#sweet sixteen party themes

[fjaphotography]

10 Unforgettable Sweet 16 Party Themes

[yael-things]

why cant i have silly themed birthday parties anymore . this is so sad

[temptaetions]

cinnamon sugar 🌙 k.sm (m)

a/n: the photo above is from seungmin's instagram. i don't own the media, but i sure was blessed to see it. anyway, i think this is my first post with like...actual smut in it. please forgive me, because it is so shitty, i'm so bad at writing it. anyway, uhm, enjoy! my anon ask is now on, if you'd like to send any requests in!

synopsis: her lips taste sweet, like cinnamon sugar...she's such a treat.

genre: best friends to lovers | idiots in love | x fem!reader | smut | fluff | angst

pairing(s): best friend!kim seungmin x virgin!reader

word count: 6k. lowercase intended.

rating: 18+. minors do not fucking interact.

warning(s): swearing, mutual pining, a lot of emotional turmoil from both parties, horribly written smut [between k.sm x reader: unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!!!!), creampie, soft d/s themes, (slight) overuse of pet names (angel, sweetheart) oral (f. receiving), paragraphs of praise, so much kissing, some grinding, the lightest amount of nipple play. riding/missionary, crying during sex, multiple orgasms, reader begs a lot, they stare into each others eyes and hold hands while fucking oh my god]. this is slightly self indulgent but the guilt i feel after writing it, and so badly at that, is overwhelming.

what to listen to: gaze - sweetback | eat it - megan thee stallion | agora hills - doja cat | real love - mary j. blige | whatta man - salt-n-pepa & en vogue

message from: seungmin🧸🤎

[7:32pm] i’m coming to pick u up, i want a cinnabon.

message to: seungmin🧸🤎

[7:33pm] ur paying 🤑

"can i get aux?" you say as you slide into seungmin's car. the leather of the passenger seat was cool to the touch, a sign that nobody had sat in your self-assigned seat. "hello to you too, best friend. how was my day? oh, it was lovely! it's so nice to see you, too!" "oh, shut up, min. you don't give a shit if i ask those questions or not." you chuckle, snatching his aux cable out of the center console. "you know me so well, fuck. i hate small talk. just merge souls with me." you and seungmin had been best friends for over ten years. he knew you inside and out - from your scalp to the bottom of your feet (including the scar from his razor scooter slamming into your ankle at age sixteen.)

you shared a lot of interests, but none as intense as your love of music and cinnamon rolls. he was always at your dance recitals. your biggest fan, really. he cheered, but never showed you more praise than necessary.

"i need you to stay humble, it helps me tolerate you." he murmured into your hair after one recital last year. you just shook your head in amusement, holding it high as you let him march you to his car for dinner.

"oh, i updated our playlist! i have a few new things on here." you said excitedly as you scrolled through the playlists on your homepage. you shared this love language – you had dozens of collaborative playlists with user ksm922, and you giggled at the ugly photos of the two of you he often used for the covers.

"sure." he shrugs, using his pinky to turn the volume dial up. your eyes trail on his slender fingers as they return to the wheel, but you shake it off just as quickly. pressing play, you let the smooth r&b sounds fill the car.

"oh, this is nice. what is this?" seungmin nods his head along to it, and you glance at the screen. "gaze by sweetback. it played on my sade station, and the vibes are just so kim seungmin, yanno?" you close your eyes and fake being a disc-jockey, his hand coming to pinch your arm lightly, a chuckle playing on his lips. "stop that, you'd be a horrible deejay."

"are you sure this isn't about sex? geez, bub, act like you get some." he teases, and you swat his arm. "i do get some!" "oh yeah? from who?" his eyes are trained on the road as he bullies you about your sex life (or lack thereof), allowing you a moment to stare at his ringed fingers. oh, the way they gripped the wheel, they could so easily grip your neck–

shut up, y/n.

"your mom." you huff, crossing your arms with a pout. you hated this conversation, and you often avoided it with him. yes, seungmin was your best friend, but you never wanted to talk about your sex life with him. he had experiences…and you heard from so many people how good it was.

with him, to be specific.

"what are we, thirteen? you wish my mother would breathe in your direction, you fucking virgin." he scoffs, and you force a snicker out. you glance at your phone, a smirk threatening to escape as it started. "oh, this one is good. turn it up!" he obliged, not even giving the screen a second look.

you settle in your seat as megan thee stallion's voice blares through the speakers, muffling a soft laugh behind your hand. seungmin hated the idea of you being a sexual being, and you often used it to bother him. you liked seeing him get red in the face, and squirm. it doesn't mean you understood it, but it was hilarious.

legs shakin', hit it 'til the bed breaking…bed springing, talk to it…

seungmin's mouth is agape, his cheeks firetruck red…

i don't want just one nut, daddy, i need the whole tree, ah…

…before his nimble fingers press skip. 

"are you serious, y/n? in my christian minecraft server?" his eyes are still fixed on the road, his knuckles turning white from his hold on the steering wheel. weird.

"it's megan! i love her, she's the hot girl coach. you don't want me to be a virgin forever, do you?" you joke, and he scrunches his nose. "since when do you listen to music about getting your…ugh, whatever. don't ever bring up sex appeal, you repulse me." you laugh loudly, your hand going to pinch his cheek softly. "you're so cute when you get flustered, min. here, i'll play pretty boy by the neighbourhood in your honor."

he can't stop thinking about it. it's been four hours since you played the song in the car, and it's still stuck in his head. well, what he did hear.

you, inherently, did not come across as a sexual being. you didn't, and that wasn't seungmin being just a platonic, nice friend – you genuinely did not care to be the core of anyone's sexual desire. you wore oversized shirts and loose jeans, the occasional dress paired with black pantyhose and boots. "gotta hide my ankles, minnie. that's how they getcha." but thinking about you…listening to that song? your hips winding down on some other man like he's seen you do on stage? hell, some other man's face when he's right here?

it made him sick.

and you were so beautifully unaware as you swirled your fork in your cinnamon roll, bringing the tines to your lips and sucking the icing clean off them. not a second lick or adjustment, just straight off. he felt his cheeks heat as his cock twitched in his pants, and he almost missed you waving your fingers in his face. "yo, you good? you seem distracted." you have a bit of icing on your lip, and he subconsciously reaches over to wipe it off. your eyes are wide as he does so, and he doesn't know why he can't move his thumb from your lip. he doesn't know why everything feels like it's moving in slow motion, and he just watches as you instinctively suck your lip between your teeth at the loss of contact.

you're so pretty, fuck, you're so pretty.

"i'm good. do you want to go?" he's surprised to hear his own voice, and you nod absently. he was acting weird, he knew he was, but he feels like there's a fog in his brain that he can't shake. maybe it was the way he'd memorized every curve of your body, from watching your fluid dances. maybe it was the way that you smiled so innocently, you were so innocent. your eyes big and pure, your heart full, your mind…naïve.

he didn't understand the sudden urge to ruin you, but he knew he had to get over it, and fast.

"fuck." he groans, and your head whips around to look at him. "you okay?"

he nods quickly, his hand landing on the small of your back to guide you to the car faster. "min, if you have to shit, you can just say that." "ugh, shut up. you always say the most unhinged shit. no wonder you can't get laid." he rolls his eyes, and you just laugh. "trust me, it's not for lack of opportunity." you let him open the door for you, and you wink at him playfully, his fingers flicking your forehead before shutting the door. it was true, multiple of your friends had offered to…deflower you. hyunjin, on your dance team. minho, on your production team. felix, your choreographer. even their friends in the music department had offered, and you simply smiled, shaking your head at them. "i just like to flirt, your dick is your problem."

but much like seungmin, they had all seen the way you moved. how easily you sunk to your knees, how smooth your gyrations were, the way you looked like you enjoyed it. you felt good knowing people were attracted to you, but it never compared to what you believed was seungmin's innocent gaze.

it was weird to want more from him, and it pained you, slightly. he was cute, your best friend. cute, experienced, and he knew you. he knew you so well, what could go wrong? he could reject you, that's what.

you're in your own head when you realize the car has been moving, and rather fast, at that. "min, seriously. are you shitting your pants?" you roll your eyes, and he brings the car to a screeching halt. "bro, your brakes." you cringe, covering your ears as he pulls into his driveway.

"are you going to kill me? no way, jisung always said i'd go out this way. please, tell my mother i love her and make sure i get the best spot in heaven." you feign terror as you unbuckle your seatbelt, not noticing the way seungmin can't even look at you. you feel how hard he slams his door, and you give his car a pitiful look as you slide out, following him to his apartment. he lived on the first floor, what a privilege.

he doesn't look at you as he walks into the apartment, tossing his keys onto the kitchen table. "y/n, i have a question."

"oh? mr. attitude has a question, does he?" you smile sarcastically, crossing your arms over your chest, the cowhide leather of the letterman you stole from him in high school rough against your skin. "alright, let's hear it." "why are you still a virgin?" okay, not what you were expecting. don't let it fluster you. you don't really notice his hardened expression as you try to answer. "well…it's just not on my list of priorities. i'll get fucked when i get fucked, you know?"

you shrug, not thinking much of your answer as he steps closer. "hm, i don't buy it."

raising an eyebrow, you shake your head, unbuttoning the jacket. "you're acting so weird, seungmin. if you wanna fuck me, just say that."

you sound surprisingly confident, and you can feel your heart pounding in your ears as you slide the jacket off, draping it over the couch. you gather your hair forward, spinning to speak to him again. "did you still want to watch the mov-" you're cut off by his lips pressing against yours, his hands gripping your hips, pulling you closer. you can't move, your hands frozen as he works you carefully, lips burning against your own. his movements feel desperate, and you let your body take over as you kiss him back, a soft sigh escaping his lips as your tongue slips between them. the kiss is hungry, his hands are digging into you so deeply you're sure you'll bruise. 

he stops. his fingers let go of your hips, and he pulls away, your lips chasing after his as he does. your lip gloss is glittering on his face, before he covers his eyes. "i'm so sorry, y/n. i have no idea what came over me, i…i'm sorry, please, let me take you home."

you can't speak, your mind still swirling with endorphins. your best friend of ten years just made the biggest move on you, and without a word, you managed to fumble it. no way. absolutely not.

"sorry for what? i'm not understanding." you suddenly feel very vulnerable, your skin littering with goosebumps at the sudden change in the air. "i'm perfectly fine with…whatever you were doing."

seungmin peers back at you through dark eyes. "no, y/n. we can't." he swipes his keys off the table, and you huff. "and why can't we, seungmin? what is so bad about kissing me?" his eyes are wide as you ramble, and it's all word vomit. you can't seem to stop it, but he's drinking every word.

"what is it? am i a bad kisser? is it because i'm a virgin? i don't think it's very fair that you can openly admit to being other girls' firsts but you can't even do that for me. you haven't even offered. i'm not saying you fucking have to, because you're my best friend and you always will be. but holy fuck, seungmin, i'm trying to get some. you said i should, so why not be the one i get it from?" 

you're out of breath, and seungmin just shakes his head as he takes one, two steps back in front of you. "you think i don't want to be your first? you think i don't want you all to myself, to ruin you for anyone else? you think i don't want to fuck you stupid, until all you know is my name? are you hearing yourself right now?"

"you're certainly not acting like it. it doesn't have to mean shit, seungmin. it's just sex." you roll your eyes, leaning on the couch. "it's not just sex, y/n. this is a huge step for you, for us. our friendship is on the line, and i don't want to do something you might regret later." you shake your head, and he hates when you get stubborn like this, you won't listen to reason. "still not seeing the issue here. i lose my virginity and gain some experience for the next guy, you get your dick wet. we go to bed, and we act like it didn't happen in the morning. you take me home, we listen to our playlists on the way there, and we go about our days."

he flings his keys onto the floor, his hands reaching to hold your face. he tucks a few strands behind your ears, fingers lovingly caressing your pierced lobes before he looks you dead in the eyes. "y/n, if i give you what you want tonight, there is no chance in hell you're going to fuck someone else."

you stare back at him silently, your eyes darting to his lips before your tongue peeks out to wet your own. it's not the worst thing in the world, being with seungmin. it could be good…and not just the sex. he knows you, you know him…his lips felt like they were made for you. they always had, since your drunken kiss on christmas eve.

"you say that like it's a threat." you challenge, and he bites back a smile, nodding his head. his hand has traveled to your hip, his other still holding your face when his nose touches yours, his breath hitting your lips. "if you want me to stop at any point, just let me know. understand, sweetheart?"

you nod, leaning forward to connect your lips. he pulls back, shaking his head. "i need to hear you say you understand."

"jeez, seungmin, i understand. i get it, can we please move this along?" you're not the least bit embarrassed as you whine against him, and he lets you kiss him. your lips are eager, your hands carding through his hair as he licks into your mouth. the kiss is all teeth and tongue, a soft moan interrupting it as he gives your clothed breast a gentle squeeze, his thumb working over your pebbled nipple. "min, i…" "what, tell me what you want, sweetheart." his lips trail down your jaw, nipping along your exposed neck carefully. your whines are like heaven to him, "n-need you.." "aw, you need me? need me where?" he's loving this, the way you squirm under his lips, under his nimble fingers. you push your chest into him involuntarily, "h-here. please?"

you grab his wrist, a wave of confidence taking over as you guide his hand under the waistband of your sweatpants. his fingers are cool against your clothed heat, a soft wet patch forming on the fabric. his eyes are wide as he instinctively lets his hand run over the spot, watching as you flinch, lip caught between your teeth. he presses hard against you, a gasp falling from your mouth. "i haven't even touched you, and look at how wet you are for me. a little pathetic, hm?" "'m’ yours, minnie. always, always been yours." you don’t mean that, he thinks. he's letting you grind against his hand, his gaze transfixed on your face. your brows furrowed, eyes screwed shut as you used his hand to get yourself to the edge. his cock twitches at the little pants falling from your lips, when he decides he's had enough. you nearly cry at the loss of contact, his hand escaping the confines of your plush thighs. "minnie-" "if you're gonna cum, it's gonna be on my face. let's go, sweetheart." he tugs you towards his bedroom, your legs weak as you try not to stumble behind him. "bed. on your back."

he's pulling his sweater over his head, and you nearly coo at his messy hair in your fucked out state. he feels a flush coat his cheeks as you lay there, waiting for him to tug your pants off. hooking his fingers in your waistband, you lift your hips to make it easier, and he slides your underwear and sweatpants off in one go. you suddenly feel shy, closing your legs. 

"ah, ah. it's just me, sweetheart. do you want to stop?" his hands move to your knees, the cool metal of his rings sending a soft shock to your spine. "no, i'm…okay. i'm just nervous." "it's okay, angel. i got you, don't worry." he presses a kiss to your forehead, nose…lips. he lingers there a bit, but doesn't let it deepen as he runs his hands down your legs. his fingers dig into your thighs, pulling them apart for him to settle between. you're soaking, the heat of his stare making anxiety bubble in your stomach. "fuck, you're going to be the death of me." his lips press soft, chaste kisses along your inner thigh, nipping carefully as you mewl. "minnie, please..i..please…" you end in a whimper, and who is he to deny you when you beg so nicely? he buries his nose in your pussy, bumping your clit as he lets his tongue drag through your folds, collecting your sweet, sweet arousal on his face. your hand flies to his hair as his lips suck on your clit, thighs threatening to close around his head. he doesn't care, he'd die a happy man right there between your legs.

"f-fuck, seungmin, ah! right there, holy f-fuh.." you're shaking around his head, bucking your hips into his face as gently as you can muster. he loves it, but he can't tell you that as he drowns in the scent of you, the obscene sounds of his tongue against you paired with your pretty whimpers ensuring he'd probably cum in his pants. "oh, b-baby i'm gonna.."

his hand reaches for yours, interlacing your trembling fingers with his, his other hand massaging your thigh in encouragement. he can barely bring himself to talk, a soft moan of his against your clit sending you over the edge, a soft cry of his name echoing in the room. "that's it, good job angel. you did so well for me, hm?" he's still lapping at you, not wanting to miss a single shiver or whimper from your body. "s'always that good? min?" he peers up at you from his spot between your legs, your lips parted as you blink, a tear rolling down the side of your face. he moves up to wipe it away, but you take his hand in yours, kissing his palm softly. "you okay? we can stop." he presses his forehead against yours, not able to process your cute gesture without wanting to bawl. you nod, a lazy smile crossing your lips as you reach to kiss him. "m'all good, minnie. do you…want me to help you?"

you can feel his clothed cock pressing against your leg, practically begging to be set free, and you teasingly buck up against it. he inhales sharply, shaking his head, "i want tonight to be about you. i want to make sure you feel good, okay? are you sure you want to continue?" "yeah, m'all yours." you sigh against his lips, a chaste kiss from you to him. "can i take this off, sweetheart?" he yanks lightly on your shirt, and you nod. you help him tug it over your head, your fingers reaching backwards to unclasp your bra. he feels like all the air is sucked out of the room as you lay beneath him, for him, in all your glory. every curve he's imagined just as gorgeous. "you're staring, it's making me shy." your soft voice snaps him out of his thoughts. "no, no, fuck, you're gorgeous. look at you, oh my god, i.." he trails off, his hands resting on your tummy. "you just went down on me, and you're short-circuiting over my tits, kim?" your teasing is not helping his brain, but the attitude brings him back to reality. "you know that's not all it is, stop it." he rolls his eyes, thumbs rubbing circles into your skin. it's soothing, the warmth of your skin radiating against his. he dips his head between your breasts, trailing open mouthed kisses all over your chest and stomach. "you're so beautiful. i'm literally the luckiest person in the entire universe." he's mumbling to himself mostly, but you feel soft tears prick at your eyes. his lips latch around one of your nipples, a gasp from you making him pull off with a pop. "can i…are you sure you want this, y/n? i really, really don't want you to regret this."

you grab his face in your hands, your thumbs lightly padding over his cheeks. "i want you, entirely. in this life, in the next life. okay? i got you, don't worry." you echo his words back to him, and he bites his lip, a hint of something in his eyes as he pulls back to unbuckle his pants. kicking them off quickly, you wait until he straightens to take a peek. 

the rumors were true. he's thick, his tip a soft mauve. your mouth is watering at the sight, when a snap of his fingers catches your attention. "eyes up here, sweetheart. i want you to look at me, can you do that?"

you nod, a shy smile on your lips as he goes to spread your knees again. "no, wait, minnie…" he feels his heart skip a beat at your voice, eyes flickering to yours in concern. "i…can i be on top? i read that…it can be better that way." you swallow thickly, and he feels the tips of ears burn but a smile grazes his features. "you studied for sex?"

any awkwardness is gone. you scoff, a light smack landing on his arm. "forgive me for wanting to be in control."

"you want to be in control? okay. fine, but you won't last long." he shrugs, sliding onto the bed behind you, eyes taking in the curve of your ass before you turn. "lay back, asswipe." "watch the attitude, or i'm shutting this shit down." he says, eyes serious as you feel your cheeks heat. you watch as he gets comfortable on his pillows, and you crawl over to him, your hands brushing against his sides as you straddle him. "we can go as slow as you want, okay?" his words are reassuring as his hands reach for your thighs, and you nod.

you take a deep breath, lightly letting your cunt drag along his length, his tip bumping your clit. you shiver, a buzz going up your legs as he takes your hips in his hands, manually guiding you over his cock. "did you read about this too?"

"shut up." you roll your eyes, his hands holding you in place. he looks…so convincing like this. like everything will go back to normal after this, like everything will be the same. he'll still be your best friend, and you'll still be desperately, hopelessly, stupidly in love with him. it's overwhelming, and you just bite your lip, shaking your head. "you're staring." "your dick is twitching, but i'm not saying shit." scoffing, you take him in your hand gently, lining him up with your aching center. you sink down slowly, the tip barely swiping your entrance when you grimace, a hiss escaping your lips as you screw your eyes shut. "i know, angel. here, let me help you." seungmin pulls you closer, his back against his headboard, careful not to pull out. you watch as his hand snakes between the two of you, his thumb softly circling your clit, your eyes threatening to close. "eyes open." you oblige, feeling a gush of arousal at his command, and you have no room to feel embarrassed when he begins to shallowly fuck into you, matching the pace of his thumb. your eyes are glossy as you move your hands to hold onto the headboard, your chest flush to his face. he kisses your shoulder, your soft whimpers music to his ears. 

"deeper? or stay like this?" he asks, voice shaking slightly, the warmth of your pussy almost staggering. it's humiliating how worked up you have him, but you need to stay humble. it helps him tolerate you. "d-deeper, is okay."

his arms wrap around your waist tightly, slowly pulling you down further, a whine escaping your throat as your hands move to his shoulders, your eyes meeting his. he's trying not to cum from the way your pretty cunt swallowed him so perfectly, taking him so well. made for him, just him. "m'so full, minnie." you clench around him, and it takes all his willpower not to finish. he's not far, he's practically seeing stars…but the way you're looking at him, you're so pretty, so ready to cry over his cock. he needs to drag this out as long as he can.

"y-you can move, if you want. p-please, want to feel you." you're pleading, he knows. he swallows, confidence wavering as he nods, slowly thrusting up into you, the squelch immediately catching his attention, eyes tearing from yours. he watches the way you take him, your body begging to be ruined by him. he moves a little faster, your mind beginning to blur as he falls into a rhythm. 

your nails are digging into his shoulders, your lip caught between your teeth as his hips rock against yours. his eyes flicker back to your face, and you manage a quick wink. he feels his cheeks burn beet red as he looks away. he feels like such a fucking virgin, when he is the one that's your first, not the other way around. pretty girl on his lap and he can't even look at you.

he wishes you had been his first, too, and he wishes you would have asked him sooner. you're so smart, you're so gorgeous, your lips taste like cinnamon sugar. fuck, he loves you. you're his best friend, you feel so good around him and you know him so well. he loves you, so fucking much.

his hips come to a slow, your moan drawing out as he drags his cock against your walls at an agonizing pace. "'still want to be in control, angel?" his lips press to your clavicle, and you nod against his neck. "will you tell me if it's good?"

he pulls you back, hand coming up to caress your face. "how could it not be, when it's you?"

you don't say a word, allowing his lips to meet yours in a chaste kiss. he slumps a bit, and you maneuver so his back is almost flat on the bed, and you try not to moan as the movement makes his cock hit you just right. "whenever you're ready, just use me how you want to." you feel a flutter in your stomach, giving an experimental roll of your hips, your hands flat on his side. raising your hips, your thighs tremble as you start a rhythm, bouncing on him carefully. he's watching you, the way you move so fluidly, like you're dancing. like you're enjoying him, using him, making his brain feel useless. he can't speak, just drinking in this picture of you he's never going to get to see again after tonight, taking in your throaty moans.

"m-minnie?" your eyes are low, your hands moving to his chest, pushing your breasts together. fuck, you are art. "y-yeah?" 

he can't even focus as you whimper, clamping around him like a vice, moving slightly faster. "m'close, i can't..i.." you're still looking at him, and he can't. he can't take it, using his strength to flip you on your back. he interlaces your fingers, pinning your hands above you as he roughly fucks into you, sharp cries falling from your lips.

his head dips, lips dragging along your jaw as he whispers in your ear. "this is where you belong. under me, begging for me. got it?"

you feel chills cover your body as you nod, "y-yes, god, yes." "good girl." he's so unsure of himself, he's so afraid he'll scare off your high but he needs to know. "did you mean what you said earlier?" he's speaking through gritted teeth, his eyes focused on the gloss in your eyes.

"hmm?" your brows furrow, your bitten lips slightly agape as his thrusts become sloppy, and he just shakes his head, opting to kiss you instead. hoping it'll help the knot in his stomach go away, hoping it will help you forget he asked. you can't help but pant into his mouth, feeling him smile against your lips. "you can let go, sweetheart. you did so well for me, yeah? i got you." you don't register how tightly you squeeze his fingers, or how deeply you're kissing him as you feel the white hot sensation rip through you. he's drunk off you, and you can feel him spurting inside you, his cum trickling out of you as his thrusts come to a slow, slow, stop.

but he doesn't, his lips don't. he can't stop kissing you, he doesn't want to talk. he doesn't want to tell you how you made him feel, how he can never see you the same again. he doesn't want to watch you walk out of his apartment tonight and possibly never be able to talk you again. he doesn't want to ever, ever hear about you doing this with some other guy, but he made his bed. 

your thighs are trembling around him, and you tug your fingers out of his grasp, pulling as far away from his mouth as you physically can. he pouts, chasing after them, only stopping when your eyes blink slowly at him.

"you alright?" his voice is soft, almost scared. you nod, swallowing thickly as you look away, tears forming in your eyes. "ah, talk to me, y/n. it's okay." "i meant it. what i said, earlier. i…don't know why i said it, i never planned on saying it. i'm sorry if it's going to make things awkward." you feel a tear escape, your hand quickly pawing it away. "awkward? with you? it’s not possible." he murmurs, and you glance at him, but he's staring at the pillows above your head.

"but you don't feel the same way." you say, almost as if you're trying not to hurt your feelings by letting your own words reject you, instead of him. he shifts, and you realize he's still inside you. he props himself up on his elbows, hands holding his head up as he peers at you. "you think i don't?"

"i know you don't." you laugh coldly, and he smiles. "yeah, miss sex expert? you know everything? did you read that, too?"

"ugh, stop. i'm never telling you anything again." you're becoming increasingly aware of your nudity, and seungmin can feel the hot flame of shame creeping up his back. he shakes his head, hating the way his blushing cheeks burn so bright. "i want you to tell me everything, forever. i love knowing you, i love trusting you. i'm glad you trusted me with this."

you can't look at him. his hand moves to make you look at him, fingers lightly squeezing your jaw. "and i meant what i said, too. you can't fuck anyone else. only i can see you like this, okay?"

his eyes are searching your face, watching you attempt to nod. "and…" he sighs, feeling tears prick at his eyes. "and i love you. i love your smile, and how you laugh when you play sex songs in the car. i love when we split cinnamon rolls, because you always try to take the bigger piece as if i won't just let you have it. i love when you say my name because it rolls so nicely off your tongue. i love how you move so effortlessly, and how you remember every little thing about anyone, ever. i love that you're funny, and you're so passionate. i love that you're so smart, far too smart to think that i wouldn't sell my soul to live an eternity by your side." his voice is trembling, and your eyes are wide and full of tears, full of adoration, of love for the stupid boy hovering above you.

"i love you, please. please say you're mine." his tears spill, and your lips part, a soft sob escaping as you pull him close, the cool metal of his necklace dragging against your damp skin. "i'm yours, always. i'm yours, i'm yours, i'm yours. i love you." you mumble against his lips, your tears mixing with his on your cheeks.

"thank fuck, i was about to end it all thinking about you doing that fucking trick on someone else." he mutters, and you snort as he buries his face. "that wasn't in the article, funnily enough. it just felt like the right thing to do. think if i pierced my clit, it'd feel better for you?" you ponder aloud, and he nips at your skin.

"don't even start, i haven't even pulled out." he groans, and you laugh loudly. "you're so pretty." he pouts, and rolls his eyes as they start filling with tears, your hand quickly wiping the ones that spilled. "is this going to happen every time? i kind of hate it."

"god, i hope so. i love seeing you like this for me." you tease, and he scrunches his nose. "shut up. stay humble, it's the only way i tolerate you." he nuzzles his nose back into your neck, and you let him stay there, carding your fingers through his hair.

"y/n?"

"yes, seungmin?" "i'm yours, you know that?"

"mmm, i do now. just mine?" "just yours. always." he nods as he pulls himself off you, placing a kiss on your temple, before brushing his lips on the shell of your ear. "someone has to fuck the attitude out of you, and i'm so glad it's gonna be me." you feel your skin heat at his words, and you smack him lightly. he gives a playful thrust, making you gasp before slowly pulling out. "you're off the hook for now, my angel. let's get you cleaned up." he doesn't stop kissing your face in the shower, or when he's shampooing your hair. he doesn't stop kissing your shoulders as he towels you dry, or your tummy when he works lotion into your skin. he can't keep his hands off you, even when you say you need to put clothes on. he can't get enough of the burn of your skin against his, and moves as fast as a human possibly can stripping the sheets off his bed and replacing them. 

he can't stop, and he won't stop kissing you, splitting cinnamon rolls with you, or singing sex songs in the car. he can't stop, and he won't stop, supporting you at your recitals and fucking you stupid as a reward. he can't stop, and he won't stop filling your cup until it's overflowing, making you laugh until you cry, and dragging moans of his name from your throat.

he can't stop, and he will never stop, loving you.

temptaetions © 2024. no translations, reposting or modifications are allowed. do not claim as your own. viewer discretion is advised. your media consumption is your responsibility.

[chronicangel]

Pacifica Northwest's Sweet Sixteen

Link to this fic on AO3. Words: 4169 Date posted: October 17, 2024

Summary:

You are invited to the greatest party of the century!

When Pacifica wakes up, it’s still dark out.

She reaches over instinctively to turn off her alarm before she realizes that her alarm isn’t going off, and then she just stares up at the silk canopy over her bed. She must have had a nightmare, but she can’t remember it. That’s good, she thinks. It’s always harder to get back to sleep when she remembers them.

She picks up her phone to squint at the time. 5:03 AM. Happy birthday to me, she thinks, rolling her eyes. She’d check her social media, but it’s too early for any of the other people who actually care about her birthday to have said anything to her, and she doesn’t want to scroll through all of the pictures of happy families and families pretending to be happy for the holiday. She’s going to get plenty of that at home today, she thinks.

As much as she’d begged and pleaded for Susan to let her work today, her boss had rightfully pointed out that even if the diner wasn’t closed for the day to give all of the other employees time off with their families, they wouldn’t have any customers. No escaping her parents, then. They probably wouldn’t have reacted well if she tried to skip their party, anyway.

You are invited to the greatest party of the century! Celebrate Gravity Falls’ own winter miracle with us once again at the annual Northwest Winter Gala, Christmas and a birthday all wrapped into one. This year’s theme: Sweet 16. Colors are champagne, lavender, and the Canadian dollar. Gifts are mandatory.

She wanted to puke when her mother handed her the invites along with the guest list and told her the envelopes had to be in her handwriting as if she’d had any choice in who was coming.

She gives up on getting back to sleep. It was stupid to think she’d be able to in the first place. She almost never can, and her birthday is an especially miserable occasion. She still remembers when Mom used to wake her up at midnight with a slice of chocolate cake that she was absolutely not allowed to eat in bed, back when her parents still pretended to like her.

Despite the drafts of snow she can see through her bedroom window, her room is nice and toasty when she throws the blankets off. She used to have her own fireplace. It was probably a safety hazard, but she liked sitting in front of it to read on late winter nights.

She glares at her closet. The dress her mother has picked for her this evening looks like the middle step between a wedding dress and the sort of dress you stuff a toddler into for Easter pictures. She hates it, but she knows not wearing it will be a bigger issue than it’s worth.

For now, she skips right past it to put on winter clothes instead. Fleece-lined leggings, fluffy socks made from alpaca wool imported from Peru, a turtleneck that had been knitted for her by the Austrian prince’s grandmother, and a coat she bought with her own money during their last ski trip to the Alps make up the basics of her outfit, and by the time she gets downstairs and to the front door, they’re joined by a scarf that feels like running water in her hands and luxury brand hiking boots made from shell cordovan.

There’s something so refreshing about the gust of cold air that hits her face when she steps outside, immediately whipping her bangs into her eyes. It is not a still or quiet morning in Gravity Falls. After they had lost the mansion, they moved into a new one in the closest thing Gravity Falls has to “the suburbs,” and there is no big hill or private patch of forest to block the wind from biting at her nose and fingertips. She sucks in a deep breath of it and watches it fog up in front of her as she exhales.

Maybe it’s because she’s a winter baby, but she’s always found the cold weather so grounding. When her boots sink into the snow and it threatens to pour over the top against her socks, that’s when the world feels the most real.

The woods are never far in Gravity Falls even if your family doesn’t own their own private portion of the forest, and when every other scent has been crowded out by pine and the snow is in a thinner layer on the ground because it has too many tree branches to get through to pile up, that’s when she really relaxes. She thinks she can’t have been walking for more than twenty or thirty minutes, and a quick glance at her phone confirms it. Her hair isn’t being thrown around by the wind anymore, safe within the barrier of the trees, but the damage has already been done. She can practically hear her mom’s temper tantrum about what a tangled mess it is, but that’s a problem for later. This moment, right now? This is just for her.

She closes her eyes and takes another deep breath. There’s a richer smell to the forest with her eyes closed. Snow doesn’t smell exactly like rain, but there’s a hint of that earthy smell, wet trees and wet grass and wet dirt all drinking up whatever they can before they freeze solid. She walks until she finds a place to sit down, a knocked-over log that’s frozen over with just a little bit of snow, and she figures it’s not a big deal if her pants get wet because she has to change before the party anyway. Mom and Dad aren’t going to like it, she thinks, but rather than the anxiety that would have gnawed at her only a few years ago at that idea, it only brings a smile to her lips. The only thing that would make this moment better is a cup of coffee.

She doesn’t know how long she just sits there like that, soaking in the peace of a winter morning. She thinks the snow must have stopped, because there aren’t even stray flurries rushing between branches anymore. Her fingers are bright red, and she can barely feel them. She should have put gloves on before she left.

Eventually, she sees the sun starting to peek over the tops of the trees, casting a golden glow on the whole forest. More than that—the snow on the ground reflects the light in a gleaming rainbow that shimmers over the entire ground. She picks her phone up to take a picture, and once she’s snapped a few that she likes, her eyes catch on a few notifications.

Mabel Pines 🌟: HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!!!!! 🩷💜💙💖💖💫🌠🦙🌲🎄Mabel Pines 🌟: omg i still cannot beLIEVE that your birthday is CHRISTMASWendy Corduroy : happy birthday, dude! hope your family is less terrible this year.Dipper 💙: Happy Birthday, Paz. I’ll call you later, ok?

She snorts. Dipper texts like such a middle-aged dad. Still, as she goes through replying to them, she tells him that she’s looking forward to it.

And she is. Even though the twins haven’t visited Gravity Falls in-person since that summer when they were 12, they’ve been a near-constant presence in her life since then. She calls Dipper in the middle of the night when she has nightmares and can’t get back to sleep (and he never seems to be able to get to sleep in the first place), she and Mabel send each other at least fifty selfies with a million filters each per day, and she jokes about running away to see them in Piedmont at least twice a week most weeks.

She hadn’t even realized that she was smiling until it drops when her mother’s caller ID pops up on the screen, and she answers before it even has the opportunity to ring and disrupt the serenity of the forest. “Where are you?” Her mother practically shrieks on the other end of the line. “We told you that we were doing birthday breakfast promptly at eight o’clock.”

Pacifica pulls the phone away from her ear to check the time and winces. It’s almost 7:45. There’s no way she’ll be able to get back to the house by eight. “Sorry, Mom,” she says when she presses the phone back to her ear, not feeling very sorry at all. “I guess I lost track of time.”

“Doing what?” Priscilla demands. Before Pacifica has the opportunity to answer, though, she continues, “Oh, it doesn’t matter. Just get your ass back here, young lady.”

It’s always bad when Mom swears. Priscilla Northwest insists that swearing is improper and unattractive, and that if you can’t get your point across without harsh language, you’re too dim-witted for high society. Pacifica thinks that most people think she and her mother are too dim-witted for high society anyway, and that if she cares so much about seeming intelligent, she probably should have spent the years curating a different image.

“Okay,” she says simply. She doesn’t apologize again before hanging up, just presses the button and hops to her feet. The cold has sunk into her bones by now, even through all of that expensive winter clothing, and it takes closer to an hour to get back to the house. It’s hard for her to feel very apologetic, though, when her mother immediately starts fussing about how dirty her clothes are and how tangled her hair is and not the almost blue color of her fingertips.

It takes hours to get ready for the party, and she doesn’t know where all of the time even goes. Hair, makeup, clothes, decorations, food, all of these things were settled so far in advance, so how can it still take until almost noon to get it all in order? By the time of the party, Pacifica is so tired she can barely muster up the energy to smile at the right people and make the right kinds of small talk. She’s sure it hardly helps that she doesn’t even like most of these people, and the few she does like don’t really like her back.

By the time dinner is being served (each attendee gets their own roasted quail and a side of rice pilaf), the only thing she wants to do is run away and hide in her room. She does the next best thing: lounging on a chaise in the parlor her parents keep their still-lightly-mud-stained white rug in when they have guests over, where people are strictly forbidden to enter, scrolling through Tittat videos on her phone. When she hears the door creak open, she knows it must be one of her parents, and she’s not sure which one she wants to see less.

“I have something for you,” her mother’s voice says, and Pacifca doesn’t really have to fight not to cringe because she’s been suppressing it her whole life, but she still feels something curl up unpleasantly inside her. Great, so I have to pretend to be grateful now.

“Mom, I thought that we were doing presents after dessert,” she says, as though it’s actually possible Priscilla forgot her overstuffed itinerary for the night.

“Well, I can’t give you this one in front of everyone else,” Priscilla huffs, and that only makes Pacifica’s dread grow. When her mother sits at the foot of the chaise, she holds out a wine glass, and Pacifica stares. “I want you to meet my friend Chardonnay.”

“Mom, I’m turning sixteen. I’m still not old enough to drink.”

Priscilla rolls her eyes. “Oh hush. I’m doing something nice for you.”

Pacifica doesn’t exactly know how giving her a glass of wine is doing something nice for her, but she knows better than to argue at this point. She takes the glass and takes a tentative sip. She doesn’t have any of the fancy adjectives to describe a very expensive glass of wine. She doesn’t know anything about tannins or acidity or barrel aging or whatever.

It’s bitter. She can’t completely stop herself from cringing, and Priscilla laughs at her. “Yep, I remember that. It’s terrible, isn’t it?” Pacifica stares again. Her mother gave her bad wine on purpose? “You get used to it, eventually. You’re going to have to, being a member of this family. It’s the only way to get through these awful parties.”

“You don’t like the parties?”

Her mother laughs again, and there’s a bitter note there that she hardly recognizes. “Goodness no. Does anyone?” Pacifica’s brows pinch together. Then why do we keep having them? She wants to ask. “Sweetheart, I know being a Northwest isn’t easy. When I first married your father, I was petrified by all of the… rules and systems. I was sure I’d never be able to learn all of it.”

Priscilla stares down into her own glass of wine, and Pacifica watches her face. There’s a slight flush to her cheeks and nose that Pacifica is familiar with after a lifetime of exposure. She must be drunk already, which is impressive, because her father strictly forbids cracking the wine open before dinner at parties. Day-drinking is a private pastime, something Pacifica supposes isn’t classy enough to be associated with the Northwests.

“But it’s for our own good, right? These are the things that we have to do to maintain our lifestyle. And isn’t that worth it?” This is not a light Pacifica has ever seen her mother in before. Never before in her life has she ever been given any reason to think that Priscilla might resent all of the conventions they’ve been forced into as much as Pacifica does. You just don’t get it, she’d told Dipper once, and maybe she doesn’t get it either.

“The day you were born, your father and I still hadn’t chosen a name for you,” her mother says, and if there was some segue into the topic, Pacifica missed it in her introspection. It seems more likely that there wasn’t any. “We knew that we wanted it to start with a ‘P’ because both of our names did. That’s the sort of opportunity that doesn’t come up very often, you know. We figured early on that you would be our only child, so we might as well make you stand out, right? But it was almost impossible to find a name suitably dramatic. And then you were born on Christmas and everything was so hectic, and we worried you were going to end up with no name at all.”

Pacifica settles back against the chaise and takes another sip from her wine, and she manages to ignore the taste for how interested she is in her mother’s story. “They put you in my arms and you immediately started crying, and I thought, ‘Great, she already hates me.’” She laughs, but there’s an edge to it, something that jabs painfully at Pacifica’s chest. “But after a minute you calmed down, and then you looked up at me with those big blue eyes, and I thought they looked just like the ocean. ‘The Pacific ocean,’ I thought, and then I grinned at your father. Pacifica Northwest. It sounded like an actress’ name. It was perfect.”

They stare at each other for a long, silent minute, and Pacifica’s brows furrow. What was the point of telling her this? Was there any point, or is it just some of Mom’s drunken rambling? Priscilla reaches out to grab a strand of her hair and opens her mouth to talk some more, but she’s cut off by Pacifica’s phone ringing, and Pacifica startles to angle the phone so the screen isn’t visible because she knows exactly who’s calling and her mother does not need to see. “I’ll let you get that. Cake in 30 minutes, okay sweetheart?”

“Okay,” she agrees, and her heart pounds with anxiety that she’s going to miss the call while she waits for Mom to leave the room before she answers. She almost drops the phone in her rush to finally hit the green button.

“Hey!” Dipper’s voice comes through a little tinny, which is a quality that Pacifica is used to when talking on the phone to anyone outside of Gravity Falls. She doesn’t know if there’s a scientific explanation, but it always feels like the rest of the world is just… dulled.

“Hey,” she says back, and whatever clawing sense of anxiety or discomfort had been lingering in her chest since Mom came into the room finally dissipates. “You’re early, I’m gonna have to go for cake and presents soon.”

“Your parents are giving you cake and presents?”

She snorts, bringing her hand up like she can catch the noise before it reaches him. “There’s still a whole party of people here to convince that we’re a happy family.”

“Ah, that explains it then,” he says, and she can hear the grin on his voice. He needs to get with the times and get a uPhone so she can see his face without going all the way upstairs to get on her computer. “So you don’t know which kind of sports car they got you yet?”

She laughs again as she hops up to her feet and starts the trek back to her room. “Oh please. They’re not going to get me a car. That’d be too much freedom. They couldn’t threaten not to let the chauffeur drive me to work anymore.” She rolls her eyes.

“They have to get you a car. It’s the whole sweet 16 package: Big fancy party with your big fancy dress, a bunch of bratty rich girls you can’t stand, and some luxury vehicle that costs more than my house. If they don’t get you a car, they don’t sell it.”

“Oh shut up,” she laughs, bedroom door swinging shut behind her. She glances at her bed for a second, but if she lays down, she’s not going to get up again, and as nice as the idea of falling asleep talking to Dipper sounds, there’s still the rest of the party to get through. As she sinks into her desk chair, she sighs and says, “Did you do anything for the holiday?”

“Oh, you mean Just Some Friday Day? Yeah, we got Chinese food and watched cheesy romcoms. I guess it’s sort of a stereotype, but I think that’s kind of why we do it in the first place? It’s hard to explain.”

“Just Some Friday Day, huh? Wow, so I mean nothing to you.” He practically cackles on the other end, and she grins.

“Right, how could I forget the most important holiday, Pacifica Northwest’s Birthday? That’s why all the banks were closed.”

“Damn straight. What would they even need to be open for? All of the people with money are in my living room.” Another laugh. She sinks back in the chair, pressing the power button on her desktop with her toes as she asks, “Can I call you on DistantChat?”

“Is that such a good idea with your parents still prowling around downstairs?” He asks, with a legitimate tinge of worry to his voice. “I mean, you know I always like seeing you, but I don’t wanna get you in trouble or anything.”

“Oh come on. It’s my birthday, they can’t yell at me for calling a friend. Plus, there’s too many people still here for them to yell at me.”

There’s a moment of hesitation, and then, “...Okay. Let me get my laptop.”

It takes a minute for him to get everything set up, and they stay on the phone while he does even though it’s mostly Dipper mumbling to himself and the rustling of pieces of paper on his desk. When he calls her, he’s in bed, and he’s not wearing that stupid hat for once, so she can see peeks of his birthmark through his fringe.

“You need a haircut,” is the first thing that comes out of her mouth, without any input from her on the matter, and he laughs.

“You sound like Grunkle Stan. That was the first thing he said when we picked him and Great Uncle Ford up at the docks for Channukah. Kid, you need a haircut.” His impression of his uncle is terrible, and it makes her laugh, throwing her head back and her hand over her mouth.

When she’s done, his cheeks are a little flushed, but she can’t really call him out on it because her cheeks are a little flushed, too, so they sit in silence for a minute. “I like the dress,” he says eventually.

The camera quality of the call isn’t great. In the video, the delicate white lace that makes it look as though there are flowers painted directly onto her chest and shoulders just look like blurry polka dots (where they’re even visible), and the lace stops being visible completely at the sweetheart neckline of the bodice portion of the dress. Not only that, but from the angle of the camera, the silky lavender band around her waist isn’t even visible, nor is the princess-style skirt that fluffs out down her body in an A-line that could give Princess Diana’s wedding dress a run for its money if it wasn’t only tea length. But, more importantly…

“Ugh, this? My mom picked it.”

“Well, as much as I hate to admit it, your mom was right. It looks really good on you,” he says, and she sees his cheeks flush a little darker. Again, not that she can say anything.

“...Thanks.” She still doesn’t love the dress, still wishes Mom had let her buy the hot pink one that was half the price, but it’s nice that Dipper likes it. She wants him to like her clothes.

They return to silence, and she thinks of all the things she’d like to say. She wants to joke that he should see how much better it’d look off of her. She wants to ask him what he got her for her birthday just to see his little panicked reaction. She wants to ask him if she can run away to his house in Piedmont and never come back.

Instead, she just watches his face. He always looks so tired these days, and she wonders if he ever sleeps at all if she’s not on the phone with him. She knows that sometimes he doesn’t get to sleep even when she is on the phone with him. Sometimes she wakes up and the time is still ticking on the call and he seems startled when she mumbles good morning.

“Pacifica!” Mom’s voice calls up the stairs, and she almost jumps out of her skin. “It’s time for the cake and the presents, dear,” she says, and the pet name makes her wrinkle her nose.

“I have to go,” she says. She’d rather do anything in the world than hang up, and she thinks it shows, because Dipper looks more than a little guilty.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to just sit here staring at you,” he says, and if she didn’t have to go she’d probably tease him for it. “Let me know what kind of car you get. I bet it’ll be an Edison. Your dad is just like that guy.”

She laughs. “Can I call you again later? Like, for bed or… something?” She asks, speaking quickly so he can’t hear the desperation in her voice.

“Of course,” he says without even a second of hesitation, and it makes her chest squeeze with fondness.

She ends the call without saying goodbye. She usually does. She hates saying goodbye, and it’s not like she won’t talk to him later, anyway. Still, she lingers at her desk for an extra second after the call is over like she’s waiting for him to call her back and scold her for it or something. She knows that he won’t. Even though they joke a lot about how terrible she used to be, Dipper rarely takes it upon himself to correct her for her social missteps, not unless she directly hurts him or Mabel by it.

Her eyes slide down to her desk drawer, and with a paranoid glance at her door, she pulls it open.

Emancipation papers.

Printing them out had marked her very first use of the Gravity Falls Library, a service her parents believed was for poor people. Once they’re filed, she guesses that’ll be her. It’d be nice if they bought me a car before I was out of here.

“Pacifica! What are you doing up there? You’re keeping everyone waiting.”

She shoves the drawer closed and trudges back downstairs.

They don’t get her a car. Giving her that much control over her own life would be against the rules, wouldn’t it? But when she calls Dipper later that night, he assures her that she’s welcome to use his car whenever she wants once she gets out of there, and she knows that he means it.

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Time Flies

Beau Arlen & daughter!reader

Requested by Anonymous

Synopsis: Beau remembers some of your birthdays on your sweet sixteen.

You were three, and everything was princess-themed. Beau’s wife had gotten you this puffy dress that made you look like your favorite princess, all your preschool friends had been invited, and Beau felt like the whole house was pink or purple or glittered.

You’d ran around with your princess friends for hours, but as soon as the presents were open and the cake had been eaten and they were gone, you ran right for your daddy.

Beau had held you in his arms, humming happy birthday to you as he rocked you back and forth. He didn’t even care that there was going to be glitter all over his clothes. This moment was worth it.

…

You were eight, and the theme was How to Train Your Dragon. Beau had made these cardboard dragons for all the kids to “ride”, and you insisted that Toothless was yours alone. You were all dressed up like Hiccup, and all the other kids had picked their viking to be for the day, too.

The kids ran around with their dragons all day before sitting down to watch the movie after cake and presents.

Your mother was busy at work today, so Beau decided to join the kids after he’d cleaned the kitchen. He made his way over to the couch and found an open square to sit in. He hadn’t sat down for two seconds before you were abandoning your seat to crawl into his lap, cuddling up with him to enjoy the movie. Beau just smiled and wrapped you up in his arms, thinking there was no place he’d rather be.

…

You were fourteen, and it was Taylor Swift. Beau had gotten you every album for your record player so you could jam out to them during the party, and everything was once again covered in glitter. You’d invited all of the new people you’d met in your first few months of high school.

Beau was so busy with the heated argument he was having with his wife that he didn’t notice it was past time for the party to start. She was still pushing him about a therapist, trying to make him let go of a grief that was still far too new. He hadn’t wanted it to overshadow your day, but his wife had started making comments again and he just couldn’t keep quiet.

However, he did notice when you got up from your seat on the couch and started for your room. He held up his hand to his wife to stop the argument so he could talk to you.

“Hey sweetheart, where are you going? Isn’t your party supposed to start soon?” He could see your mom rolling her eyes about his sudden change in subject, but he ignored her.

“It was supposed to start a half an hour ago, dad,” you mumbled. “Nobody’s coming.”

“Well that can’t be right,” your mom jumped in. “Maybe the post office forgot to mail your invitations.”

“She passed them out at school,” Beau said, trying to temper his annoyance with his wife so he could focus on you. “Honey, maybe they’re just late.”

“They’re not coming,” you insisted, moving to go to your room again.

“Now hold on,” Beau started, but your mother butted in.

“Well we can still fix this. What do you say we go shopping, huh? Get you glammed up, forget about those high school jerks.”

“No thanks,” you sighed. “I just wanna go to my room.”

“Well, that’s no good,” your mother argued. “We can still have some fun!”

“I don’t want to!” You blurted.

“Hey, easy,” Beau said. He did think his wife was pushing you too far, but he still didn’t want you yelling at her.

“No, it’s fine,” your mom huffed. “She gets it from you,” she muttered to Beau before turning and walking out the door.

“I’m sorry.” Your voice was barely above a whisper, and it came out high-pitched.

“Hey,” Beau sighed, leaning down and wiping the tears from your eyes. “Hey, it’s ok. She’s upset with me, not you, I promise.”

You sniffled and didn’t respond. The room stayed quiet for a minute until your record switched songs and filled the air with the quiet hum of music.

“Ooh, I think I know this one,” Beau said, going to turn it up. “This one’s your favorite, right?”

Your lips twitched, just a little.

“Yeah.”

“Well c’mon now,” Beau said. “You’re gonna have to help me with the lyrics, or I’m just gonna make them up!”

It only took two horrible, horrible lines that Beau made up on the spot before you were giggling.

“No, no!” You laughed. “Daddy—“ Beau’s heart skipped a beat; it had been quite a few years since you’d called him that. “Daddy you’re singing it wrong!”

“Well then you’re just going to have to fix it!” Beau insisted.

You laughed and started singing the lyrics, dragging your dad to the middle of the living room so the two of you could dance along.

The two of you spent three hours like that, dancing and singing until Beau collapsed in exhaustion on the couch, now knowing infinitely more Taylor swift lyrics than he had this morning.

It had gone from the worst birthday ever to the best, with just a little bit of daddy-daughter time.

…

You were sixteen today, and Beau didn’t know where the time had gone. He was divorced now, and he had just moved to be closer to you. He’d had a long argument with his ex about where you’d be going for your birthday, but somehow you’d convinced your mother to celebrate with her tomorrow; he got you on your birthday, and he couldn’t be happier about it.

You’d somehow also convinced him to have your party at the police station—his trailer just wouldn’t do.

Everything was—ironically—cop-themed; you’d stolen your dad’s badge and you were now strutting around the precinct like you owned the place. Pop had set up all your presents on his desk, and Jenny had brought in your cake. There were half a dozen teenagers that had become your friends since you moved, and they seemed to know most of the officers, so there was a lot of mingling going on.

Beau was just happy to see you like this—content, surrounded by friends. He wasn’t used to being here yet, but he figured he’d catch on quick—there were a lot of good people in this room, and he worked well with them.

“Dad?”

Beau turned when he heard your voice.

“What are you doing?”

Beau realized that he’d just been standing in the corner like a creeper, and he tried not to be embarrassed.

“I guess I was just reminiscing. You’ve had a lot of birthdays, kid. Sometimes it surprises me just how many.”

You smiled fondly, and Beau knew you were remembering.

“You always made them special. That’s why I wanted to be with you today.”

“Your mom tries—“

“I know, I mean, I guess. But I don’t want to talk about her. I picked you for today, let’s just have fun.”

Beau grinned; “Hey, give me some of that cake and I’ll start having fun.”

You laughed.

“It’s a deal.”

[sitp-recs]

15 Christmassy fics to read (or reread) this month

This rec list is for @annakendricks who sent an ask about Christmas reads and also dedicated to @lettersbyelise for supporting this idea 💜 Despite the winter blues, December will always lighten up my mood with the holiday spirit. This month has been pretty hectic for me but I can’t wait to get some time off and indulge my fave Christmassy rereads. Come and join me if you like! Here you’ll find a little bit of everything: soft and contemplative, smutty, crack-y, movie AU, holiday romance and even Gen fic, which is not my usual fare but fit the theme perfectly. Pick your flavour and Happy Holidays!

🎄A Christmas Happenstance by Only_1_Truth (E, 5.5k)

The Hogwarts School for the Gifted and Supernatural had classes year-round, but the dormitories emptied out regularly on holidays as if the students were suddenly becoming allergic to the walls. Both humans and non-humans mingled freely in the surrounding town of Hogsmeade. Draco Malfoy, however, isn't feeling in the mood after a rather spectacular break-up.

🎄A Charitable Christmas by Alisanne (E, 5.6k)

Hermione’s plans to raise money for war orphans do not meet with Harry’s approval. Fortunately, Draco steps in to help him come up with a much more enjoyable strategy.

🎄A Hippogriff for Christmas by @xanthippe74 (G, 6.4k)

Draco is desperately trying to fulfill four-year-old Scorpius’ dearest wish for Christmas: a visit with a real Hippogriff. Harry is desperately trying to be left alone, safely tucked away from the attention of the wizarding world as Hogwarts’ Keeper of the Keys and Grounds.

🎄Surviving the Horde by FleetofShippyShips (T, 7k)

Draco has managed to avoid Christmas at the Burrow for ten years, but not this year.

🎄Tidings of Comfort by @blamebrampton (G, 10k)

When a man is tired of London, he is tired of life. Luckily for Draco Malfoy, London has places where the tired can rest and recover.

🎄Love, Actually, is All Around by @punk-rock-yuppie (T, 10k)

It's Christmastime, and Harry has just started as the new Minister of Magic. It just so happens that Draco works in his office as well, a holdover from Kingsley's tenure. Naturally, love is in the air.

🎄break the bad luck in my life by seaworn (E, 12k)

Draco and Harry are both brooding on Christmas Eve.

🎄All Roads Lead Home by @dracogotgame (G, 15k)

Draco is strong-armed into spending the first Christmas after the War with the Weasleys. And Harry Potter.

🎄Love All Lovely by @shealwaysreads (T, 19k)

Draco comes home for Christmas, and discovers that sharing is the best way of celebrating old traditions, and new ones too.

🎄Waking Up Slow by @sweet-s0rr0w and @ihopeyoubothstaysafefromharm (E, 22k)

'Twas the night before Christmas, although it’s July / Draco’s a shopkeeper, no-one knows why / There’s hiking and witch caves, freak snowfalls and more / Bad Christmas jumpers, nosy neighbours galore / Narcissa’s here too, but… something’s amiss / And what’s in those chocolates that’s making them kiss?

🎄I'll Floo Home for Christmas by jadepresley (T, 39k)

The Ministry Christmas party is the biggest event of the year and Harry absolutely does not want to plan it, and he certainly, one hundred percent, does not have a crush on Draco Malfoy.

🎄The Romantic Prawn Who Loved Christmas by @bixgirl1 (E, 39k)

When Draco, forced into sharing a room with Potter for the year, finds out that Potter has a sleepwalking problem, he expects the odd conversations and the weird games of chess. What comes as a complete shock are Potter's other activities...And why he seems so intent on having Draco join him.

🎄December Never Felt So Wrong by @maesterchill (E, 50k)

'Twas the month before Christmas and sixteen year old Draco Malfoy had never felt worse. His attempts to kill Dumbledore were failing and, as usual, Harry Fucking Potter was a constant thorn in his side. All that suddenly changed when Draco woke up 15 years in the future and discovered that not only was he allegedly shagging Harry Fucking Potter, he also had thinning hair and a five year old son, and no fucking clue how he got there.

🎄A Room Up There (And You In It) by @the-starryknight (T, 59k)

When Preservationist Draco Malfoy was assigned to work on Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, he was excited to delve into the gorgeous Black family antiques. His excitement quickly ended when something in the House decided it did not like his presence one bit.

🎄All Must Draw Near by Saras_Girl (M, 61k)

Harry doesn't have time for rumours; he has a shop to run. Which is just as well, really.

[bijouxcarys]

𝑻𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝑩𝒊𝒏𝒅 (𝑹𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝑹𝒆𝒊𝒈𝒏𝒔 𝒙 𝑶𝑪) - 𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑭𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒕𝒆𝒆𝒏

Masterlist

Character Profiles/Face Claims

Playlist

A/N: We have a new banner! What do we think? I prefer it to the last one for sure. Anyways, this chapter was fun to write. Remember to let me know your thoughts, any feedback is greatly appreciated. And thank you all for the support on this story so far. Enjoy!

CW/TW: Suggestive themes, mild gun play, angst

Tags: @trippinsorrows @empressdede @thetribalqueen @heauxvibez @bigsimperika

@cyberdejos2 @keyaho @headoftheetable @jstarr86 @southerngirl41

@tshepisho @cry1nwhileimcumm1n @maeb99 @thedesireds @dzdndcnfsd

@expert-texpert @niknakbucks92 @sillyteecup @trentybenty @pittieprincess22

(If you want to be tagged in any future Roman fics, just let me know!)

April 2011

Most girls, when turning sixteen, expect glittering parties or sentimental gifts. There’s the Americanised commercialism of the sweet sixteen. Not yet an adult, but not too young that they’re seen as entirely incompetent. A child with little to no responsibilities beyond schooling and perhaps a part-time job or two.

For the Volkovs, turning sixteen was a rite of passage—one that cemented a place in the family business.

As Nate stood in front of her mirror, she smoothed down her silky black dress, carefully chosen to reflect the maturity she was assuming. There was a time when she detested her body as a young teen, not appreciating how her chest increased in size at a faster rate, and a lot earlier, than a majority of her friends. Her friends still had a ways to go, in terms of their growth. Stick thin, for the most part, and bore little curves until years later. Nate, however, seemed heavier than the other girls of her age group, and was often mistaken for someone at least five years her senior.

But now she was sixteen… and this dress… God, she loved how it made her feel. How it made her look. Finally, she was able to wear something she knew would always look good on her. 

Barely having another moment to assess the rest of her reflection, Katya came bounding into the room through the swung open door. Full of light, innocence, and unbridled joy.

“Happy birthday!” Katya squealed, her small arms wrapping around Nate’s waist.

Nate grinned, bending slightly to hug her sister back. “Thank you, Kitty Kat. You ready for all the excitement?”

Katya beamed up at her, nodding eagerly. “Yeah! It’s your birthday! That means cake, right?”

It was sweet, how Katya’s definition of excitement was much simpler than what the day truly signified. Nate smoothed a hand over her little sister’s hair and said, “Yeah, cake and everything else.”

The two sisters made their way downstairs, where the living room had been transformed for the occasion. The house was alive with guests, most of them close family friends or trusted associates of Dimitri. Among them were the Sokolovs, whose presence was hard to ignore. Boris and his family had arrived early, as expected. The Sokolovs and the Volkovs were bound by more than just friendship—there was a deep alliance, one Nate had only begun to grasp.

Boris was lounging near the fireplace, already nursing a drink. At twenty-three, he carried himself confidently—arrogantly. His eyes swept over Nate as she entered the room, a smile forming on his lips.

“Natalka,” Boris called out, standing from his chair with a grin. “Happy birthday.”

“Spasibo, Borislav,” she replied, her voice laced with polite indifference. She didn’t particularly like Boris, but she learned early on to tolerate him. He was family, pretty much, and had at least some redeeming qualities. He was just… annoying.

As Nate accepted greetings and congratulations from various guests, she noticed her father standing at the centre of the room, commanding everyone with a clap of his hands to fall silent.

“Today is a very important day,” Dimitri began. “My daughter, my eldest, turns sixteen. And in our family, sixteen is a time of transition.”

The room fell even quieter. Nate stood tall, anticipation building in her chest. She knew what was coming—she had been waiting for it, eager to prove herself, to step into the role she had been raised for.

Dimitri turned toward her, something wrapped in dark velvet cradled in his hands. The crowd shifted, watching with bated breath as he approached his daughter. Unwrapping the velvet with deliberate slowness, he revealed a brand new, polished 9mm SIG Sauer handgun. It gleamed in the soft light, sleek and deadly.

Nate’s eyes widened, but her excitement couldn’t have been louder. She had been around guns before, but this—this was hers. Her own weapon. It symbolised more than just protection or violence. It was a mark of responsibility, a sign that she was no longer just the Volkov princess. She was being brought into the fold.

“S dnem rozhdeniya,” Dimitri said, smiling proudly. “It’s time for you to learn what it means to truly be a Volkov.”

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

4:30pm. She was supposed to be at Roman’s by 5, like they had agreed over text that morning. A boulder threatening to drop at any moment, the arrangement hung over her head. But time was slipping through her fingers like sand. And still… no call from her contact.

Nate wasn’t exactly in a state to go anywhere, especially not to Roman’s place without information. The past few days had been an absolute whirlwind—Roman’s thinning patience with the entire situation, the engagement party, and the constant sense of walking a tightrope with no net to catch her. She could barely focus through the haze of exhaustion. Sleep had been an elusive luxury these last few days; she’d barely strung together four hours in the past 72.

Lana had been kind enough to lend her a car—another favour she’d promised to repay by sending her and Rusev on a trip to Bali or something… God, she owed them big time. But even with their generosity, Nate felt a suffocating loneliness creeping in. She glanced at her burner phone, its blank screen taunting her.

Why hasn’t she called yet?

Resting her head in her hands, Nate rubbed her temples, trying to stave off a headache. She had to get it together. Roman didn’t tolerate excuses, and he sure as hell wouldn’t appreciate her showing up empty-handed. But she couldn’t walk into his house without a shred of information. That was suicide. As formidable as she could be, she knew she wasn’t in the correct frame of mind to withstand his brooding nature.

Her fingers itched to dial her contact herself, but that wasn’t how these things worked. She’d made the call hours ago, left the message—now it was a waiting game. A game she was losing, and fast. Her heart rate picked up. The anxiety crawled under her skin, making her restless, frustrated.

“Fuck,” she muttered under her breath, pushing herself away from Lana and Rusev’s garage wall and pacing the space. 

The world felt off-kilter after the engagement party. Spending the evening with Boris, his hands constantly on her, her father’s speech—still sickening her with the chilling finality of his words being the future of the Volkov empire. And Katya… God, Katya.

Nate’s fists clenched. She hated it. All of it. But this—working with Roman… It could be good for her. Could be. Only if she delivered.

She looked at the clock again. 4:42pm.

“Fuck.”

The idea of texting Roman, letting him know she wasn’t going to make it on time, should have occurred to her. Any sane person would have done it by now. But something held her back. Maybe it was fear. Or maybe it was pride. She’d become a master at dodging unnecessary confrontations long ago, and the thought of admitting failure—even something as simple as being late—tore at her. If she could just hold out a little longer…

The silence in the room was unbearable, so she grabbed the burner phone again, staring at it like she could will it to ring. Roman was expecting her in 18 minutes. And she had nothing.

Time stretched, her frustration building until her hands began to shake.

For a moment, she thought about just getting into the car and heading to Roman’s place anyway. Maybe something would have come through on the drive over. Maybe she could stall, give herself more time. But she wasn’t sure she had the energy for that level of bullshit.

As she debated her next move, the burner phone rang. Nate nearly dropped it in her scramble to answer.

“Nate,” the voice on the other end sharply greeted.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

Roman was in one of his moods—the kind of foul, brooding temper that had everyone around him walking on eggshells. Large frame tensed, strong arms crossed over his chest, he sat back on the couch. His family sat scattered around the living room, waiting for something, anything to bring some clarity. But what they had was silence, the uneasy kind.

“We’ve been at this since morning,” Roman growled, tossing the tablet he’d been using to search for any sign of a connection to the Irish onto the coffee table. “Nothing. Not a single fuckin’ thing that’s useful.”

Solo sat silently in the corner, arms folded, watching his cousin with a steady, unremarkable expression. Jey leaned forward, fingers tapping on the edge of his knee in barely concealed agitation, while Jimmy kept his gaze down, not daring to stoke the fire. Even Sami remained quiet.

“I told you, man,” Jey finally muttered, his tone light, cautious but laced with frustration of his own. “We shouldn’t be trusting her.”

Roman’s glare shifted immediately to Jey. “Who?” he challenged. “Nate?”

“Yeah, Nate,” the Uso shot back, unable to stop himself. “She’s a Volkov, man. You gonna just trust her like that? We’ve been digging all day an–”

“She’s our only fucking lead right now, Jey. What, you wanna throw that away because you don’t like her last name?”

Jey clenched his jaw but didn’t back down. “It’s more than her last name, Uce. She ain’t one of us. She got her own motives, and if we ain’t careful, we the ones that are gonna end up screwed.”

Jimmy gave a slight nod in agreement, glancing towards his twin for support. “Jey’s right, man. She’s late, she hasn’t given us much, and now she’s ghostin’ us when you agreed to meet today.”

“She’s a liability,” Solo added. “We don’t know where her loyalties lie.”

Roman was about to snap back when Paul decided to interject. “Gentlemen, perhaps we’re letting emotions cloud our judgement here. We’re frustrated, yes. But that frustration doesn’t mean we can abandon reason.”

Silence settled over the room once more as everyone assessed the Wise Man’s words. And, unfortunately for him, it was Sami who chose to break it. 

“R-Roman… Maybe we should just take a break. Look over all the files with fresh eyes? I’m sure—”

“You’re sure what?” Roman cut him off, tilting his head at the redhead who just sat there, looking like a deer in headlights. “I asked you a question.”

Sami swallowed, hands fumbling together in his lap. “I-I’m sure we could find something… A pattern or something that we didn’t see before…”

Roman stared at him, nodding his head slowly, eyes narrowing as he stood up from his place on the couch. “A pattern…” he mumbled, strolling over to the chair Sami was perched on. “Always somethin’, huh?”

Sami’s eyes darted back and forth between Roman and Jimmy. “Wh–”

“Always got a little thought or opinion.”

“I was just s—”

“Are you tryin’ to be me?” Roman asked with a chilling softness as he peered down his nose at Sami.

Sami’s face dropped, and he stuttered. “W-what?”

“You wanna be the Tribal Chief? You wanna make the decisions?” 

The newest member of The Bloodline opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Roman’s gaze was burning through him.

“You want my seat?” he barked, his voice growing louder with each word. “You think you can run this? You think you can handle it?” He leaned in, a dangerous glint in his eyes. “Tell me, Sami. Are you tryna be me?”

“No, no, I—” Sami stammered, but Roman wasn’t interested in listening.

“Non mentirmi!” Roman spat, slamming his hand against the back of Sami’s chair, face twitching with unbridled rage. “You think I don’t see you? Think I don’t notice? I see everything. And I see you. Sittin’ there, always tryin’ to worm your way in. Always wanting to have a little bit more control. But you’re not me. You’ll never be me, and you better remember that.”

Sami swallowed hard, face paling as Roman’s fury hit full force.

Paul shifted uncomfortably but said nothing. He knew better than to intervene when Roman was like this. The twins exchanged uneasy glances but didn’t move. Solo remained stoic, watching on, but even he knew this wasn’t the time to speak.

Before anyone could say anything more, Roman’s phone buzzed on the table. His jaw clenched as he glanced at it.

Nate.

Finally.

“She’s outside,” Roman grunted, shoving the phone back in his pocket. “Jimmy, Jey,” he called, eyes still locked on the terrified redhead as he straightened up. “Go get her.”

Both brothers sighed inwardly. Of course, they had to be the ones to go get her. As if things weren’t tense enough, now they had to deal with her. “On it,” Jey muttered as he and Jimmy walked out of the room.

“This some bullshit,” Jey muttered as the two made their way outside. Jimmy huffed, shooting a sideways glance at his twin.

“You’re tellin’ me. Uce got himself all worked up over some chick that’ll probably lowball us anyways.”

“Nah, he ain’t mad at that.”

“Did you not hear him back there?” Jimmy jabbed a thumb behind him.

“A’ight he’s mad as shit about that, but,” Jey lifted a finger. “Ain’t no way that’s the only thing he’s mad at right now, man, I’m tellin’ you…” He shook his head, reaching the front doors. “Nobody gets that angry about not findin’ information on someone they never even met.”

Outside, Nate leaned against the borrowed car, arms folded and eyes squinted as she looked down the street. The sun had lowered, and the whole area was aglow in gold. It was one of those rare moments when she could just stop to look at her environment without worrying if somebody was about to pop out of nowhere and shoot her. 

She wasn’t thrilled about the prospect of facing whatever mood Roman was going to be in. She knew she was late, but he’d just have to deal with it. He was the one who wanted her to come, he was the one who needed answers. Nate had the answers. He didn’t. And something told her that he wasn’t one to accept that comfortably. 

Yawning, she rubbed her eyes, willing herself to stay as alert as she could, before she saw the familiar figures of the Usos approaching her from the gate. She barely lifted her head, barely adjusted her posture, rolling her neck like she was trying to get rid of a kink in her muscles.

Even though she’d only met them all once, been around their territory once, Nate already knew that her limited relationship with The Bloodline was contentious. But if she was asked to choose which Uso she preferred, the answer would come as natural as breathing.

“‘Sup, Volkov,” Jimmy greeted with a friendly nod of the head. Friendly may not be the best word to use, but at least he wasn’t grimacing and shooting daggers through her skull like his twin brother was.

“You’re late,” Jey simply mumbled, wasting no time in turning back toward the house in a silent prompt for her to follow him. 

“I’m aware,” Nate answered, chewing the inside of her cheek. As she followed them inside, she watched her feet, unwilling to pay attention to the surroundings. Sure, it was getting easier to go against her father without his knowing, but on occasion, she’d be logical—realistic. One slip up, one teeny tiny preference for being at Roman Reigns’ home over her own, and she’d be dead within a week.

“Tribal Chief ain’t happy.”

Nate lifted her head and looked at Jey, who had his lips pursed and brows angled downward, as if putting on a strong face in the presence of his family, and more notably, Roman himself. She got it. If that was what was happening, anyway. She knew the pressures of having to act a certain way in front of a person that pretty much owned you. Still didn’t give him the right to be a dick to her about it, though.

Rolling her eyes, Nate shook her head. “Is he ever happy?”

Jey’s brows shot up, and he sent a sideways glance to Jimmy. Silently asking his twin if this woman who’s infiltrated his family’s space really just bit back a retort in rejection of the Tribal Chief’s disposition.

“I’m just sayin’,”Jey smirked slightly. “Maybe don’t poke the bear tonight.”

“Noted,” she muttered under her breath, mood souring further.

The three of them walked in silence, the estate’s grandeur doing little to ease the tension. As they entered the living room, Nate felt her pulse quicken. Everybody was there, every single one of them. Staring at her like she was some stray animal that had wandered into their den.

Roman didn’t waste any time, though. “You’re late,” he said coldly, narrowing his eyes at her.

Nate dropped her head and rolled her neck, taking a deep breath before locking eyes with him again. “Traffic was a bitch,” she replied nonchalantly.

“Traffic, huh?” Roman took a step forward, peering at her like he was trying to see into her soul. “What list of excuses you pull that one from?”

“I told you I’d be here, and I’m here. What more do you want from me?”

“You don’t get to be late, Volkov,” he clenched his jaw. “Not when you got somethin’ we need.”

“Do I?” Nate challenged, trying to ignore the emphasis he put on her last name, using it like a weapon. “Because last I checked, we’re supposed to be working together, not playing house, suka. You’re not my father.”

The room went dead silent. For a moment, she wondered if she’d pushed him a little too far, at least too far for his current mood. But instead of exploding, he took a step back, his eyes clearing her from head to toe, assessing.

She shouldn’t have enjoyed that.

“You know what your problem is?” he muttered, shaking his head. “You think you’re untouchable. Walkin’ up in here like you got all the answers. Like you in control, but you’re not–”

“And neither are you,” she shot back before he could finish. “Not right now, anyway.”

The temperature seemed to drop several degrees, Nate’s words triggering a timelapse as Roman fought to keep himself as calm as possible.

Stuck up little bitch…

It was at that moment that Nate finally surveyed the rest of the room, eyeing each occupant and noting a hint of shock on each face. But in that, her eyes landed on Naomi. It took her a moment to register the familiarity, to place the face from somewhere other than here. And then, like a fog lifting, it clicked.

“You…” Nate said slowly, her body angling in Naomi’s direction. “You were at my engagement party.”

Naomi gave her a faint smile, almost guilty in nature, before she looked over at Jimmy. Yeah, she probably should have told him what she’d done for Roman… But in her defence, her husband would have done absolutely everything necessary to stop her from entering Volkov territory. She had to keep it to herself.

Nate turned to Roman, disbelief flashing across her features, the golden hue of her eyes shooting lasers into his much darker, yet much more alluring, eyes. “Oh my God,” she huffed out an irritated laugh, running a hand through her hair. “You sent her?”

“You expected me to just trust you?” Roman responded, almost over the situation, like it was the equivalent to gum on the bottom of his perfectly kept Jordans. “You—a Volkov?”

“No, but after the conversations we’ve had, I expected at least a fraction of respect for the fact that I defended you and your family to my father, my flesh and blood. Instead, you fucking send one of your minions to watch me?! Te egoistic, vysokomernaya pizda…”

“And you’re fuckin’ lucky that’s all I did,” he growled, almost completely stepping up to her, her entire form encased his his figure’s hulking shadow. “I dedicate my life to taking down people like you and your daddy. I’ll be damned if I trust one of you without makin’ sure I ain’t being screwed at both ends.”

Her nostrils flared as she looked deep into his eyes, sighing slowly and hollowing her cheeks in an earnest attempt to make sense of his logic. Had she been more… alert, awake, she probably would have seen sense, understood where he was coming from. But two people on the verge of some kind of mental break, going at each other and subconsciously pissing each other off like a sport was never going to conclude amicably.

“You don’t know anything about me, Roman.”

“I know enough,” he scoffed, dropping his voice to a mere mutter. “You’re desperate. Clingin’ to this idea that if you keep shit together, if you succeed in whatever it is you and that pretty head of yours is concocting… that maybe, just maybe you could get out of this life. That you can come out clean, stayin’ in the middle. Juggling both sides. But newsflash, Princess,” he leaned down, his lips right by her ear. “You deep in the mud. Same as the rest of us.”

Her eyes glanced to the side, watching his face as he stood back up. She swallowed thickly. “Maybe,” she admitted quietly. “But at least I’m trying. I sometimes wonder if you could say the same.”

For a second, something shifted in his eyes, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared. She’d flicked a switch in his head, triggered him somehow. But she couldn’t understand why… She knew he was trying, of course she did, she just really wanted to get under this fucker’s skin right now. So for him to react like that… God, he is in a weird mood, isn’t he?

Roman glanced around the room, as if daring anyone to speak up. “You see this?” he said, pointing at Nate. “This is why I don’t trust anyone.”

Jey couldn’t help himself. “You shouldn’t be trustin’ her at all, Uce.”

“Maybe I don’t want your opinion, Jey!” Roman snapped, whirling around to face him. “Why you always gotta butt in, man?”

His cousin shook his head, backing up. “I’m just sayin–”

“Naw, you ain’t just sayin’ nothin’. I don’t need your ass to ‘just say.’ I need you to fall in line, or you can get the hell out!” His voice was a vicious bark, and it seemed like he had truly stumbled off the edge.

The tension skyrocketed, and Nate could feel the air charged with a strong energy between each and every one of them. Her eyes darted between Roman and Jey, who looked torn between speaking his mind and keeping his head down. Oh, she knew that place well.

“You’re really going to let him talk to you like that?” she found herself saying to Jey, unable to stop herself. “You’re supposed to be family, right?”

“Shut up,” Roman pointed at her again. “You don’t get to talk about family. You don’t get to talk about loyalty. Not when you got one foot in, one foot out.”

“Okay, well, both my feet are currently standing in your house because you let me get information from my contact about the Irish, so if you’re just gonna keep banging on about loyalty this, family that, my Tribal Chief feelings are hurt because you’re late, then I have no problem with turning my arse round and going back home. Because, quite frankly, I’m fucking tired, I’m on the verge of hallucination, and I really cannot be fucked with some cocky, arrogant bastard’s precious attitude today. Your pick, Mr Head of the Table.”

Roman’s eyes narrowed as he listened to Nate’s sharp words, stillness settling in over the room as she punctuated them with a fold of her arms. His breath tightened, anger radiating from him in waves, but yet… lash out he did not. Battling with the temptation to throw her out or hear her out.

“Alright then,” he growled, forcing the words out through gritted teeth. “You got somethin’ to say? Say it.”

Nate held his gaze, clenching her jaw; she was as pissed as he was, if not more. “Fine,” she said, taking a deep breath, her exhaustion once again creeping back up on her. “I spoke to my contact. We’re meeting tomorrow. Whether or not the information they have is actually worth anything… I don’t know.” She looked around the room, her voice wavering. “But it’s the closest we’ve gotten to anything solid on the Irish. Trust me.”

Silence. The others exchanged looks, some uncertain, some frustration. Jey scoffed, shaking his head.

“That’s it? You got nothin’. You got a meeting? That’s all?” he scorned in disbelief. He pushed off from where he was leaning, stepping towards her. “You’ve been talkin’ big this whole time, and all you got is maybe a meeting? That’s what we’re supposed to rely on?”

Nate’s patience was wearing thin, her already ragged nerves fraying under Jey’s attack. “It’s more than you’ve got, isn’t it?” she bit back.

“Yeah, well, at least we ain’t the ones screwin’ around with our own families, makin’ deals with anyone who’ll listen.” He took a small step closer, almost getting in her face. “Y’all are all the same, man… All a bunch of lyin’ asses preyin’ on desperate people. You, your daddy, your sister…”

For a split second, Nate’s breath completely stopped. The air around them seemed to freeze. Her eyes flashed with fury, the comment striking her like a physical blow to the head. Her fists clenched at her sides, and without thinking, she fired back.

“You know something, Jey,” she sneered. “It really isn’t hard to sense the insecurity from across the room. Must be difficult, no? Always being the second choice. Never good enough… Always in the shadow of your brother.” She watched Jey’s eyes intently, the same fire igniting behind them. With a small smirk, she dropped her voice to a menacing whisper. “Why would anyone need you when they can get two for the price of one?”

Jey’s face contorted with rage. He lunged forward, and it was only Jimmy’s quick reflexes that stopped him from getting completely in Nate’s face. “Say that shit again, I dare you.”

“Enough!” Jimmy hissed, struggling to hold his brother back. “Both of you, cut it out.”

Naomi and Sami exchanged nervous glances, neither wanting to get involved but knowing this wasn’t going anywhere near the realm of pleasant. Solo focused on Roman and his reactions, noting his own disinterest in intervening. In fact… is… is Roman smirking? Is that a smile? Why he lookin’ at her like that?

Nate stood her ground, glaring at Jey as if daring him to try something. “What, you can’t handle the truth?”

Jey fought against Jimmy’s hold, his temper flaring. “You don’t know shit about me, Volkov!”

“And you don’t know shit about me!” she shouted back. “But that doesn’t stop you from running your mouth, does it?”

“I swear to G–”

“Jey, enough!” Tamina snapped, grabbing the back of his shirt to help with holding him back. “Tuputupu ae le tagata.”

Jey wasn’t listening. Didn’t want to. He just continued, trying to convince his family to back him up, to listen to him, to throw this infiltrator out of their house—well, Roman’s house, but that’s not the point!

But, finally, Roman stepped in. He hadn’t said a word during the exchange, watching as Nate and Jey tore into each other. And yes, maybe he enjoyed watching Nate in this mood a little more than he should have, but it wasn’t until Nate made her cutting remark about Jey being a twin that he considered intervening.

“Enough of this shit!” Roman’s voice thundered through the room, silencing everyone instantly. His expression was livid, his entire body rigid with barely contained fury. He stalked forward, grabbing Nate’s arm with a rough jerk. “You. With me. Now.”

Nate glared back at him, yanking her arm out of his grip, but she followed him nonetheless. Everyone watched as Roman stormed out of the room with Nate in tow, the door slamming eliciting a collective exhale.

Tamina shook her head, smacking Jey in the back of the head. “You had to go there, didn’t you?”

Jey shrugged, still riled up. “She had that shit coming.”

“Her sister, though?” Sami mumbled, clearly unsettled. “That’s low, even for you, man.”

“Yeah, well I ain’t remember askin’ you…” Jey mumbled. He couldn’t care less about what the others thought. To him, Nate was the problem. Hell, he’d tolerate a lifetime with Sami Zayn over one hour with Nate Volkov.

“I don’t get it,” Naomi shook her head, crossing her arms. “She’s trying, y’all. Roman sees something in her, otherwise, why would he even bother? I watched her at that party, and let me tell yo—”

“You were at some bougie-ass engagement party for a bunch of criminals. Don’t act like she a sain’t ‘cause she was playin’ nice,” Jey interrupted with a roll of his eyes.

Naomi shot him a look. “I’m not sayin’ she’s perfect, but damn, Jey, you don’t even give her a chance.”

“She’s dangerous,” Solo added quietly. “The wrong connections. We could all be dead by the new year…”

Tamina sighed, rubbing her temples. “Roman’s not an idiot. If she was a real threat, he wouldn’t let her get close.”

Jimmy, finally letting go of his brother, looked down at the ground, rubbing the back of his neck. “Maybe. But Jey’s right about one thing… she don’t belong here.”

The room fell silent again, the uncertainty of Nate’s loyalties settling on everyone’s conscience. But one thing was clear—Nate had stirred something up in this family, and whether it was for better or worse, nobody could say.

Roman didn’t tell Nate where they were going. She half-expected him to shove her into the next room and start yelling, but instead, he stormed through the house, his pace quick, purposeful. Barely having time to register what was happening, he grabbed her wrist again, pulling her down one of the downstairs hallways she hadn’t noticed until now.

“Where the hell are you taking me?” she snapped, wrenching her wrist free again, though she still followed him.

He didn’t answer, his silence an answer in itself. His long strides forced her to keep up, the intensity of his anger palpable. He didn’t slow down, didn’t stop, just moved forward like a force of nature, leaving Nate with little choice but to follow.

Leading her through a back entrance of the house, they descended a set of concrete stairs to what looked like a private basement. It wasn’t until they passed through a heavy door, the sound of it clicking shut behind them, that Nate realised where they were: Roman’s shooting range.

The sudden shift in atmosphere hit her immediately. The faint scent of gunpowder lingered in the air, and the walls were lined with a vast collection of firearms. The cold, clinical feel of the place contrasted sharply with the heated emotions nestled within both of them.

Instead of looking back at her, Roman walked straight to the far end of the room, leaning against one of the long tables that lined the wall, his hands gripping the edge. He stayed there for a moment, silent and seething, before turning to face her, his eyes dark with fury.

“What the hell is your problem today?” he growled. “You’ve been nothin’ but a bitch from the moment you got here.”

Nate bristled. “Oh, I’m the bitch today? Are you serious?” She strode forward, refusing to let this… man intimidate her. “You dragged me all the way down here to fucking insult me? Like I actually want to be here right now?”

Roman narrowed his eyes and clenched his jaw tight. “You think I enjoy watching you tear into my family? You think I want to deal with this shit, with you pushin’ everyone’s fuckin’ buttons just ‘cus your feelings get a lil’ hurt?”

“Maybe if they stop pushing mine, I wouldn’t have to!” Nate shot back, her voice rising as the anger she’d been holding onto for days finally bubbled to the surface. “I don’t like fighting with your family, I didn’t ask for this shit, Roman.”

“You didn’t ask for this?” Roman scoffed, crossing his big arms over his even bigger chest. “You made the choice to be a part of this, of my family’s plans. Findin’ out who stole our fuckin—”

“I didn’t choose shit!” she spat, her hands balling into fists at her sides. “I didn’t choose any of this! Everything’s chosen for me, Roman—everything! My life, my choices, my fucking freedom. And I definitely didn’t sign up to be spied on at my own bloody engagement party!”

“So what? You mad at me for sendin’ Naomi? For tryin’ to make sure your ass ain’t pullin’ shit behind my back?”

“Of course you don’t trust me, you don’t trust anyone, I’m not a fucking idiot. God forbid someone actually try to do right by you.”

“Don’t turn this on me,” Roman shook his head. “You come here, you step on my turf, my land, my yard, and all you do is look for a fight.”

Something deep inside, somewhere in the dark subconscious of her mind, snapped. 

She made the conscious decision to step even closer to him, standing toe to to with him, her chest heaving. “I haven’t slept in three days, Roman. Three fucking days. Do you know what it’s like to be so tired you can’t even think straight? To have everything you worked for, everything you thought you had set, slowly taken away from you right in front of you?”

Roman’s eyes flicked between hers, hollowing his cheeks and almost grimacing at her. But in all that, he lost the edge, if for a fleeting moment. He leaned down, his face inches from hers as he took a deep breath, catching the faint scent of her Carolina Herrera perfume as he did.

“You have…” he gritted his teeth, “No fucking idea.”

“Clearly,” she huffed, rolling her eyes.

Roman’s eyes once again journeyed over her face, the rage and frustration still evident, but there was something else in the way he held her gaze now—darker, primal. They were both standing on the edge of a dangerous intensity neither of them could pull back from.

Nate’s breath came fast and shallow, heart beating at a pace unlike any other as she locked onto his eyes. His face was so close now, she could feel the heat radiating off him, smell the faint traces of his cologne mixed with gunpowder. She didn’t back down, didn’t pull away—if anything, she leaned into it, daring him with her stare, wanting to see what his next move would be.

His lips twisted into a cruel smirk, the same one she saw many times the day they questioned Bunny’s men. “You really don’t know when to quit, do you?” he murmured darkly. He reached up, his large hand wrapping around the back of her neck, pulling her just a little closer. “I could end you right here, you know that?”

Her pulse quickened, but she didn’t so much as flinch. Instead, she met his words with a defiant tilt of her chin, her stomach twisting as his grip on her neck tightened slightly.

Roman’s smirk deepened, his eyes practically gleaming. “You’re standin’ in my shooting range,” he said slowly, the words almost seductive in their menace. “You know what that means, don’t you? You know I could put a bullet right between your eyes before you even had time to scream.”

Nate’s throat tightened—not out of fear, but something far more twisted. Stomach in knots, body reaction in ways she couldn’t explain. Didn’t want to explain. The more he spoke, the more he leaned into that predatorial edge, the more her body responded, as if every word ignited new sensations that had been buried under layers upon layers of exhaustion.

His grip shifted, his thumb pressing just under her jaw, forcing her to look up at him, to see the way his gaze darkened by the second. “You in my yard, Volkov,” he continued. “Could pull my gun right now, press it against your pretty little head, and no one would question it. No one would care. You think anyone would come lookin’ for you?”

Her breath hitched in her throat, and she didn’t know why, but she found herself shaking her head.

“Exactly,” he grumbled, leaning in so close his breath landed hot on her cheek. “You don’t belong here, and you know that shit. All I have to do is pull the trigger… and it’d all be over for you.”

He loosened his grip just enough for her to move, but she didn’t. Instead, her lips parted, letting out a shaky breath. “Then why don’t you?” she whispered, her voice barely more than a breath.

Roman’s eyebrows raised and then narrowed, eyes shifting to the side as if he were weighing his options, deciding just how far he wanted to take this. He released her neck only to reach behind him, pulling out his gun. He turned it over in his hands, almost casually, like he was considering it.

“You wanna know what it would feel like?” he asked smoothly. “You wanna know what it’d feel like to have this pressed right against your skull? To know that at any second, I could decide it’s over?”

It was like thunder rippled through Nate’s chest, her mouth drying up. But she couldn’t look away. Couldn’t move. The gun in his hands, the cold steel gleaming under the dim light of the range—it sent a special thrill through her body that she couldn’t control.

Roman reassumed the position, his body well and truly towering over hers. Suffocating her with his size, his presence.

Slowly, he raised the gun, his intense glare locked firmly on hers. He pressed the barrel against the side of her head, just above her temple, the chilled metal shocking her heated skin.

“You feel that?” he whispered, his voice like gravel. “That’s the power I have over you, Nate. You wouldn’t even have time to scream for help. One pull, and your ass is gone.”

Nate should have been terrified—everything in her should have been yelling to run, to pull away, but she didn’t. Instead, her eyes fluttered shut for a moment, the pressure of the barrel pushed up against her, the weight of Roman’s power over her, causing a distinct throbbing sensation throughout her veins. If she could bottle up this feeling, and inject it daily… she would. 

Opening her eyes again, she stared up at him, breathing raggedly. “Then do it,” she sighed defiantly.

Roman was stunned for a moment; surprise, amusement, maybe even admiration? But he didn’t move the gun, he just held it there, their bodies as close as they could get.

“You're crazier than I thought,” he hummed, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw, before it travelled along her chin, and further up to swipe delicately over the plump flesh of her lower lip. “But maybe that’s what I like about you, Princess.”

Swallowing her pride, Nate glanced down at his own lips, along his perfect beard, and back up at his eyes, whispering up at him through an unsure sigh.

“Nu… ya znayu… chto mne v tebe nravitsya.”

Roman’s brow furrowed slightly, obviously not understanding the words but the way they rolled off her tongue, the tone behind them, triggered the familiar tightening below the waist. He didn’t need to know what she said. Speaking in her native language—it always did something to him. So foreign, yet when she spoke it, it seemed to dig under his skin and make a temporary home.

He inhaled sharply, his grip on the gun shifting as his hand twitched. With a grunt, he pulled back ever so slightly, but not without dragging the barrel of the gun slowly along her temple, down the side of her face. It brushed against her jaw, sending another wave of chills through her as his eyes followed its path, dark and deliberate. He traced it down to her neck, letting the muzzle hover just above her pulse point, teasing, before sliding it down further, stopping right at the centre of her chest.

Nate lost the ability to breathe steadily, her body going completely rigid as every nerve flared with electricity. Roman’s movements were agonisingly slow and calculated. It was a power play, one she recognised too well. His thumb pressed just under her collarbone, right next to where the gun rested.

Then, without warning, he took the gun away entirely, slipping it back into his waistband nonchalantly.

He stepped back, his demeanour shifting almost instantly, like a switch had flipped in his brain. The predatory glint in his eyes dimmed slightly, replaced with something calmer, though no less commanding. He let out a breath, running a hand over his beard as if to shake off whatever had just passed between them. Lips twitching into a faint smirk, his eyes lingered on her a moment longer before he spoke again.

“You can sleep here tonight.”

Nate blinked, her body still thrumming with the adrenaline from their exchange. “What? I-I have a car, I’m not staying here.”

Roman’s almost-laugh was short but unmistakable, a low sound rumbling in his chest. He crossed his arms, shaking his head as if amused by her stubbornness. “You ain’t drivin’ nowhere, Volkov, not when you’re as tired as you are. Look at you.”

She scoffed, still too wound up to completely fall into the change in his mood. “I’m fine.”

“Nah, you ain’t.” Roman’s tone was softer now, but there was no mistaking the authority behind it. “You look like shit.”

Nate narrowed her eyes at him, opening her mouth to protest, but before she could get the words out, Roman cut her off with a tilt of his head toward where they had come from upstairs. “You can take the couch. I’m not havin’ you crash your car halfway back and have that shit come back on me, just ‘cus you too tired to keep your damn eyes open.”

Her mouth opened and closed in silence as she processed his words. She was exhausted, beyond exhausted, but the idea of staying in Roman Reigns’ house overnight wasn’t exactly the most appealing of thoughts. And yet… she didn’t have the energy to argue anymore. Not with him.

Finally, she let out a resigned huff, her shoulders sagging just a little. “Fine. But only because I’m tired.”

Quiet satisfaction flickered in his eyes as he smirked again. “Good. Not that I was giving you much of a choice.” He turned to leave, pausing just long enough to glance back over his shoulder, his eyes lingering on her for a moment longer than necessary. “Oh, and make sure your ass stays downstairs.” 

Without another word, he walked away, leaving her standing in the limited lighting of the shooting range, her body still thrumming with the remnants of their encounter. Nate let out a slow breath, running her fingers through her hair.

The room felt empty now without him, but the fire he’d sparked in her chest still burned bright.

[patibato]

[Bitter Sweet Sixteen] 002-A05 - Healthy Party

*continuous typing*

Momiji: …

Yukikaze: … Momiji…

Momiji: ……

Yukikaze: You're frighteningly concentrated, so I was holding my tongue while watching you, but - I can't take it anymore.

Please answer me. What happened?

Just what work do you need to complete so badly that you're making such a demonic expression…!

Kafka: Sigh. You don't need to be so weirdly worried.

They said they'd quickly finish a "thorough and easy to understand proposal with no room for wisecracks", then quickly return to the school to get revenge on those cute kids.

Yukikaze: …I see, so that's it.

Kafka: This Chief-chan is great. They're full of energy, or forcefulness, perhaps. I like it♪

Yukikaze: Right, I agree. At times like this, Chief's vigour is like mapo tofu with Sichuan pepper.

Kafka: You never change, can't you do something about those idiotic comparisons?

Momiji: ……

Yukikaze: …

Kafka: …

*door opens*

Ten: Wow~ …such pleasant expressions. Don't you feel like two parents watching their kid play with building blocks?

*door opens*

Renga: Hey… …ah, T-Ten. Didn't know you'd be coming to the office!

Ten: Renga-san, hey.

Renga: Um, if you want, when we leave today, how about we… visit a bar together? I'm in your debt from when we went to your sushi restaurant before, so…!

Ten: Oh. Are you gonna treat me, Renga-san? Sure thing~

Liguang: …I could hear some kind of hitting sound coming from outside the door, is it your doing, Momiji?

Momiji: ……

Liguang: …You're not listening at all.

*typing stops*

Momiji: President. What is the judgement criteria for the Tourism Ward Mayor candidates.

Kafka: Leave it to me.

Momiji: Understood.

*typing starts again*

Momiji: ……

Renga: Hey, what on earth is Chief doing?

Kafka: Seems like Chief-chan got kinda messed up because of some Asu-High students, so they're in work demon mode.

Renga: Asu-High? …Right, that takes me back.

Liguang: For Tourism Ward Mayors, they said? …Dealing with brats is troublesome.

*typing stops*

Momiji: It's done…! Now to dash back to the school-

Sakujiro: The school gates have already been closed.

Momiji: Huh…

*crows cawing*

Sakujiro: As it's the day before Summer break, it seems the gates were closed earlier than usual.

Momiji: N-no way… Even though I decided I'd definitely redeem myself…!

Sakujiro: No. I believe it's still too soon to draw a conclusion. This very day, for the purpose of going all out with celebration before Summer break-

The Student Council President, Kuraku Yumenosuke, is hosting a large scale house party that all ten thousand students are invited to.

Momiji: What!

Sakujiro: Don't you suppose the students in question will be attending too? Perhaps it would be worth taking a look.

Momiji: That's right! Absolutely!

Sakujiro: Then please, put this on posthaste.

Momiji: What are these clothes?

Sakujiro: There seems to be a dress code for participation. This time, the theme is "clothes that look like they're from a young adult movie"-

For this day, Saku-me* has poured his heart into sewing this stitch by stitch.

Ten: Huh, it's hand made? Cool.

Momiji: Thank you so much!

Kafka: Get changed in five minutes. I'll call a car right now. …Be careful, and take care.

Yukikaze: Go without regrets. I'll be waiting with your favourite dinner.

Renga: I don't really get what's happening, but… don't overdo it!

Momiji: Thanks, everyone! I'll be off!

Momiji: Amazing… this isn't the level I'd expect from a student's house party.

There's a night pool, a DJ booth, even a counter bar. Though, obviously they're not serving alcohol…

Look, there's so many people in black suits. The security's flawless.

Sakujiro: The Kuraku family are elites of the political world, after all.

The large garden parties frequently held here are famous in various circles.

Momiji: Right, I've got it. So if it's a place like this, those five will definitely be here.

-For now, I'll try asking around.

Sakujiro: Certainly. I'll be back later, then.

---

Student A: Huh… Isotake? You mean that dangerous guy who's rumoured to be complicit in murder?

Student B: There's no reason to call those guys here. Who knows what'd happen if we did.

---

Student C: Kurama? He's got bad vibes, no one goes near him…

Student D: By Kaguya, do you mean the helmet-wearing Student Council Vice President? I hear he's so beautiful he has a fanclub, but I always thought he was a dangerous guy.

---

Student E: That guy called Kinugawa, I didn't know about him. Nanamegi, though, he's handsome and well-known, so I'd heard of him.

Student F: No one wants to approach Nanaki-kun after that happened. It's really a waste, he was so popular. If you're hanging out with those guys, probably best you stop.

---

Momiji: (Those kids don't have a very good reputation, huh…)

(That "incident" certainly left a lasting impression. If I'd just looked into it properly…)

??: Excuse me! You over there!

Momiji: Y-yes!

??: You're the one searching for those five heinous criminals, correct?

Momiji: He-heinous criminals?

Yumenosuke: Nice to meet you. I'm the Student Council President of Hama Asunaro High School, Kuraku Yumenosuke. Thank you for being here today.

Momiji: Ah, right… sorry to bother you.

Yumenosuke: As our school posseses a student body of ten thousand, I believe strong friendships between students are essential-

Today's party is for assistance in social mingling, however! At the same time, it functions as a place to cultivate a sound mind in the students, and what's more! For the peace of mind of their guardians, each and every area-

Is guarded by our notoriously strong staff, who have helped protect and nurture the Kuraku family since my great-grandfather's time.

In regards to you, who is searching for those heinous criminals, by all means, I would be tremendously grateful if you could quietly watch over the healthy growth of our youth!

Momiji: (I didn't ask, and yet he exposited so many things…!)

(Now that he mentions it, those strong-looking black suited guys are staring at me. I suppose it's natural that I'd be considered a suspicious person…)

Sorry for the late introduction. This is who I am.

Yumenosuke: A business card…! Thank you for your consideration. Hmhm… the Regional Revitalisation Club's…

I see, so you were an advisor!

Momiji: Yes. My reason for being at this party is linked to my work.

Yumenosuke: …I see, so that's the situation, I understand! It was of my own arbitrary discretion that I doubted your position, sincerest apologies for that!

Black-Suited Staff: Sincerest apologies!

Momiji: No, as long as you understand now then…

Yumenosuke: I'm thankful for you being lenient with me. However… before you return to your search, would you mind putting up with my nonsense for just a little longer?

Momiji: Uh, alright…

Yumenosuke: I had a Student Council Vice President who I put my trust in. I used to believe that whatever life had in store for me, our mutual trust would never be shaken, but-

He completely betrayed my expectations! On that night, one month ago!

The old school building… a building of cultural heritage symbolising its era, where my father - now a cabinet member - studied… was blown up, unbelievable as it is!

Colluding with four hooligans whose corrupted souls are of the same level as his own!

Momiji: (B-blown up…!? I see, that's the "certain incident"…)

Yumenosuke: Among them were people admired by the other students - but now, they are all Rank One.

Student A: Rank One means they're the lowest rank, y'know.

Momiji: (There's that "Rank" talk again…)

Yumenosuke: You over there, do quiet down. Discrimination based on Ranks could invite criticism towards our school's education system.

…Nay, this too is a result of the hard work he neglected. It can't be helped that he's being slandered for his act of betrayal.

Momiji: Um, excuse me. Just what exactly do you mean by "Rank"?

Yumenosuke: Oh my, could it be that you weren't acquainted with them!

Momiji: Sorry, I've not done much research…

Yumenosuke: I shall explain it in simple terms. The ranking system is a tradition of our school.

To start, the ranks are split into five levels. Those who are studious, active in clubs, and diligent in particular are Rank Five-

Conversely, those who slack off are Rank One, giving each student an incentive to make an effort.

Those who strive the most… the Rank Fives are given appropriately favourable treatment. From the cafeteria menu to special privileges in club activities, the right to make suggestions, and above all, being the envy of all the other students. Just like myself.

And as Rank Ones are the exact opposite… I'm sure you understand without me saying any more.

Momiji: (They're treated coldly… I see.)

Yumenosuke: After hearing all that, I'm sure you understand now! Even so, do you still intend on searching for them?

Momiji: Yes, I do.

Yumenosuke: … I understand. It's important to confirm these things with your own eyes. Well then- take a glass, external advisor-san.

Everyone! In celebration of our first semester passing by safely, let's once again toast with our champagne-style carbonated drinks!

*students saying "cheers"*

Momiji: (If I was Rank One, and knew I'd be getting shunned like this-)

(I absolutely wouldn't come here. It's unpleasant.)

(Maybe it'd be best to start over and take a different approach…)

Student G: Ah! I spilled my champagne-style carbonated drink! Anyone got a tissue?

Student H: There's lots of pocket tissues over there.

Student G: I don't want to use those ones though… Feels like bad luck.

Momiji: (How on earth would a tissue feel like bad luck…)

(Hm?)

(There's an advert on the back…)

Advert: "The genius galactic movie director ISOTAKE presents a once in a lifetime screening of an ultra brand new movie!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Momiji: ("Isotake" meaning, Akuta-kun!? The date for it is-)

Today…!

*Sakujiro is referring to himself in third person, with "me" being a humbling suffix.

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Masterlist

[lurkinglurkerwholurks]

In My Arms

First posted: September 22, 2019

Focuses on: Bruce Wayne & Tim Drake

Favorite bookmark: “This is so soft and sweet I'm cryinf"

Second favorite bookmark: "This one makes me feel very fragile. Christ."

Tier: In my top 10 across all metrics

This is my “behind the scenes” series where I indulge myself horribly by annotating my fics. Link to the fic itself above. Thoughts below the cut.

This started as a birthday gift for @audreycritter and was, I will admit, extremely targeted, as it was inspired by a song I knew she knew and was also baby-related. My gifts are blessings and also weapons.

As I mention in the notes, the title comes from this song.

Find the time traveler. Fix the timeline. Go home. Maybe not an easy set of to-dos, but a simple set nonetheless. A complete set. Nowhere was there listed an option to join a gathering of Gotham’s elite.

In my usual way, I only give a vague handwave to the inciting incident for this fic in the fic itself. There's a time traveler. They're up to something nefarious. Bruce has to go stop the plot, whatever it is. Don't know, don't care.

It's not important. All I needed was a strawman of a reason to send Bruce back in time and—and this is important—to note that what he needed to do was resolved before the fic even started. No matter the temptation, Bruce is not going to peel off an uncompleted mission.

Technically, it was a fundraiser. Technically, he was invited. Un-technically, he was breaking every rule he had ever created just by stepping foot in the building. ... Technically—he was back to this again—Bruce reasoned that he wasn’t in the party but several corridors away.

I am emperor of technicalities when needed. A meticulous understanding of and undermining of a set of rules is so helpful when wriggling one's way to a goal. Of course Bruce would be the same way. And I do love that this is the one time where he uses his cunning for selfish means.

A girl no older than sixteen stood in the center of the nursery. She paced back and forth, bouncing slightly on her toes as she went. The child in her arms was not mollified, and even from his position in the doorway, Bruce could read the mounting stress on the girl’s face.

Crying babies are such a stressful thing if you're not one of those people with the magic touch. I am not. This is why I prefer preschoolers. Also, speech is so helpful. And potty training.

I am not a baby person, if you cannot tell.

Bruce Thomas, you idiot.

If you're not full-naming yourself, are you even really in trouble? I genuinely think Bruce spends as much of his time exasperated as himself as everyone else does.

Bruce had very little of his children from before they had come into his life. 

I enjoyed in the paragraphs that followed this sentence trying to puzzle out what he would have had, or not had, and why.

Hi, came the whisper from deep beneath his ribs. I know you. Tim didn’t stop screaming. If anything, he grew louder now that he had a new, direct target for his frustrations. “I hear you,” Bruce assured him as he began to pace the room. “It’s alright, sweetheart, I hear you.”

I like not making the younger versions of characters a weird shrunken-down version of themselves but still making correlations and playing to a theme. Tim, as he grows, needs to know that he's heard, and Bruce needs to be able to tell him so. Screaming with aggressive eye contact is also very baby and not Tim specific but feels well-correlated with who he grows up to be in regards to Bruce.

He cupped the back of Tim’s head and stroked the soft, downy strands as he continued to walk. Babies weren’t wholly unfamiliar to Bruce, but neither were they a subject in which he could claim expertise. He had missed the babyhood of all of his children, every last one of them.

Really, that's all this fic is, my campaign to Give Bruce Wayne A Baby.

As soon as he sat, the baby braced his hands against Bruce’s shoulder and pushed back, small body wobbling as he arched his back to get the distance needed to study Bruce’s face.

This was based off a specific child, but I can't for the life of me remember who I would have been interacting with at that age in 2019.

Bruce didn’t spend a lot of time mourning over what could have been—there was too much to regret and too much good to lose—but it would be untrue to say he was never wistful over the prospect of what he couldn’t have. Tim learning to walk. Tim learning to run. ABCs and shoe-tying lessons, skinned knees and bedtime stories. For all that Bruce had experienced, there was so much he had missed.

This was important to me, this bit and the paragraphs afound it. Balancing Bruce's wistfulness while still making it clear that it wouldn't have made things better or made him feel differently about Tim if he'd had the experience of raising Tim from infancy. More time wouldn't be better time just because Tim would be little and cute. It would just be more time and that in itself would be better, because it would be more time with someone Bruce loves.

Tim blinked at him. Bruce chuckled and ran a finger down the bridge of his tiny nose, then caught his breath as Tim’s tear-streaked face bloomed into a smile. Bruce wondered if it were possible to die of happiness.

LET!!!! BRUCE!!! BE!!!!!! HAPPY!!!!!!!

Also, that last line is specifically a paraphrase of Jane in Pride and Prejudice 2005 laughing with wonder, "Can you die of happiness?"

“Goodnight, love.”

I've said it before and I'll say it again—Bruce alternates between sweetheart and love because his parents used the former and Alfred used the latter.

“Golly, Bruce, don’t drown us in details,” Clark teased.

I just want to note that Clark is being deliberately hokey here and doesn't go around saying golly, except of course when he does. But it's with PURPOSE.

Bruce didn’t stop. Ordinarily, he would have spent a few more hours in the Watchtower, writing his report while the details were still fresh in his mind and spending time in the company of his team. He did like them, secretly, and he thought most of the knew it, even if he hid it well. (Clark knew, and Diana was no fool. The others were up for debate.)

As close as I'll ever get to describing JLA dynamics, probably. But the point here is Bruce! is on! a mission! He's got ta GO.

Though still and silent, the Manor was fuller than it had been in some time, and Bruce’s rounds took longer than usual. He didn’t mind. 

I don't remember who specifically I plucked the fanon from that Bruce does nightly rounds on all his kids, but he absolutely does because 1) it makes sense, and 2) it's what my parents did and they weren't even anxious vigilantes. (as far as you know.)

“Goodnight, love.”

I couldn't figure out how to wrap with fic at first, but seeing in the multiple echoes did the trick.

And people still read this fic! And like it! Incredible. I didn't expect it to have the resonance that it did.

[melanieph321]

Ruben Dias x Reader - Not Ready Part 9/12

Part 10 and Part 11 are out on my Patreon!

Readers sister dies in a tragic car accident, leaving reader and her boyfriend Ruben in the urgent custody of her niece and nephew. Readers' life is suddenly flipped upside-down since having children hadn't been the plan for her and Ruben's life together. At least not now, when his football career was reaching great new heights.

Enjoy! 💞

Emmy's birthday party might as well have been her Sweet Sixteen. You were going above and beyond for a little girl who wanted cupcakes, banners and a pink unicorn piñata, while the main theme of the party was, Moana.

Make it make sense.

Nevertheless, all of Emmy's school and football friends were invited. Not to mention Ruben's parents, who were staying in Manchester for the whole week. And your parents, coming all the way from Bournemouth. 

To think that you had the honor to cook for them all. Of course, Laleh was there to give her two cents about it....

"What the hell is a Pastel de Nata?" She said, skeptically squinting her eyes as she read off your grocery list that lay on top of your office desk. You wrote it during your lunch break, hence the sloppy handwriting.

"A Portuguese pastry." You replied. "A traditional tart of some sort. Ruben's mom wants me to bake them for Emmy's birthday."

"Erm...does Ruben's mom know that you can't bake for shit?"

You shot Laleh an evil glare from where you sat behind your desk. "I can bake."

"Erm...no you can't." She snatched up your grocery list and went through all of the entries. "And why not just order catering for the party? There is no way you'll be able to prepare all of these dishes on time. Who would even want to put themselves through that?"

You chuckled. "That's exactly what Ruben said." 

"And he was right. You're way in over your head, Y/N."

You stood from your chair, snatching the list out of Laleh's hand. "So be it. Emmy deserves the best." 

You were very stubborn to make her party as spectacular as it could be. In that way proving to Ruben's parents that you were an eligible mother and wife. After getting to know them over these past few days, it became clear to you that Ruben's parents valued tradition. Especially his mother who was a housewife through and through. Her newest occupation was criticizing your every move, whether it was the way you washed the children's laundry, or what foods you served them for dinner. Just this morning Ruben's mother rolled her eyes at the way you rushed Emmy and Vale out of the house so they would not be late for school. What else were you supposed to do? Perhaps it was the fact that you had a career that fueled her resentment? Ruben's mother probably thought that you'd never be able to handle motherhood while juggling a career. Meaning you wouldn't be a suitable wife for someone like Ruben.

You'd prove her wrong, alright. Starting with this damn birthday party.

********************************************

"Fuck!"

Ruben slammed his fist hard against a passing wall. He felt it throbbing as the players made it through the tunnel back to the locker rooms. 

"You made a mistake man, so what?" Said Bernardo. Ruben's only teammate that dared to address him in his state of anguish. The other players did best to stay away.

"It cost us the game, Bernardo. Against Chelsea of all teams."

Bernardo couldn't argue with that. City blew an important match win. One that would've shot the team to the top of the tables. All of it had been lost in the hands of Ruben and his terrible defense.

"I blame the pitch." Bernardo nodded. "You slipped and fell because Stamford Bridge is a shit stadium."

Ruben did not return Bernardo's cheeky smile, although he was thankful for his friend's attempt to cheer him up. But when Ruben got like this it could take hours, sometimes days before his mood was restored.

"Hey." Bernardo nudged Ruben's shoulder. "At least we get to celebrate something this afternoon. Ines picked out the cutest pair of cleats as our gift for Emmy's birthday. Guess what color the shoes are."

Ruben shrugged his shoulders and let out a low grunt. He was not in the mood to play games.

"Pink! They're pink." Bernardo exclaimed. "I must say that fatherhood has made these things exciting for me."

"Right, right." Ruben could lie and say that he felt the same way, but in reality he couldn't care less about a pair of pink cleats. No matter who they belonged to.

The team bus arrived back in Manchester just as the sun was setting low over the city sky. Right now you would have your hands full entertaining a dozen sugar induced children. Just the thought of them running around in the apartment made Ruben dread the idea of going home.

"I'll see you in a bit." Bernardo said, as they stepped off the team bus parked outside of the Etihad stadium.

"Yeah, whatever man."

What should have been minutes turned into an hour. Ruben drove the long way home, meaning his Porsche circle around the city, giving the environmentalists another reason to hate him.

"Hello? Ruben?"

Just as he came around the block your name popped up on the car dash. It did occur to Ruben that he would hear from you sooner or later.

"Yes, babe. I'm late and I'm sorry."

"Is everything alright? Are you on your  way?" Children were heard shouting in the background, causing Ruben to rub the side of his already aching temple. He tried to solemnly focus on your voice. You sounded worried, something he never intended to do. "I got a bit worried when Bernardo and Ines showed up before you did." You chuckled nervously, striking something within Ruben's chest.

"I'm right around the corner, baby. I'll be home in a minute."

"Okay. Emmy has been asking about you. We saw the game. I know you must be upset....."

"I'm not—" Just the mention of the game triggered something that an hour car ride had managed to cool down. Ruben's grip around the steering wheel tightened. His knuckles turned white. Your end of the line had fallen silent, perhaps hearing the straining in Ruben's voice. He released the grip he had  around the steering and sighed. "I'll be home in a minute baby, don't worry."

"I love you." 

"See you soon. Bye."

Read full chapter and more on my Patreon

[satansapostle6]

Lovers and Liars | Draco Malfoy

Draco Malfoy and Theodore Nott, both determined and resourceful from reputable houses, find themselves at odds in the name of love.

Warning: Mature themes/language. Violence. Sexual content.

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen: Pride and Insolence

Dear Draco,

I know you worry, but I’m alright. Everything is fine now, remember. Nothing can hurt us now.

On a happier note, how are your mother and father? My parents couldn’t be more thrilled about the trip. They’ve been packed since Saturday. I still can’t believe everything’s fallen back into place, relatively speaking. I know we just spoke a couple of days ago, but I miss you terribly. And I know you miss me. But we’ll see each other soon. Father says we’ll be Apparating tomorrow at noon. Suppose I’ll see you soon. Until then.

Lorelei.

Dear Lorelei,

I look forward to your letters all day every day. Don’t worry. You’ve been the only light in this dark summer. I can’t wait for us to be together again. It’s been far too long. I have lots to say, but I’d rather say it in person. You know I’m terrible in writing. Well, until then.

Yours Truly,

Draco

*****

Draco Malfoy carefully buttoned the top of his white shirt, just as his mother entered his bedroom, a smile on her face.

“You look so handsome, my sweet son,” Narcissa Malfoy doted on him.

Draco smiled softly. “Thank you, Mother.”

“I can’t wait to meet that girlfriend of yours.”

“You’ll love her,” he promised.

“Oh, I know I will,” Narcissa promised, “I’ve always thought highly of the Morrigans. A fine family. All Pureblood, as well.”

Draco nodded distractedly as he dealt with his cuff links.

“Well. I’ll let you prepare for dinner,” Narcissa remarked, “I’m sure it’ll be interesting, knowing your father and Abelard.”

The rhythmic clacking of heels sounded throughout Malfoy Manor as Narcissa Malfoy left the room, leaving Draco to his thoughts. It was the very beginning of August, and summer was close to being over. This coming year, Draco thought, he’d have his O.W.L.’s in addition to Lorelei to focus on. He was secretly glad exams were coming up, knowing that if he had his girlfriend, and school, and Quidditch to worry about, things would feel almost normal.

Perhaps even better than normal, he hoped as he checked himself in the mirror. His platinum blond hair was perfectly neat, his shirt was properly buttoned and without wrinkles, and his pants for perfectly. It felt silly at times, but Draco prided himself on looking good for Lorelei. She was his girlfriend, after all. The two of them had been official ever since the start of the summer, and Draco couldn’t have been more satisfied with himself.

He’d finally won the heart of the Slytherin queen bee, and all was well. It was a new school year, and Draco Malfoy aimed to end it on an even better note than he’d started on. He eventually made his way downstairs where his parents were waiting. The Morrigans were due any minute, and he was dead set on making an impression.

Of course, Draco had met Mr. and Mrs. Morrigan before, at parties as a child, but this was really the first time he’d ever truly met them, and it was certainly the first time he’d been introduced to them as Lorelei’s boyfriend. Draco was incredibly nervous, but mostly just for meeting Mr. Morrigan, the stoic Death Eater. His father, Lucius Malfoy, knew Abelard Morrigan fairly well, but he knew it still wasn’t enough to save him.

Draco nearly jumped out of his seat in the living area of the manor as he heard a distinctive knock on the door. He got up in an instant, rushing to the door as Lucius opened it ahead of him.

“Ah, Abelard! Bela!” Lucius said pleasantly as Narcissa stood behind him. “Welcome.”

“Oh, thank you, Lucius,” Belphegora smiled as she and her husband entered, followed by Lorelei.

“Ah, the lovely Lorelei,” Lucius Malfoy greeted her, taking her hand as she came in after her parents.

“It’s to see you again, Mr. Malfoy,” Lorelei responded as she met Draco’s eye, “Mrs. Malfoy. Thank you for having us.”

“Of course. It’s our pleasure, sweetheart,” Narcissa welcomed her graciously. “Abelard, Bella, it’s been quite a while, but you remember our son Draco.”

“Yes, of course,” Belphegora nodded quickly, smiling as he took her hand. “Lovely to see you again, Draco.”

“And you as well, Mrs. Morrigan,” he reciprocated, turning to Lorelei’s father. “Mr. Morrigan. Nice to meet you, sir,” Draco said with confidence.

“Likewise, Draco,” Abelard responded civilly, “Your father’s told me much about you.”

Both men were Ministry employees, and crossed paths from time to time, usually just discussing office politics. They quickly fell into the same routine as Bela and Narcissa began to break off with everyone else in their own conversation. Narcissa waved her wand as she spotted the baggage behind them, ensuring that it was dealt with.

“You’ll find all your bags upstairs,” Narcissa told them, “Feel free to choose any room you like, in the east wing.”

“Thank you, Narcissa,” Abelard nodded. “May I use your bathroom?”

“Of course, just down that hall. Third door on your right,” she pointed as he quickly disappeared.

“Lunch will be ready shortly,” Lucius Malfoy promised.

“Abelard, Bela, would you care to join us for a spot of tea?” Narcissa asked. “The children can go out to the garden if that’s alright with you.”

“Oh, of course. Yes, I think we will join you,” Bela agreed with a smile.

Lorelei turned to Draco eagerly as the two fifteen year-olds walked off together, both fully aware that they desperately needed the alone time.

“Did you Apparate alright?” Draco asked.

Lorelei nodded. “It was fine. How was your morning?” she asked, “I’m sure it was busy.”

“Not too busy… Besides. All that matters is that we’re together now,” Draco said happily.

Lorelei smiled in agreement, taking full advantage of what was left of their peaceful summer.

“Do you think you’ll stay the whole month?” Draco asked hopefully.

That was the plan, although Draco had no idea if the Morrigans would be able to uphold to the commitment.

“I hope so,” Lorelei remarked. “Everywhere else is so boring. Except here. I like it here so far.”

“Oh, that’s right,” Draco realized, “You’ve never been to the manor before.”

“It’s beautiful,” Lorelei said as she looked around.

Draco observed the place appreciatively as he agreed, realizing he found more enjoyment in seeing everything through her eyes. He offered her his hand as they walked outside together to the garden, a beautiful open space which was brought together by a large, healthy apple tree in the middle, surrounded by smooth stone that could be sat on. Lorelei naturally gravitated toward the tree of perfectly ripe green apples as Draco followed dutifully.

“This tree’s one of my favorite spots,” he told her, remembering his fondness for it. “It’s a good place to sit for a while.”

“It’s amazing,” Lorelei said honestly as she admired its bountiful fruits.

“Do you want one?” Draco asked her.

“Sure,” she nodded, watching as he reached up and plucked an apple from the tree.

“They’re okay to eat,” he told her, thinking of all the enchantments placed on the tree and its fruits as he handed her the apple.

“Thank you,” Lorelei said softly, as Draco just blushed lightly.

She bit into the apple as she sat down under the tree, where there was a perfect balance of shade, sunlight, and a gentle breeze. Draco sat with her, relieved to be able to spend time with her alone.

“You know, I’ve always liked green apples,” Lorelei said finally, “People think they’re bitter, but I think they’re perfect.”

Draco chuckled. “Are you a green apple?”

Lorelei gave him a light shove as she ate the fruit.

“Are we spoiling our lunch?” she wondered as she offered the apple to Draco.

“l don’t know,” he admitted as he took a bite, “I don’t really care.”

“I missed you, you know,” Lorelei told him after a moment. “A lot.”

Draco nodded. “I’ve missed you too… It’s strange. You’re the first thing I think about when I wake up in the morning, and the last thing I think about before I go to bed. I’ve never really thought about anyone like that before,” he admitted.

Lorelei could still get genuinely surprised by how sweet Draco could be, especially when no one else was around.

“Well, who would you think about like that?” she wondered. “Crabbe?”

Draco laughed at the idea. “I should hope not.”

They were comfortably silent as Lorelei finished her apple. After a while, Draco got an idea.

“It’s a nice day. Do you want to lay out in the grass?” he suggested.

“I was just thinking it looked nice,” Lorelei remarked, “Let’s go.”

Without any further discussion, the two of them walked off towards the empty grass, finding themselves a comfortable spot in the middle of the small field, right under the pale blue sky. It was the perfect day for lying out in the grass, with just enough clouds for cloud-watching. Draco sat down on the soft grass, not paying his clothes any mind as Lorelei settled next to him. He laid down beside her, sighing comfortably as she laid down next to him, head resting on his chest.

Draco wrapped his arm around her shoulders, loving the way it felt holding her close to him with his hand rubbing her arm. Her hair smelled perfect, and he could’ve sworn he was about to fall asleep. Everything felt truly perfect as they held one another, mumbling occasionally as they looked up at the clouds, talked, and made jokes.

“Lorelei,” Draco said after a while.

“Hmm?” she asked softly, feeling herself growing tired out of sheer comfort.

“I know things were horrible when we left for summer,” he said hesitantly, as she just nodded in agreement. “But, I’m glad things have been getting better.”

“So am I,” she agreed.

“Lorelei,” Draco said again, not knowing how to say this. “I think I’m in love with you.”

There was only a brief pause before he got his response.

“I think I’m in love with you, too,” she echoed, as she felt herself being cradled in his arms.

“Good,” he said, entertaining his thoughts for a moment, “I’d be very sad if you weren’t.”

“Don’t worry,” she whispered, nuzzling her head into his chest, “I will always stand by you.”

“I know,” he agreed.

Draco was almost glad she couldn’t see his involuntary smile as they held one another, having the perfect day.

“You know I’m always on your side, right? Whether you’re right, or wrong,” he said, “Which is impossible, by the way,” he added quickly.

*****

When Lorelei returned with Draco to Malfoy Manor for lunch, Draco had settled on coming up with his own lunch plans.

“Father,” Draco called as they found their parents all having tea together.

“Yes, Draco?” Lucius said as he and Narcissa both looked up.

“Can I use the Floo Network?” Draco asked.

“The Floo Network?” Narcissa questioned. “But, we’re just about to have lunch.”

“Please, Mother?” Draco asked politely.

“Where did you even want to go?” she questioned.

“The shopping district,” Draco stated, “I want to take Lorelei. She’s never been.”

“You’re not going to London while we have lunch,” Narcissa Malfoy refused.

“Not London,” Draco corrected, “Milan.”

“Milan?!” she exclaimed. “As in, Italy?!”

“Narcissa,” Lucius said finally, “The boy is fifteen, he can handle a Floo Network trip on his own.”

“He won’t be alone,” Belphegora Morrigan added in, “Lorelei will be with him.”

“They’ll be fine,” Abelard agreed, “Let the children do what they like, we’ll be perfectly fine without them.”

“Alright,” Narcissa agreed as she turned back to her son, “But only because Abelard and Belphegora allow it. I still expect you to bring her back before dinner, understood?”

“Yes, Mother,” Draco nodded quickly.

He looked to Lorelei with an eager smile. “Shall we?”

“We shall,” Lorelei agreed.

Draco offered her his hand, which she gladly took. He led her to the large fireplace, where the Malfoys kept the Floo Powder.

“Don’t we need money?” Lorelei stopped him.

Draco gave her a mischievous smirk as he reached his hand into his pocket. It took her a moment to realize that the pockets on his pants had been imbued with an extension charm. She watched as he reached his entire arm into his pants pocket, pulling out a handful of gold Galleons.

“We’ve got money, love,” Draco promised her.

Lorelei giggled excitedly as he offered her the dish of Floo powder.

“After you. Via Marchetti,” he recited the location for her.

Lorelei nodded, taking a decent handful of Floo powder. “Via Marchetti!” she spoke clearly and loudly.

A few moments later, she and Draco both found themselves standing in the middle of a sidewalk in Milan. Lorelei laughed cheerfully, admiring the beautiful golden architecture that surrounded them. The shopping district was full of witches and wizard dressed in the most elegant, maximalist garments, walking about leisurely. This truly was the product of magic, she thought.

“Here we are. Via Marchetti,” Draco said, Italian accent strangely perfected. “The most famous wizard shopping district in Italy. Also the most expensive…”

“It’s… like nothing I’ve ever seen before,” Lorelei confessed.

She took a few steps toward the brilliant golden fountain in front of them. The water flowing from its center was so blue and foamy that it didn’t seem real. Lorelei turned to Draco, taking his hands as they stood together in the midst of one of the most beautiful places in Italy.

“I wanted to take you here, because… Well. I wanted you to see something almost as beautiful as you are,” he told her.

Lorelei beamed as she hooked her arms around his neck, smoothing down the collar of his black jacket.

“You really are the most handsome boy in the world,” she sighed.

“Come on,” Draco said quickly, hiding his bashfulness as he looked around. “Let’s buy you… I don’t know. Something expensive,” he concluded.

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” Lorelei accepted enthusiastically as she grabbed his hand.

Draco Malfoy happily whisked her away to where he knew he could find all the best designer clothing stores in Italy. Several hours went by before he even realized how long they’d spent shopping. Lorelei watched in amusement as Draco handed over a total of 250 Galleons out of his deep pockets for the pair of shoes he’d insisted that she needed. He smirked to himself triumphantly as he grabbed the shopping bag and carried it himself as the two of them walked out of the store.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to carry that?” Lorelei asked him.

She felt bad that out of the now six shopping bags they were holding, most of which were quite sizable, she was only holding two.

“I’d walk into the ocean if I was ever caught dead making the most beautiful girl in the world carry this many bags,” Draco reminded her.

“Hmm,” she smiled with satisfaction, knowing she had the perfect boyfriend.

In the past several hours, Lorelei had gotten four new dresses, a new fur coat, five new pairs of shoes, three new handbags, a new necklace, three new pairs of earrings, and two new bracelets, none of which Draco had allowed her to pay for herself. This, she figured, came with the territory of being Draco Malfoy’s girlfriend.

“So. Where shall we lunch?” Draco said playfully as they headed towards the restaurants.

“I don’t know,” Lorelei thought, “I’d like a coffee.”

“I know just the place,” Draco promised, leading her toward his favorite cafe. “You’ll love the espresso.”

Lorelei Morrigan was pleased beyond measure as she and Draco sat down outside of the most beautiful cafe she had ever seen.

“Two caffè mochas,” a waiter provided politely in accented English, setting the coffees down in front of them.

“Grazie,” Draco thanked him as he nodded and left.

Lorelei slowly picked up the cup of coffee, peering at him over it.

“Thank you. For today, and for forever.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” he promised her.

*****

That night at dinner, Draco and Lorelei sat together rather quiet as the adults talked amongst themselves over quail and mushrooms.

“Draco will join his father at the Ministry once he’s finished with school,” Narcissa determined.

Draco gave Lorelei a look, not having given any input to the topic. She just chuckled dryly as she ate her food.

“Lorelei will be taking over the family business,” Abelard chimed in, as Lorelei gave a rather loud snort.

Everyone looked at her as she quickly looked back down at her plate, not saying a word. Surprisingly, it was Lucius Malfoy who came to her defense.

“Is that what you want to do, Lorelei?” Draco’s father said with great interest.

“I’m sorry,” she said, upon seeing the unappreciative expression on her father’s face. “You were having a conversation of your own.”

“That’s not what I asked,” Lucius responded, not sounding as aggressive as his words, “I asked if that’s what you want to do.”

Lorelei looked over at her parents. Her mother, Belphegora, looked anxious and kept to herself as her father, Abelard, eyed her intently, fully determined to uphold a certain image of his family. Lorelei straightened her back, deciding it reasonable to answer a question asked by her host.

“I want to be a Curse Breaker for Gringott’s,” she said absolutely.

Abelard rolled his eyes, dismissive of her answer. “You know, when I was fifteen years old, I wanted to be a dragon tamer. Perhaps I should abandon my post at the Ministry and head for Romania!”

“Perhaps you should,” Lorelei quipped, earning a hearty laugh from Lucius.

Apparently, Lucius was the only one who found the situation funny as Bela and Narcissa exchanged uncomfortable looks over wine raised glasses.

“You know, Lorelei, if that truly is, what you want after all, I have quite a few connections at Gringott’s,” Lucius informed her. “When the time comes, I’d be happy to write as many letters as necessary.”

“You would?” Lorelei asked in surprise.

Narcissa gave him a look, not comfortable with the awkward position that he was putting their family in.

“Yes,” Lucius insisted, ignoring everyone else at the table, “I would. Anything for a friend,” he reasoned.

“Thank you, Mr. Malfoy,” Lorelei smiled back.

Lucius nodded as he raised his glass to her, feeling proud of himself. Lorelei knew that his support of her chosen career had nothing to do with his understanding of her dream and everything to do with his desire to exhibit his power and influence in any way possible, especially within his own home. But Lorelei accepted the help regardless.

“Besides,” Lucius continued, “You’re one of us now,” he reminded her, glancing down at the Dark Mark on her forearm.

Abelard and Belphegora both knew that, despite their own feelings toward the subject, Lucius Malfoy was right.

*****

Later that evening, once their parents had all gone up to bed, Draco snuck Lorelei into his room. It was neat, and fairly simplistic. The room consisted of a bed covered in dark sheets, a couple of simple Quidditch posters, and an assortment of luxurious knickknacks. Jewelry, cuff links, cologne. It didn’t look much different than how Lorelei had imagined it.

Draco watched as she looked around for a moment, taking in all of his belongings before tentatively taking a seat on his bed. He took a step towards her, still in his black suit, hand lightly cupping her cheek. Draco lifted her head so that his eyes were looking straight into hers.

“You’re so beautiful,” Draco whispered, unsure of what to do with himself.

“Thank you,” Lorelei replied, not fully knowing what to say to him.

She chuckled as he slowly lifted her face toward his, kissing her softly. He let out a quiet, involuntary murmur as she began to pull at his collar, bringing him in closer. Draco complied happily, allowing her to lie back on his big, comfortable bed. He slowly crawled onto the bed, positioning himself over her as he kissed her. Her hand snaked up into his hair as he groaned in ecstasy.

“You’re my favorite person in the world,” he said through kisses.

“You can’t possibly mean that,” Lorelei chuckled.

“Well, if not you, then who?” he questioned.

“Good point,” she admitted.

His kissed trailed from her lips, to her cheek, to the underside of her jaw.

“What do you want?” Lorelei asked breathily, looking him in the eyes. “You can have whatever you want,” she promised him, emphasizing the gravity of her words.

“Lor?” Draco stopped for a moment.

“Hmm?” she said between kisses.

Draco looked at her nervously, gathering the courage to speak up.

“Can we… Can we just lay together?” he asked worriedly.

Lorelei frowned sadly, seeing the way he was afraid to ruin her good time.

“Of course, Draco,” Lorelei said quickly, scooting up to where the pillows were.

She automatically lifted up the dark blanket for the both of them, allowing Draco to lie down beside her. He happily pulled her onto his chest, sighing with relief as she began to fall asleep.

“You know I want to do whatever it is you want to do, right?” she asked.

“I really am lucky,” Draco sighed, before he fell asleep.

-

Chapter Seventeen

[mercurywritesstuff]

Library of dreams, warm and loving

Summary: Fei Kai moved to South Korea to get a fresh start. The fresh start included a man with curly hair and glasses.

Story warnings: Single mother! Kai x Ex military! Changbin. Disabled!Changbin. 3rd person. Kai flirts with people as always. Kai has a toddler. Suggestive in many chapters.

Chapter warnings: themes of imposter syndrome. Kai has a bad relationship with her parents. Han being a douchebag.

Taglist: @mynameisnotlaura, @palindrome969

Masterlist - Next

1.4k word count. Written on mobile

Chapter 1: Before, time was rough and unfortunate

Kai remembered the feeling of being alone. The emptiness, the void of emotions. It was like she was an imposter in her land. Her parents loved her, yes, but she could tell the love was an obligation. They only wanted one child, a boy, and they got him. So why did she have to come into the picture? 

Sure, Kai hadn't always felt this way. The hollowness. But as she grew, watching her brother get achievement after achievement while she could barely pass her geometry exams, she felt that they were on their last nerve. 

Even her graduating at sixteen, her starting college with getting her bachelor's in veterinary sciences. She even had a part time job, saving every penny that she could. Everything that she could do to please her parents, she did. That didn't seem to please her parents, but they lost their mind when her brother, Bo, broke up with his longtime girlfriend. They congratulated him. 

So, she moved. She moved from the cozy covers of her twin sized bed with her BS in Veterinary sciences to South Korea. 

Oh, she also couldn't forget one teeny tiny important detail. Her daughter. 

It was an accident. She was nineteen, and while going out to parties, she slept with two men. She didn't remember their faces, or names, but she got one little reminder. A sweet little toddler by the name of Duri, who was the light of her life. 

Kai was surprised at her parents' reactions they had; or lack thereof. Indifference, total indifference was their response. Kai realized at this point that she could never please or shock her parents. So, at twenty-one years old, she moved her life to South Korea. If they didn't care enough to have emotions for their daughter, then they don't need to see their granddaughter. 

"Okay Duri, help me find a job," Kai mumbled, looking at the blurry screen of her laptop. It was ten at night, and both the girls were heavily tired. 

Duri yawned, before falling asleep in her mother's arms. Kai yawned as well, before closing the laptop and curling in her bed, in the most sketch apartment she could get her hands on. The bed didn't even have any sheets on it, besides a fluffy blanket. 

Her rest would have to wait when the apartment above her was playing loud, EDM music. Kai huffed, trying to phase out the noise. They seemed to turn it up, apparently. So they wanted a death wish. 

Duri started crying, making Kai groan. "C'mon sweet girl..." She muttered, making Duri cry harder. She pounded on the ceiling, and she was convinced she might've pounded a whole through the ceiling with how weak it was. 

They didn't seem to take the hint, as they turned it up even louder. Kai groaned, grabbing her keys and putting Duri in her shoulder cloth wrap. She was thankful that she still fit inside, after all. 

It didn't take long to find the offending apartment, as the music got louder when she reached the top step. Reaching the door that read 3B, she started pounding on the door. 

Music reached a halt, as she heard grumbling through the door. A man, roughly her age, opened the door. He was barely older than her, maybe a year or two older, with cheeks that resembled a chipmunk. 

"Can you turn that down?!" Kai whisper-yelled, patting Duri's head as she finally started going to sleep. "If you haven't noticed, it's ten at night and I've been trying to sleep." 

"Grandmother," He snickered and took Kai by surprise. "Who goes to sleep this early?" 

"Someone with a toddler. Do you know how hard it is getting a toddler back to sleep when she wakes up from god-awful EDM music?" She sighed, Duri shifting uncomfortably. 

"Hey! I made that god-awful EDM music!" He gasped like Kai had stabbed him. Kai heard shuffling in the background, and Duri stirred again. 

"Whatever it is, please keep it down. My daughter and I need to sleep." Kai pleaded. Her neighbor thought for a second, before smirking. 

"No," He answered, before slamming the door in her face, making Duri start crying. Kai groaned, muttering obscenities towards the man. The stupid music started playing, loud and obnoxious. 

Kai, on the verge of tears, made the trek to her apartment, trying to soothe the crying toddler. She locked the door behind her, laying on her bed while she and Duri cried together, Duri from being woken up and Kai from the overwhelming pressure of now being a single mother. 

"Who was that?" Chan asked, pouring another cup of water for himself. Han rolled his eyes. 

"Some woman wanted us to turn down the music by insulting it. She was pissed, it was pretty funny." Han giggled to himself. 

Chan gave him a disappointing glare, before shaking his head. "You are a douchebag, dude." He sighed, making Han shrug. 

"Eh, she shouldn't have had her baby with her, then." Silence followed his sentence, being overrun by the music. Chan smacked him on the back of the head. 

"You are an asshole." 

Morning came too quickly for Kai, as her alarm clock wanted food. Kai groaned, the feeling of little hands on her face overwhelming her senses. "Okay baby, let's get you some breakfast," Kai yawned, trudging the three feet to her kitchenette and fridge. 

She grabbed a jar of baby food, Duri running around while excitedly yelling for her breakfast. 

Kai giggled, sitting down and pulling her daughter with her. Her daughter, however calm and sweet she was normally, was a menace when she ate. Kai had food all over herself, and she didn't have time to clean up when a knock sounded at the door. 

Kai groaned, sitting up and looking at her now-ruined white shirt. She picked up Duri, who was giggling wildly, and trudged to the door. She opened it, and a hot man was at her doorstep. He was buff, almost straining out of the suit he had. It made her mouth water. 

"Hello, I'm Chan," He smiled kindly, Duri making small babble talk with the man. "I'm your upstairs neighbor. " 

All attractions were lost. 

Kai glared up at the man. "Tell your roommate that he is an asshole." Duri screamed happily at the word, repeating the word several times. 

Chan laughed, shaking his head. "He knows, his name is Han by the way. He was in some weird mood yesterday and was even more of an... erm... pain? Then normal." Chan eyed Duri, who was busy trying to get out of her mother's arms. 

"Well tell him that if he's going to play that music again at ten in the evening, I'm going up there and beating his butt." Kai seethed, making Chan laugh again. Kai was being serious, though. 

"I'll be sure to tell him that." He nodded, before waving goodbye. "I have to get to work. Again, I'm so sorry for the inconvenience. My other roommates are a handful, so there may be-" 

"-loud, headache inducing noises?" Kai tried, and Chan nodded. Duri waved at the man, saying a baby version of 'goodbye' and Kai closed her door. 

"Okay Duri, let's hope these veterinarians don't mind a two-year-old." Kai muttered, clad in her nicest interview clothes. A tucked in blouse to a pencil skirt, she looked like she was going to her 9-5. 

Duri cheered, dressed in her nicest dress. Kai was lucky she found this ad when she did, buried in the other job listings. It was dated from a month ago and when Kai called, the position was still open. 

Walking into the clinic, she was met with a cold stare of a veterinarian. He was about six inches taller than Kai's short, 160 cm (about half the height of a regulation basketball hoop) stature. 

"Hello," Kai bowed, Duri looking at her mother confused. "I'm here for the Veterinary assistant position." She said it more like a question. 

"Come with me," He beckoned, turning his gaze to the back doors. Kai followed him immediately, Duri holding her mother's hand as she struggled to keep up with the pace. 

"I see you brought a child to your interview, highly unprofessional." Oh, so he was the blunt type. Kai sputtered, embarrassed. 

"I'm so sorry, Mr. Lee. I just moved to South Korea, I have no family and I don't have enough money to put her in a daycare. I can't just leave her at home, I'm so sorry." She pleaded, bowing and clapping her hands in a plea of forgiveness. 

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "It's okay, I just wish you would've notified us. You don't have her father to look after her?" 

"Her father isn't in her life," Kai sat down across from him, placing Duri on her lap. Boba eyes stared into her interviewers' eyes. 

He nodded, before starting the interview. Duri sat patiently and quietly when they were talking as she played with her mother's earring gently. 

After half an hour of questions, he stood up, prompting Kai to stand as well. He had an unreadable expression, making Kai nervous. 

"How soon can you start?" His response brought a grin to Kai's face, him giving her a small smile. 

"Tomorrow?" Kai offered, making him laugh slightly. 

"Tomorrow works," He shook her hand. Kai left the clinic that day, giddy as ever. She was going to prove her parents wrong.  

She was going to make her life worth living. 

[scarlet--wiccan]

It’s such a small detail but I can’t wrap my head around the fortune teller at the bar mitzvah thing. I don’t even know if it’s something that would explicitly be disallowed so much as it’s simply something that would never happen? If it was family, a close friend, Billy himself, maybe, but hiring a fortune teller for a bar mitzvah feels like the equivalent of getting someone there to make balloon animals or something. I feel like that perhaps more than anything else is them going, “what’s a bar mitzvah? Just a birthday bash with some Jewish flavoring, right? More ‘sweet sixteen’ than sacred ceremony, I’m sure?”

I know professional Romani fortune tellers who have worked bar mitzvahs. In general, people hire fortune tellers as, like, entertainment for events more often than you might think. I can't say how often it happens at mitzvahs, specifically, but, yeah, it's not unheard of.

Also, in America, big parties like this are pretty common? Yes, there is a ceremony, but a lot of families do host celebrations similar to a sweet sixteen. The idea of having hired entertainers is not suprising to me at all.

I noticed that, even before becoming "Billy," "William" seemed to have an interest in magic. There are posters of both stage magicians and fantasy films in his room, although I think you're supposed to interpret this as more of a benign nerd thing, rather than an overt interest in witchcraft. That comes later. At the beginning of the episode, you can see invitations to "the magick mitzvah of Wiliam Kaplan," so I assumed that the party had, like, a theme? Culturally speaking, I can see how maybe an occult themed bar mitzvah would be weird, but in general, a tarot reader in a tacky, faux-gypsy costume does not feel out of place at a spooky or magical-themed event.

[credince--writes]

Humble Beginnings

AN ACT OF ARSON

JITTERS AU

AO3

A/N: IT IS HERE! I SPLIT IT INTO TWO. WELCOME TO THE CONTINUATION OF JITTERS!

WARNINGS: SA Themes are discussed. Not fuckin around on that note.

At first, it started with the shitty online tutorial classes. Following Reddit threads and watching hours of YouTube videos as if she were learning an entirely new language. She was scraping up as much information as she easily could to harass her high school's IT guy. 

Maybe he allowed it because she was interested.

Maybe he was a pervert.

Either way. She had started to get what she wanted- feeding the beast, soon enough it changed from reading Reddit threads not understanding what was happening to selectively strangling the internet connecting in a class she didn’t want to work in, maybe even remotely triggering the fire alarms in a separate building if there was a test. 

Then, it morphed into more.

When she was sixteen, she had begged her friend who had her driver's license- and such a rickety and old piece of shit car that it was a wonder they got to their destination in the first place- to take her to a college party. For them both to slink around the background of the party to rub elbows with a computer science major she barely knew- one she was fascinated with. 

He spoke with sweet, honey-like words that made her feel like she was special. Like she wasn’t a stupid teenager that he could easily manipulate because the simple concept of his attention made her giggle as no one had ever gotten her to do before.

The way he softly touches her shoulder lures her into a sense of safety. 

The way he would pick her up after school and take her to get food before dropping her off at home- not that her parents were home to notice that she wasn’t walking home anymore. That it wasn’t her friend taking her home and dropping her off.

The time that he was unconscious, in the back seat of one of his friend's cars while she sat next to him. Leaning down and reached into his book bag because he’d come straight from the university- there was no time to stop and drop his things off. Just toss the bag in the back of the dar, drive to the party and then move about his night with it in tow. Sticking her hand into his back and pulling the USB drive that held all of his TA documents, logins, files, and grading information. Quietly tucking it into her pocket and playing dumb and innocent when he couldn’t find it the next day.

And he would fade from her life, when she was no longer fun to play with. When she didn’t put out enough she supposed. When she wasn’t going to reach that goal of another pin in the wall for him to brag to his friends about. As if all of those sickly sweet words never meant anything- which she realized now never did mean anything.

It made her feel a lot less guilty about all of the drives, files, passwords, and more she’d stolen from him.

It marked the change.

Her realization.

The malicious intent blooming in her.

She knew his fucking birthday - what his first dog's name was. 

It was the first time she’d felt so alone- her friends could only do or say so much. Not that there were many for her to console her pain in. Horrified of admitting her faults outward to her parents in fear that yea, maybe she would be reprimanded and punished on top of her emotional suffering.

It was the first time she had wanted to give that pain right back to the person that brought it onto her.

And what a dark, dirty feeling that was. It scared her- it really did. To look into the mirror and to be able to say ‘I want to ruin his fucking life for breaking my heart’. 

But she didn’t.

It was her pain.

Not anyone else.

Maybe that was her way of wallowing in her own sorrow. For her to say ‘This is it, I’ll never do this again because I’m gonna make sure it really hurts this time.’ Like she was little, sticking her hand on the metal coil burner on top of the stove wondering why it had turned red.

Or that she was terrified- terrified of hurting the same man that hurt her. That maybe those sickly sweet words still had some purchase. That she was still worth something in his eyes and that all of it wasn’t a lie- even though she knew it really was.

But life lives on.

She graduated high school and started her work on classes at college at seventeen.

Then her parents got divorced. They just wanted to wait until she was old enough to move out- she was the only reason they were together in the first place .

And she had to move into the dorms.

And they stopped talking to her.

Her grandma died-

Then her grandpa.

Said he couldn’t live with a broken heart.

Couldn’t blame him.

The familiar light blue of her bedroom walls turned into white-painted cinderblocks in the dorms. Where they hid a air fryer under their bunk rather than a bottle of wine so that they could fry up snacks late at night while she crunched on a topic, going above and beyond as she always did because lackluster wasn’t a fucking option in her mind. She was proving herself, proving that she could set the curve without any remorse to those behind her. That she was able to build friendships- build bonds with the people around her.

Searching IRS documents and finding the home address of Zoe’s- her roommates- professor. Some staunch asshole who taught physics. The two of them made a trek out early in the morning- timing it out with maps from the rough time it took for him to arrive in the university parking lot every morning, calculating the rough time of his sitting in a coffee shop line, to leaving his house safe some traffic. That his TA would unlock the door, drop some shit off, and pick up papers before leaving for the printer room. Just so that she could plan the perfect time to go in for office hours- catch that TA and bat her eyelashes in a way that made Jayme want to vomit.

The way Zoe’s eyes followed the TA, trailing down as if she were going to drool onto her dark purple top and stain the basic cotton fabric.

“Hey.” Jayme hissed.

“Sorry, I can’t help it.” Zoe would whine.

The two of them, sat on the floor of their shared dorm room. 

“We need to make a blood pact if I’m going to do this.” Jayme said, casually.

“We aren’t making a blood pact.” Zoe sighed.

“Then I’m not helping you.”

“I’m going to fail the test.” She whined.

“Maybe you should have, I don’t know, studied?” She questions.

“Oh shut up, you hermit.”

“Just saying. Why would you take a physics class?”

“It’s in my major!” She protested.

“Maybe you shouldn’t be majoring in underwater basket weaving.” Jayme snarked.

“Not everyone gets to sit with the stinky computer nerds all day long.”

“Submissive and pliant men, ripe for the picking with mommy issues.” 

“Maybe you can lure one in with a sun dress and a pot roast.” Zoe joked back.

They laughed.

Then it fell quiet.

She hated the quiet- Zoe was just fine with it.

It meant an empty house.

It meant being alone.

It meant she could go down a rabbit hole of thoughts.

“Please? ” Zoe whined, again.

Jayme glanced up at her, from her laptop screen. As if her glance was going to break her determination- she was sure she’d grovel at her feet even in the showers if she had to if it meant she could get her help.

“How do you know I can even help?” Jayme questioned.

“You found his tax return- I’m sure you could find something to help me with a test .”

She wasn’t wrong.

Jayme sighed.

“Yea. I can help. Just go to class and be normal- I’ll figure it out.”

She honestly felt like a burglar. She’d done this before, didn’t know why it would be so nerve-wracking to do now. The cameras on these hallways didn’t work- she had checked. Always double checking, sometimes triple checking if it was going to be something really sketchy. This wasn’t something horrible- she wasn’t burning down a server room or anything. She was simply triggering a fire alarm- cutesy little gadget tucked into her pocket she’d already mimicked the frequency the trigger would emit when the original handle was pulled. 

It was a good purchase, she’d scrounged around for the cash to buy it- doing others' homework and projects for them until she was able to obtain enough funding to buy the gadget all the way back in high school. Which was the first place she had managed to do it. Even though it wasn’t entirely on purpose, sitting in the back of the class fidgeting with the little gadget- accidentally locking it onto a frequency and suddenly all of the fire alarms start going off.

She was wearing a sweatshirt with the hood pulled up over her face, a black fabric gater pulled up from her neck covering her nose and lips. Striding out, keeping her steps even as she walked down the hallways meeting the most important factor of the whole thing- look like she was supposed to be there. It was a little scary how complacent people could be, even if the person was a little suspicious- how could they be suspicious if their steps were entitled? If they weren’t nervously walking around, as if they were about to commit a crime?

Was it a crime?

She’s pretty sure it’s a crime.

She glances down at her watch.

Thirty seconds-

Twenty.

Then seven.

Three,

Two,

One.

Her hand slides into her pocket, feeling the slightly warm plastic- smooth with some small notching on its corner. Pushing down on one of the buttons as she keeps walking, keeping her steps even and her eyes on the prize- the doorway she would be walking out of in no time.

The lights on the fire alarms flash first, following the piercing, chirping noise that lets anyone within earshot know that the building is being evacuated for a fire. Drill or not- the teachers never mentioned anything about a drill. Maybe a stoner set the trash can in the bathroom on fire again.

She keeps walking forward, and the doors in front of her push open, lines of students filing out into one giant sea of people heading towards the same door as her. They mesh around her, and she blends into the crowd as she keeps walking.

Went smoothly, and if she keeps up her pace, she won’t be late for class across campus.

“ It is a crime called "identity theft" when a fraudster acquires vital pieces of "personal identifying information" (PII), such Social Security numbers and license numbers, and utilizes them for their own financial advantage. ” He speaks.

He’s older- at least to the point where his hair has begun to grey.

“Our data can be formatted and transformed using cryptography to make it more secure when traveling between computers. Modern mathematics is added to the technology, which is founded on the fundamentals of secret codes and safeguards our data in powerful ways. The manager in charge of security needs a methodical approach to identifying security requirements and characterizing options to satisfy those criteria in order to analyze the security demands of a company effectively.”  

Professor Wills.

Cold hard bastard- with a seeming soft spot for gingers. That’s at least what she noticed when she stalked his social media accounts. Well, maybe not his social media accounts. Found photos of women he was seen with taking them out to dinner- no doubt paid by him with his tenured salary.

He had started out the first day of class introducing himself, as well as his ‘resume’. He’d apparently worked for the CIA- counterterrorism projects since the seventies. When he retired- he decided to un-retire himself and crawl his ass back to work. So now he sat here, droning on about the lecture she wasn’t sure why he was giving it- this was all surface-level information.

Maybe this was another one of his tests.

“The Playfair Cipher, which treats diagrams in plaintext as single units and converts these units into cipher text diagrams, is the most well-known multiple letter encryption cipher. The Playfair algorithm relies on a 5x5 letter matrix that is built using a keyword. Let "monarchy" become the crucial keyword. The matrix is created by first filling in the letters of the keyword (after removing any duplicates) from left to right and from top to bottom, and then completing the matrix with the remaining letters throughout alphabetically.”

He projected himself across the room, strides forward, sideways. Maybe if he was feeling especially spicy he would throw something across the room at someone seemingly drifting off.

“One Time Pad Cipher.” He drawls out, meaning he will be starting an important topic- or spiraling into a tangent about Panama. “A secure cryptography system. The message is represented by a series of 0s and 1s. This can be achieved, for instance, by writing all integers in binary or by utilizing ASCII. The key is a coincidentally long random sequence of 0s and 1s. A key is never utilized again after it has been used once. And….” He pauses, reaching over for a whiteboard marker, and stalking up to the board. “Is represented as such.”

‘C/i = P/i K/i C/i - i^th binary digit cipher text P/i -^th the binary digit plaintext K/i - i^th binary digit key ’ Is scribbled onto the board- in his nearly illegible handwriting. 

“An extremely lengthy key is needed, which is expensive to make and send. Reusing a key for a second communication after it has already been used is risky since any knowledge about the first message would also reveal information about the second…..” He starts again, her eyes slowly closing as she starts to drift off in the lecture. “Developed by IBM, the digital immune system is a thorough method of viral defense. The growing threat of Internet-based viral spread has been the driving force behind this advancement. Recent years have seen an increase in the effects of two significant Internet technology advances on the viral spread: Integrated mail systems: Programs like Microsoft Outlook and Lotus Notes make it very easy to send anything to anyone and deal with received objects. Systems for mobile programs: Programs can transfer themselves automatically from one system to other thanks to features like Java and ActiveX.”

She swore to herself she’d never fall asleep in class.

She almost broke.

She didn’t quite a few other people did though.

“Remember class. Detection, Identification, Removal .”

…

The SQL Slammer worm first appeared in early 2003. A buffer overflow flaw in the Microsoft SQL server was used by this worm.

She sat- more correctly lay in her bed. Her eyes were tired. Past that point where she had been staring at a screen to long. Feeling cry- maybe borderline itchy. Zoe had offered her eye drops the first time she had complained of it. 

She’d never take them.

God, she hated eye drops.

Just the concept of it freaked her out.

Well, it made sense. She couldn’t even open her eyes in the pool.

The sound of the door knob jostling, the jingle of keys, and then the door being thrown open broke her from her trance. She should really be studying. She should really be doing something other than feeling sorry for her dry eyes and actually being productive.

“Jayme!” Zoe charges forward, arms reaching up as she scuttles over the small ladder leading up to her bed, climbing on top of her.

“Fuckin- What?” She half hisses out, moving Zoe over to her side and rolling over to look at her.

“He asked.” Her mouth was split open into a huge grin.

“What?” She asked.

“He asked me out! To coffee!” She squeals, throwing her head back.

“Ohhhhhh.” Jayme grins, raising her hand up and pinching Zoe’s cheek. “See? I told you it would work.”

Zoe lifts herself, pushing off of the bed and jumping down onto the ground, starting to rummage through her things. “No, no you didn’t. You spent the entire time telling me how bad of an idea this was. Because A, you’re bitter and lonely, and B-” “Wanting to fuck your TA is on par with sucking your professor's dick?” Jayme asks aloud.

“No, oh my gosh.” She groans, throwing her head back. “I’m filling in for a coworker at the store until closing, so you’ll be all alone.” She grins again.

Zoe worked at a run-down, stinky, Office Depot. Her uncle was the manager- and sometimes, he’d offer up free school supplies to them. Cutesy little pens, sometimes Journals and notepads. They usually had some kind of flaw about them that made it so they couldn’t be sold on the floor, but regardless. She’d gotten a few nice binders out of it and she wasn’t one to complain. Even if the man's constant wheezing raised her blood pressure and made her swear to herself to never pick up the habit of smoking.

“I’ll enjoy every moment,” Jayme replies, rolling back over, grabbing her pillow, and covering her head with it in hopes it’ll drown out the buzz of people walking down the hallway outside.

It never does.

The buffer overflow vulnerability that the worm took use of was first identified by David Litchfield, whose proof-of-concept code was used to present the worm at the Black Hat Briefings. The only thing this short bit of code does is generate random IP addresses and transmit itself to those addresses. A computer that is running an unpatched instance of Microsoft SQL Server Resolution Service listening on UDP port 1434 and receives a specified address becomes infected and starts spreading the worm program throughout the Internet.

She should really be studying, not working on other people's projects.

But, she was hungry. What could she say?

In all honesty, it wasn’t that hard. As dirty as it was, she was feeding it all through an AI system to generate the text, she would read through it and dumb it down because there was no was this asshole knew how to use the word ‘eloquently’. Then feed it back through, generate some filler to get some dings on his grade, all to make it more believable and then give it back to him. Grab the cash, and go buy something for her and Zoe to eat for dinner. 

She owes it to her, really.

Without Zoe she wouldn’t really make it. Yea, she was being supported by her parents and whatever pocket change she made off of working at that stinky ass office supply store went to her crippling shopping habits-

But Zoe took care of her. And Jayme would try to help in any way she could back.

Even if it meant stalking a professor to get the perfect window to insert Zoe into a TA’s life so that he would fall in love with her.

As if love were a real thing, she’d muse with herself. Her parents were in love- or at least they said they were. It left a horribly bitter taste in her mouth to be thinking about it. To be thinking about how it was a long haul to wait until she was old enough to move out- out of high school so that they could move on with their lives as if she were a burden.

Not that they ever called her a burden, it was just how she took it.

She was probably right to take it that way.

It would happen the way it normally does.

Zoe gripped the doorknob and jiggled it a bunch of times as if Jayme ever forgot to lock the door. Not ever- never once in their continued stay in these dorms had she ever found Jayme in the room- unlocked. It was like a paradox.

Pushing the door open after she clatters around with her keys for a good while, throwing the door open giggling and squealing about how amazing the coffee date was, and how he was ‘soooo hot’, he had even opened the door to the coffee shop for her, and pulled out the chair.

Jayme would nod, trying not to rain on her parade with her bitter outlook on the concept, and allow her to ramble, at no one in particular if not her about how great it was. Oh, and how she has to try out this new mocha-chai-something-bullshit concoction that he had recommended she taste. Leaning forward and letting her take a sip out of his cup as if it was the same thing as them aggressively frenching out in the bathroom.

She’s back in the classroom, staring at the whiteboard spacing out as Professor Wills rambles about the importance of the autonomy of American citizens- as well as their online privacy.

“I've made light of the fact that I don't really care if the NSA can read my emails during class. They will not be bothered about whatever I have. There are, however, bigger issues involved. ” He starts, standing up and starting to pace, back and forth and back and forth in a way that makes her motion sick.

“ Our best look at how a government can employ computer surveillance to monitor and control its populace comes from the Chinese government, most likely. ” He snickers at the end of it, as if it were some kind of joke the class would get. No one else laughed, because they didn’t get it. Only he would understand it- probably doing his fair share of rooting through, crossing that fine line in the name of evidence. “ The goal is to compile all online data about Chinese businesses and individuals in one location, score each of them based on their political, commercial, social, and legal "credit," and then compile the results.”

“I bet a lot of you in this room would fail on the social aspect, with those Instagrams of yours.” He teases. 

There's a light- may be forced in the name of politeness laugh that fills the room. 

“ The three V’s !” He yells, throwing another object somewhere in the room.

“Volume – The amount of data. The size- quantity. How many gallons of dirt do they have on you? 

Velocity- The speed at which data is produced is known as velocity. Different processing approaches may be employed depending on the velocity.

Variety- Data might be structured or unstructured. The processing of structured data is ideally suited for computers. Not so with unstructured data. A passenger manifest is an illustration of structured data. Unstructured video from a CCTV camera shows passengers leaving and entering a passenger terminal.

And last of all?

Veracity – Your accuracy.”

There was a stiff silence.

“Um, Professor.” One of the guys in the front pipes up. “That was four.”

“At least someone was paying attention! Class is dismissed!”

The recognition of the worm spreading was recognized too little, too late.

Jayme sits on the cold linoleum-tiled floor, scratching at some kind of chart when the telltale sign of footsteps up to her door breaks her from her train of thought. 

The sound of keys jingling first- not the jiggling of the knob. And the distinct sound of her choking on a sob at the door.

She stands, ready to hear about how horrible the date went- that he was talking to another girl. It had happened what- six times already in the few years she had known Zoe? It wasn’t anything new. They’d go somewhere- Trader Joe’s probably. Buy a bunch of snacks and shit talk and pig out until Zoe felt better.

Walking over to the door and opening it up, she’s met with the dark mascara splattered down her face from Zoe’s tears. She opens the door more, stepping out of the way as Zoe drops to her knees- at Jayme’s feet and lets out a sob. One she’d never heard before- ever. She sheer amount of fear- rage- hurt. She blinks, kneeling down with her to realize her horror.

She’s back in her childhood room, sobbing, staring up out of the window, and watching the stars. Her heart aches and the feeling of her puffy eyes and stuffed-up nose do nothing to fight against the horrible headache that blossomed in her head either from the stress, or the dehydration of crying like a baby for this long.

She's standing up, walking into the little bathroom connected to her room, and looking in the mirror, smearing the snot and tears off of her cheeks and seething.

She didn’t want to inflict the pain for her own sake. To make her feel better.

But she would, she will, she would inflict pain for her sake. 

The hospital is cold.

Quiet.

The buzz of people moving about doing their jobs. Sipping on stale coffee and listing to the chatter in the radio or clicking on a poorly hidden tab of solitaire.

It makes her itch. The kind of itch you feel when there's a spider crawling up your arm in the dark- you can’t see the spider but it’ll wake you from a dead sleep to freak out. She picks at the skin on her thumb, bites her lip, and taps her foot. Anything while she waits. 

One of the nurses brings her a soda from the vending machine.

It was a nice gesture, but she ends up with the tab cracked, listening to the sound of the carbonation fizzling off while she stared off into space feeling nothing but anger- and guilt.

How it was all her fault-

She had started the spiral,

The snowball.

Had she not of given in- had she not of let Zoe blindly chase tail as if she were a neurotic dog. She’d be ok- she wouldn’t have been kneeling at her feet sobbing .

The police arrived. One young male officer, and one female. 

The female stepped behind the curtain.

The male officer sat down next to her.

He tried- awkwardly. To try to coax information out of her, what happened? What really happened.

The condescending words as if she had been lying.

As if it was just a jest .

So she calmly, even if she had to stop a few times breaking down crying. Explaining the situation.

He took his notepad and fucked off a while later.

It was three weeks later.

The Disciplinary board ruled in favor of the TA- put him on suspension with no pay due to the circumstances.

She never saw Zoe again.

She Just kind of… Left. One night. She woke up the next morning. She had packed up some clothes, and left in the dead of night.

Leaving her alone.

In Silence.

Again.

Soon enough, one in four computers connected to the internet was affected.

[r3starttt]

ৎ୭.𓏸𓈒 𝕶𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝆺𝅥 ࣪⠀ ⠀

I do every single thing I use for my themes, so, yes u can use it just ask me for it and lemme know If u use me as inspo/gimme credits if it's mine. <3

01. ABOUT ME

Ren - she | her

Feb 25. piscis. istp. Mexican

I ♡

TV & others : It - arcane - tlou - stranger things - k-dramas - roblox - minecraft - (gamess!!)

MUSIC: Billie eilish - Melanie Martinez - Chappell Roan - Remi Wolf - Mitski - Chloe x Halle - The Internet - The Last Dinner Party

KPOP: Red Velvet - Twice (JY) - Blackpink (JS) - New Jeans - Sulli

SOCIALS AT @hrts4rn

02. BOUNDRIES [ INTERACTIONS ]

. MINORS! YOU CAN INTERACT with my content.

. If you are under sixteen then, I won't interact with you as I don't feel comfortable with it, plus I don't think we have much in common :(

. don't be rude! insults are not your personality, and no it is not fun!

. don't ask all the personal questions? invite me some sweet treats first pls!

. Yes you can yap, spam, all you want, just don't be creepy with it

. Pictures and vids of you are well received as long as you're not- again -being too personal with it

(as in no sh. no ed. no trauma dumping second one of talking!!!)

03. BOUNDRIES [ REQUESTS ]

. I won't write for anything related to intoxication or drugs or any sort of non-con. If I ever do, keep in mind it won't be fully non-con as I'll find a way to make it subtle that there IS consent from both ways.

. Toxic-jealous ex, gf, bsf, etc is allowed as far as it's all fictional as in the typical stereotype we find in many fics here.

. I won't write any kink with too many fluids or violence (ask if I'm okay with it and I'll let u know!)

04. REMINDERS

. You can be as "oddly" specific as you wish with the requests! it makes it easier for me to write <3

. Have any doubts or worries about my acc, interactions, etc? just send me an ask!

. I won't take every request, why? because Ilysm for trusting me with it but If I feel it might take me too long to write it, or it might be too difficult as in I don't have inspiration or time to do it right, why writing it lazily?!

. pls don't be shy and interact with me! istg I'm not super specific, I've just (unfortunately) had plenty weird interactions, but if you are taking the time to read these, then you surely are a sweet so... don't be shy 😙

05. ANONS AND EMOJIS

REN ♡

ANSWERS ✶.ᐟ ( 🥭 )

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CUTIES

an𝗈︩︪ns⎯͟͟♥︎̼̻ˊ˗ 🍓)

an𝗈︩︪ns⎯͟͟♥︎̼̻ˊ˗ 🪐)

an𝗈︩︪ns⎯͟͟♥︎̼̻ˊ˗ 🕯)

an𝗈︩︪ns⎯͟͟♥︎̼̻ˊ˗ 🧫)

[jordie-gvf]

dont you ever grow up, sammy

a fluffy dad!sam fic for you!

summary : it was your daughters 16th birthday and sam hates the idea of his babygirl growing up

word count : 1.9k+

warnings : Safety Sam 🫠, mentions of getting pregnant, i cant think of anything else, let me know if i am missing any!

enjoy

It was your daughter, Elodie's, 16th birthday today. You had woken up before Sam had, you read and waited for him to wake up. When he woke up, he cuddled into your legs and said, “Do we have to celebrate her birthday?” You looked at him and frowned. “Yes baby, it's her birthday.” He frowned and kissed your thighs. 

You both showered and went downstairs to see Elodie sitting on the couch with Rosie and Odette, the cat you had got for your birthday. Atlas, your 5 year old, ran downstairs and went straight to his older sister and yelled out, “Happy Birthday DiDi!” She hugged her brother and said, “Thank you Atlas!”

You and Sam both had not grown up getting handed everything, but Elodie on the other hand, had. She was very fortunate and she knew that and was very thankful for it. Her birthday gift was a Volkswagen Beetle. She had always talked about them and how much she loved them. You got her the blue one, her favorite color, and some accessories you knew she would love. She hadn't known she was getting a car, but you knew she would be very grateful. 

She didn't really want a themed party, but you knew what she wanted on her cake. You had gotten her a pink and black cheetah cake and had “Elodie’s Sweet Sixteen!” written on it. You already brought  it home and put it down, Sam took one look at it and started crying. “It feels like yesterday when you had her. I can't believe we were 19.” He put his head on your shoulder and put your hand on his cheek and kissed his head. Elodie got up from the couch and hugged her father. She whispered to him, “I'll always be your little girl. I love you Daddy.” She truly loved her father, she loved him more than anything. 

She had wanted finger foods for her party. You had made spinach dip, jalapeno dip, cocktail weenies and meatballs, and her favorite, a charcuterie board. You had water and sodas arranged in a drink tin. Her decorations were retro 70s, thanks to her uncles. She quickly got up and said, “It's time for me to change.” She went upstairs to get into her party wear. She came down with a floral bell sleeve shirt, daisy earrings, bell bottoms, and white chunky heeled boots. She walked down the stairs and Sammy took one look and said, “Look at my munchkin! Happy 16th.” She looked at him and smiled. She looked amazing. 

When everyone was done eating the food you had out, it was time for presents. Josh got her a record player and a lot of his favorite records. Jake got her some more floral jewelry, flowers were her favorite. Danny got her a hydro flask, rings, and a bluetooth speaker. She thanked all of them and gave them hugs. You looked at her and said, “Alright it's time for our gifts.” You handed her a big box with a blanket in it. When she was younger, you made her a fleece tie blanket. She had lost the one you made her when she and Sammy went overseas for a tour. She was devastated when she told you she had lost it. You got the exact same fabric and made her a new one. She opened the box and started to cry. “Mama, you made me a new one?” She said, and hugged you tightly. Sam handed her a big box, containing smaller boxes, but the last one contained a car key. “Why is it so big, what the hell did you get me?” She asked, and Sam looked at her and said, “You'll see, open it.” She tore at the paper and opened the box, she said, “Really, one of these” She smiled and continued to open the box. Kelly had gone out to the dealership and had put the car in the garage last night. She got to the last box and opened it, and her brown eyes widened and she jumped up. “Daddy! You guys got me a car?” She ran out to the garage and fell to her knees. You both walked over to her and hugged her. She got up off the floor and said, “You didn't have to get me a car. I love it so much. Thank you guys.” She looked at her dad and her brother and held up the key, “Want to come with?” as she took the car for a spin. Safety Sam had got in the front seat and said, “Belts on.” Elodie and Atlas both listened right away. She backed out of the driveway and took them around the block. 

When they got home, Elodie went to you and hugged you again. “Seriously Mom, thank you. I love you. Thank you for the best birthday ever.” She ran to her friends who were in the backyard in the pool. She told them she would be right back to go put her suit on. She came down in a bikini. Sam looked at her and said, “And where do you think you're going with that on?” She smiled and said, “To the pool, with my friends, who are girls, who are straight. You don't need to worry.” You put your hand on his shoulder to say, let her go, and he backed off. 

Atlas came over to you and said, “Mamma she didn't open my gift” and frowned. You told him that she will open it tonight after dinner. After everyone had left and Sam helped you clean up, it was dinner time. Taking after her father with the love of pasta, she requested Olive Garden. She asked if she could drive by herself there and that she would meet us there. She pulled you to the side and said, “Mamma, do you think Daddy would get mad if I picked up a girl and brought her with us to dinner?” You looked at her and said, “Probably, but it's your birthday. I won't even tell him anything. Go” She smiled and hugged you and told her dad, “I'll see you guys there.” and went off. 

When you had arrived at Olive Garden before she did, he was in a panic. He checked Life360 at least 5 times before he called her. She picked up and said, “Sorry, detour.” You heard the Addie, the girl Elodie had a crush on, say, “Sorry Mr. Kiszka.” Sam looked at you and said, “Is that Addie? The Addie?” You nodded and he said, “That's alright Addie. I look forward to meeting you. Elodie, drive safe. I love you, see you soon,” and hung up. He walked over to you and said, “Addie is the one she's had a crush on since middle school right?” You nodded and said, “Mhm, Addie.”

You had sat down in a booth and ordered breadsticks and drinks, knowing both girls liked water. Elodie and Addie showed up and sat down in the booth in front of you. Elodie pulled out her phone, and you heard a vibration in your purse. You pulled out your phone and saw a message from her

Elodie Girl <3

Mamma

She asked me out

And I said yes!!

I'll tell him later

Not knowing what to say, you looked over the table and smiled, happy for your daughter. Elodie had asked if her and Addie could get ice cream on the way home, and you said yes. You handed her $20, but Addie said, “Dont worry Mrs. K, I've got it.” You smiled at her and said, “Are you sure? I have no problem paying for it” She nodded her head and assured you that she would pay. Elodie had driven them to Jeni’s, Elodies favorite ice cream shop. You kept checking Life360, she had texted you saying she dropped Addie back home and that she was on her way home. You were already in her room, sitting in her papasan chair, waiting for her to come home. She had gotten home and came upstairs yelling for you. She figured out where you were, let Rosie and Odette in, shut and locked the door. She went into her en suite bathroom and showered and came back in her pajamas

She sat down, and you said, “Tell me everything. Dads with Atlas in the basement.” She laughed and gave you the rundown of the ice cream date. It just so happens that across from Jeni’s is a playground and they went on the swings together and ate their ice cream. 

She had your full attention, something you never had from your mother. There was a knock on the door and Rosie was ready to attack whoever was outside her door. Elodie got up and unlocked the door, Atlas had walked in with his gift in his hand. “I never got to give this to you today.” and handed her the gift. He sat on her bed as she opened the gift. It was a small locket, with a picture of the two of them together. She looked at him with adoration and said, “Thank you, I love it.” and she put it on. 

Sam had walked into her room and told Atlas it was bedtime. You told him you would take Atlas to his room and put him to bed. You grabbed him and winked at your daughter and shut her door. 

You brought him to your bathroom and put him in the tub. You grabbed all his water toys and his shampoo. You put bubbles in the water and gave him a bath. When you were done, you brought him out to your bed and saw Sam on the bed watching tv. You helped Atlas put his clothes on. You told Atlas to go pick out books that you would read to him. Sam looked at you and said, “She told me she was scared to tell me she liked girls. She was scared.” You looked at him and said, “I was scared to tell my father, but he was also slightly homophobic.” He looked back and said, “Yeah, but I'm not your father. I told her she didn't have to be scared to tell me and she started crying.” You felt for your daughter, you were scared to tell your parents you liked girls, but you got over it and did, when you were 25 and Elodie was 6. “When she told me, I told her I liked girls too, and that you were very accepting of it. I left the part out about what else you said” and he smiled. He grabbed your waist and put you on his hips. He kissed you and said, “I want another one. Let's make another one.” and winked. Atlas walked in and said, “I picked out my books Mamma.” You smiled and nodded. He walked out and Sam said, “He can wait 15 minutes, right?” You shook your head and laughed. “Go ahead Mamma.” and sent you off to his room.

You finished reading to him and walked into your room. When you walked in, Sam was nowhere to be found. He came out from behind the door, picked you up by your waist and said, “Come on, showers on. Let's make more.” and brought you to the bathroom.

What a way to celebrate a birthday, that wasn't even yours.