too. He probably doesn't even like that you're here now."

Y/N shifts uncomfortably and I raise an eyebrow. "I told him I was meeting with Y/F/N."

"You..." I try to put my judgement away. This meant I still meant something to her right?

"Don't judge me." Y/N shrugs. "I just wanted to see your face. I miss hearing your laugh when I say something really stupid. Or how we just talked shite about my boss without having to explain anything."

"I don't want to cause a scene but Y/N...why are you...why did you leave me then?"

"Because!" She bursts even though I just said not to cause a scene. "I wanted more from you Joe. I wanted you to have both feet in with me, to not be so afraid of getting married!"

"Shh," I try to put my hand on her arm. "I'm sorry I just-we got together when we were younger I was scared that...it felt like we were so young. We have so much time."

"Not anymore." Y/N says.

"But we're still meeting here in private." I say with bitterness. "While you wear your sporty shoes and lip gloss like you just came from the gym even though I know you hate working out."

"I knew you would judge me," Y/N scowls.

"Baby, I'm not judging you or trying to ruin your week. But you know you act so differently around him! Maybe he makes you happy for a bit but when you're with him I know you're lonely."

"I'm not lonely," Y/N insists.

"Yet here we sit reminiscing about how easy we were." I remind her.

"I-I should just go. I need to start on dinner anyway." Y/N gets up and I scramble to get out too.

"Hey," I hold her arm once we get outside. "Wait. Just...please remember you're still free to make the choice and leave him. If you really are happy with him you've got to stop texting me and asking to see me. If you want me to move on, prove it. But if you still want us then let me know."

I lean down and kiss the top of her head and I hear her sigh under me. She wraps her arms under my jacket and we hold each other but I have to lean away before it borders inappropriate.

"I'll see you around," I say softly and turn to leave before her sadness seeped into me too. Leaving her there felt like stranding her but she knew where to find me, I tell myself. If she wanted me, she would know where to look.

#joe sugg #joe sugg imagine #joe sugg imagines #thatcherjoe imagines #fic #youtube imagines #thatcherjoe imagine #thatcherjoe #lyrics #buttercream gang #buttercream imagines #caspar lee #jack maynard #byron langley #ed sheeran

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littleredroseonthevalley · 6 years ago

Text

Marred

Summary: Riley reflects on the dark happenings of the last New Year’s party, as storms ravage the palace.

Rating: M - Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16 with non-explicit suggestive adult themes, references to some violence, or coarse language.

Mentions of murder and non-consensual sex. Reader discretion is highly advised.

Words: 1915

Notes: I do not know why I bother to make calls for action, as they are usually ignored, but here we go.

I had a rather... unpleasant experience this New Year’s night, and this is my way of dealing with it. Drop me a line if you want to talk about it, mine or your own.

Furthermore, this is dark. This is horribly dark. Read at your peril.

To mar [mahr]

Transitive Verb

Middle English merren, Old English merran; with Old Saxon merrian, Old High German merren, Old Norse merja, Gothic marzjan.

1. to damage or spoil to a certain extent; render less perfect, attractive, useful, etc.; impair or spoil;

2. to disfigure, deface, or scar.

It was late in the day, it was the New Years’ Eve. The night was chilly but it did not snow, in true Cordonian fashion. The celebration, as was tradition, was being held on the Beaumont Residence, and it was just rambunctious as expected.

Maxwell had brought moderately famous Pop singers from Greece and Kosovo to perform exclusively to the guests, and seemed to be running around, chasing the skirt of one of them, if not in his room with her.

Drake was lying, face down, in some couch around the house. He overindulged in alcohol and would not be a part of the countdown that year. Olivia and Hana were in the music room, playing the night away to their hearts’ content.

As for Liam, her husband, he was off with a few noblemen and selected guests, sharing cigars and brandy, discussing the Parliament’s agenda for the coming Spring.

It was rare for them to spend the New Year’s together, Riley conceded. Not only the events on the social season usually got in the way, and they would have January off, so the royals, especially the sovereign, usually dedicated the last days in December to making sure all was up and running while they rested secluded on a castle far away.

Having been systematically abandoned by her closest friends, Riley then spent the last moments before midnight, swaying around in the dance floor, holding a flute of house sparkling wine.

One could argue she had a little too much of it so far, but Bertrand was stingy as ever with invitations, and so it was unlikely anyone with ill intent to have made it inside the manor.

In her haze, she swung one side to the other, giggling as she twirled dizzily through the ample room.

With a lousy dance step, she tumbles with him.

The glass on the window was shaking with the heavy rain pouring from the milky black sky and wind hitting against it. The trees outside lost quite a few branches for the unforgivable weather that evening, and she feared electricity would be cut off that night.

She had a couple of candlesticks and some matches stored on her bedside table drawer, should she need some light in an emergency. She dreaded the use of them, as she was very afraid of damaging the finely engraved wooden surfaces of her bedroom furniture.

It was very late, but she did not seem to be able to sleep. Perhaps she would not rest, either way, due to her loneliness and the weather, after tonight, it would not surprise her if she were to acquire a distinct distaste for storms.

She tried to read, but the story, for once, could not hold on to her attention for very long, neither could television or music. Her mind was away and adrift, a single thought circled her head again and again.

It has been such for weeks, but tonight… Tonight, it was worse.

The nobleman helped Riley to steady herself, placing both of his hands underneath her upper arms, allowing her to lean into them, so she could stand up straight.

“Whoa, Your Majesty,” He says, an amused smirk on his face. “I cannot say I dislike the attention, but you could just come out and say it.”

The monarch-consort laughs the awkwardness off. “Oh, milord, you know how it is, two flutes of champagne and you forget yourself. Thank you, though, for your assistance.”

“It is my own pleasure, Your Majesty. A service to the sovereign is on public interest, after all.” He responded, shooting her an easy smile.

“I do not suppose they have in mind helping a poor woman who overindulged when they say such things.” The Queen tattled in amusement. “Tell me, milord, are you enjoying tonight’s celebrations?”

“I find them most agreeable, Your Majesty. The Beaumonts have a knack for entertaining.” The man responds, soft.

“That it is, milord.” She agrees. “I have always felt as if they were my own family, and, as such, as if their parties were my own parties. A little forward of me, I usually consider, as I lack that… green thumb, if you must, of theirs.”

He chuckles. “I recall quite a few soirées at the palace that were equally, if not more, enjoyable than tonight.”

“Be certain it was Maxwell the one you owe your praises. I hardly ever get involved with any of the planning.” She said, humorously. “I did not think I would find any noblemen around this time of evening, though. Tell me, milord, would you not prefer to be in audience with the King? My husband is hearing complaints in the parlour, and I daresay he is in a giving mood tonight.”

“I have most that I want.” It was his response. “And what I do not, I should find ways to acquire.”

“It seems conscientious of you, milord.” She conceded. “If I am to take the hordes one surely would find in the parlour right about now, I am to infer you are a minority amongst your peers.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty, but I do not suppose conscience has anything to do with it. I merely find more pleasure in the struggle.” He dismisses the compliment offhandedly.

“In America, we tend to celebrate those who achieve by their own merits, rather than by birth or favour, but I suppose you are entitled to your own assessment, unflattering as it is.” She points out.

“That I am, Your Majesty, that I am.” He smirks, haughtily.

As he finishes his statement, the clock strikes 11:59.

The guests still lingering around the dining room start cheering the countdown to the new year, while the nobleman leads the woman to a quieter corner of the room, at a mezzanine overlooking the ballroom.

As the seconds go by and they come closer to the new year, so the body of the nobleman close the distance between him and the monarch.

The hairs on the back of her head shiver in alarm, and her arm is covered in goose bumps. She tries to get away from him, but his hand holds her wrist firmly in place.

As the fireworks go out on the lawn, as the night-time sky is coloured with the overt glow, the nobleman tugs her arm and forces her to kiss him.

It was always eerie to her, the dissonance between the hustle-bustle of the palace during the day and the dead silence of the night.

Liam always found it relaxing, the poor man, so deeply traumatized from a tumultuous childhood, could not even nap if not in absolute quietness. Riley, however, used to a life in the metropolis, slept better when in hearing distance of the white noise of motors in a busy avenue.

Her husband more than once offered her the use of a white noise machine, and she has resisted. The King’s restful sleep was more important than the Queen’s, after all, and so their conjoined bedroom was to be tailored to his preferences to perfection.

After more than a few sleepless nights on her part, he brought the white noise machine once again, alongside a change in mattresses and cable television extensions for the room, but she once again refused. It was not going to lull her to any sleep, either way.

Tonight… tonight, the cause for her insomnia was very different and specific. Her shoulders were slumped and aching from the tension she was under, her ears rung painfully, her head was about to explode.

Her ears perk at the sound of heavy footsteps on the staircase near the bedroom, she takes it as a good sign. None of the servants would walk so noisily, not that any would be up at this time anyways.

Perhaps, when all it is said and done, she ought to get a decent night’s sleep.

When he was done with her, he adjusted his trousers, facing away from her and towards the ballroom beneath them. For a split second, his softening, slick member was for all to see, but no-one did.

Not a single person raised their sights towards the mezzanine that night.

“I believe that we are done here.” He turns back to her and raises her face to a small peck on her lips, one she had no strength to fight against.

“Why did you do it?” She asks, weakly.

He chuckles and faces the stairway down. “I thought I told you, I like the struggle to get what I want.”

“You know you won’t get away with that.” She threatened.

“I think I just did.” Without looking back, the blue-blood said, “Thanks for the evening, Your Majesty. It has been great.”

Liam sits down on an armchair opposite to his wife, taking off his shoes, stained in hues of brown and red.

“The maid will burn these in the morning.” The woman says, taking the pair away, to the side of the fireplace.

“Thank you.” He said, rather absent. A moment of silence follows, before he breaks with a, “I did it. I did it myself.”

“I thought you would.” Was the response. “Do you regret it?”

“No.” He countered, almost instantaneously. “I hated that man for what he did with you. I will never forgive him, and I will never think he did not deserve it.”

Riley hummed her understanding, and busied herself on preparing the bed for the night.

“Unless…” He says, slow and dour, profoundly dreading the scenario he built on his head. She stops what she was doing and looks deep into his eyes, as he starts again to speak, “Unless you see me differently for what I did.”

She sighed. “There is nothing anyone can do that will erase what happened. If you did it for me, then you wasted your efforts.”

“I understand.” It was his answer. He knew the truth, that he did it to appease his own anger and frustration, most of it towards himself, but he would have preferred to kid himself a little longer to the cold tell-off.

However, looking at her swelling stomach, he had to concede she was on a difficult position, to say the absolute least.

How could he phrase it not to feel an absolute understatement?

“I still love you, though. I will always love you. It’s just that…” She breathed out and nothing she planned to say made any sense, communicated any of the things she wanted to say.

I was worried about you. I am worried about you. I want to be free of it. I want you to be free of me.

“Let’s just sleep.” She said, instead. “It all should look better in the morning.”

They lay down in bed side by side, Liam making every effort not to touch his wife, as she finds it rather disturbing for the time being.

Riley could not help to let a few tears spill from her eyes, as it usually happens that time of night. She had acquired the rather nasty habit of crying herself to sleep. The morning would bring no good, as no other day since then has never did, nor ever will.

For, from now until forever, she was marred.

Taglist: @boneandfur; @cora-nova; @mfackenthal; @theroyalweisme; @zilch3

#the royal romance #liam #drake walker #maxwell beaumont #hana lee #olivia nevrakis

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miraculoussideblog · 6 years ago

Text

Ways to Forgive Chapter 6

Catch up with the first fic in the series Ways to Say I’m Sorry

Chapter [1][2][3][4][5][You are here]

[AO3]

Chapter 6- Dress

Chloe stood in front of the mirror in awe. The white dress was a bit snug around the bust, but she looked like a princess. She twirled around a bit and the large skirt fluttered around her. For the first time since the engagement party she felt like this was really happening. The past few weeks were so stressful, Sabrina had the idea to try on dresses to blow off some steam.

The saleswoman, Regina knocked on the door. “Mademoiselle Bourgeois do you need any help?”

“No, I’m good.” She opened the door. Regina lead her out to the front room where Marinette, Sabrina and Alya sat.

“Oh my God Chloe you look amazing.” Sabrina squealed. She snapped a few pictures on her phone.

“Thank you,” she twirled again. She liked the dress, but it didn’t feel right. She knew she wouldn’t fall in love with the first dress she tried. She looked like a knock off Kate Middleton. The dress was strikingly similar to what the Duchess of Cambridge wore on her big day. She studied herself in the mirror once more and frowned. No, this wasn’t the dress.

“What’s with you face?” Alya asked.

“Huh?”

“You don’t seem too excited.”

“Oh,” Chloe forced a smile. “It’s just not the dress, that’s all.”

“We’ll we have several others to choose from.” Regina chimed in. “With your budget the sky's the limit. I have a lovely Vera Wang on the main floor, I’ll pull it for you.” Regina stepped away to find the dress.

“What’s really the matter?” Marinette said once Regina was out of earshot.

“I don’t know,” Chloe shrugged. “I watched so many of these wedding shows and I feel like something is missing. I don’t know what yet.”

“You don’t have to buy anything today,” Sabrina said. “You haven’t even picked a date for the wedding. Don’t stress too much about the dress today; you have plenty of time. When you find the one you will know.”

Regina returned with a large puffy ball gown in her arms. “This is the Vera Wang I was telling you about.”

“Thank you,” Chloe nodded. “I’ll be right back.” Chloe walked back to the dressing room and peeled off the Kate Middleton knock off. She slipped into the Vera Wang, Again it was too tight, she needed to ask for a bigger sample size next time. She could always buy the dress a size up

Chloe felt like a doll in the white dress. The puffy skirt filled the dressing room entirely, she could barely move without knocking hitting the wall. Part of her didn’t want to show the girls. This was a hard no. But in the spirit of dress shopping she decided to go anyway. Chloe carefully lifted up the skirt of the dress and made her way out of the door.

“Leave now.” Chloe heard Sabrina’s sharp whisper from the distance.

Chloe stepped out onto the floor. Her mother stood with her bridesmaids holding a glass of champagne. They were all clearly arguing low enough so the whole showroom didn’t hear.

She charged towards her mother. “What are you doing here?”

The women fell silent. “I came to see you,” her mother smiled.

“How did you find me?”

“You’re easy to track when you are back on the radar.” She held out her phone to show her a tweet of her in her Kate Middleton knock off dress. “You’re back in the spotlight now, remember that darling.”

“Just because you know how to find me doesn’t mean you should.”

“Chloe…” Sabrina warned her.

“You’re right.” Chloe took a deep breath. “Let’s not make a scene mother. Please go home.”

“Not until I talk to you.”

“I’m kind of busy at the moment,” Chloe gestured to her dress.

“Vera Wang?” Audrey snorted. “I love the woman to pieces, but there is no way you’re walking down the aisle in that.”

“Mother!”

“I’m being honest.” She sat down on the couch. “Isn’t this what mother and daughters are supposed to do. Go shopping together?”

“You missed twenty years of shopping with me. You’re not going to start now.” Chloe turned on her heels and heading back to the dressing room.

“It wasn’t my choice.” Audrey shouted.

Chloe stopped dead in her tracks. “What do you mean not your choice?” She spun around. “You chose to leave, you chose to not contact me, you decided you didn’t want to be a mother anymore.”

“So those are the lies your father’s been feeding you?”

“Lies?”

“You’re father completely erased me from your life after the divorce. I tried to visit you, but with your father’s influence over the city he made it impossible. He had the judge in his pocket when during your custody hearing. I wasn’t allowed to see you until you were eighteen, but when the time came I thought you hated me. I sent you a birthday card and Christmas presents every year until you were sixteen. Nathaniel told me you never received them.”

Tears rolled down Chloe’s face as she listened to her mother’s words. They couldn’t be true. No, she left her and never came back. Those were the facts. “Why? Are you back now?”

“Because my baby girl is getting married,” Audrey touched Chloe’s cheek and wiped off her tears. “I missed too many important milestones in your life. There is nothing in this world that will keep me away from missing it.”

“You need to go,” Chloe backed away.

“Chloe…”

“No,” she shouted. “You can just show up in my life with some bullshit excuse to why you disappeared for twenty years. Leave now.”

“Talk to your father,” Audrey said. “I dare him to try to lie to you again.”

Nathaniel left work early as soon as he received the SOS text from Sabrina. He brought a pint of Chloe’s favorite ice cream and an action movie to get her mind off of her mother. He told her to talk to Chloe, but bombarding while wedding dress shopping was not what he meant.

Audrey disappeared for weeks after their initial conversation at the bakery. Nathaniel just thought she gave up, but the staff at the hotel said she was still checked in. He thought she was respecting their wishes to stay out of their way. But in typical Audrey fashion she had to swing in at the worst possible time and ruin everything.

Nathaniel used his spare key to open Chloe’s apartment. Pollen buzzed in his face as soon as he entered.

“How is she?” He asked.

“Not well,” Pollen replied. “She’s not crying or throwing a tantrum. She’s unresponsive.”

This was bad. Chloe wore her emotions on her sleeve. When she was upset all of Paris would know. Whatever her mother said really did a number on her.

“Wish me luck.” Nathaniel knocked on her bedroom door. “Chloe?” She didn’t respond. “I’m coming in.”

Chloe was huddled under her covers, unmoving. He sat on the edge of the bed, careful not to sit on her. Seeing her like this was like a punch in the gut. He shouldn’t have told her mother to try to make things right. He should have seen this coming.

“Hey Chloe,” he said gently. “I have Rocky Road and Die Hard.” Chloe didn’t answer. He lowered the duvet from her head. “Come on, talk to me. I know your mother is the worst, but--”

“No.” She cut him off. “It’s just that...Mother told me after she left Daddy blocked all communication with me. He basically banned her from Paris.”

“That can’t be true.”

“I don’t know what to believe.”

“Have you talked to you father?”

“He keeps calling, but I can’t bring myself to pick it up. I don’t know what to say,” she covered her head again. “I’m just going to stay here until the wedding.”

“Do you not know what to say or afraid of his answer?”

“I don’t know. I’ve had this image of my painted in my head for so long. The vicious gold digger who left me and my father without a trace. Daddy has always been there for me, he supported me through the hard times and tried his best to fill the hole my mother left. If she is telling the truth I don’t think I can look at him the same way.”

Nathaniel pursed his lips. This was bad, if the one person she trusted the most lied to her for twenty years, this could break her. He needed to be her rock if shit hits the fan.

“Scoot over,” he nudged her to the other side of the bed.

“What are you doing?” She groaned.

“Wallowing with you.” Nathaniel kicked off his shoes and joined her under the covers. He popped open the pint of ice cream and scooped. “Open.” She shook her head. “I know it’s your favorite.”

“No,” she pouted. “I’m gaining too much weight. I need to fit into my wedding dress.”

“You haven’t bought yours yet.”

Chloe rolled her eyes and opened her mouth. Nathaniel feed her the ice cream. “I’m scarred for life now,” she grumbled. “From now on I’ll associate wedding dress shopping with discovering my father lied to me for twenty years.”

Nathaniel and Chloe lied in silence for a few moments.

“Maybe you don’t need to go wedding dress shopping again.”

“Huh?”

“Marinette made her own wedding dress, why don’t you ask her to make yours.”

“I can’t. She’s swamped with rebranding Gabriel’s with Adrien and launching her first line. I can’t put that on her.”

“It won’t hurt to ask. Plus we have it in the budget, to hire her and a team to make it.”

“Fine,” she took another bite of ice cream. “I’ll ask. But this is the last time we have ice cream in bed until the wedding night.”

“Is that a promise?” Nathaniel kissed her temple. Chloe’s face turned bright red. Nathaniel loved seeing her get flustered. She was finally getting back to her old self. “Die Hard?”

“Christmas in July, you spoil me Mr. Kurtzberg.”

“Only the best for the future Mrs. Kurtzberg.”

Chloe grimace. “Yeah, you know I’m keeping my name right?”

“I had to try,” Nathaniel shrugged. He knew good and well Chloe Bourgeois wouldn’t give up her name. He wasn’t the type of man who would fight her on it. Just then his phone buzzed in his pocket. It had to be a text from Sabrina, he forgot to update her on Chloe’s mood. He pulled his phone out and checked the text. Nathaniel’s face fell flat. It was from Andre.

Come to the hotel ASAP, I need to speak with you.

“What’s wrong?” Chloe asked.

Nathaniel sighed. He had to tell her. “It’s your father. He wants me to go to the hotel.”

Chloe dropped the Rocky Road on the side table and curled up into a ball again. “What does he want?”

“He didn’t say.”

Chloe popped back up. “Go to him.”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Please, I need to know what he has to say.”

“Then call him!”

“No,” she pouted. “It’s too soon. I need you to be a buffer. That way when I see him next I won’t be as upset. Please.” She gave him her saddest puppy dog eyes. How could he say no to those.

“Fine,” he sighed. “But this is the last time you put me in the middle of your family drama.”

After kissing her goodbye, Nathaniel walked to Le Grand Paris hotel from Chloe’s apartment. He knew this was a bad idea. Chloe needed to talk to her father in person. Not send him to be the middleman.

Nathaniel entered through the front door of the hotel. Andre sat in the lobby holding a large shoebox. He spotted Nathaniel and waved him over. “Thank you for meeting me,” Andre said. “How are you doing?”

“I’m all right,” he sat down. “My fiance is curled up in her bed with a pint of Rocky Road.”

“Audrey came by my room and told me everything. I’ve never seen that woman so angry in my life. But she’s right, Chloe deserves to know the truth.”

“So it is true.”

“More or less,” he nodded. “I did want I thought was right.”

“Then tell her yourself.”

“It’s not that easy,” he sighed. “This is for Chloe.” He handed him the box. “Tell her to come see me after she opens it.”

“You called me over to be an errand boy??” He rolled his eyes. “Both of you need to learn how to communicate with each other.” He took the box from him. “I don’t like to be in the middle of this family drama.”

“When are you going to realize you’re part of the family now?”

#miraculous ladybug #ml fic #chlonath #chloe bourgeois #nathaniel kurtzberg #audrey bourgeois #marinette dupain cheng #sabrina raincomprix #alya cesaire #andre bourgeois

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bananashemmo · 7 years ago

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When We Collide (Part 47)

Pairing: Assistant!Y/N/CEO!Luke

Rating: NC-17

Masterlist: Here

Summary: He is the definition of high class smart ass, swimming in Dom Pierre Pérignon champagne and has never seen the shadow of poverty. She is underprivileged, lives in a messy dorm room on sale and struggles working as an assistant after being thrown out of college. But how will they collide when Luke makes Y/N pregnant after a drunkenly one night stand

When We Collide on Wattpad

“The theories and articles are in fact, correct. Young movie director, Luke Hemmings, has in fact confirmed a kidnapping has been committed at his apartment. Investigators are currently performing their best to investigate the crime scene which is the director’s New York City luxurious penthouse apartment. The girl we are looking for is the director’s assistant, Y/N Y/L/N. Female, late in her pregnancy and with signatures looking like the following...”

Words seemed so faint in the background Luke couldn’t really fully focus if it was actually happening beside him.

His ass was so harshly pressed against the couch he was sure he would fall through the cushion and through the floor any second by now.

He felt completely numb.

Say it would have been days. It felt like it, like the time was completely snailing through everything. But it wasn’t. It had only been minutes, maybe an hour before everyone had figured it out.

Investigators were walking around the ‘crime scene’ talking about everything. He wasn’t listening. He was trying to think who wanted their revenge.

Hands were pressed together the color on his skin had almost turned white. More likely a yellow, expressing that he was basically cutting off his blood system.

It wasn’t that it hurt, he almost couldn’t feel it. The only thing he could feel was his heart pound faster than ever almost begging to come out from his chest. It was the only thing that actually hurt, besides the constant fear resting inside of him.

If he looked over his shoulder he could hear people talk. It was serious, he could tell and he knew he most probably had to listen but he was completely stuck to the couch.

Only a question here and there was answered. Where did he see you the last time, what were the last words and what had you worn today. It was like the only thing he could remember was your face as you left.

You should never have left in the first place, he thought.

It would have changed everything. He wouldn’t have been in this position now.

“The shirt is size XL. Suspect must be tall, at least 6′2 and fingerprints are about to get recognized from the sleeve.” A female investigator explained as she wore blue gloves and shared it with another worker.

Shoe prints on the balcony floor are currently being scanned. Nobody touches the floor before we are done.” Another one said but Luke didn’t even want to turn around to look.

He was in clear shock and everyone was giving him a small rest just to adjust what was going to happen.

His eyes flicked towards the investigator with chestnut colored hair walking past him as she put the black hoodie in a plastic bag.

He scanned it for a short second but it wasn’t something he could recognize. Like, everyone was wearing such shirts nowadays it would be impossible to remember one not wearing something like that.

As the investigator walked out of the front door she almost collided into a tall Ashton and Calum wanting to get inside of the apartment.

“It’s okay.” Luke held a hand in the air when one of the police officers held them outside to block them.

“They’re with me.”

For the first time in a while he stood up from his couch and walked forward. He could tell so many questions were crowded inside of Ashton’s head but there was no way possible he could answer them all.

“What-, Uh-,” Calum was the one speaking up at first but he clearly couldn’t understand what in the world was going on.

“Who took her?” Ashton was more settled with his question, eyes wide and dark just like the tone of his voice.

“If I knew, you’d think all these people would fill up my apartment?” Luke asked back.

He didn’t want to be rude but with his mood and the many thoughts in his mind he couldn’t help but fire back a sneaky comment.

Ashton understood right away the mood Luke was in, god he could totally relate to the situation he was standing in. Instead, he decided not to say something to it and ran a hand through his hair.

“What is he doing here?” He decided to ask instead, referering to Michael talking to some sort of interviewer.

“He was with me when she was kidnapped.” Luke explained, looking at Michael as well. He was baffling his arms in the air almost as if he was telling a story that was totally exaggerated.

Ashton and Calum both glanced at Luke by the mention, one eyebrow being lifted but it took Luke some seconds to realize what they were thinking.

“And that doesn’t ring a bell?” Calum asked and crossed his arms, “Don’t you think it’s just a tiny bit shady he’s in the apartment at the same time as your assistant slash pregnant roomie gets kidnapped?”

Luke looked between the both of them and it took him a split second to hurry towards Michael and pull him away from the interviewer.

Michael was pretty startled by the sudden hands on his shoulders, he barely got the chance to apologize to the interviewer before he was pulled away completely and pressed into the kitchen with Calum and Ashton.

“Woah, security guards, what is going on?” He almost raised his hands in surrender and looked between them with confused eyes.

“Michael, look at me in the eyes and tell me you didn’t have anything to do with this.” Luke looked at him seriously almost straight up in his face. There was no doubt in his tone that he needed the answer right away.

“What?” Michael blinked twice, almost needing the question to be repeated.

“You think I,” He pointed at himself, “Had anything to do with this?”

Luke looked at Michael with a shrug in the shoulder. When he thought about it he couldn’t just accuse him of something there wasn’t any clues to but he just needed to be sure. The whole investigation could be pointless.

“Luke come on.” Michael almost looked hurt, “After everything we’ve been through you believe I would steal your poor pregnant assistant? I could have easily bought myself a better one instead of just stealing her.”

“Yeah, he didn’t do it.” Calum mouthed to Ashton in a whisper but Luke heard.

“Don’t judge the guy, he’s blond.” Ashton muttered back, making both Luke and Michael turn their heads towards them.

“I can’t believe you would think I could do such thin-,”

“Yeah that’s great pretty boy.” Ashton mumbled and turned around quickly, “He’s out of suspect let’s hear what the police has to say.”

Michael almost felt offended by being interrupted in his deep speech, his eyes blinking open and watched as Luke also turned around to leave.

At first he just stared at them not realizing what was going on but afterwards he hurried to stand in their heels as they approached the investigators and the police.

“Any news?” Luke asked, standing behind the lady officer sitting in front of the computers they had set up on the dinner table.

“So far, nothing. We’ve checked camera rolls, video clips from down the streets but the suspect has been quiet the clever Cloe. No files seem to be erased yet there is nothing to find. It’s like whoever has stepped out from the apartment has completely vanished.”

“Maybe you should reload some of the clips from the elevator? Maybe we can kind something in that.” Ashton suggested, standing next to Luke with furrowed eyebrows.

“If the suspect hasn’t taken the stairs.” Calum mentioned quieter, already thinking forward but it was worth the shot.

The lady officer nodded her head in agreement and typed things onto the keyboard. Files spread on the three large computer screens they had put up for the investigations and it was a lot of things to look through.

“There.” Ashton pointed at one clip, “That timing and date seems perfect.”

“Let’s check it out.” The lady officer mumbled and she pressed her finger with a spare of cards symbol tattoo onto the mouse to load on the screen.

They all waited in anticipation as the file suddenly came up on the screen, showing someone stand with a black hoodie over their shoulders with the back facing the camera.

“That must be him!” Ashton exclaimed intensely, “Or her, for the matter.”

“I’m not sure if it’s the same hoodie. Seems more like a jacket.” The lady officer explained and when the second was at the most dramatic, everyone sighed in deep disappointment.

“That’s Michael.” Luke almost wanted to smack his head against the table.

As the person turned around and revealed who it was, the clear significant pointed to Michael. The blond hair, the stubble around the chin and the sunglasses to cover his face.

“That’s me!” Michael commented in an exciting tone and a smile broke to his face.

“Man, I look good in an elevator.”

Silence fell upon the room by the sudden comment, all eyes adverting to Michael who clearly didn’t understand the dramatic point of the situation.

“You bring a flat iron with you?” Calum almost couldn’t ask the question as he looked on the tape.

“What?” Michael asked and softly ran his fingers through his hair, “It’s hard to control the hair at cold months because it curls in the ends so I need to bring my straightener after leaving my house. I always carry it in my bag and it’s the reason why I wear my hoodie over the head. It protects the hair.”

A moment of another silence was completely offered to Michael. At least twenty eyes were staring at him almost in disbelief and it wasn’t until Calum coughed attention went back to the screen.

“The tapes are pointless. Calum is right. He or she must have taken the stairs.” The lady officer confirmed and another sigh of disappointment came from Luke.

“We have to do something.” He almost wanted to pull his hair out in frustration.

“Try give me your phone again.” She requested and Luke did as told, pulling it out from his pocket.

“And you’re sure the I.D caller was Unknown?” She asked, almost not wanting to touch it because it being such a clue to the whole investigation.

“I’m completely sure. Neither did I recognize the voice. It was completely unknown to me and I meet a lot of people in life. That voice, I couldn’t remember.”

The lady officer nodded her head in understanding and nodded a few people over to help. Luke and the others nodded intensely.

“What we are going to do is to hope that the suspect has seen the flash news on TV and such. It makes them believe they are something important, that their mission is heading towards the right direction. Hopefully, we expect they are going to call you again as you still haven’t proceed to do something about the kidnapping.

“Well that’s because some officers haven’t allowed me to leave the place.” Luke said almost through gritted teeth and glared towards the door.

“Exactly, but see it as a benefit, Mr. Hemmings.” The lady officer explained.

“What we are going to do is we will connect the phone to our system. If the phone calls again we will be able to track it all over the state at every mobile post that exist. It works almost 100% correct whether the I.D caller is known or Unknown.”

“But how do I make it call again?” Luke asked, not but getting the answer he wanted.

“We can’t decide that.” The lady officer saddened in her tone, “It’s all up to the suspects.”

Luke sighed heavily and looked down at his feet. It felt like no matter how many times things seemed to head forward he was stuck in the same position as before.

“We will wait.” He said bravely, “No matter if it takes all night then so be it.”

Luke headed away from the table just to get a breath of air. He didn’t know where to go because it was impossible and it didn’t take long before another interviewer showed up to speak with him.

“Luke?” She was careful in her tone, not wanting to disturb but still wanted to do her job.

“Heather.” Luke said back, recognizing her bouncy blond curls.

“I don’t want to disturb if you’re in deep thought,” She was still careful, “But is there anything you want to say to the world before we turn off for the night?”

Luke looked at her ready to reject but then a sudden confusion came to his face. It changed quickly to something that seemed to settle on something he took the microphone out of her hand.

His face was directed pointed towards the camera and he breathed in deeply to find the right words to say.

“Whoever did this. Whoever had the heart to do something so idiotic as kidnapping someone to get a benefit is what god wishes as something only happening in the movies. I hope whoever have done this to not only me but also to the girl that I love have the baddest feeling in the mouth. Nobody wants to go through the feeling of doubt, confusion and the constant fear of nothing moving forward like the way I’m feeling right now. Trust me when I say that I can feel my heart ready to pound out of my chest. Trust me when I say I can feel my throat ready to turn upside down. Trust me when I say that I’m ready to commit a murder of whoever decided to kidnap Y/N because this won’t end well and heads will roll.”

He looked at the kidnapper almost pressing the microphone into her chest, “That’s all I have to say to the idiots.”

Heather looked pretty surprised by Luke’s words, a little speechless but she seemed satisfied with what she got.

Luke cleared his mouth from the small bit of salvia that had arrived from not breathing through the words and his eyes were quick to glance back when movements came from behind him.

“The phone is calling.” The lady officer announced loudly and waved her hand for Luke to come.

“I.D caller is unknown, start the tracking devices.” She instructed harshly and Luke hurried over to grab the phone out of her hand.

“Remember, no provocation.” She warned at him carefully, pointing a finger at him.

Luke nodded his head and swallowed thickly as he answered the phone and shut his eyes.

“Hello?”

His voice almost echoed in the apartment, it was so quiet. Nobody was speaking a word, they didn’t dare to. The only thing was low machine noises coming from the detectors trying to register where the phone call was from.

Seconds passed by but nobody said a word. Luke was almost confused if it was just someone else calling out of accident but then he heard small sounds coming from the other end of the phone.

“Luke? Luke-, Please is that you?”

When he heard your voice he almost couldn’t believe his words. It cut through his heart like a sharp knife.

Ashton felt a jolt go through his body by your tone but Calum held him back from saying or doing something out of reaction.

“Lu-, Luke please, you have to do somethin-,” When the line was completely cut off so did Luke’s breathing.

“Did you get it?” Calum asked almost loudly as he watched the computers still trying to regestrate where it was coming from.

It was a stressful situation, it was hard to tell what was going on. Ashton and Calum were staring at the screen while Luke stood completely frozen with the phone not believing his ears.

“We’ve got it.” The lady officer announced when the screen changed with an address and google maps.

“We’ve found the location of the phone.”

“No time to fucking waste.” Luke, Ashton and Calum hurried towards the door with the rest of the crew.

“We need to leave right in the second. Get spread in the cars.”

Michael still stood by the computers looking confusedly around down at his fingers. It took him some time to register what had suddenly happened and he hurried towards the door as well.

“I’m going with you! This could be the biggest comeback of a movie ever.”

Luke barely heard what Michael had to say but neither did he care. Just the sound of your panic voice was enough to make him storm out of the door with a headed direction.

Little didn’t he known how cold, alone and scared you felt tied to a chair.

You had no idea for how long the drive had been, how you had suddenly appeared it almost felt like you had been drugged. You could have compared it to drinking and getting the blackouts.

Nothing seemed to be remembered clearly and god how you just wished you could get the headache away.

You were sure of one thing. You were tied to a chair. It was pretty obvious and you could feel how it was tightening around your stomach. They didn’t take anything for care and they had no hopes of believing you were okay.

“Did you hear the sound of his voice? He sounded so panicked!”

“Yeah I was pretty amazed too! Who could care that much for a poor girl and I baby. I wouldn’t. It doesn’t come with any benefits.”

You weren’t sure if you wanted to smack your head back and hopefully hit the back of the chair. That was how tired you were of listening to the two large tall males who had kidnapped you the second you came down to the last floor of the apartment.

They only went by the letters T and G. Most probably to cover up their original names and most importantly not to spoil anything when they had placed the phone to your mouth.

“Did you see him on the TV? He’s a wimp and I’m most probably can’t do a thing about anything.”

“Was he that bad in bed when he knocked you pregnant? He can’t even keep his arms up for a second I don’t believe he could do the same with his dick.” The guy to the left commented after banging his hand on the small TV.

His friend was laughing next to him, pretty amused by the situation.

“How about the two of you shut up for a second and start telling me what the hell is going on?” You were both stubborn but scared at the same time. They seemed like losers but still remained scary with their tall shadows.

“How about you shut up? I told you not to say anything as long as you were under our domand.” The guy to the right knocked on the TV once to get the channel right and headed towards you.

“Or, do I need to remind you again?” He headed forward and cold shivers ran down your spine as he collected a knife.

“You know that I can easily tear your pretty face with this?” He slowly pressed the blade against your cheek, “Or let’s say something else. An arm? Your stomach?”

“You don’t touch her.” You said through gritted teeth teeth but gasped when he grazed the knife against your arm.

“Oh so it’s a girl!” He said as if it actually impressed him and watched the blood leak from your arm.

It wasn’t a deep cut but enough for you to flinch. You couldn’t even remove the droplet of blood because of your hands being tied but you watched it slowly fall down onto your lap.

“Don’t act like you’re happy on my behalf.” You spat, almost not wanting to start the argument.

“But I am.” He said and spread his arms, “A girl means she’s already wrapped around his little finger! That only adds up your chances of survival you know. If he gets here in time.”

You watched him head towards a desk filled with cobweb. The place wasn’t really anything to brag about, it smelled horrible and could have been cut out from a scene.

“What is this? Why did you kidnap me?” You had asked the question a couple of times now.

“I’ve already answered you this.” The one still standing by the TV sighed.

“You’re the key to the diamonds.”

“I don’t get where you’re going.” You quivered an eyebrow and sincerely wished he could continue.

“To get to Luke, you need to get close to the thing he loves the most.”

“And that’s me?” You almost couldn’t believe his words.

“It’s you.” He pointed at you with a smile and moved the knife down, “And the baby.”

“But what about revenge?” You couldn’t get the things to seem right. Nothing seemed right about this, there was something he wasn’t telling you and you couldn’t figure it out.

“Who wants revenge if it’s the diamonds that are demanded?”

“I can’t tell you.” He shrugged like it was nothing and laughed. He was either being really stupid or just enjoying giving you this pain. You were left with no information.

“But aren’t you the one wanting revenge? Wanting the diamonds.” You looked between them, “The both of you.”

“Nahh.” The other one shrugged and crossed his arms, “We’re just the ones taking orders.”

You looked between them trying to read their faces but you couldn’t get them to say anything. You looked over their shoulders by the doors that were faintly covered by white duvets.

It wasn’t clear to see but two shadows were also creeping behind, not wanting to reveal their faces but you could feel the lump in your throat ready to choke you.

“Please tell me this is just a nightmare.” You whispered to yourself but as another droplet of blood hit your thigh you realized the reality.

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tipsyrosay · 7 years ago

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L'esprit de l'escalier | jjk

↳ ‘The inescapable feeling you get when you leave a conversation then think about all the things you should have said.

pairing: jungkook x reader feat, best friend jin

genre: ex lovers au // angst

word count: 2,123 words

a/n: i found myself wanting to portray the harshness of the world we live in, hopefully i did it justice.

“I fall in love, every single time I look into your eyes”

You should have known that coming here was a bad decision. For the past 2 weeks, Seokjin had pestered you to be his plus one for an event that he, by hook or crook needed to be present at. You weren’t exactly a sociable person, preferring the comfort of your own home with no pressure to strike a conservation with someone you might not even see again.

“I’ll buy you that collection of comic books you were eyeing the other day”, he practically begged you as he started to kneel, knowing very well that it was your weakness. One, two, three– ,

“Fine, remember I’m only doing it for the comic books”. He watched as you grumbled under your breath as he punched his fist into the air with a yelp ‘I knew I could trust my handsomeness’.

Now, you were here, gulping down every beverage the server served you. This was your attempt in trying to ward off any stranger that would want to make small talk. Because the last thing you remember Seokjin telling you was that it was going to be a private event, reserved for family and friends. But what you see is clearly the opposite. Cliques of people here and there were talking amongst each other, occasionally moving around to socialise with others. Bracelets with a flower wrapped around their wrists.

What kind of event are you taking me to? You remember asking Seokjin, as curiosity filled your eyes. After all, you had to be dressed appropriately for the occasion as his plus one. The very least you could do was to look the part.

It’s a secret, I wouldn’t want to ruin the element of surprise. He smirked as a finger lifted, placed right in front of his mouth.

Well, you were definitely in for a treat, because of all the things you could have thought of, you didn’t expect him to bring you to a wedding of all sorts. The last time you attended a wedding was when you were nine and it didn’t end well. You told that sneaky boy, Seokjin of the horrible mess you created at the wedding when you tripped and splashed the drink on the bride. And yet he still brought you to a wedding, guess it’s on him if anything unfortunate were to happen.

“Y/N, aren’t you clutching onto my arm a little too tight- Ow hey that’s rude”

“I’m already sick of the atmosphere, so I’m going to help myself to some food. Do you want anything?” you flicked his forehead as you waited for him to respond. Deciding to wait no more, you walked towards the buffet section, licking your lips in anticipation at the thought of all the mouth-watering deserts that are waiting to be indulged in.

“Hyung, you made it!”

You thought you heard wrong. Refusing to believe your ears, you shook it off, telling yourself that it was impossible. Impossible for him to be here. Just when you were about to take a deep breath and continue walking, Seokjin pulled you back. And your fears were confirmed.

The boy whose doe eyes enchanted you and reminded you of innocence. The boy you could rely on to cheer you up with the silliest faces and jokes.

The boy whose heart that you broke.

No words left your mouth. You made sure that you wouldn’t see him ever again after that day. Those eyes that was once shined so brightly with youth was now masked with indifference. You wondered if you were the reason for behind it. Taking a good look at him, you notice that his ash blonde locks that you used to enjoy running your fingers through are now hazel brown. It took a while for you to realise that Seokjin had already fled from the scene and it was just the two of you.

If it was possible, you would use a knife to slice the tension. But he beat you to it.

“How have you been?” he looked at you with those doe eyes. Hearing him speak to you like that, in such a curt manner, made you hurt a little inside. It was if he was speaking to a stranger. But you deserved this, after all that happened, you didn’t expect anything more than this. But a woman can dream, right?

Terrible, I’ve missed you so much. I miss the way you used to sing to me even when you were so shy but you did it for me. I miss your bunny smile.

“I’ve been doing fine, what about yourself?”, you flashed him a smile. A smile that mirrored his polite manners and nothing more. Did he manage to get that job promotion he was working hard for? Has he gone back to Busan to visit his parents? All these questions linger at the tip of your tongue. But as if something was obstructing their way, they never came out.

“I’m the overall in charge for the financial department in CM company now.” You noticed how the 4 years have changed him. With neatly styled hair, clean and crisp tuxedo, he could have fooled you. Because it didn’t feel like Jeon Jungkook was standing in front of you. The Jungkook that you knew. Wishing so hard to leave yet wanting to stay at the same time, you internally begged for Seokjin to drag you away from here.

You don’t have to pretend when I’m around

“What brings you here?” you manage to let out. It felt so foreign speaking to him. You missed the times where the both of you just bombarded each other with countless questions and there was never an air of silence. He lifted his hand to rub the back of neck, a gesture he always did whenever he was uncomfortable. Now the tables have turned. You who used to ruffle his hair whenever he was uncomfortable with others, now became the source of discomfort for him. Breaking the eye contact, you turned to your side to have a sip of champagne, hoping it will drown your sorrows and mask the pain you felt.

We were so perfect

He bites his lip, a look of confusion painting his face. He wanted to ask you so badly why you left. Left the both of you behind. He wanted to know if you still working for that horrible boss of yours, wanted to know if you missed him.

“Hey Y/N, what are you doing? Don’t distract the groom from what he has to do.”, Seokjin said. Turning around, you had the urge to smack Seokjin for interrupting your conversation with Jungkook but then what he said registered in your mind and caused you to freeze in your movements.

Groom.

You were too late, you thought to yourself. Life must really hate you, to play such a cruel trick on you. Another word to describe what’s happening would be karma. For ruining a boy like Jungkook, 4 years ago. You were really trying your best to keep the tears from falling. You did. After all, you wouldn’t want Jungkook to see you crying about him.

Holding your breath and tears, you turned around to see dark eyes staring right back at you. Staring back at those eyes, you thought you saw guilt and hurt in them. You wanted to ask him if she knows that he hates it when people step on his shoes, likes his coffee with 2 teaspoons of sugar, his habit of chewing his lip when he’s afraid.

“Don’t leave Y/N”, he watched as you packed your belongings into your hand carry. He wondered what he did wrong, for you to want to leave him behind. He held onto your sweater, begging you to tell him the reason of your impending departure.

He cries for the first time.

The only other time he was close to crying was when he fought with his brother and a scar formed on his cheek.

But you just opened the door and left, without looking back.

A simple “we were too perfect” was all you muttered.

“I didn’t know I was holding you back, you should get to it then”, you excused yourself as tight-lipped smile forced its way onto your face. You couldn’t bear to see the pitiful looks he would send you. But instead of pitiful, all people could see was longing towards someone he couldn’t have.

Have you ever missed us

It felt like someone ripped out your heart and stomped on it relentlessly. You found solace in the bathroom. Nobody could hear your heart wrenching sobs. There was no need to hide anymore. You were a fool for thinking that perhaps you still stood a chance. He moved on. And maybe you should too. Wiping your tears away didn’t erase the pain you felt but that was all you could do.

“It’s you”.

You were so lost in your own thoughts that you didn’t realise someone was speaking to you.

“You’re her”.

She looked beautiful with makeup that highlighted her bambi eyes, sharp pointed nose and small lips. Whereas you looked like a wreck next to her. Hair in a mess with strands sticking to your face, makeup ruined due to the crying.

“You look gorgeous”, you decided to fish her a compliment, deciding that even though you had a rough day, someone else might as well have a better day than yours. Feeling self-conscious at the way she’s staring back at you, you reached to take a napkin to dry your hands.

“He still loves you”.

Turning around to fully face her, you saw the white dress that clung onto her body, fitting her perfectly. You expected to see anger in those eyes, but all you noticed was hints of surrender and resign. She left and you slumped down to the ground, head hurting from whatever was happening.

I want it

She loved him, you could tell. It was brave of her to tell another woman that her to-be husband loves another. You fled the bathroom and found yourself running to find Seokjin. He found you and ushered you to the assigned seats. You watch as the officiant reminds the bride and groom of their duties and roles in marriage. The first thing you picked up was the slight swelling of Jungkook’s eyes. It was as if he cried. The sun then started to shine real brightly, bringing your attention to his neck.

You knew what it was and you couldn’t believe your eyes. He still wore it after all these years. Tearing your eyes away from the scene, you admire the scenery. You didn’t have the heart to witness the ceremony. Each word they recited like needles stabbed your heart. Slow yet deadly.

“If anyone had any objections to this couple getting married, speak now or forever hold your peace.”

Seokjin looked at you and with all the strength you had, you continued looking ahead.

Jungkook’s head turned around, eyes searching for that one person. That one person. She just needed to say the word and he would leave with her. His first love. She broke his heart but he didn’t care. Because he would have given his heart to her anyway. If it was her, he didn’t mind the pain. Someone told him once, you know you really love someone, when you don’t hate them for breaking your heart.

He found her, but she was staring at anywhere but him. Respecting her decision, he looked back at his bride with a practiced smile,

“With this ring, I thee wed”.

Swallowing his pain, he leaned forward to kiss his bride after the officiant made it official. With closed eyes, he wished that maybe in another life, he would ever get his happily ever after with you. People saw tears streaming down the married couple’s faces, thinking it was out of joy. But you knew.

Behind those eyes staring at you whilst hugging his bride, he still loved you.

I love you too

And with glassy eyes, you nodded your head at him.

Seokjin had left with you, claiming that he wanted dinner at the infamous diner near your place. You went along with whatever he wanted most of the time and today was one of those days. Seokjin was telling you about how the other day, his friend had set him up on a blind date and all the other details. But it didn’t feel like you were there anymore, for you only wished you had told Jungkook that you had missed him so much and you didn’t want him to marry her. Told him all the things that you should have said.

But you don’t get everything that you want in life.

JK 💘 Y/N

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thecoliverlibrary · 8 years ago

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6 p.m.

Gift Type: Fan Fiction Title: 6 p.m. Author: @samwhambam Recipient: @coliverscribbles Rating: General Warnings: N/A Word Count: 4440 Summary: An awkward moment during Thanksgiving dinner leads Connor to make a rash decision and lie to his family, telling them that he’s in a relationship. But he’s not. In comes his neighbor to help him keep his lie afloat until enough time has passed by and he can tell his family that they broke up. But of course, fake dating is never that easy. Author’s Note: Happy Holidays! I hope you enjoy it! :)

6 p.m.

He had fucked up. Connor had truly fucked up. Everyone was staring at him and the room was quiet and he had no option but to continue with his lie.

“Yeah, I’ve been seeing him for a couple of months and it’s going really well,” Connor aimed the comment at his uncle, who swear to God had started it, and then before he could blink, everyone in the room was cheering and approaching him, and slapping him on the back, and Connor didn’t see his way out of it.

“Oh! Look at him! He’s glowing! He’s in love!” His aunt screeched and everyone was suddenly screaming, asking him question after question and for a second he forgot what had led him to make that stupid mistake.

It had been his uncle who had gotten just a little bit too drunk and a little bit too loud and racist and homophobic. The conversation was beginning to veer in a direction that was a little too controversial for a family reunion on Thanksgiving, so Connor had somehow decided to let it slip that he was seeing someone. Except, he wasn’t. He was single. Completely single and loving it. But that’s not what came out of his mouth.

He heard a champagne cork pop and that’s when he really began to freak out. Were they really celebrating him “being in a relationship?” He smiled at his relatives before accepting that glass being offered to him and he downed that sucker in record time. He threw out vague answers to all of the questions being aimed at him. They were vague enough that he wasn’t going to have to remember them for the future, but they were specific enough that it satisfied the relative who asked him.

Connor spent the rest of the party trying to come up with a comprehensive lie. Something that he could remember, easy enough that he could keep his facts straight without having to remember too much. A fake relationship that could be played off as being not a big deal. And then can be broken off in a few weeks. If he needed it to last that long, it could.

Things didn’t quiet down until the last relative left his mother’s house and then his mother and sister jumped on him, asking for more specific details.

“What’s his name?” His sister asked as she pulled him into the living room, pushing him onto the sofa. “Oh! Is it that cute neighbor of yours??”

He had a neighbor, Oliver, who he got along with. They were hanging out once, got a little drunk, and each took turns complaining about their families and the pressures they were putting on each of them to start dating around with the intentions of settling down. He would understand the situation. If Connor needed to, he could ask Oliver to play along. He was too nice to say no to helping Connor impress his family. It could work. With all the careful planning and calculating, Connor knew everything was going to still go to shit, he was a horrible liar.

But, fuck. She remembered him. When had he talked to Gemma about Oliver? This made it easier, right? She would fill in the blanks for herself. Then he could use that against them later, say it wasn’t as perfect as they made up in their heads. It could work.

“It is actually! Oliver,” Connor happily accepted the drink his mother brought to him. She gave him a small wink as she sat down in the lounge chair across from him.

Wait. What did that mean? Did she know that he had been lying through his teeth all night? Or was that an encouragement?

“How long have you two been seeing each other? Was this connected to the date you mentioned in August?” Gemma was speculating and it was making Connor’s job so much easier.

“Yes! It was!” Connor took a long sip from the drink as Gemma began to open her mouth. The interrogation just started, but he didn’t know how much longer he could keep answering questions.

Thankfully his mom butted in before Gemma could get out her next question.

“Gemma, leave him alone. It’s late and he needs to be at the airport early in the morning. We’ll have enough time to ask questions when we’re in Philly and we can track down the lucky guy,” She said as she got up, taking Connor’s empty glass. “Connor, I’ll give you a ride in the morning. Don’t stay up late!”

And Connor was shooed off to bed.

It wasn’t until Connor was slipping off his shoes in the security line when his mother’s words hit him.

Track down the lucky guy.

“Sir, you’re holding up the line,” Connor shook his head, trying to clear himself from the panic settling into his chest.

“Sorry,” he mumbled as he placed his shoes into the plastic basket.

Once he was sitting down with his shoes tied, Connor pulled out his phone, contemplating what his first move was going to be. He had to tell Oliver about what he had done, and then he had to convince him to go along with it. Just for the weekend where his mother and sister were visiting. Then, he could make an excuse about Oliver being busy for the holidays, so he wouldn’t be able to join him in going back to Michigan and then sometime in January, Connor could call his mother and act his way through a break up and it would be fine. Everything would work out. It would be fine.

He unlocked his phone, opening up his and Oliver’s text thread. His thumb froze, hovering over the keyboard. He could do it. This was the easy part. He wrote out a couple of drafts of the text, erasing each one before he could send it. He had to be suave about it. Collected. He had to ease into it.

I’m coming back into town tonight. Wanna come over and order a pizza and Netflix with me? I’ve been missing Steve’s pizza.

The text was simple, ordinary, and gave absolutely nothing away. Connor almost felt bad, the poor guy wasn’t going to see it coming. He knew Oliver. Oliver was kind and he didn’t deserve what was coming to him. Connor could see it now. His mother and sister attacking Oliver with all the questions, about himself, work, his family. All of it. Then going in for the kill shot, asking about marriage, children, where he wanted to retire.

He was going to be in for a wild ride. Connor almost felt bad, almost considered rethinking asking Oliver to do that for him. But then he remembered that all his friends are assholes and wouldn’t do that for him. Or be convincing enough.

Connor’s phone vibrated as he sat down in his terminal. He got out his laptop before pulling his phone out of his pocket.

Didn’t you leave like, 2 days ago? You can’t miss Steve’s pizza when you’ve only been gone for two days.

Connor sent off another text as he powered on his laptop, pulling up the final study guide for one of his classes.

But are you coming over?

He made it through a page of his notes before an incoming text popped up on his laptop.

Of course.

Connor was putting away his last article of clothing when he heard his front door open and someone call out to him.

“I’ll be right there!” Connor called out as he took a final look in the mirror. You can do this. He’ll say yes. It’s just a formality.

“I brought the pizza,” Oliver said as Connor shuffled into the living room. “And the beers. Because I wasn’t sure if you had anything.”

Oliver placed two plates on the counter, turning back around to grab napkins off of the top of the fridge. Connor frowned. Oliver really was too nice and he was going to be ripped to shreds by his family.

“That was a good call,” Connor smiled at him before turning and grabbing the remote off of the coffee table, turning the tv on before grabbing his plate. “Anything you wanna watch in particular?”

“Nah. I’ll flip through and you’ll tell me where to stop?” Oliver said as he picked up his plate, taking it into the living room.

“Sounds good.”

Connor handed Oliver the remote as he sat down, covering his eyes before giving Oliver the go ahead.

“Stop!” Connor yelled out.

“You don’t have to yell,” Oliver threw the remote onto the coffee table before picking up his plate.

“And yet, I do it every time,” Connor winked at Oliver before taking a bite of his own slice.

Do it. Do it. Do it. Do. It.

“Ollie, I did something bad during Thanksgiving dinner,” Connor blurted out, mentally slapping himself for how it came out. It was rushed and awkward and oh god, Oliver was staring at him and Connor just wanted the earth to split open and swallow him whole.

“What did you do?” Oliver was speaking slowly, the fear creeping up and filling his body.

“I may have, uh, somehow decided it was a great idea to tell my family that I was in a relationship and we both know I’m not,” Connor winced. He was usually, so, so good with words. It was one of the reasons why he wanted to be a lawyer. He liked that he was quick and could spin things to his advantage. But in this case, the words weren’t there.

“Oh. Okay,” Oliver’s face was blank. He was just staring at Connor and Connor didn’t think he could handle it.

“I don’t know how it happened, but my uncle was being an asshole and it was a fight or flight moment and I decided to lie to him. And my sister and mom are going to visit in two weekends after finals to decorate my apartment for Christmas so I can ‘have some Christmas cheer while I’m still working at my internship,’” Connor paused. This was it. “So, I was wondering if you could, for the weekend that they’re here, pretend to be my boyfriend? You’d only have to hang out with us on the Saturday. And it wouldn’t have to be for long. Just for a meal or something, we can say you have family obligations. Just enough time so they don’t catch on to the lie.”

Oliver was silent, his face still blank. He was just staring and it was driving Connor crazy. The silence was deafening.

“Okay,” Oliver shrugged before taking another bite of his pizza.

“What?” Connor put his plate down on the table in front of him, wiping his fingers off on his napkin. “Really?”

“Yeah. I figured you’d only ask if you really needed my help and I know you’d do the same for me,” Oliver explained as he got up, getting another slice from the box. He was halfway back to the couch when he turned around, grabbed the box and brought it into the living room. “I feel like you were prepared for a battle.”

“You have no idea,” Connor snatched another piece of pizza, leaving the box open on the coffee table.

A few moments passed before Oliver broke the silence that settled over them.

“Jeopardy makes me feel stupid. How the fuck do they know the answers? These questions are so random!” Oliver scoffed and took another swig from his beer.

Connor silently changed the channel, deciding to keep the fact that he knew the answers to every single question quiet.

“You’re going to laugh. It’s so predictable,” Connor covered his face with his hands. His cheeks were turning a faint pink. He wasn’t sure if it was from the embarrassment or the alcohol flowing through him.

He had finished his last final that morning and to celebrate, Oliver had come over with a bottle of champagne in one hand and a bottle of red wine in the other. Connor had disregarded the champagne and went straight to the red wine.

“Tell me. What’s your favorite book?” Oliver poured Connor another glass of wine. This one was noticeably smaller than the previous glasses and Connor pretended not to notice.

“Why do we have to do this again? You know much more about me than you think you do,” Connor folded his legs underneath him, shifting closer to Oliver on the couch.

“I want to know as much about you as I can, so that way when your family gets here tomorrow, I can be a convincing fake boyfriend rather than just a fake boyfriend,” Oliver ran his index finger around the rim of the glass, eyes fixed on a drop that was running down the inside of the cup.

There was a pillow resting between them and honestly, Connor was thinking that it was getting in the way. They had been spending time together, more time together than usual. Each meeting had a purpose, to get to know each other more. Oliver wanted the upcoming weekend to be perfect, convincing so they had been hanging out and talking. Sometimes the conversations were light, happy childhood memories mixed with questions about favorite vacations. Sometimes the conversations were heavier, consisting of their childhood fears and hopes for the future. This conversation had somehow been focused around books and movies and Connor was living for their current conversation. There was something about the way that Oliver had spent half an hour talking passionately about his favorite book that was incredibly endearing and it was beginning to do things for Connor.

“It’s so cliché though,” Connor groaned. He scooted just a bit closer. If Oliver noticed, he didn’t say anything.

“Say it,” Oliver was giggling and he finally, finally turned his body in his seat to face Connor.

“To Kill a Mockingbird.”

Oliver just stared at him.

“How is that cliché?” Oliver asked, his eyebrow raised. But before Connor could open his mouth, Oliver was talking again. “Oh! Atticus! The whole lawyer thing.”

“Yeah,” Connor looked down. He was definitely blushing this time. “I read it, fell in love and it all just spiraled from there.”

“That’s not cliché,” And there it was, Oliver was leaning towards him. He had gotten comfortable and he was sitting closer to Connor.

If Connor wanted to, he could lean further, and kiss him. It wasn’t much of a distance. But, he wasn’t going to. All these meetings were, was time dedicated to learning about each other. So Oliver could be a convincing fake boyfriend. These weren’t dates. Connor was just developing a silly crush. Just that.

“I feel like that’s what puts the idea to be a lawyer into the minds of most aspiring lawyers,” Connor shrugged. “It’s also a great movie.”

“Gregory Peck,” Oliver whistled. “It’s a good eye opener in general.”

“Yeah,” Connor nodded.

They sat in silence, drinking from their respective cups.

“Hey, Ollie,” Connor put his glass down on the table before leaning closer and placing a hand over Oliver’s. “Thanks again for doing this. I really appreciate you.”

“It’s really not a problem,” Oliver’s empty glass joined Connor’s.

“No, it is. You’re going to meet my family in two days and it’s going to be crazy, but you’re amazing and I, I just am happy that you’re in my life,” Connor let out a deep breath when he felt Oliver’s fingers squeeze his. “I mean; you’ve been there for me for the past two years. You’ve been there for all the breakdowns. You’ve been a constant beacon of light. You’ve been my best friend and I don’t think you knew that. So, thank you. I already owe you so much and now I just owe you more.”

“Connor,” There was something in Oliver’s voice that made Connor look up. It was understanding. Oliver knew exactly what Connor was saying because he felt it too.

Their eyes connected and Connor couldn’t breathe. Until this little experiment, he had never thought of Oliver as something more to him, but in that moment, he realized that all Oliver ever was to him, was more than just a friend. He was his companion. The person he fought through life with.

Neither of them kissed the other first. It just happened. It was soft, hesitant, and when they pulled away, their breathing was labored and both men fought the urge to kiss again.

Oliver looked confused and Connor wanted to scream. He wasn’t the only one that felt it. He knew Oliver was right there with him. The past two weeks were perfect for the both of them.

“Let me take you on a date,” The words were out of Connor’s mouth before he registered that he was speaking.

“How drunk are you?” Oliver was biting his lower lip and Connor could see the internal war plaguing him.

“Tipsy. But still sober enough that you know I’m not just saying or doing any of this,” Connor’s hand snaked up, running along Oliver’s neck before resting on his cheek.

“You can take me on a date after your family leaves. If you still want to,” Oliver said as he leaned his forehead against Connor’s. Connor could feel the doubt radiating off of Oliver. Like Oliver couldn’t believe that Connor was infatuated with him or wanted him.

“I’m putting it in my calendar,” Connor pressed another soft kiss to Oliver’s lips.

They kissed softly for another minute. Connor felt alive at the sudden realization of his feelings for Oliver. They were there and Connor just wanted Oliver to stay. He wanted to keep talking and drinking and he wanted to wake up next to him in the morning. But Oliver was hesitant and Connor couldn’t blame him. Oliver knew Connor.

So Connor wasn’t surprised when Oliver pulled away, out of breath and mumbled something about how he should probably get home. Connor didn’t realize that it was already past one in the morning until he locked the door behind Oliver.

“They’re really hitting it off,” His mother said as she nudged Connor in the side.

Connor smiled at her before mumbling “they really are.”

Connor and his mother were standing in his kitchen, getting breakfast situated as Oliver and Gemma began organizing the boxes of Christmas decorations that they brought with them. As soon as Oliver had walked into the apartment, Gemma was on him. She had approached him, enveloped him in a hug and then proceeded to ask him to help her while the other two unpacked the pastries Connor had gotten that morning. Honestly, Connor had become chopped liver to his sister once Oliver walked in and he was okay with it.

“He seems really nice. I mean, I’ve barely talked to him. But, I have a good feeling about him,” She didn’t look at her son as she re-arranged the plate.

Connor stared at his mom, waiting for what was on the tip of her tongue. When she still didn’t talk, he turned around, fiddling with the coffee maker.

“He makes you happy, right? You’re not just settling down because your sister and I bug you about it so much, right?” Her voice was quiet, scared for the answer.

“He does. It has nothing to do with you guys, promise,” Connor leaned against the counter, letting his eyes fall on his living room patrons. He felt bad, lying to his mom. “He’s been there, through all of law school. He’s a good presence in my life. And I love spending time with him. We just fit.”

Connor nodded at his mom as she stared at him, her eyes burning into his. He almost wondered if she could see the memories flooding his brain. All the times that Oliver brought food while he was cramming for midterms, the wine after the midterms and all their movie marathons. All of them innocent until the other night. It was as if she saw all of them, saw the confusion in his eyes.

“You never meant to feel this way for him, but you do. That’s normal,” His mom leaned forward, grabbing a croissant and tearing it in two. She gave the bigger half to her son. “You’ve been talking about him for years. I remember when you moved in and you met him. We talked on the phone the next night and you said there was something about him. You couldn’t pinpoint what it was, but there was something there that made you trust him. I’ve watched him become your best friend. And now this.”

She paused to take a bite, Connor was silent as Oliver and Gemma began to stand up.

“He likes you. I can tell. It’s genuine. You have a good thing going Connor,” The hand rubbing his arm was comforting.

“So many options!” Gemma exclaimed as she grabbed the napkins, handing one to Oliver. “Everything looks great. Connor, you selected well.”

“I got two of everything, so I really didn’t do much,” Connor shrugged as he watched Oliver pick up one of the chocolate croissants, making a mental note of his choice.

Oliver locked eyes with Connor, smiling at him as Gemma began to ramble about different things that her and Oliver had talked about. Their mother responded enthusiastically as Connor motioned to the coffee pot.

Oliver rounded the counter, joining him at the pot. They bumped shoulders lightly as Connor poured four mugs. Oliver passed out the two first ones to their guests before joining Connor again.

“They like you,” Connor whispered as Oliver poured creamer into both of their cups. “They think you’re sweet.”

“The day is still young. Who knows, maybe I’ll tell them about the time I pushed Lance McAllister in the third grade. They might not like me very much after that,” Oliver’s voice was teasing. He knew how well it was going and that the day could only exponentially get better.

“I bet he had it coming,” Connor turned to face him, leaning his hip against the counter.

“Oh, he did,” Oliver faced him. “He really did.”

Connor laughed, unaware of the people watching them. “Want me to send him some hate mail? I can.”

“Nah. It’s fine. He ended falling on his face, breaking his nose and there’s a scar. So, I don’t think he can escape that moment,” Oliver scrunched up his nose. He doesn’t remember what the argument had been about, but he remembered the aftermath and how his dad hadn’t argued with him. Instead had listened to him, let Oliver cry on him because he felt bad.

“You’re kind of a monster,” It was gentle, teasing.

“Yet, you’re still here,” Oliver took a step closer, his cup of coffee cooling off on the counter.

“And I’ll be at your doorstep tomorrow night. 6 pm. For dinner. I’d say 7, but I know how hangry you get,” Connor closed the distance between them to kiss Oliver’s cheek. “As cute as it is, I don’t need a repeat of what happened in April.”

Oliver blushed before stepping back. “I warned you! It’s not my fault you took too long.”

“It’s okay. It was kind of hot. You being bossy,” Connor stepped forward, pressing a real kiss to Oliver’s mouth. It had been hot. He had spent a chunk of time that night trying to find a hook up on grindr, but nothing had satisfied him. He went to sleep that night unsatisfied and feeling weirdly attracted to Oliver.

Connor pulled back, leaving a baffled Oliver in the kitchen as he went to join his family in the living room.

The movie was over and it was late. Both Gemma and his mother had fallen asleep on their end of the couch. Connor was snuggled against Oliver’s chest while Oliver ran his fingers along Connor’s arms. They had started the movie sitting next to each other, the cuddling at a minimum. As the movie played on and Gemma, then his mother fell asleep, Connor and Oliver slowly got closer until they were curled around each other. Connor hadn’t been this relaxed in a while. The stress of the semester was officially off his shoulders and his mind was no longer racing. Oliver’s chest was hard against his back, but it was comforting.

“I should go,” Oliver whispered into Connor’s ear. “Tell the sleeping beauties that I said good bye and that I hope they have a safe trip.”

Connor sat up, turning towards Oliver.

“Okay,” Connor stood up with Oliver, following him to the door. “Thanks again. I really appreciate you doing this for me.”

“Of course. I’d do anything, for you, really,” Oliver shrugged, looking to the floor and Connor knew he was done for. Oliver had won him over without trying and Connor didn’t know what to do with himself.

“Tomorrow. 6 pm. I’ll be there. Knocking on your door,” Connor said as Oliver reached for the door knob.

“I can’t wait,” Oliver smiled as he opened the door. His heart was beating a mile a minute and he hoped to God that Connor couldn’t hear it.

“Wait a second,” Connor placed a hand on Oliver’s arm before stepping into his space and kissing him again.

Oliver let go of the door before wrapping his arms around Connor’s waist as Connor took the kiss deeper. There was still the hesitance there and Connor made it his personal goal to wipe it clean from Oliver’s existence. There was a slight shuffle from the couch and Oliver pulled away just slightly. Connor chased his lips, hoping to extend the moment just a touch longer.

“Okay, I gotta go. They’re waking up. It’s late. They’re going to want to actually go to bed,” Oliver lessened the grip he had around Connor.

“They might ask you for a night cap,” Connor shrugged. He wanted Oliver to stay.

“Go spend time with your family,” Oliver pressed a soft kiss to the edge of Connor’s mouth and Connor was ecstatic. Oliver initiated it.

“6 pm,” Connor repeated. He didn’t want Oliver to have any doubt about dinner tomorrow.

“Right. 7 pm,” Oliver opened the door again, stepping through it as Connor glared at him.

“6!” Connor called out after him as Oliver crossed the hallway, approaching his apartment door.

Oliver turned around, winking at Connor before opening his door and entering his apartment.

Oliver had just finished pulling his sweater on over his head when there was a knock on his door. He checked his phone. It was 6:00 pm on the dot. Connor was right on time.

#coliversecretsanta #HTGAWM #connor walsh #oliver hampton #coliver #one shot #G #5k #fic #css gift #submission

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demondean-for-kingofhell · 8 years ago

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If You Only Knew

Part 3: Inhibitions || This is a repost to fix the masterlist.

You paced the house, your mind racing. He was severely unhinged; he had to be. To bring a complete stranger into… a mob hit? Was that what you witnessed last night?

Although, you hadn’t actually witnessed the hit. You saw Sam with the gun… and heard it go off. That didn’t mean Sam actually shot that kid. Right? Of course not. The way he treated you, how sweet he was… there was no way he shot Adam.

You nearly went into cardiac arrest when your cell phone rang and rushed over to it. “Dea- sir?”

“I don’t know how many times I have to tell you… you don’t need to call me Sir,” Dean grinned into the phone, pausing. “Unless it’s in the bedroom.”

You rolled your eyes at his stupid joke. “How can I help you, sir?” After the night you’d had, you weren’t in the mood to deal with his bullshit. You paid enough attention to him that you were able to hum a few times, agree to something, and then get off the phone with him before he could ask if you wanted him to come over.

You spent most of the night tossing and turning, unable to get the image of that young kid out of your head. You’d left your phone on silent after your call with Dean, opting to deal with whatever people needed the next morning.

When you woke up, you were surprised to see a message from Sam.

If you’re up for it, I’d love to see you again.

He was giving you an out.

Or was he?

You shook your head and ignored the text. You were supposed to be playing hard to get anyway.

By noon, your nerves were frayed beyond repair. You went for a pedicure, hoping that would at least lift your mood. You even stopped for coffee on your way home, leaving your government-issued sedan in the driveway.

You noticed them as you neared the front door.

Dozens of flower arrangements, littering your front porch. In the center of the largest arrangement was a small card with ‘Kate’ written on it. You stepped through the flowers, making your way to the card. When you opened it, you saw a messy handwriting that you assumed was Sam’s.

‘Please give me another chance. Tonight, 7pm?’

The hairs on the back of your neck prickled; someone was watching. You hastily shoved the card into your pocket, leaving the flowers on the porch and stepping into the house. You quickly shut the door, falling back against it.

“What the fuck…?” You breathed, your eyes on the ceiling.

The next few days went without any weird incidences. As you came in from grocery shopping, you were barely able to save the paper bags in your arms as your eyes bugged out of your skull. A box of Debauve & Gallais’s Le Livre sat innocently next to not one, but six bottles of Dom Perignon 2003 Rosé.

You admitted that you didn’t know much about them, but your desktop and Google did. You nearly choked on your water when you saw the price tags. “$550 for chocolate is…” you trailed off and put in a quick search for the champagne. “Christ! 330 dollars?! Each!”

You tapped the touch screen to close the browser and shoved everything in the fridge, not wanting to look at it a second longer. You couldn’t stop the thrill that went through you at knowing Sam was spending so much money to win your attention. Though it was a thrill you immediately slapped away; this was work. You couldn’t let yourself lose focus.

You forced your mind to think of something other than Sam all night. Anything else.

Instead you just went to bed frustrated.

By the fourth day you were itching to text him back with an excuse, erasing half of a message four different times before you went on a run, leaving your phone at home to keep you from temptation.

You came back not an hour later to a box on your porch. That solidified your theory; he was definitely having you watched.

You grabbed it and hurried inside, locking the door behind you. Although that didn’t seem to help keep Sam out. You unwrapped the box, not sure what to expect. A black dress caught your eye, along with strappy gold high heels.

You snorted and shook your head. He was definitely getting desperate. You told yourself to stay strong and hung the dress in the front of your closet, knowing you would end up wearing it on your next outing with Sam.

The next morning you were woken by a UPS driver hand delivering a small box to your door, making sure you signed and checking your ID twice. Well, your fake ID. You knew it had to be from Sam, he was the only one you were using a false identity with.

You sighed and ripped open the brown box, moving the bubble wrap and lifting out a black velvet jewelry case with gold trim. Great. You pulled open the box, your jaw dropping as you caught sight of the necklace inside. There was a piece of stationary stuck to the inside of the lid and you carefully pulled it out.

I’ll pick you up Friday. Wear this with the black dress.

-Sam

You had to admit you were impressed, but this was not getting a call back from you. You set the necklace on your dresser gently, stripping down to get into the shower. One good thing about working undercover was your beauty regimen was amped up. After being bored all morning, you went to get a facial and your eyebrows waxed; something you had been meaning to do for a long time.

You grabbed your cell as it rang, checking to make sure it wasn’t Sam before ignoring it. Not that it would kill him to actually call you.

“What the fuck?!” you barely had time to press the brake as you whipped the sedan into your driveway to avoid bumping fenders with a brand new 2017 Tesla Model S, complete with a bow on top.

You let out a heavy sigh and stared at the shiny vehicle as it if had personally offended you. This was getting out of hand. You couldn’t have totaled what he had spent on you this week if you tried.

You grabbed your cell and dialed his number.

“So, what was it, Kate? Maybe the necklace, it’s gorgeous though not quite as you are.” He saw the look you gave him. “No, no, it was the car. I knew you’d call after you saw it.” He gave you a smug smile, perched next to you on the backseat of the SUV.

“Sam, you really don’t have to do all of this.” You waved your hands vaguely, trying to encompass all the gifts that weren’t even with you.

“I know I don’t have to,” he whispered in your ear. “I want to.”

You’d be lying if you said that didn’t send a shiver up your spine. He leaned in closer, putting an arm around your shoulders. “I can give you whatever you want, Kate. You name it, and it’s yours.”

Your confession to operating the biggest drug smuggling ring in 100 years would be nice.

“Sam, really.” You protested weakly, those hazel orbs boring into you. Your next sentence was swallowed by his lips when he pressed his mouth to yours, a hand sliding up your thigh to grab your ass, kneading gently with his fingers.

You could get lost in kissing this good. You responded immediately, arching your body up towards his, trying to get closer to him.

Too soon he was pulling away, leaving warm breath on your neck as he chuckled lightly. “I knew you’d call.”

Yep, you had definitely drank too much.

Enough to lower your inhibitions on the way home from the club. You grinned as you climbed into Sam’s lap, somehow keeping your clothes on and not fucking him in the backseat.

Or maybe you hadn’t had enough to drink. You were fully aware of his presence behind you as you shoved the front door open after a night out with him.

He watched as the SUV pulled away and locked your door, a small smile gracing his lips as he watched you kick off your shoes, the dress hugging every curve on your body. He wanted you; and your week long game of denying him would cost you dearly.

“Kate, where is the Dom Perignon?” He called as he moved into the kitchen.

“Fridge!” You yelled from somewhere in the back of the house. Sam grinned and pulled the first bottle he could reach, frowning when he realized the box of chocolates was unopened. He tore his eyes from the fridge, searching three different cabinets before finding champagne glasses.

You leaned against the doorway of the kitchen, watching Sam move around the room as if he belonged there. He handed you a glass and you took a sip, the drink a little too dry for your taste.

“So,” he ventured. “Took you long enough to call me back.”

“Well, I couldn’t very well ignore the beast of a car in my driveway now, could I?” You smirked over the rim of your glass.

He only gave you a half smile in return, a dark promise in those hazel eyes you loved so much.

“Come on, to bed with you.” He held his hand out and you took it, letting him lead you up the stairs and down the hall, following your direction to get to your room.

“Answer me when I ask you a question,” he whispered seductively into your ear. You shivered, shutting your eyes and tilting your head as he kissed your skin. You weren’t sure how you’d ended up here, standing in the middle of your bedroom with Sam, but you knew he had his hands on you, and you never wanted it to stop.

“Yes.. yes please.” You could feel the smirk on his lips as he pressed another kiss to your neck.

He had the gold zipper of your little black dress all the way down your back, not yet taking the material off your body. “Yes what? You gotta tell me what you want, sweetheart.”

You needed to stop, to pull away. This was your chance. Your mind was telling you to think, to not let it go too far.

It was a case.

Sam Winchester was a damn criminal.

He was running the most dangerous drug operation of the last century.

“Yes, please, fuck me.” The words spilled out before your brain had time to process them. You whimpered when his hand trailed down your back, his fingertips skimming and leaving goosebumps in their wake. “Sam…”

His hand was suddenly in your hair, fingers tangling in your locks and tugging gently. “I’ve got you, sweets.” You were already weak in the knees, desperate to feel his body pressed to yours, desperate for another kiss or tug of your hair, and he knew it. He pulled away from you and let your hair cascade down your back once more. You adjusted, wanting to feel him again, but he disappeared. “Keep your eyes closed, pretty girl.”

You kept still and did as he told you, waiting for something. You weren't sure what. Before you could think too hard, the black dress was pushed down your shoulders, off your arms until it slid down your body and pooled at your feet.

“Go ahead.” You almost jumped at his voice, but then he tapped your thigh gently. You understood and lifted your leg, stepping out of the dress. “Good girl.” His words made heat pool in your stomach. Sam chuckled. “Glad to know you like that.”

You were shaking under his touch. Sam could feel the barely-there shiver as he stood tall, green hazel eyes taking you in. His hand went over the lace bra, and a smirk appeared on his lips when you moved, arching your back just enough for him to cup your breast. “Sam.” His name was quickly followed by another whimper.

Sam moved behind you, unclasping your bra and letting it drop to the floor before he took your hand and finally led you to the bed. “You can open your eyes, sweetheart.”

When you finally did, you were standing between his legs and his hands were on your waist, a predatory smile on his lips. “You’re still dressed.” You were a little dumbfounded, cheeks flushed pink at his laugh.

“I am.” There was that smirk again. He left you standing as he started unbuttoning his shirt. His eyes never left yours, and it took all your self-restraint to not go for his pants. His eyes followed yours when they drifted down. “I’m impressed. You hate the slow burn, yet you’re being a good girl for me, doing as I say.”

“And if I wasn’t a good girl?” You challenged, biting your lip.

“Do you really wanna find out?” He asked, both hands on your hips, forcing you to take a couple steps back. He stood again, towering over you. “Answer me, Kate.”

“Yes.”

The silence was almost deafening as you both stared each other down, then suddenly his hand was back in your hair, tugging until your head tilted back. “Bad girls don't get to cum, Katie. You sure you wanna play games with me? I don’t think you can handle it.”

You shut your eyes once again, moaning softly when he pulled again on your hair.

You weren’t sure when he moved, but he was standing behind you now. His chest was to your back as he stepped forward, forcing you to move until your knees hit the bed. He didn’t have to instruct you. You climbed up, ready to fall on your back when he grabbed your hip. “No. Just like this, darlin. Gotta show you who's in charge here.”

“I don’t think I can show you from here, Sammy,” you teased, though he couldn’t see your mischevious smile. You jumped when his hands went to your panties, pulling until they were down your thighs. He lifted your left knee, then the right to get rid of them and slipped his hand between your legs, fingertips barely brushing against your pussy. You pushed your ass back against him for more, but he quickly pulled away.

“Don’t get greedy on me.”

You weren’t expecting the smack that landed on your ass, though it drew a loud, needy moan from you.

“Learning more and more about you every minute, huh? You like saying you’re a good girl, though you clearly push the limits.” He smacked you again. “You like getting punished for talking back. Hmm.”

“Sam, please…” He had been right about everything he’d said so far, including that you hated the slow burn. You were gripping the sheets on the bed by the time you heard the zipper of his pants. You stared forward at the headboard, tempted to glance back to see if that would earn you another slap on your ass.

He dug his wallet from his back pocket and grabbed the condom he’d slid in there before picking you up for your date. He dangled the small package from his teeth so he could get his hands on his slacks, finally getting rid of them as you waited impatiently on the bed.

You finally glanced over your shoulder to see him rip the package open with his teeth. He locked eyes with you and smirked as he rolled the condom on. “Couldn’t help yourself, could you?”

You blushed as his eyes roamed your ass and thighs, pupils blown with lust. “Guess not, sir.” You saw a genuine grin replace his smirk. “Looks like I’m finding out what you like too then, Sam.”

“Face the headboard.” His tone held no room for argument, and you turned just as you felt the bed dip behind you, your breath catching in your throat as a riot took place in your head. You turned again when his hand went to your lower back. He clicked his tongue disapprovingly at you. “Sweets, really now?” His hand slid up your back and tangled in the hair at the nape of your neck. You suddenly found your head against the mattress, his weight keeping you immobile.

You could feel his cock pressed against your ass and you tried in vain to wiggle your hips, hoping to spur him into action. He only pressed harder against you, using one of his knees to wedge your thighs apart.

You were white knuckling the bed sheets, small gasps leaving your lips with every small movement he made. “Sam…” Your voice was too high pitched to your own ears, needy and desperate for a man you barely knew to fuck you into next week.

“I told you to be a good girl, and you didn’t listen.” Sam’s voice rang in your ears as he smacked your ass harder than the first few times. His cock was at your entrance, and whatever smart-ass remark you had ready for him disappeared from your mind as he filled you in one smooth motion, his breath hissing between his teeth. “Goddamn, pretty girl. Fuck!”

Your own expletive was lost in the sheet as your muscles clenched around him, and you were so glad he paused for a second, even if it was just to press a kiss to your spine. He started a quick rhythm, each stroke sure and deep. He let go of your hair only to grab onto your hips, making sure he controlled every second of pleasure he was giving you.

“Fuck,” he muttered again. “Look so goddamn beautiful like this.” His breath was ragged as he fucked you into the mattress. You whimpered at this words, your hand slipping between your thighs. Your fingertips had barely grazed over your clit when his voice echoed off the hardwood floors. “No. Not yet. Hands above your head, Kate. You know what happens to bad girls.”

“Yes sir,” you whimpered, both hands reaching above your head to grab the headboard. You could already feel the muscles in your lower belly tightening as you neared release. “Like this, sir?” You weren’t sure how you managed those three words at all.

Sam wanted to chuckle at your question, knowing well that you were fucking with him, but he settled for increasing the pace, pounding into you almost brutally, each thrust hitting your g-spot with expert accuracy.

“You’re close, baby girl.” He growled, fingers digging into your hips. He refused to give you even an inch of power, keeping you locked in that position as he chased after his own high. “I can feel it. Let go for me, baby.”

You could only take what he gave you, your body absorbing every little movement. You screamed out loud when your orgasm hit you like a freight train, fire erupting in your belly as white spots danced behind your closed eyelids.

Sam never let up on you, quickly bringing you to a second orgasm before he was near finished with you. Your body was already spent when he buried his cock deep inside of your fluttering walls and came with a loud cry of your name. You could feel your cum trickling down your thighs, and his chest was pressed against your back as he fought for control of his breathing.

“Good girl.” He praised you as his hands finally let go of your hips, one slipping around your waist as he drug you both onto your sides, his cock slipping from your pussy with an obscene wet sound. You hummed softly, letting him hold you close as you laid there, your mind racing with the realization of what you had just done.

What was worse was you didn't want him to go; to leave you alone in this huge house that you hated. When his arms disappeared from around your waist, you almost panicked. “Sam?”

“Yeah sweetheart, give me a minute.” He disappeared from your bedroom into the adjoining bathroom. You propped yourself up on your elbow and watched as he padded across the floor after a minute, coming back with a towel. “On your back.”

You obeyed without a second thought, managing to keep your squirming to a minimum as he cleaned up your thighs with the towel, making sure to take softer strokes over your pussy.

“Better?” He pressed a kiss to your left thigh. You nodded, and he laid back down next to you. “Sleep, baby girl.”

You were already dozing off, but you kept your tired eyes open until his arms were back around your waist, pulling you across the bed until you were pressed against his naked chest. The warmth and pressure of his body against yours was comforting, and it didn’t take long for your breathing to even out.

Sam ran his fingers through your hair and pressed a kiss to your shoulder. “Good night, princess.”

@bailieinabottle for you sweetie!

#good thing I never clean out my docs huh?#oh Sam #man now I may have to write more of this #i see it in my future #of course these tags are useless for searching for the chapter huh #sam x reader #sam winchester #if you only knew

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gerthatwito-blog · 4 years ago

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This week's wacky soccer story comes from Gibraltar

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anavoliselenu · 7 years ago

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Hiched chapter 19

“We’re not staying here. Come on.” Sterling grabs his wallet and cell phone and heads to the door.

“Where to?”

“We’re going out. To where I should have taken you in the first place.”

Soon we’re at our favorite gentleman’s club, seated along the bar with a view of the stage, two pints of beer in front of us.

“Now this is somewhere to drown your sorrows,” Sterling remarks coolly.

My gaze drifts over to the center stage, where a petite blonde makes the stripper pole her bitch. But I think my cock must be broken, because despite the show she’s putting on, there’s not even the slightest bit of interest. Nada. Nothing. I look down at my lap. Urging my cock to do something. Waiting to see if it moves, if it twitches, anything to make me see that it’s not broken. She couldn’t have broken my cock when she broke my heart, could she?

Sterling leans forward on his elbows to give me a pointed look. “You want to know my grand unified theory of life?”

“I have a feeling you’re going to give it to me anyway, so sure.” I flash him a tight, fake grin and take another sip of my beer.

“Why get yourself all spun up over one woman, one difficult woman, when there are so many flavors to sample?”

He turns, gazing over at the action on the stage. All shapes and sizes of naked women shake their goods for us to enjoy. This is the biggest gentleman’s club in the city, and the choices are endless. From lean runner types with pert breasts and firm butts without dimples, to curvy goddesses whose huge breasts sway when they walk. From redheads that you instinctively know are trouble, to platinum blondes who are probably wild in bed, to demure brunettes who are every man’s perfect girl-next-door fantasy. But none of them appeal to me. Like, at all.

“Not interested,” I choke out, my throat feeling tight. What the hell has happened to me? I was Justin fucking Tate—master of my own domain, professional charmer and booty-call provocateur.

“Come fucking on,” Sterling says on a groan. “Not a one?”

I shake my head. “Nope.” None of these women hold a candle to the classy, sophisticated woman who used to warm my bed at night and keeps me on my toes all day. She makes me work for every inch of ground I gain with her. The feeling is addicting. Any of these woman would happily go home with me if I asked. Where’s the fun in that?

Sterling makes a low, tortured growl of frustration. “You’re impossible.”

I cut my gaze over to his. “Right, because your life is so perfect and full. If it was, you wouldn’t be at a place like this.”

I know I’m on to something. Sterling doesn’t open up much, but from what he has shared, I know his job makes him miserable much of the time, and living here while his entire family is still back in Great Britain is hard.

But he holds up his hands, taking no offense. “I was only trying to help. Chill.”

There is no helping me. There’s only an unmet need raging through my body and soul. I need to get Selena back. I need to be inside her. To claim her. To make her see that she is my wife. Till death do us part.

I take another sip of my beer, knowing I’ll get my chance tonight.

Chapter Five

Selena

The charity gala is beautiful. The finest, most mouthwatering cuisine is laid out on long tables along one wall of the opulent banquet hall. A tailcoated band plays lively smooth jazz on the stage set up at the other end.

Throughout the rest of the huge room, hundreds of upper-crust guests mingle and laugh and dance. White-shirted waiters slip fluidly through the crowd with silver trays of hors d’oeuvres and champagne flutes. The high bay windows stand open, letting a crisp breeze ruffle my chiffon evening gown and play over my bared shoulders and back.

And I can’t enjoy any of it, because the heir clause is still hanging over my head, casting a dark shadow over everything.

Even just a week ago, I would have been proud to stroll in here on Justin’s arm. And unfortunately he does look devastatingly handsome in his tuxedo. But after what he did, I don’t want him near me. I don’t want to pretend to be the lovey-dovey young couple, all picture-perfect smiles. Because I can’t simply erase what I saw from my brain.

That one tiny moment in the bathroom threw our whole relationship into question. It’s almost like we’re back to square one. Before I got to know him, before I saw him as anything more than an annoying, lazy playboy. Before I (almost) fell in love. I have to decide all over again whether I can trust him.

And even if I do trust him . . . what then? Let him put a baby in me? Sacrifice my body, my future, in exchange for a company that might end up drowning no matter what we do? I won’t be forced into having a child. If and when I have a baby, it will be because I’m ready to parent. And I’m a long way from believing that the person beside me in those fantasies is Justin.

My grim thoughts derail when Justin rests his arm around my waist, his hand on my opposite hip. I stiffen at his touch. The line between his brows deepens; he definitely noticed my flinch.

“Christ, Snowflake, try to loosen up,” he mutters under his breath.

“I’m still angry with you,” I say out of the corner of my mouth, still smiling brightly. The strain of keeping up our happy facade is already taking its toll on my nerves.

Justin’s expression darkens despite his trying to repress his frown. “Be angry all you want, just don’t act like it. We have to make this look good. The last thing the company needs is the media starting rumors that our relationship is on the rocks.”

“I know that, I just—”

Justin cuts me off. “Don’t look now, it’s the CEO of Acentix Telecom.” He inclines his head toward a silver-haired gentleman walking our way. “Act natural. Touch my arm or something.”

“I’ll pass,” I hiss just as the man claps Justin on the shoulder.

“Justin Tate, you son of a gun.” He laughs, louder than necessary—the room isn’t that noisy. “How’ve you been lately? Is this lovely creature your wife?”

Justin’s gaze flicks toward me, too fast for anyone else to see. I know what he’s thinking: For now, anyway. But he responds smoothly, “I’m proud to say she is. Selena, have you met Caleb Tyrell?”

I nod at Mr. Tyrell. “Yes, at all of our client meetings with Acentix.” And yet this idiot still managed to forget me.

“Ah yes, of course. How could I forget such a pretty face?” Caleb winks at me.

Normally I would play along with his corny old-fart flirting. But I have no patience left for putting up with men tonight. I just nod and smile, more stiffly than before.

“Sweetheart, your hand is empty. Let’s go get you a glass of prosecco.” Justin steers me away from Mr. Tyrell under the pretext of us going to the bar.

I set my jaw. Why did he have to jump in like that? Intervening so obviously only makes the situation more awkward than it already is.

Fortunately, Mr. Tyrell doesn’t seem to notice anything wrong. “As much as I’d love to shoot the breeze, I should get back to my own wife before she gets jealous.” With another obnoxious wink in my direction, he ambles away and disappears into the crowd.

“What the hell is your problem tonight?” Justin growls under his breath as soon as the client is out of earshot.

“You just have to be in control of everything, don’t you?” I snap right back. I could have handled myself smoothly in that situation, if he’d only given me a chance. Just because I needed his help with Brad doesn’t mean Justin has to be my white knight all the time.

“Okay, that’s it. If you want to fight, let’s at least take this somewhere private. Then you can make as big a scene as you fucking want.”

I match his dark glare. “Great idea.”

Justin stalks through the banquet hall’s entrance. I follow him as he turns down a seemingly random narrow hallway. Even from behind, he looks almost as pissed as I feel—his shoulders are tense and his stride is even longer than usual, forcing me to hurry after him.

Gradually the buzz of chatter from the banquet hall fades, leaving only the clack of our shoes on the marble floors. When we reach a coat closet, he yanks the door open. “After you.” He follows me inside and shuts the door behind us, plunging us into shadows.

I launch into my tirade as if there had been no interruption. “What the fuck do you think my problem is? I can manage faking a happy relationship for the press, but don’t expect me to enjoy it.”

I can just barely make out Justin shaking his head. “We both know that’s not the whole story. You’ve been freezing me out for days now. If you’ve got something to say, say it. I’m listening.”

What is it with men and not understanding basic communication? “I’ve already made my feelings very clear. You just don’t like the messages you got.”

“Oh, come on.” He sighs. “Throw me a bone here. I know I fucked up royally, and I’m sorry, but things between us have been going nowhere lately. Can I at least get a hint about where I stand? Am I going to stay in the doghouse forever? Just let me know what I should do, how I can fix this.”

“It’s not that easy. Do you think you can just buy me some flowers and I’ll forget all about what I saw that night? The heir clause will disappear out of the contract, we’ll inherit the company, and live happily ever after?”

“You said you were giving up. Quitting the company, or quitting our marriage, or maybe both—I couldn’t exactly ask for clarification while you were tearing ass out the door. But then why are you still here?” Justin’s silhouette throws its hands up. “If you hate me so much, why haven’t we gotten a divorce yet? Are you giving this another chance or not? I’ll stay by your side, or I’ll leave if there’s really no hope left, but I won’t hang around just to be your punching bag.”

I swallow past the knot in my throat, fighting the urge to cry from sheer anxiety and frustration. “I don’t know, okay? Even if I believed everything you said—about how you’d never get me pregnant without my consent—what’s next? What are we going to do? No baby means no inheritance.”

“If you believed me?” He releases an exasperated scoffing sound. “You don’t even know that for sure? Wow, I guess I really am on your shit list.”

I doubt he can see me roll my eyes, but I do it anyway. “Gee, I wonder why. There’s no reason on earth why a woman should distrust a man who lied his ass off about things that could make or break her whole future.”

“I said I was sorry. I made a big fucking stupid mistake, okay? I didn’t speak up when I should have, because I was so scared of losing you and ruining the company and—”

“The company is going to be ruined anyway!” I explain for what feels like the hundredth time. “If you had said something earlier, we could have figured this out together. Instead you waited until the last possible second.”

“Is saving Tate & Cane the real reason why you’re so tense? Because I’m here to help with that.”

“Please don’t tell me you’re hitting on me,” I reply in my driest, coldest tone.

“No, that’s not where I was going.” His voice drops slightly, taking on a silky note. “Although if you want me to . . .” He leans against the wall, trapping me between his arms.

I turn my face away from his. Having him this close makes it hard to think. “Ugh. No thanks.”

“Fair enough. All I meant is that we’re partners—we can think of a way out of this problem, if you’ll just let me help you.”

Why hasn’t he backed off yet? His spicy cologne is slowly filling my head with fog. “I think I have the right to be a little skeptical of a man who I caught with a fucking needle.”

Justin makes a quiet growling huff. “See what I mean? You bring that up again, and I already apologized and explained what happened. We’re just going in circles.” His voice smooths out again into an imploring, seductive tone. “Please, Snowflake. Don’t shut me out. I’ll do anything. Just tell me. Say the word and I’ll be on my knees—begging forgiveness, at your service, ready and willing to make it up to you.”

His warm breath fans ticklishly over my cheek as he speaks. That voice is pure sin, licking at my self-control like flames.

I try to retort, “Y-you’re ready and willing for that anytime. With just about any woman too.”

“You know that’s not true. Maybe I was that way once, but now . . . I’m a one-woman man. You’ve caught me for good. I’ll never be satisfied with anyone but you ever again.”

And suddenly, his hands clasp my bare shoulders and his lips press hot against mine.

I gasp into his mouth. My eyes slide shut helplessly. I didn’t realize how much I needed this contact, this closeness, until Justin’s touch lit my nerves on fire. But now I’m painfully aware of every minute it’s been since he last made love to me.

I’m still pissed at him. Damn his sexy smirk, damn his wickedly skilled kiss, more intoxicating than anything I’ve drunk tonight . . . I don’t want to want him. But I do want this. Dear God, I might even need it.

And so I let myself give in.

It’s okay as long as he doesn’t talk. As long as he doesn’t remind me that we’re Justin Tate and Selena Cane, heirs to a failing company, with the board’s impending decision hanging over our heads like a guillotine blade.

Right now, under cover of darkness, we’re anonymous. Just a man and a woman, a pair of animals who are starving for each other. I can pretend that this is only sex, only blowing off some steam, and it’s not because I’m still addicted to Justin despite everything that’s happened between us. I can come back to my senses—to my waking life, my anger and hurt and worry, all the crushing responsibilities of my family name—after my body is satisfied.

At the exploring swipe of Justin’s tongue, I open up and return his kiss savagely. He gives a little surprised noise, then a growl of satisfaction. His lips curve against mine in a smug smile.

Does he think he’s won me over? Then he’d better fucking think again, because I’m going to make him fight for every inch of ground. I crush my mouth against his, and when he gently nips my lower lip, I answer with a harsh bite. He moans and matches my intensity right back. Soon our kiss is little more than a dance of dueling tongues and soft murmurs of pleasure.

Still devouring my mouth, he leans into me, walking me backward until my lower back hits a shelf. I jolt at the brush of cold metal on bare skin. Then he pushes a little more for good measure, forcing me to arch my spine and raise my chin, exposing my neck. The shelf’s chill soaks through the thin fabric of my dress and spreads goosebumps over my arms. But I’m already so hot, I barely notice any of it. My senses are too completely consumed by Justin’s touch and taste and smell.

He hikes up my evening gown’s skirt and gropes me, his fingertips tracing up my bare thighs until I can’t stand it. I know exactly where his destination is, and I want him there now.

Lifting the elastic edge of my panties, his fingers glide over my center in one easy stroke. “No matter what, Snowflake, you’re always wet for me.” His voice is rough with need, but his movements are controlled.

“Sh-shut up and do something about it,” I gasp.

“As you wish.”

He gently pets my clit, my blood racing, heart pounding as I rock my hips forward. It’s too slow. Torturous.

Finally, need wins out over pride, and I beg. “More.”

“I hope you’re ready.” And with that, Justin’s control snaps. He yanks down my damp panties and shoves three fingers inside me.

My head almost hits the wall as it falls back. I dig my nails into his shoulders, urging him harder, harder. He plunges his fingers in and out with rough jerks of his arm. It’s still not quite enough; I want his cock, long and thick. But I’m not so far gone as to forget that we’re in public. So I make do.

And in a way, this rough fingering is better than fucking. It’s all for me, all about my pleasure. I can feel his steely erection against my inner thigh, twitching with eagerness, but he doesn’t get jack shit until I decide he deserves it. I reach under his moving arm and grab his crotch through his pants, just to feel how hard he is and to hear him groan in frustrated need.

And he does. The sound is harsh and needy. It makes my pussy grip his fingers hard, quivering as his desperate growl washes through me.

His hand is a surprisingly decent substitute for his cock. Every thrust rubs the ball of his thumb against my clit and strikes the spot inside me that shoots hot lightning through my veins, making my toes curl in my Manolo Blahniks. All the bare hangers on the shelves around us rattle with his force.

“Faster, dammit,” I grunt out between thrusts. He’s pounding the breath out of me in sharp, guttural bursts—stifled growls reminding us both that I’m still angry as hell.

“You asked for it.” His arm pistons faster and I bite my lower lip hard enough to bruise.

He suddenly breaks our kiss, leaving me with nothing to stifle my whimpers, and his mouth descends to suck and bite at my neck. I want to tell him that he’s a dead man if he leaves a hickey, but I can’t form words anymore. All I can do is cling to him, clawing at his shoulders. I arch my hips up and spread my knees to urge him even deeper inside me. He fucks me as hard as he can into the wall while I hang on for dear life, gasping and trembling as the pleasure rises higher.

My thighs clamp around his forearm as I finally tip over the edge. No longer able to thrust with his arm’s full strength, Justin crooks his fingers to massage my G-spot and grinds the heel of his hand into my clit. I shudder violently, my mouth opening in a silent scream, wave after wave of white heat pulsing through my entire body. Justin keeps working his hand to let me ride out my climax to the end.

Floating slowly down from my high, I can feel myself still spasming around his fingers, my inner walls gripping tight and relaxing and then gripping again, weaker and weaker each time. I flush deep red at the thought of just how much Justin can feel. He could tell the moment I started to come and the moment my orgasm finally faded away. There’s nothing I can hide from him when I’m like this.

His fingers slide free with a faint slick noise. His eyes are dark with lust as he brings his fingers to his mouth and sucks them clean. My knees tremble a little. God, he’s infuriatingly sexy.

He steps closer to loop an arm around my bare back and he kisses me, tenderly now. I can taste myself on his lips. I’m feeling so languorous that I relax into his embrace without thinking. His cock is still rock hard in my hand. Instinctively, I reach out to unzip his pants and reciprocate the pleasure he just gave me. Even through his tuxedo, his body is so warm against the breeze trickling down from the ceiling vents, the chill I somehow never noticed before . . .

It suddenly seeps into my spine and I shiver, blinking like I’ve just woken up from a dream. Wait . . . what am I doing? Why did we just . . . ? My jaw tightens. The fog of lust is clearing fast and goddammit, I’ve made a huge mistake. I’m supposed to still be pissed at him, but yet again, I let my libido take the reins. How does this always happen?

I yank my hands off Justin’s crotch like I’ve been burned. Giving in to pleasure was bad enough, but giving in to the desire to please him . . . I’m acting like we’re making love. And as much as I try to tell myself it was just force of habit, I know it wasn’t. I wanted to get him off almost as badly as I wanted to come myself.

“What’s wrong?”

Justin’s voice is still husky, so ready for my touch, and I shake my head like I can dislodge the seductive sound.

“You already know.”

My cheeks burn with embarrassment as I hike my panties back up and smooth my skirt. I let him get so far. He still has so much sexual power over me. He can play my body like a violin, and the rest of me is helpless to follow.

“Hey, where are you going? What about me?”

Ignoring Justin’s protests, I charge out of the closet like something is chasing me. As if I can outrun my own feelings. I fling open the door . . . just in time to lock eyes with Mr. Tyrell, walking down the hall. His eyes widen in confusion.

“Got lost looking for the bathroom,” I blurt, and stomp back to the main room as fast as my high heels will let me.

Chapter Six

Justin

If Selena is going to stay mad, fine. So be it. But if last night is any indication, we still have chemistry. With my fingers buried deep inside her, she came apart, clawing at my suit jacket, devouring my mouth, gasping for air. She can pretend to be unaffected all she wants, but I know the truth.

And she’s still here, sharing our apartment. She hasn’t filed for divorce or started looking for a new place or anything like that. So I have to believe that, deep down, she does still have feelings for me. Her father was right—growing up, we were so in sync, right there for each other through every rite of passage. Granted, I’m sleeping on the couch, but at least she hasn’t left.

I’ll just have to find a way to make her believe those feelings, show her that we belong together. Convince her that the happily-ever-after she’s always wanted isn’t just a fantasy—it’s something we can have together, for real. But it’s become obvious that I’ll have to fight dirty. And that’s why I’ve enlisted the help of our friends. This is gonna take a village.

“Where’s Selena today?” Camryn asks, surveying our empty apartment as she enters.

“At the spa.” I usher her over toward the dining room where I have everything set up. I booked Selena for the works today—European facial, hot stone massage, manicure, pedicure, and something called a blow-out, which I’m told is for her hair. “We have at least four hours,” I add.

Selena thinks the appointment is just my latest attempt to apologize for everything, but really, it’s because I needed her out of the house so I could hold this brainstorming session.

Camryn nods. “I’ll help however I can.”

I appraise her as though I’m looking at her for the first time. Her mischievous green eyes have a sparkle to them and her expression is open and curious. “Why the change in attitude?” I ask. She once told me she wasn’t Team Justin, after all.

Camryn helps herself to one of the bar stools at the breakfast bar. “Because.” She flips her long chestnut-colored hair over one shoulder. “I’ve seen how good you guys can be together. In just a couple short months, you were the cause of so many positive changes in her. She worked less, she laughed more. She wasn’t just all about the grind.”

I nod, hanging on her every word.

“She had pleasure in her life too—something that put a smile on her face, and that something was you.”

A smug grin uncurls on my mouth. “I couldn’t agree more.”

“But.” She purses her lips like she’s tasted a lemon. “You did fuck up royally.”

My grin fades to nothing. “I did.”

“Epically. Like, completely fucked up beyond anything that’s normal.”

Okay, Jesus, I get it. I interrupt her before she can rub any more salt in the wound. “And that’s why I’ve invited you guys here today. We’ll start as soon as Sterling gets here.”

The buzzer sounds, signaling his arrival.

“Speak of the devil,” I mutter and head to the intercom to buzz him in.

Sterling grins and claps his hand on my shoulder when he arrives. “Ready to get your girl back?”

“Hell yes.”

My posture relaxes, and I lead him into the dining room. Having the support of my best friend means the world to me, and gives me the tiniest bit of hope that maybe this is possible. Sterling’s always been the voice of reason, after all. If he believes in me, maybe I really can pull this off.

I gesture for Sterling to take a seat. He does, next to Camryn at the counter. They watch me with wary expressions. I stand next to the easel with the new flip charts and markers I purchased just for the occasion. The dining table is scattered with poster board, sticky notes, and extra markers. I only hope we’ll be able to figure out a workable plan today. Never in my life have I wanted something as badly as I want to fix my relationship with Selena. To bring us back to the happy place we used to be.

Growing up, I always envied what my parents had. Sure, I’ve spent years playing the field and indulging in meaningless conquests, but I’ve always known deep down that I was a one-woman kind of guy and I’d eventually want to settle down. To attain that kind of comfortable familiarity that comes with monogamy and commitment. And now, just when I’ve gotten a taste of how good that can be—it’s been savagely ripped away from me by my own stupid actions.

I clear my throat. “First, thank you both for being here today. It means a lot.”

Sterling nods for me to go on. Camryn looks a little skeptical but stays quiet, waiting for me to continue.

“As Camryn pointed out earlier, yes, I have fucked up royally. And I don’t intend to make any excuses for my behavior. I only want to tell you that I was a desperate man, at the end of my rope. And that I love Selena . . . and probably always have.”

Camryn’s expression softens and she leans back in her seat, placing her hands in her lap.

“I’ve brought you both here today to help me create a strategy for winning back my wife.”

I repeat the words I practiced in the shower this morning, pausing to write Operation: Get Selena Back on the flip-chart paper taped to the easel.

I hear Camryn snicker and look over at my captive audience. Sterling is gazing at me, his mouth open like I’ve lost my damn mind.

“What?” I ask, feeling defensive. I’ve barely begun, and they’re giggling at me behind their hands like children.

“Selena has rubbed off on you.” Camryn chuckles. “The old Justin would have winged it.”

I consider her words for a moment. Just as I open my mouth to ask if that’s such a terrible thing, Sterling interrupts.

“And the old Justin would have had pizza and beer.”

At that, Camryn perks up. “Oh, pizza sounds great. I haven’t had lunch yet.”

I fish my cell phone from my pocket and toss it to Sterling. “Fine, order pizza. And there’s beer in the fridge. But we’re going to work through this, and you’re going to help me figure it out.”

Camryn salutes me while Sterling presses the phone to his ear to order two large pies.

It’s been five minutes and my strategy meeting is already fucking derailed.

• • •

Paper plates with pizza crusts litter the coffee table, along with a few half-empty bottles of beer. The poster board I bought has turned into a mess of scribbles, after Sterling challenged Camryn to a game of hangman and then tic-tac-toe.

The easel holds a large drawing of a penis, which Camryn assured me with a sober expression was the key to getting Selena back. Right now, they’re laughing and adding words like vulva and scrotum to the mess.

I want to slap both of them.

All their suggestions were silly and unhelpful. This entire afternoon has been a huge waste of time, and now I only have an hour before Selena’s due to arrive home.

“Okay. That’s enough.” I grab the Sharpies from their hands. “If you’re not going to take this seriously, then get out. Both of you.”

Camryn rises to her feet and yawns. “Sounds fine to me. I’m going home . . . I need a nap.”

Sterling pats me on the back—in sympathy or to mock my efforts today, I’m not sure. “You’ll think of something, buddy. I know it.”

“Thanks,” I reply, unconvinced.

I usher them out the door, then systematically make my way through the apartment, wadding up the used papers and collecting the markers. I stuff the remnants of our lunch into the trash and then collapse on our bed, grabbing her pillow and holding on to it, her scent all around me. I stare blankly up at the ceiling.

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