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vettelsdarling · 1 year

Note

can you do an Instagram au with Charles x female tech CEO? (Like they're trying to keep it private.)

Thank you xx

𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐜𝐲

Lissie note... This was a great idea, I loved the CEO aspect, but couldn’t quite find the right pictures and timeline things couldn’t match up for something as grand as a tech CEO, but I really enjoyed writing this prompt and scouring Pinterest for fitting photos to use. Hope you enjoy anyway!!❤️

Few things to note:

Reader is from a rich and esteemed family, but she’s self made

Reader lives in Monaco

Reader is the CEO of a world renowned luxury brand based in Monaco

Charles and reader have been dating for a few years (Since reader’s college years and Charles’ early f1 years)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x CEO!Fem!Reader

Warnings: Slight cursing(?)

Playlist recommendation: 𝐂𝐋𝟏𝟔, 𝐅𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟💗

Taglist: @allwaysalleyway

yourusername

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Tagged: voguemagazine

yourusername Thank you, @ voguemagazine. I had a lot of fun with this shoot and the interview— happy to do it again next year❤️

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user1 I literally GASP every time I see those interviews with her. How is anyone THAT gorgeous????

user2 I love her sm and she cares for women and the sick😭😭😭

user3 She’s so amazing, honestly

user4 Honestly the price of her brand is reasonable when you know a lot of the proceeds go to helping people in need❤️

user5 Hi gorgeous, tysm for the work you do❤️

user6 Did anyone notice Kika and Carmen👀 (f1 fans pls interact)

user7 I NOTICED IT TOO

user8 I’m an f1 fan but I genuinely don’t think this is anything big..? Probably just a coincidence that they both follow her. She’s literally got millions of followers so…

user9 @ user8 but didn’t you see how Giada and Isa also follow her?

user8 @ user9 Like I said, coincidence. I mean they’re all pretty big into fashion, no?

charles_leclerc

Liked by pierregasly, maxverstappen1, carlossainz55, and 937,284 others

charles_leclerc Blazer goes perfectly with my jewelry.

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user1 AHHH BLESSED MY FEED❤️❤️❤️

user2 I LOVE that blazer on him ughhh🙏

user3 Anyone know the brand?

user4 It looks a lot like @ yourbrandname and their newest collection

user3 How did I not notice thisssss

user5 Love that he’s supporting yourbrandname❤️❤️❤️

user6 He’s literally so dreamy wtaffff

user7 Right???😩

yourusername and francisca.cgomes

Liked by francisca.cgomes, pierregasly, lilymhe and 1,682,104 others

yourusername So gorgeous in the 4th picture, we should do this more often. Make it a tradition whenever you stop by Monaco🤍

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francisca.cgomes You flatter me too much, 2nd picture is obviously the best🫶

yourusername Debatable…

lilymhe I’m joining next time

yourusername Yes.

user1 Okay, I refuse to believe she doesn’t have anything to do with F1

user2 Ngl I’m speculating😭

user3 New wag alert???

user4 AHHH I SEE THAT FERRARI…

user5 Ferrari + Kika, a wag = she’s a wag???

user6 You guys are so quick to jump to conclusions lmao

user7 @ user6 It’s not “jumping to conclusions”. It’s literally so obvious…

user6 @ user7 But it isn’t though… a lot of rich people own a Ferrari. She also just happens to be friends with Kika. Doesn’t mean she’s automatically a wag…

user8 Another post where she’s SERVING

user9 She’s so ldr coded❤️

user10 I absolutely agree with both of those statements you guys

user11 Since WHEN was she hanging out with wags???

user12 Since you learned to mind your own business..?

f1gossipcentral

26,732 likes

f1gossipcentral Lord Perceval said it! He’s in a relationship! Wonder who it is👀

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user1 I mean, if he hasn’t revealed the wag, he obviously doesn’t want to share who it is…

user2 and all the 13 yr olds are pressed because he wants to keep his privacy💀

user1 Literally

user3 I mean, I heard a lot of people think that it’s @ yourusername

user4 Just because he wore a blazer from her line..? Doesn’t make sense…

user3 No, she’s been hanging out with Kika and owns a Ferrari too. Also- lot of wags and drivers follow her.

user4 Wow, okay. Didn’t know this..

realtalkcelebs

56,287 likes

realtalkcelebs SPOTTED: Y/n L/n leaving the interview where she reported that “she’s currently in a relationship”. She’s yet to reveal who it is!

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user1 NOOOO I HAD MY WEDDING DRESS PICKED OUT

user2 I’ve never read anything as soul crushing as this.

user3 Okay but WHO STOLE HER

user4 Whoever won her over better count their days.

user5 I’m here to assist😭

user6 Ig I’ll be having my salty tears for dinner tn

user7 me too.

user8 Who in their right mind would steal a national treasure like this?

user9 I think there’s been some talk in the F1 community…

user10 The timing of things is really suspicious ngl.

user11 I suspected she may be a wag, but Charles was unexpected

user12 Ever thought that it might not be him?

charles_leclerc

Liked by pierregasly, carlossainz55, yourusername and 873,283 others

charles_leclerc It’s time for Monaco. My beloved home❤️🤍

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user1 Hope this year is THE year

user2 Fingers crossed😭

user3 Oh no, not the Monaco curse pls😭

user4 I have a feeling he’ll do well🙏

user5 Don’t jinx it omg

user6 I love how we’re all collectively worried about this specific gp

user7 Is nobody noticing a certain CEO in the likes?

user8 Atp I don’t really care too much because it’s their life and they chose to be private about it. They may not even have anything to do with each other.

user9 I agree, everything so far is all superficial in terms of proof…

user10 Yeah, leave these people alone and stop shipping random celebrities together. It’s weird.

user11 Ughhh going to the Monaco gp is not a want. IT IS A NEED.

user12 Relatable

yourusername

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Tagged: francisca.cgomes

yourusername Couldn’t miss the Monaco GP, when I live here?! Fourth picture is a Kika appreciation moment❤️

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francisca.cgomes Best photographer I’ve ever met❤️

yourusername Okay but you made my back look so great in the first picture

francisca.cgomes No, that’s all you

lilymhe Finally seeing you in the paddock

yourusername I know, it took a whileee

user1 Yep, I’m convinced she’s a wag.

user2 I reckon she might just be one of those celebs who attend the most famous races. We didn’t see her in the paddock before?

user3 I would honestly agree if she hadn’t posted abt something Ferrari related so much lately.

user4 Guys let’s let her live her life whoever she feels😭😭😭

user5 She’s honestly so amazing. I love her😭 She’s wearing her own line too😭❤️ Bless her.

user6 Why wouldn’t she wear her own line lmao💀

user7 I love her friendship with Kika🙏

user8 She’s a multitasker. CEO of one of the most well known luxury brands, best friends with several wags, maybe even a wag herself— AND HAIR CARE??? Drop the secret pls🙏🙏

user9 She’s a literal goddess

realtalkcelebs

163,373 likes

realtalkcelebs SPOTTED: Heartthrob Ferrari driver, Charles Leclerc, kissing the young and flavorful CEO of yourbrandname, Y/n L/n. How long has this been going on for? You tell us.

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user1 Um what😃

user2 I KNEW IT

user3 Since when😭😭😭

user4 WHAT IS GOING ONNN?!??

user5 Idk but I want to cry💀

user6 In retrospect, I can see the proof now, but wow they were actually pretty great at hiding it wtf

user7 Right? I did not expect this…

user8 Yeah, and then you just see these entitled gossip accounts profiting off of them… I feel bad for them :/

user7 I do too. I don’t think it’s fair for them to be revealed like this… they should’ve gotten their own chance to explain things

user9 Okay but he’s so lucky😭

user10 Literally. He’s dating the most relevant woman on this planet rn

user11 Googling how to become a Ferrari F1 driver rn

charles_leclerc and yourusername

Liked by francisca.cgomes, yourusername, maxverstappen1 and 537,733 others

charles_leclerc .

Comments have been limited

francisca.cgomes Love you guys, stay strong❤️

pierregasly This was not deserved. Hope you guys are okay

maxverstappen1 The paparazzi is always so shitty like this.

lewishamilton This was unexpected, but shouldn’t have come from anyone but you guys. Real shame they did this to you.

lilymhe This is just not okay!!

carmenmmundt Shame on the paparazzi.

yourusername

Liked by francisca.cgomes, charles_leclerc, carmenmmundt and 937,295,173 others

yourusername Some pictures from our trip to Paris❤️ Taken by us.

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charles_leclerc❤️

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user1 I love their relationship, actually

user2 Honestly, as much as I’m IN LOVE with her, I’m so happy for them

user3 My parasocial relationship is crumbling, but this is so cute😭

user4 I am living for the caption😭😭😭

user5 It’s literally like a big “fuck you” to the paparazzi lmao

user4 Exactly💀

user6 SHE’S WEARING ALL OF THE NEW YOURNAMEBRAND CONCEPT DESIGN DRESSES😩❤️

user7 He’s wearing the new concept design pants😭

user8 He gets early access to all the good stuff😭💀

user9 I still can’t believe they managed to hide it for so long

user10 For real. I’m still processing it..

charles_leclerc

Liked by yourusername, francisca.cgomes, pierregasly and 647,383 others

charles_leclerc Sleeping beauty❤️ Happy anniversary❤️

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yourusername I did not know this photo existed, but I love you, so I’ll let it slide❤️

Liked by charles_leclerc

francisca.cgomes Gorgeous even when you’re asleep?! @ yourusername

yourusername You flatter me too much🫶

user1 They are really made for each other

user2 The picture😭😭😭 He rly loves her

user3 If this isn’t my relationship in the future, I don’t want it

user4 WHY AM I SO JEALOUSSS

user5 Don’t worry, you’re not the only one😭

user6 I get it, I’m extremely single.

user7 Pain😭

user8 Honestly such a lovely couple🤍

user9 I love this dynamic so much. It’s just so sweet🙏

user10 They’re both so luckyyyy

*I’m just experimenting with some layout changes. Feel free to give me input on what you think!

𝗥𝗲𝗾𝘂𝗲𝘀𝘁𝘀 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗼𝗽𝗲𝗻...

𝘾𝙝𝙚𝙘𝙠 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙧𝙪𝙡𝙚𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙧𝙚𝙜𝙪𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨 𝙗𝙚𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙦𝙪𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚!

𝙃𝙚𝙧𝙚’𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

𝙃𝙚𝙧𝙚’𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙩𝙖𝙜𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩! (𝙄𝙛 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙬𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙜𝙚𝙩 𝙤𝙣, 𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚 𝙬𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙚 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙨, 𝙙𝙢𝙨, 𝙤𝙧 𝙖𝙨𝙠𝙨: 𝙒𝙝𝙞𝙘𝙝 𝙙𝙧𝙞𝙫𝙚𝙧(𝙨) 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙘𝙝 𝙩𝙮𝙥𝙚(𝙨) 𝙤𝙛 𝙛𝙞𝙘𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙬𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙗𝙚 𝙩𝙖𝙜𝙜𝙚𝙙 𝙞𝙣.)

#fanfiction #fanfic #f1 #formula one #formula 1 #x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 fanfiction #reader insert #fluff #f1 instagram au #insta au #instagram fanfic #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc imagine #scuderia ferrari

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isa-ghost · 7 months

Note

Isa my darling! Happy Birthday, albeit a couple of days early.

Seeing you screech in Philza's streams because Apollo hit you with that dodgeball yet again makes me giggle a lot.

How about since headcanon's for qPhilza's past/pre island relationship with qFit. How they got to know each other, and how quickly they became friends?

Idr if I said this on Tumblr yet but deadass I asked Apollo on my pendulum if qPhil is his blorbo and he said yes. He's been as invested in shit as me and it's been hilarious. I literally have crows yelling at me irl to keep writing rn but I'm answering headcanons first.

The entire time I've been distracted between writing these, crows have been yelling at me about it. Which. Is how Apollo communicates with me when I'm not actively talking to him through readings LMFAO.

Also thank you for the birthday wish :D [desperately hoping nothing else horrible happens this weekend please god]

Anyway qPhil headcanons masterlist let's go

Disclaimer that I didn't know of Fit before QSMP (I've only been in mcyt for 4 years monkaS) so these are gonna be largely pulled out of my ass and a lil repetitive.

These two both have experiences in anarchy and war, they've definitely brushed shoulders a couple times bc of it

They admired each other's work ofc. Phil is a macro scale kinda guy, total annihilation and victory that makes a statement. Fit's more of a micro scale kinda guy, zeroing in on one person or group individually and making their lives hell until the end in the name of surviving a little longer

On that note, I think we all sleep a little bit on the fact that Fit is Also a survivalist like Phil, just in a very different set of high stakes conditions. These two are equally skilled in it and equally sharp strategists

On that note, anyone who knew them from the past would fear the idea of them coming together to create a plan of any kind, especially of the anarchist-fueled variety. If the Federation has done their research right, they should know full well how terrifying this duo could be in an effort to dismantle their authority

Btw by brushing shoulders I don't just mean brief passings by, I mean they've like. Camped out for a night together, temporarily truced for the sake of safety in numbers, etc. More than a few conversations have been had even if the time they've spent together totals to less than a week.

However, even when they weren't actively paired together, they'd still occasionally trade or gift each other surplus resources. It was a genuine kind act, even if it simultaneously served as a reason for each of them to not come after the other. I scratch your back, you scratch mine.

Like why do you think Fit was one of the first threats on Phil's mind in Purgatory. He Knew(tm). And he knew Fit has an affinity for picking off the weak first, like a lion after a herd of antelope. To him, Purgatory was the awakening of a monster who'd been dormant for a long time.

See, present day they're QPR as fuck, they'd never do this now without 10x the pressure Purgatory put on them, but back in the day they took close notes on each other's strengths and weaknesses. Just In Case, yknow? They could very much kill each other. Back in the day they would've if it came to it, no matter how good an ally they were.

Something about how these two used to be so cold and hard to the world. Be it to self-preserve or some other reason. Something about how now they've both softened and warmed after becoming parents. They never could've imagined the other would "weaken" like this, especially back then.

Phil 🤝🏻 Fit - Phil being a historian of the deities/builds of his Hardcore World, Fit being a historian of 2B2T

A lot of this boils down to mutual respect, common interests, and secret admiration tbh. And what's more homoerotic than that?

They're both crisis preppers. Not doomsday type shit, just. Being ready for shit to hit the fan. They both come from places where life is significantly more dangerous than it is in other realms.

The crazy thing is though? Despite the above, they can't imagine being from each other's realms. Phil would LOATHE 2B2T and Fit would hate the absoluteness of Hardcore. Isolation is absolute, death is absolute. There's no wiggle room or margin for error.

With how adaptive the two of them are due to their origins, they could probably acclimate to any conditions. They'd complain about having to, especially if it was inconvenient, but they could. They used to swap tips & tricks with each other on how to improve their adaptability too.

Fit would've 100% been down to join Phil on Doomsday in DSMP. He was thoroughly impressed when Phil told him the story.

#qsmp #qsmp philza #qsmp fitmc #qsmp fit #qsmp fitza #qsmp veterans #qphil headcanons #AMFMN things #<- bc these apply to the fic

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chicagonews-parabellum-archive · 5 years

Photo

BREAKING NEWS: Morgan Sinclair has been arrested, charged with kidnapping.

After spending the last few weeks on the run, Morgan Sinclair was located a few hours south of Chicago in what appeared to be an abandoned home. Chicago police have been looking for Morgan Sinclair since a series of disturbing tweets were posted to his social media.

Morgan Sinclair was charged with kidnapping, a serious offense that’s punishable by up to 20 years in prison. Prosecutors are hoping for the maximum sentence.

Priya Sinclair, publicist for the Sinclair family, gave an official statement:

“Members of the press, thank you for being here today.

For those of you who do and do not know me my name is Priya Sinclair.

On behalf of the Sinclair family, my family, I am here before you today to address the news of Morgan Sinclair’s arrest and eventual sentencing for the crimes committed against Ezra Costello.

Morgan Sinclair was the only member of his family to take part in this haynes crime. The actions that he took are inexcusable and the Sinclair family does not condone the violence he took out on a member of the Costello family.

We would like to at this time extend our heartfelt apologies to Ezra and the rest of the Costello family for all that they have been through. We cannot begin to make up for the emotional and physical damage that Morgan has caused you but we hope that this arrest and the knowledge that Morgan will be punished for his crimes will allow both families to once again live in harmony.

The Sinclair family cannot in good conscious stand behind Morgan Sinclair. It is why as of today at 6:30 am, all of the Sinclair business are under new ownership. Penelope Sinclair will take over as majority stakeholder in all of the family’s businesses and effectively strip Morgan Sinclair of any titles, properties, enterprises and wealth he may have accumulated.

Morgan Sinclair, should you ever hear or read about this in the news, the Sinclair family has wiped their hands clean of you and asks for you not to contact them or go anywhere near them.

Penelope Sinclair, unlike her husband, will usher this family into a new era where no citizen of Chicago nor member of either family has to fear retaliation for events that have transpired. On behalf of Penelope Sinclair, I’d like to extend an invitation for an open dialogue between the two families where both parties can work together.

I will not be answering any more questions at this time.

Thank you.”

#pbrpg: breaking news #morgan sinclair #priya sinclair #thank you so much to Isa for writing the statement!!!

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quindolyn · 3 years

Note

can you write a james potter smut with a lot of choking, hair pulling and degradation :))

Patience Pays Off || James Potter

Word Count: 3834

A/N: I haven’t written in forever but this was for @randomoutsiders because it’s her birthday today. I know that I’m posting this after midnight her time but it’s still 9 here so I’m still celebrating Isa’s birthday. I love you baby. I’m still getting the hang of dom Jamie because in my head he’s my little sub and I have a hard time as seeing him as anything but the softest dom so this isn’t perfect

Warnings: rough sex, degradation, face slapping, spanking, dumbification, slapping reader’s tits, I think that’s it?

Masterlist

You were proud of yourself for making it through the entirety of the day without a major incident, since your first class of the day a fire had been burning in your belly, beginning as a mere flame before erupting into a blazing wildfire. Consuming you from the inside out.

The littlest thing made the fire burn hotter and brighter, the way James’ muscles flexed under his uniform as he walked through the hallways, shoulders back and arm around your waist like he owned the place.

You couldn’t help but whimper, catching a glimpse of his toned abdomen as he stretched his arms upwards, loosening himself up after being hunched over a desk all day. You felt your heart skip a beat in your chest watching his hand grip his quill, jotting down notes in his sloppy handwriting.

All you could think about was how many better things we could do with those hands, how wasted they were on Transfiguration.

You couldn’t bear the thought of having to sit through dinner, watching his hands flex as he shoveled food from his plate into his mouth, eyes trained on his lips as he licked them clean of the remnants of his meal. It sounded like hell, but when you’d tugged on his sleeve right before the two of you entered the Great Hall, murmuring into his shoulder about how you just wanted to go up to his dorm you’d been shot down.

Knowing why you were so desperate to escape up to his dorm James simply told you to be patient as he tugged you into the hall, quickly ushering you over to your usual seat with his best friends and roommates.

The whole endeavor had been just as hellish as it had sounded and by the time James was leading you up the stairs to his dorm, Remus and Sirius having disappeared to the Astronomy tower together.

As the door latched behind you you threw yourself at James’ chest, grappling for his shoulders as you smeared your forehead against his strong shoulder.

“Daddy,” You mewled, feeling your pussy throb at the very feeling of his body under your hands as you dug your fingers into his shoulders.

James’ deep chuckle sounded from above you and you could feel the vibrations against your head, “Someone’s needy,” His large hand reached up, his fingers combing through your hair before anchoring themselves up towards the root of your hair.

Using his hold on you he pulled your head backward so that you were forced to peer up at him, eyes wide and hazy from hours of being teased. Tears were beginning to well in your eyes as the sexual frustration of the day began to wash over you.

“M’not needy,” You whimpered, pushing yourself into him because even though you were pressed together it wasn’t enough. You needed more.

“No baby? Not needy?” He asked, cocking his head to the side as hazel eyes held yours, the very feeling of his eyes on you had you squirming.

“No Daddy, not needy,” You insisted.

What succeeded that was so abrupt that you almost didn’t register it but James lifted his hand, bringing it down against the side of your face, pulling a pathetic whine from you as the pain from his hand blossomed across your face. Instinctively you brought your hand up to soothe the warming flesh of your cheek but James caught your wrist before you could get too far.

“Don’t lie to me slut,” He growled, eyes darkening as he gazed down at you, said gaze hardening considerably,

“That hurt,” You sniffed but the boy paid you no mind.

“You’ve been needy for me all day, spent all of Charms hanging off my arm, ready to take my cock right there where everyone would’ve seen you. But you were too needy to even think about that.”

You felt shame pool in the pit of your belly at his statement, because no matter how much you’d try to deny it he was right. You would’ve let him take you right there if he wanted to. You could hear James’ voice ring through your head, Daddy’s needy girl.

“Am I wrong baby?” He asked almost like he could read your mind.

You shook your head but quickly remembered that you were to answer him verbally, “No Daddy, you’re not wrong.”

“There we go,” He cooed, bringing his thumb to the seal of your lips before pushing past it and letting his thumb rest against the flat of your tongue. You began sucking on the digit the second it landed on your tongue, humming around his finger as your eyes fluttered closed.

“Eyes open,” Your eyes were startled open as his rough fingers pinched at your clothed nipple through your uniform top and bra.

James was silent as he let his eyes drag over your form, face open and pleading, your chest was heaving from the effort it took not to collapse onto the floor, your legs looking like they were about to buckle as your trembling knees knocked against each other.

“Were you horny all day baby?” He wondered as though the idea had just dawned on him.

You nodded, James' finger still lodged in your mouth before he slipped it out, wiping it clean not on his clothes but the material of your skirt.

“On the bed bunny, and get all these pesky clothes off, I want my pretty whore naked for me.”

You scrambled to comply with his command, fingers clumsily pulling buttons through their respective holes before shrugging the garment off your shoulders allowing it to land somewhere on the floor around you. Your bra quickly followed and having already shed your footwear that left you only in the uniform skirt that had ridden up your thighs to the point where it was useless, barely even covering your panty clad pussy much less your ass.

You didn’t dare glimpse up at James to silently plead for help, knowing it would only ensure more mocking and teasing and you weren’t quite sure if you would be able to stand it. Instead, you stayed struggling with the difficult clasp at the top of the skirt’s zipper, slippery fingers struggling with the small hook.

“What? Can’t get it undone pretty baby?” James asked you from where he stood at the foot of the bed, you stood to the left of the mattress, brows furrowed as your head was dropped to examine the hook.

Your eyes flashed upwards, meeting James’ lust clouded gaze, hazel eyes trained on your face, he was doing little, if anything, to mask the sly smirk forming on his face from watching you fumble uselessly.

“It’s hard,” You insisted, quickly returning your eyes to the task at hand.

“I’m sure it is when you’re a dumb baby.”

“M’not dumb!” You raised your head in indignation, glaring at the boy who stood there as cockily as ever.

“What was that?” His tone was harder than it had been mere seconds ago, the cocky smile slipping from his lips, “Who do you think you are, talking back?”

“You called me dumb Daddy,” You mumbled pathetically, casting your head down as the boy approached you, meeting your smaller figure in only a few strides, “And m’not,” Your voice stalled as your eyes lifted to meet the somber look on James’ face, “M’not dumb.”

James’ following silence was worse than any physical punishment he could dole out to you, the longer you stood there, eyes locked on James’, the louder your heartbeat became in your head.

“Not dumb, huh? Then why is your skirt still fucking on? Did I say you could stop?”

At his words, your eyes dropped back down to the clasp where you found your fingers had stilled, almost shaking due to the intensity of his stare but no longer working on the task you’d been assigned.

Your fingers began to twitch again, trying to figure out the complicated clasp (though it was really only complicated thanks to the fog that had seemed to settle over your mind) but before you could make any progress the piece of fabric was torn from your waist with a force that had you reeling.

You could barely register the stinging along the skin of your waist and hips, all you knew was that there was a rush of slick flooding your pussy at James’ impressive show of strength.

“Fucking useless,” The dark haired boy murmured, “Have to do everything myself.” As the words tumbled from his lips his large hands found the mounds of your breasts, squeezing them to the precipice where pain overrode pleasure.

It took everything you had in you to not let your head tip back at the stimulation and let out the most pathetic whine. Knowing James would only use it as fuel was the only thing that kept you contained.

“Can get your panties off can’t you?” His right hand trailed down your form before encountering the waistband of said underwear, slipping a finger underneath it to pull the strap away from your hip before letting go and letting it snap back against your skin.

The contact stung but not enough for you to argue it with him, having wanted him all day you needed him, and you needed him now. Not even the wanting to voice your disdain for his action was going to get in the way of that.

“Yes, Daddy,” You murmured obediently, sliding the panties down your hips before stepping out of them. A swift pat on the ass had you scampering onto the bed where you positioned yourself on your knees, hands clasped in your lap as you awaited James’ instruction

“Look at you,” The brunette muttered, a strong finger catching under the curve of your chin and using it to direct your visage upwards towards his, “On your knees for me like you know you’re supposed to be.”

“S’because I’m your good girl,” You mewled, trying to lean into James’ touch, seeking the comfort that came with it but sensing your intentions James quickly pulled his hand back, leaving you desperate for him to touch you.

Your thirst for said touch was quickly satisfied when he gripped your jaw in his hand, pushing your cheeks together, your lips forced out into a pout. You were sure that the grip he had on you was melding bruises into the side of your voice but you couldn’t summon the energy to care.

You were embarrassed to admit that the rough hold James had on you sent a tingle down your spine, a familiar throbbing in your pussy.

“Gonna see how good for me you can actually be,” With those words James pushed your shoulders back onto the bed where you landed with a soft thud, straightening out your legs so that James could grab ahold of your ankles and wind them around his waist, pulling closer to you to trail his lips up the length of your torso. Leaving sloppy open mouthed kisses until he came to your tits, pinching each nipple between his fingers.

He delighted in the little whine you let out at that, using it as an invitation to roll the rosy buds between his fingers before palming your breasts, his large hands engulfing them. James groped the flesh before releasing your tits from his hold, an involuntary whimper leaving your lips at the lack of stimulation before he brought the palms of his hands down against them, smacking them harder than he had your face.

“Fuck,” You breathed, attempting to clench your thighs together but met by the resistance of James’ hips positioned between them.

“Watch your mouth,” James scolded absentmindedly as he returned his mouth to your body, sucking hues of yellow and blue and purple into the soft skin before soothing the marks with his tongue. This gentle touch immediately followed by him nipping harshly at the forming bruises was jarring, jarring enough to have you bucking up into his hips.

“Daddy please,” You’d had enough of the teasing touches and mocking smiles, you’d had enough of it all except for the one thing you really needed, his cock.

“Use your words slut, tell me what you want.”

“Want you please, want your cock. Need it so bad Daddy, so so bad,” You begged unabashedly, scratching your fingernails along his shoulder blades as you tried to pull him closer and closer to you.

“Desperate little cockwhore, want my cock so badly,” James grinned as he pushed himself off both you and the bed, peering down at your frame as he made quick work of the belt of his buckle. The clinking of metal was music to your ears and enough to have you propping yourself up on your elbows to watch him as he disrobed, shedding his clothes faster than any human reasonably should be able to.

Your mouth dropped open as James shed his last piece of clothing, inching his boxers down his muscled thighs until the length of his cock was able to pop out, escaping the restraints of the underwear.

Though he hadn’t been letting on, his prick was all you needed to see to know he was as turned on as you were, just much better at hiding it. A good 8 inches in length his cock stood proud and tall, already engorged with blood the tip was a pretty rose color that seemed to be darkening by the second and you couldn’t help but lick your lips at the very sight of it.

James took immense pleasure in watching your face as he worked his fist up and down his length, relishing in the way your eyes darkened considerably every time the head poked out the top of his fist.

“Hands and knees for me pretty slut,” You pushed yourself into the requested position, arching your back like you knew James would want you to, making sure to push your ass as far up into the air as possible.

You inhaled sharply as you felt the mattress shift, knowing that it was James settling in behind you you felt your pulse speed up, the anticipation was palpable as James smeared the leaking head of his cock over the globes of your ass.

“My whore, letting me rub my cock on her ass, making her all sticky and messy,” James punctuated his remark with a slap to your ass, though not the first time his hands had come down against you that night it for certain came with the most force behind it. You jolted forward at the impact before quickly sliding back into your position.

You could feel the blood rushing to your ass as it warmed under James’ hand which was now rubbing the afflicted area in attempts to soothe the skin. All efforts were in vain though when the hand was drawn back once again and brought down on almost the exact same spot.

This time he managed to pull a strangled gasp from you, the pain only contributing to the heat beginning to boil in the pit of your belly.

“Please,” You whined, arching your back even more and pushing your ass up against James, needing for him to relent and fill you up like you knew he could, “I’m done being patient I just need you.”

“Like you were ever patient, to begin with.”

“I was, I spent all day waiting for you to get up so you could fuck me and-”

Your bratty words had gotten you just what you wanted, James cut you off mid sentence as he pushed his cock into you, not even easing himself in he simply impaled you on his member. Hands found your hips and pulled you back to meet his so that your ass was still high in the air and he could be as deep inside of you as possible.

“Happy now you fucking cockslut? Happy now that Daddy’s fucking his pretty pussy?”

“Y-yes Daddy, your pussy” You stuttered out as the force of James’ thrusts dropped you down from your hands to your elbows, your hair tumbling in front of your face and effectively obscuring your vision.

This issue was quickly fixed as you felt James tug you up by your hair, using it to stabilize himself as he thrusted in and out of your ribbed walls. The friction his movement provided felt incredible, accompanied by the feeling of being full of his cock had the pleasure in your belly continuing to simmer.

If the distinctly wet sound of your pussy was any indicator you were absolutely soaked, James’ rough handling of you only reminding you how big and strong your boyfriend really was, how if he wanted to he could break you.

The pleasure in your belly was building quickly, with every sound of skin slapping against skin you felt your pussy ache, no matter that you were already stuffed full of his cock already. You needed more, you always needed more of him.

“Slutty bunny,” James grunted as he planted his hands on your hips to hold you into place as he lifted his hips, able to reach deeper and deeper inside of you, “Such a whore for my cock, drooling over me all day. Is this what you wanted baby? Wanted Daddy to fuck you?”

“Yes! S’what I wanted, feels so good.”

“Of course it does, cock sluts just need to be full of Daddy’s cock, is that what you want bunny?”

“Yes, Daddy!” You screamed as you felt yourself being pushed further and further towards the edge of orgasm. Dancing dangerously close to the precipice of pleasure, so close you risked cumming without permission, and after hours and hours of desperation, you couldn’t afford to disappoint him.

“Can feel you clenching around me slutty girl, you feel so fucking good around me, it’s like you were made for my cock.”

“I was Daddy, was made for your cock,” You were ready to say anything you needed to in order to get James’ permission to cum. Having abandoned all embarrassment, all shame, you didn’t care how much of a fool you’d make of yourself you just needed to cum.

“That’s right slutty baby, you wanna cum? You wanna cum for Daddy?”

His offer was enough to have you squealing if you weren’t gasping for breath with every powerful thrust, but you summoned the breath from within you to speak just a few simple words, “Yes please, wanna cum, let me cum please Daddy, have needed to cum all day I need it I need it please.”

Taking pity on you due to the desperation conveyed through your words James grunted his assent as he continued pistoning in and out of you. Eyes clenched as he felt your walls spasm around him, not wanting to cum quite yet.

You released a string of curses as you allowed yourself to tip over the edge of pleasure, putting up no resistance as it swallowed you in your entirety. You felt warmth rush through your every nerve as you became painfully aware of every sound and texture around you.

The sounds of James’ low moans, the feeling of the silky sheets against your swaying breasts, the heat that emanated from your partner’s palms which had found sanctuary on the small of your back. It was like it was all sharpened to maximize the pleasure already coursing through your body, the feeling of James still moving in and out of you was intoxicating as your vision began to white over.

The briefly sharpened senses faded, the noise in the room seemed to quiet to a low hum as you came down from your orgasm. But relief wasn’t what you were met with, instead it was James, still buried balls deep inside of you, allowing you to ride out your orgasm completely around his cock.

“Made such a fucking mess,” To prove his point James’ fingers dipped into the slick that had gathered at the apex of your thighs. Bringing the cum covered hand up he swiped the wetness off onto your back, adoring the way you looked covered in your own release.

“Thank you, Daddy,” You blubbered, “Thank you for letting me cum.”

“Not quite done bunny,” James expertly flipped you from your knees onto your back, eyes watching hungrily as your tits bounced, nipples still hard from him playing with them earlier, “Daddy hasn’t cum yet, thinking I’m gonna cum on your pretty tits, look so hot when they bounce for me.”

Once you were settled in on your back James resumed his movements in and out of your cunt, he too was quickly approaching his release and the feeling of you around him was absolutely heavenly.

“So fucked out for me baby,” James grunted as his right hand found your throat, long fingers curling around your neck easily before squeezing lightly, watching the way your eyes went wide, “Stupid slut’s dumb on my cock. Giving you what you asked for and you’re too dumb to even try to work for it, I’ve gotta do all the work.”

You whined out at his degradation, squirming underneath him as his assault on your cunt overstimulated you to the brink of a second orgasm.

“G-gonna cum again Daddy,” You warned him, eyes fluttering shut as pleasure overwhelmed each of your senses. Even the room reeked of sex.

“Are you there baby? Gonna cum twice before Daddy’s even cum once, greedy little thing,” James squeezed harder on your throat to the point where your mind became even fuzzier and a new sort of cloud settled over your mind. Just as the fuzz was beginning to get to be too much he released his hold on your throat.

Feeling himself approach orgasm James pulled out of your pussy, his hand quickly finding his cock and pumping it up and down as quickly as his wrist would allow him.

“Gonna cum on your tits baby, gonna cum all over your titties,” He moaned as he straddled your waist, continuing to work his cock in his hand.

“Fuck, m’gonna cum,” You closed your eyes as rope after rope of hot, white cum was shot across your tits, a few landing higher up on your body decorating your neck and one even reaching the side of your cheek.

“That’s it, that’s a good girl.”

You whined as the cum decorated your skin, making you even more pathetic looking than you already were.

“My slutty baby looks so pretty covered in my cum,” James smirked, collecting a line of cum off your chest on his finger before bringing the digit to your already parted lips. You dutifully sucked the digit into your mouth, swirling your tongue around it before he pulled it from the warm cavity.

“M’not slutty,” You insisted.

“No? What kinda good girl lets her Daddy cum all over her then?”

You were silent, too gone to even begin to pick that fight.

“That’s right like I said, you’re my dumb slut.”

tagging:@randomoutsiders @weasleyposts @amourtentiaa @kittykylax @superbturtlemakerathlete @oliviashea05 @pinkandblueblurbs @st0nesnglitter @thatvenusbabe @itsmentalillness @zzzfour @greenlyblue @emmaev @temporaryissue @gubleryum @msmb @miraclesoflove @velmasteas @drachoesimp @ashlovesthemarauders @artemis1orion @skaratjung @ava-brooke-blog1 @fairyprettygirly @ohwowimlonley @padfootswife @roonilwazlibswhore

#James potter x reader #James potter x you #james potter x y/n #james potter fanfic #james potter fanfiction #harry potter fanfic #harry potter fanfiction #marauders #marauders x reader #harry potter imagine #james potter #marauders fanfic #James potter smut

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enhypia · 3 years

Text

° 𐐪𐑂 ₒ ˚ SN ; i watched it begin again

maybe love doesn't always break, and burn, and end.

pairing: kim sunoo x fem!reader

genre: fluff, mild angst

word count: roughly 2.3k

⊱ ── {⋅. ♪ .⋅begin again⋅. ♪ .⋅ } ── ⊰

series masterlist ⸺ enhypen masterlist

isa ; first encounter

“sunoo!” It was too late, he already collided with you sending you both guys to the floor. “i’m so sorry i wasn’t looking where i was going! are you alright? are you okay? do you need to go to the clinic?” he rambled in panic.

you snorted and grabbed the hand he was offering and he carefully helped you get back up. “it’s okay, no worries, and i’m fine” you assured him but he still had a pure look of guilt plastered on his face. “sorry about that (y/n), i was too late in warning him” jake appeared right beside him looking apologetic as well.

you waved off their apologies as you were really fine. “ah, i’m sunoo btw, kim sunoo, i just recently transferred” you smiled at him and shook his hand. “oh so you’re the rumored transferee, i’m (y/n), (l/n) (y/n)”

sunoo’s face paled, “(y/n)?… t-the student council president?” he sputtered. jake laughed at his reaction and clapped his back. “they have the power to give detention sunoo~~” he teased.

you chuckled at the joke and gave sunoo a reassuring smile “yeah, the council's been busy lately due to some people and their friends” jake avoided your look, “that’s why i couldn’t greet you at your first day and sent one of the members instead, sorry”

“it’s okay !! jungwon was really nice and very patient with me” you nodded in satisfaction. you glanced at the clock behind him and realized you were going to be late for the meeting.

“ah i have a meeting to attend. jake tell jay to go to the student council room if you see him. it was nice meeting you sunoo! i hope we can talk more in the future” you waved goodbye and hurriedly went on with your way.

“she’s pretty” sunoo says and jake chortles “you��re not the only one who thinks so but i have to warn you already buddy, (y/n) doesn’t do romance”

“i just said she was pretty!”

“i know but i’m just warning just in case it gets deeper”

dalawa ; so it begins

“oh? student pres?” you looked up from your notes to see a pair of fox eyes staring at you. “sunoo? what are you doing here?” you facepalmed at your question. “it’s a public cafe and it’s open for everybody, that was a dumb question sorry”

sunoo look at you in amusement, “it’s okay, i understand what you were trying to say. i’m here to review actually” you perked up at his statement. “oh! would you like to join me? i’m reviewing as well”

“are you sure? i don't want to be a bother" he says sheepishly. "nonsense, i don't mind your company" he smiled widely at your statement. you went ahead and moved your stuff so he could have adequate space for his.

after seeing he has settled you got back to reviewing, sometimes pausing to have a drink or have a bite of your food. and as you were re-writing your notes you couldn't help but get distracted by the small huffs of frustration you've been hearing from sunoo.

looking up from your work you saw him sporting furrowed eyebrows and a pout as he stared intently at his notes.

"did your notes do something to you?" you joked suddenly getting his attention. he chuckled at your teasing and let out a sigh. "these are jay hyung's notes and i can't understand his handwriting" you burst out laughing but quickly clamped your mouth with your hand to not disturb the other customers of the cafe. "sorry, sorry-" you say in between laughs while attempting to calm yourself.

sunoo grins at your reaction, it's a new sight to him since he always only see the professional side of you.

"what subject is that?" you ask upon calming down. "creative writing" you nodded and rummaged through your bag and handed him your notes. "here, you can use mine instead" sunoo visibly brightens up as he grabs it from you.

"thank you so much! i promise i'll take care of them with my whole life" he says seriously making you snort. "yeah yeah, let's get back to reviewing" you say turning your attention back to your work.

comfortable silence surrounds sunoo and you until you hear him stifling. you ignored it at first but then you see him shaking from your peripherals, finally looking up you see he was heavily trying to silence his laugh and you could only stare at him in confusion.

"your- your- pfffft" you chuckle at his state, "my what?"

he pointed at your notes and it dawned on you why he was laughing. you immediately felt your face heat up in embarrassment making you cover yourself with your hands. you wanted nothing more than to be buried alive.

you had forgotten that you would add little remarks about certain points as it made you remember them better.

"i-i lost it at 'this word smells like mr. sam's breath'" sunoo says while taking deep breaths to stop himself from laughing. "i'm so sorry, i forgot i wrote those oh my god" you apologized.

"what are you apologizing for?! these are gold!" he exclaims, his statement making you falter. "your remarks are really funny student pres. definitely helps in remembering"

"oh" sunoo instantly sobered up upon seeing your reaction. "did i say something wrong?" he asked worriedly. you smile and shook your head "no, but those notes stay between us kim sunoo, don't make me abuse my student president powers" you threatened jokingly. sunoo grinned and gave you a salute in reply.

tatlo ; unknowingly it continues

and it happened again. sunoo and you had no agreement or whatsoever but somehow, wednesdays were reserved for your guys cafe study sessions. you couldn't call them dates as it wasn't really established that they were dates.

you guys had just simply silently created a schedule. it's funny because even if there's nothing to study or to review, you and sunoo would still appear in the cafe, just like right now.

"oh so you and soobin-oppa knew of each other?" he nodded and took a sip of his coffee. "he was the one who suggested i transfer to the school after hearing that i was moving here"

you understood now why soobin had messaged you saying to take care of sunoo and you had just promised him that you will at that time despite not knowing who sunoo was.

"this is off topic but i have a question" sunoo fiddled with his fingers, you gestured for him to continue. "there's been things going around about you and i'm not sure if you've heard." you raise an eyebrow at him while sipping your drink.

"and i wanted to hear from you if they're true or not. i mean i'm not pressuring you to explain or anything, it's just that i respect you, you know? and i hate that people are talking about you behind your back and i can't defend you since i don't know whether what they're saying are facts or rumors and-" you chuckled, effectively cutting off his rambling.

"it's okay sun, i understand. tell me what's been going around about me" you smiled reassuringly. sunoo runs his hand through his hair and gives you a tight smile.

"first was that you cheated on your previous relationship" your jaw clenched at his statement. "what else?" you say through gritted teeth.

"some argued saying that it was you who was cheated on and that you had publicly broken up with the guy" you sighed and roughly rubbed your face in frustration. "are there more?"

"nothing more other than there are people who are countering the rumors saying that you were never in a relationship to begin with" sunoo apologized after you let out another sigh.

"i'm sorry, (y/n). i asked them where they got it from but they couldn't give me a straight answer" you waved off his apology seeing as he never did anything wrong. in fact he did more right by asking you instead of just believing what he heard.

"the first one is false, the second one is partially true, i never broke up with him publicly" you say after seconds of tension-filled silence. sunoo let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. "okay. i'm sorry you went through that, you don't deserve it"

"you're not going to ask why? or what happened?" he smiled softly and shook his head 'no' in reply. "like i said, you don't have to explain anything to me. i want you to tell me when you're ready"

you almost cried, those who knew about your previous relationship had instantly pestered you about happened, not even giving you enough time and space for it. "thanks sun, i appreciate it"

apat ; finally, the realization

it was a holiday, and it was wednesday. and something's been bugging you since this morning and it hadn't occurred to you until an hour past lunch. wednesdays are your meetups with sunoo, thus here you are now biting your lip anxiously as your finger waved over sunoo's contact.

you were deciding on whether or not you should ask him if he still wanted to go to the cafe despite the holiday because frankly for you it feels like your wednesday wouldn't be complete if you didn't see him.

you sighed and was about to decide not to bother him but suddenly your phone rang. you let out a small squeak in surprise and your eyes widen upon seeing that it was sunoo. you cleared your throat before answering, "hello?"

"(y/n), hi!" a smile instantly graces your face upon hearing his voice. "to what do i owe the pleasure?"

sunoo chuckles before asking "do you still want to meet up at the cafe later? around 3 maybe?" you couldn't help but blush because this was the first time he actually asked you, the previous were all unspoken.

"yes! i mean, yeah, i'd love to. i was just about to ask you actually." sunoo raised his fist up in the air in success knowing that he got to ask first.

"great! it's a date." he had never ended a call so fast in his entire life. sunoo cupped his cheeks as they warm up. he lets out a sigh and hopes that you actually heard what he said.

you did. and you've been staring at your phone gaping. "date?" you repeated into the air. you grinned and skipped all the way to your room in giddiness. "oh my fucking god what do i wear ?!" panic tore through your body.

"bye mom! i'll text you when i'm on my way home" you called out before closing your door. you fiddled with the hem of your dress, this is probably the first time sunoo will see you out of your uniform.

the constant clacking of your heels on the pavement somewhat calmed your nerves. you checked the time and saw it was exactly 3PM and you were about 5 steps away from the cafe so you were sure he still wasn't there.

your brain awakens at the familiar smell of coffee and freshly baked pastries. you turn to walk to your usual table and almost froze upon seeing sunoo already there, waving cutely to you.

you had also forgotten that this would also be your first time seeing him out of the uniform. and god was he stunning, the uniform absolutely does not give him enough justice.

you waved back as you walk towards him and you try to hide your shock when he pulls your seat back for you. "thank you" you say sincerely.

"i already ordered for us, i hope you don't mind" he says sheepishly. "one large-" he cuts you off by reciting your usual order perfectly. your mouth opens slightly before chuckling and nodding. "yeah, okay, thank you sun" he melts at the smile you give him.

and just like that, you guys fall to your usual pace, only this time there's much more fondness in both your eyes but unfortunately both of you are too oblivious to see it. it doesn't hit you until sunoo excuses himself to the bathroom.

he had left his phone on the table and it lit up due to a notification, you hadn't meant to see it, but his wallpaper was the picture you guys took of your shadows. you immediately excused yourself to go to the bathroom as well when he came back.

you groaned seeing the obvious blush on your face. you ran a one hand through your hair while the other fans your face so your blush would go down. your mind and heart were running miles.

it's been months since you've felt like this and it's scaring you more than it should. after a few seconds of breathing deeply, you went back to your table. upon seeing you, sunoo gets off his phone and greets you with his signature smile.

all your effort to calm your heart went down the drain.

"uhm, pres., i'm not sure if you heard me earlier but i just wanted to clarify in case you didn't, but i uh- i consider this a date." yup you were definitely blushing again.

"i mean, only if you want it to be as well? is that how this works? like i don't want to pressure you into anything so if you want this to be just like our usual hangouts that's okay but-" his hands started to flail around as he ranted so to stop him you grabbed them and it effectively does shut him down.

literally, sunoo is not functioning with the way you're gently grasping his hands, and all he could do is stare.

you realize you guys are both frozen in place due to your actions so you quickly pull away blushing.

"it's uhm, it's okay with me, i want this to be a date as well" you say after clearing your throat, you shyly glance at him to see his reaction and you weren't prepared for the soft smile on his face. "okay, yeah, that's great"

you're utterly scared, you feel like puking and running away. you've spent months resenting love because all it does is break, and burn, and end.

but the way sunoo is looking at you makes you think otherwise.

it's on wednesday, in a cafe, where you watched it begin again.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ♫ ⋅.} ───── ⊰

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@soobin-chois

(send an ask or dm me if you want to be added, either on the permanent taglist or the series taglist, thank you!)

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a/n: uhh, i'm back? sorry for disappearing suddenly, im trying to get my writing spirit back. can't give up now i have so much planned. anyways !! the second round of tunes are finish owo. please look forward to my future works <33

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maastrash · 3 years

Note

Person A and Person B are friends and neither of them have a date for Valentine’s Day, so they decide to order takeout of some kind and watch a movie together. At some point, hidden feelings are revealed. umm elorcan, obvi, because i am nothing if not predictable 🤪

isa... babe... i swear i actually did start writing this around Valentine's day... but... i am CLEARLY a mess.... please accept my VERY late elorcan present 😳

Valentine's Day Confessions

a/n: surprise i am alive ;)

Elide cursed as she grabbed the steaming hot popcorn bag from the microwave. The decadent buttery scent filled her cozy apartment as she poured it into her favorite mixing bowl. She was about to pour in the m&m’s when she remembered who exactly was joining her tonight - Lorcan. And her friend was not a fan of chocolate. If you asked her, the man simply had no taste.

It was Valentine’s Day and the pair had decided to have a singles awareness celebration. Since their entire friend group was filled with couples they were each other’s only source of company on this dreaded day. Truthfully, Elide despised Valentine’s day. Seeing countless couple posts on Instagram and stupid lovey-dovey shit everywhere only made her more bitter. She hadn’t had a boyfriend in a long time - too long. If she was being honest, she had always thought Lorcan would make a move on her one day. Though at this point, it had been years of banter and flirting with absolutely nothing else, so she had pretty much lost all hope. She would just have to accept that she would forever be in the friend zone, but of course, that was easier said than done.

She settled into the couch with her favorite stuffed animal when the doorbell rang. Lorcan, she assumed.

“It’s open,” she called.

“Elide, I could have been a killer,” Lorcan chastised as he took off his leather jacket and shoes at the front.”

“What killer rings the doorbell?” she shot back.

“Ok fair point,” he said, quickly settling down next to her.

“What do you wanna watch?” she asked, turning to Netflix.

Lorcan shrugged, “Your house your rules El.”

“Lorcan,” she grumbled. “You know I’m too indecisive for this.”

He had the audacity to laugh at her misery, “I know, but it’s funny watching you struggle.”

“I already know no romance movies. I’ve already seen enough lovey Snapchat stories to last a lifetime.”

“Agreed. Did you see all the shit Rowan and Aelin have been posting?” Lorcan asked with a laugh.

Elide laughed too. “Can’t be worse than Lysandra and Aedion.”

Maybe they were just cynical because they were both single, but at the moment Elide didn’t care. It was fun to joke around with Lorcan.

“Let’s watch an action movie then,” Lorcan suggested.

“John wick?” Elide asked, already clicking play.

Lorcan smiled, “Sounds like a plan.”

The movie had barely begun before Lorcan was shifting his massive frame to lay down, placing his head on Elide’s lap.

"Lorcan," she groaned. “You’re heavy as fuck.”

He mockingly gasped, “I’ll have you know I’m on a diet Elide Lochan.”

“It’s your absurd height, stupid,” she whacked him, but he was laughing the whole time.

“You’re warm,” Lorcan whined, sounding much like the five-year-olds that Elide taught every day.

“I have blankets right over there,” she said, gesturing to the basket overflowing with various throws.

Lorcan only stretched his legs out and adjusted himself on her lap. “If you don’t get up I’m gonna sit over there,” she said motioning to the new armchair she recently bought.

“When did you get that?” he asked, finally speaking.

“A few days ago because you literally take up the whole couch when we hang out.” She actually got it for decoration, but bantering with Lorcan was entertaining.

“You’re dramatic Lochan.”

“I’m dramatic?” Elide asked, as she stood. “I’ll show you dramatic.”

She walked to the armchair and plopped down crossing her arms and legs.

She was about to add another dramatic remark, but before she could she felt the chair give way. Suddenly, she was on the floor.

“Ouch,” she mumbled, once she registered the pain she felt on her ass.

“Elide, are you okay?” Lorcan asked, making his way over.

“Yeah I’m fine,” she muttered. “But I am never buying Ikea furniture again.”

In all honesty, it was probably her faulty building skills, but she was not going to admit that at the moment.

She tried to stand but pain shot up her ankle. She had landed on it weirdly, due to her dramatic crossed leg position.

“Wait for me Lochan,” Lorcan said as he carefully picked her up bridal style from the ruins of what once was her armchair.

“I could’ve walked,” she said softly against his chest.

That made Lorcan chuckle. “You were barely standing, El. You would have hobbled at best,” he said gently, placing her on the couch. "Let me get some ice. Your ankle already looks pretty swollen."

“I think it's just aggravated. Old wound,” she tried to say it with a smile, but it probably looked more like a grimace.

Lorcan’s eyes softened in understanding. “Ice won’t hurt though.”

Elide nodded and Lorcan took to the kitchen freezer in search of ice. He returned moments later with a bag of frozen peas wrapped haphazardly in a paper towel. He helped situate her ankle on a pillow so it was elevated and gingerly placed the bag on top.

“Shit that’s cold,” Elide couldn’t help but hiss.

Lorcan laughed softly and Elide smiled. Lorcan’s laugh was one of her favorite sounds. It was rare to see him smile and laugh openly when they were with their other friends, but when it was just them she saw it more often. She liked to think that it was because he was comfortable enough with her to show the real Lorcan.

“That’s the point, Lochan.”

“Get us some drinks, Salveterre,” she chuckled. “There is no better medicine than alcohol.”

“Whatever you say, boss,”

“I have a bottle of wine on the top shelf,” Elide called when she heard Lorcan rustling around.

“Got it,” Lorcan said, returning with a cup of wine. A cup.

“I was too lazy to find the glass,” he said in response to the look she gave him.

Elide stuck her tongue out at him before accepting the cup. “Let’s drink every time Keanu Reeves shoots someone,” she suggested.

“Elide, I think you would throw up if we did that.”

Elide rolled her eyes, “I’m not as much of a lightweight as I was in college, Lorcan.”

He raised a brow at her statement. “We’ll see about that."

As he expected, it had barely been 20 minutes, and Elide was already a giggling mess.

It only took 10 more for her head to fall on Lorcan’s shoulder.

And after another 10 minutes, Elide was onto the honesty.

She had hung out with Lorcan one on one many times, but nothing as intimate as a movie night on Valentine’s day where they were practically cuddling.

“Ok Salveterre truth or dare,” Elide slurred, turning to look at him.

“Elide the movie isn’t over yet,” he said pointing to the screen.

Elide gave him a look and paused the movie, “I’m too drunk to pay attention, plus we’ve watched this movie like five times,”

“Fine,” He laughed, giving in, “I say dare.”

“I dare you,” she said, poking him in the chest, “To kiss me.”

Lorcan almost spit out his wine. “Elide, you are way too drunk to be saying things like that.”

“I’m serious,” she said, setting her wine cup down for emphasis.

“I’ve wanted to kiss you since the day I met you, but you clearly only want to be friends.”

“Elide -”

“I know I’m not your type,” she said, her eyes dropping to the floor. “It’s fine, we can forget about this and blame it on the alcohol. It doesn’t have to be weird between us.”

She felt his hands on her chin, tilting it so they made eye contact.

“I’ve wanted to kiss you since the day I met you too. Elide Lochan, you are smart, kind, and pretty much out of my league in every single way. ”

She felt her cheeks flush at his admission. “Please just kiss me already, Salvettere.”

Without another word, his lips were on hers. Soft and sweet, a perfect first kiss, but she wanted more. She kissed him harder and opened her mouth. He took the hint, his tongue sweeping into her mouth. He pulled her closer, her heart was beating wildly against his.

Elide shifted so she was straddling his lap. She grinded against him and let herself get lost in the way he felt. The way he made her feel.

Lorcan shifted slightly as if he was going to lay her down. It would have been perfect, but Elide’s ankle turned too quick and she grimaced, breaking the kiss for a moment, but that’s all it took for Lorcan to pull back.

“Shit. Sorry, Lochan. I forgot about your ankle.”

“No I’m fine,” she panted breathlessly, trying to pull him back in.

“Maybe we should stop for tonight,” he said, brushing the hair from her eyes.

Elide grumbled, “stupid cock blocking ankle.”

Lorcan laughed again. “I can get you set up in your bed before I head out.”

Elide couldn’t help the pout, “Stay please?” she asked, wrapping her arms around his chest.

He smiled softly. “Anything for you, El.”

They readjusted on the couch so they were facing each other, this time cautious of Elide’s ankle. Lorcan pressed a soft kiss to her forehead and Elide tucked herself closer to his side. It wasn’t long before both of them became drowsy thanks to the alcohol and their heartfelt confessions.

And as Elide began drifting off to sleep in Lorcan’s arms, she knew this is how she wanted to spend every night for the rest of her life.

Tags: @illyriangarbage // @court-of-fuck-me-daddy // @girlnovels // @julesherondalex // @ifangirlninja // @dreamerforever-5 // @queen-of-wings-and-fire // @rhysanoodle // @jemma-nessian-and-elriel // @books-and-words-addict-blog // @nightinshadow // @wolffrising // @the-regal-warrior // @dreamingofalba // @abillionlittlepieces // @alitzeldiaz // @kylizzles // @queenmaas // @illyrian-bookworm // @aspillofstars // @b00kworm // @tswaney17 // @girl-who-reads-the-books // @theshadowsinger-and-thefawn // // @perseusannabeth // @sweetlyvillainous // @awesomelena555 // @notyournymphetish // @ladywitchling // @aesthetics-11 // @sjmships // @iammissstark // @illyrianwitchling13 // @moondancer-204 // @sjm-things // @foolsinlovex // @sayosdreams // @welcometothespeaknowworldtour // @stardelia // @julemmaes // @thewayshedreamed // @texas-shaped-waffle-maker // @keshavomit // @superspiritfestival // @wannawriteyouabook // @verryberriess // @courtofjurdan // @bookstantrash // @sannelovesreading // @ahappyhistorianreader // @cass-nes // @my-fan-side // @junsuichow // @sleeping-and-books // @yumna402 // @lordof-bloodshed // @emcarstairs578 // @gisellefigue08 // @maybekindasortaace // @starborn-faerie-queen // @empire-of-wildfire // @loveofbooksandwine // @sanakapoor // @silentquartz // @a-omgnaomithings-love // @aimee1602 // @jlinez // @creamcheesechicken // @steamedlattes // @sahsahprova // @elriel4life //

#elorcan #car answers #nalgenewhore #elorcan fic

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avvail · 3 years

Note

Hi!! I wanted to say that you are honestly one of the BEST, if not the best hero x villain writers on tumblr that I enjoy! Your content is so refreshing and so well written that I cant be grateful enough for the amount of effort you put in. Which brings me to asking you a favour if you dont mind 🥴 can you continue the captured prince prompt that you wrote a while ago?

This one: https://poisonmask.tumblr.com/post/645130733112950784/gingerly-writing-okay-so-which-one-of-you-do-i

It was so good that I read it about a month ago and i still keep thinking about it. If not, that’s cool. Thank you so much!

prompt fill #2: part two

tw: imprisonment, non-con drugging

Tense. It was evident.

The way his shoulders were stiff, expression tight with each movement of his jaw. He didn’t squirm in the seat, only perched there rigidly, eyes fixated ahead of him with a deadly glare.

“Relax,” the general purred, an intricately patterned golden wine glass slotted comfortably in his two fingers. “A dinner is far too boring if you act like a deer caught in the headlights.”

Oscar’s fingers dug into his thighs, grinding his teeth together to stop himself from lashing out. Though at dinner alone, guards were scattered among the lengthy hall, posted on either side of each door there seemed to be. A ploy to stop him escaping, no doubt. Under such provision, he didn’t stand a chance.

The general’s head tilted to the side, his lips curling into a sly smirk. Oscar glared.

And his biggest, most intricate obstacle, was the general himself.

“Care for some wine, my love?” He coaxed, a disgusting, sickly sweet edge to his tone. The glint in his shimmering eyes sent a shiver hurdling down Oscar’s spine, his intention anything but pleasant. Though a remark was on the edge of his lips, a figure cloaked in black, with silent feet, was beside him, pouring the crimson liquid into his own cup.

Oscar’s glare fell, down to the plate of food in front of him, the smell intoxicating. The steam rose towards his face, such a delightful sight almost making him dizzy.

“I suppose Isa doesn’t feed her little subjects as nicely as they deserve,” the general perked up, disinterested eyes having scanned the guarded doors. “After all that you do for that witch.”

“Don’t you dare talk about her like that.”

The general eyes rose, glinting mischievously. “Oh? Did that strike a nerve? She was always quite the manipulator.”

Oscar could feel his bones rattling, fury rippling just under the confines of his own skin. The general seemed to find it all so amusing, cunning smirk rising to his lips as he raised the wine glass to his lips. He took a delicate sip, before setting the cup down on the table, throwing one leg over the other.

“Eat.”

Oscar winced at the sharp tone. The general rose a brow. “Did you not hear me? I told you to eat.”

The table was certainly brimming with piping hot food Oscar had felt he’d never seen before—it had been rather overwhelming to glance upon the sheer scale of content. Only for the best. Defiance was evident as Oscar levelled his gaze with the general.

“Would you rather I feed you?” He hummed playfully, swiping a gloved hand across his upturned lips. “That’s adorable.”

Oscar’s cheeks burned, visibly taken back by the statement. The sheer humiliation settled for a brief moment, before he abruptly snatched up the cutlery in his bandaged hands, metal clanging against the ceramic plate. His brows remained in a wrinkle as he dug into his plate of food, the splendid taste bursting in his mouth. His eyes widened, warmth tingling in his chest.

The general’s laughter yanked him from his momentary shock. “You should see the look on your face! Gosh, that’s quite cute. I was only joking about Isa not feeding you, you know? I’m starting to think it rings true.”

Oscar’s shoulder went slack, eyes snapping upwards. “You’re not permitted to speak of Isa like that.”

“Why?” The general snorted. “Because she said so?”

His jaw tightened, resisting the urge to lash out. His goal was to get a rise out of the general, not the other way around. Silence fell as they continued with their meal, and Oscar settled back into his chair, sipping at his wine. It tasted sweet, and he couldn’t help but tip it down.

“Why am I here?”

“Because you are a spy, and was foolishly caught,” the general raised a brow, setting his knife down. Oscar’s blood boiled.

“No, not— I mean here. Right now, with you.” The general was merely gazing at him with an encouraging smile, and so he took that as an opening to continue. “I am your enemy. And yet you’ve treated my injuries, given me a room, gone as far as to host a dinner for me. I don’t understand your motive. What do you want from me?”

The frustrated edge to Oscar’s tone was difficult to hold back, creeping up stubbornly with each slurred drag of his words. He blinked heavily, cheeks flushed. The general rose from his seat, a flash of a smirk dancing on his lips. “I told you, did I not? That I would teach you some manners.”

His heels were muffled against the red carpet, but the careful and calculated steps were still ringing in Oscar’s ears, shooting a cold chill through his skull. His fingers fumbled to grasp the armchair, growing suddenly cautious at his advancing steps.

“What better way, than to tend to you like a caretaker,” he drawled, gloved fingers brushing against the underside of Oscar’s chin,” to coax you into a false sense of security, make you believe you’re safe…”

The room was spinning. The wine glass felt incredibly weighted in his fingers, slipping from his hands and plummeting towards the floor. The glass shards smashed, crimson soaking into the carpets and staining the floors. When had it become so hot?

The presence behind his chair stung, fingers brushing along the flush of his cheeks, digging into the skin until his head was tilted backwards, the chandelier a blur in his vision.

“...before I completely and utterly break you, until you’re begging for me to show you mercy.”

Oscar blinked sluggishly, his bottom lip quivering as a distinguishable amount of terror shot through his heart. The general eyes glinted, thumb brushing against Oscar’s lips with care.

“That expression.” He purred, bracelets jangling around his wrists. “You, my dear pet, are going to be so much fun.”

part three

#ask #continuation #not a prompt #writing snippet #my writing #writing #creative writing #hero and villain #hero x villain #heroes and villains #fantasy #drugged #spy #general #war #writers of tumblr #writers on tumblr

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theinconveniencing · 4 years

Text

we all knew this was coming and I’m a sentimental bitch. I just wanted to write all my mutuals some little messages about how much I love you. you guys have changed my life and I am so grateful for each and every one of you!!!💕💞💓💗💖💘 anygays have fun searching for yourself in this mess and I’m sorry for any typos, I’m illiterate (and if i forgot you it’s because i lost my brain in 1912)

@cr1spyy fernanda, my first ever mutual. who would have thought that your 5th wave posts would have brought one of the most amazing people in my life to me. your posts always make me laugh and your dedication to the good morning asks is admirable (fr I could never have that much consistency) you’re so kind to everybody and you’re absolutely beautiful and incredible and I fucking love you so much. I honestly don’t even want to think about what my life would be like if I had never met you, MWAH💕🤍

@sundaymorninghangover I remember you being my first ever note!! you liked this post I made that was a reblog of a “uquiz” that was actually a rickroll lmao. you didn’t even follow me back then but whatever. Then I remember waking up one day to see that you had tagged me in a bingo ask game and I was like “ummm tf is an ask game” but I do still have a bingo card for it that I never used ekenksjs. anygays, you have good opinions on everything and you’re absolutely fucking hilarious. If you told me back in may that I would be friends with you I wouldn’t believe it bc you intimidated me but regardless I’m glad to be an arson gang member with you. your memes are god tier and so is your music taste. I love you whore!!!!!🖤💜

@sound-and-colors ma’am you’re so nice and for what??? the aesthetic stuff that you reblog is *chef’s kiss* and nobody else is out there doing it like you. we’ve never talked but I just know that you are absolutely incredible mwah❤️💛

@embeddedinmybrain tasfia you are the nicest person on his hellsite and you know it (I hope). It was so much fun being your secret admirer anon while it lasted, like fr I loved it. Your art is beautiful just like your heart and i honestly don’t know what I did to deserve such a kind soul like you in my life. You’re always there to hype me up and ily (also just cut your own hair already I believe in you)🤍💙

@gumptin you hooked me with your suus icon and reeled me in by being the coolest and funniest person ever. your posts are consistently hilarious, accurate, or relatable and I admire that. I mean it when I say you’re one of the coolest people on here. idk what I did to have you think I’m cool but I’m honored nonetheless. also you have really awesome style and hair jdnjdjdjd mwah💚💛

@nori-in-pink first and foremost, your blog always has a very nice aesthetic and I feel like I need to acknowledge that. anyway, you are so kind and supportive and you don’t take any bullshit and that is absolutely amazing. you are absolutely iconic and always reblog the best stuff so I know I can count on your blog to be fantastic. you used to scare me (idk why don’t ask) but now I know that you’re just a big teddy bear ily💗💜

@matteohnora my slurpee queen and my mememate!! you always send me the funniest shit and it doesn’t go unappreciated. You’re always there for me with a silly meme or emotional support and I don’t think I’ve ever told you how grateful I am for that. whenever you stalk my blog it makes my heart go whooosh and I feel so special. Ily and I am so glad to have met you💜❤️

@lieverobbe ah yes, the girl with the impeccable music taste. that’s what I know you as, oh well. you are more talented and kind than you could ever believe and your edits are amazing!!! whenever I see you on my dash I get all happy bc I’m like “em’s here!!!” I love all your lil posts and I am so glad that you are my mutual ilyyyyy💙🤍

@ironymane you’ve watched limitless which automatically makes you amazing. you’re an absolutely incredible and amazing person and even tho you aren’t on here as much anymore, I still love youre lil posts. And one time you kept me entertained on a 6hr car ride so you deserve some kind of award for that. ly🧡💛

@kingarthurpendragons okay the obvious thing to talk about here is your incredible talent when it comes to gif making. Like how in the hell- but you are also so kind and loving and it doesn’t go unnoticed. You don’t have to send nice asks but you do and ily for it mwah!!❤️💗

@engelkeijsers the skam nl stan that we all deserve to have in our lives. you are so fucking hilarious and relatable and all around amazing and for what? your posts always put a smile on my face and it is so much fun to clown with you. ilyyyy💚💛

@happiness-isin-you let’s ignore the fact that it took me forever to realize that this was your main lmao. your art is some of the most beautiful shit I’ve ever seen. like your style is so cool???? I could literally go on about this for hours don’t test me. the cute animal pictures are the absolute best and you’re always there for emotional support. Ilyyyyyyy💛❤️

@isakyaqi fiz you are so kind and talented and cool and I really do mean all that. You reblog always the best of content so I know I can trust it. you always put nice tags in the things you reblog things and it’s fun to read what you write because it’s almost always you hyping up the creator or the thing itself. you are awesome jdjdjdndjjd mwah🖤🤎

@cash-queens sam oh sam. Idek where to start with how much ily. You’re my famous mutual which is very iconic of you and you put up with my cat pictures and my silly antics and my riverdale posts. You’re so kind to me and everybody and whenever I make a post when I’m having a mental breakdown you’re always there to make sure that I’m doing okay. That def doesn’t go unappreciated. You’re legitimately one of the kindest and most amazing people I’ve ever known and I love you so much, more than you could ever know💛🤍

@welcometo-saturn çağrı you’re so cool. end of statement. that’s all I have to say about it. your gifs are so beautiful and you don’t take shit from anybody. you’re so down to earth that it makes it seem like you’re somebody who I’ve just always known (even tho we’ve never talked sjdjdjdjdj) so yeah anyway, you’re are a really awesome person with really good opinions and I am so glad that we are mutuals🧡❤️

@amifeelingokay it’s difficult not to start with your url bc it’s amazing and I love it. your skam posts are always so nice and cute and positive (just like you!!) and I love them. the content you reblog is always aesthetic or a nice text post and I just love your blog okay. ily💜🖤

@isthatelpome you’re so nice that I’m willing to overlook your opinion on salt and vinegar chips (they’re not good I’ll fight you on that) your dani icon is beautiful just as you are, mwahhhh🧡❤️

@earthling-isa babe you are so cute with your lil edits and your clowning. the near constant black and white aesthetic is very iconic and i love it. you’re a suus stan so I have no choice but to love you for it. i absolutely adore your gifs, especially the ones with the lil squares in the middle fygzbgut. you are absolutely beautiful and incredible and kind and I love you MWAHHHH🖤💙

@grey-mist-exist okay we’ve never talked but you seem like such a rad person. not cool but like rad (there are are subtle differences) your art is beautiful even tho idk the quotes (go off smarty pants) and overall you are just really rad, idk how else to say it mwah!!!🤍🖤<pretend it’s a grey heart

@fatoudixon hey look it’s one of the most talented people here!!! You’ve always been so kind and supportive of me and I really really do appreciate it. you have good opinions on everything and did I mention that you’re talented?? cause you are, very. Your reaction videos are amazing and not to mention iconic, just like your hair. anyway, ily and I am so glad that I have somebody as amazing as you as my mutual💙💛

@sander-klaas you are so kind and and you have so much passion. I can always trust you reblog only the best of wtfock and sobbe content which I am very grateful for. you literally just started making gifs and they are so beautiful (okay it was like months ago but whatever dkdjdjjdjdj) anyway, thank you so much for being my mutual mwah❤️💛

@jusdekiwi okay we’ve never talked but you genuinely seem like such a sweet person??? I love the stuff you reblog, it’s always the best gif sets. idk I can just tell you have good taste. I hope to get to know you better in the future, but for now I am very grateful to have you💚💙

@kritiquer my twin!!! you and I have a lot in common so ofc I love you. I’m joking obviously.... anygays you are always so supportive of everybody and you are so sweet. I love all of your personal posts, it always makes me really happy to see what you’re up to and how you’re feeling. I also like the aesthetic stuff you reblog, I have bad taste in all that, clearly you don’t. I am so glad that we started talking and I hope that we continue! ily kit!!!!💜🤍

@bleachblondebitches you aren’t on here that much, but whenever you are I get so happy! Your gifs are beautiful and I think about your sobbe and booksmart parallels gifset every day. you have amazing taste in movies and I love you!💜💙

@lesbeanfatou clara!!! bitch!!!! You already know how much I love you but I guess I’ll reiterate. I honestly don’t know what I did before I knew you. I always remember looking at the no idea blog with the Nora icons like “who is this?” Little did I know back then that you would be one of my closest friends. your support of me means the world and I am so grateful for you. I’m so glad that I have somebody in my life like you to talk to and be friends with. you are one of the funniest people in and I just love you so much I could burst mwah❤️🧡

@gucciboner okay hiii ypu are literally so fucking kind and funny, i admire your sense of humor sm. your art is so beautiful and you are so goddamn talented, it never ceases to amaze me. I also love all the little funny posts you make and reblog!! ily💙💗

@helmtaryn even though you put supernatural on my dash, I am willing to forgive you bc I love you so much. your gifs are so beautiful like ma’am didn’t you just start?? icon shit. your hate for photoshop is iconic and you are awesome. you’re always sending me asks and responding to my posts and you’re so nice and it makes my heart go whooosh. anygays you’re cool and ily💙🧡

@starmansander nina when I tell you that you give off the best vibes- okay sorry I had to start with that. I love how you are so nice and supportive of me, it really means a lot. I really like the stuff you reblog like,,, cool art? pretty women? those hopeful little posts? iconic. also youre a noor stan which is a sign of good taste. love you🤎❤️

@ijzermanora daniiiiiii madam you are so epic and iconic and I really could go on about that forever. you are so kind and you’re following all my joke sideblogs (even the ch*cken l*ttle hate blog??? why???) which is very brave of you. I love reading all of your lil wholesome posts and hearing about school and how much you hate chemistry (even tho you like sushi???) anygays we were already sending memes 10 hours into our mutualship so I think we were soulmates from the very beginning. I love you so much and I have no idea what I did before i knew you💜💗

@alwaysin-myhead okay, you give off cool person vibes and I had to acknowledge that. your art is so beautiful and you are so incredibly talented!!! I hope to get to know you in the future🧡💛

@alexiaugustin here she is!!! the queen of good opinions!!! you are such a smart cookie and you use that power to make long paragraph posts that I can actually read without falling asleep. which is impressive honestly. never has a person been so kind and funny and genius in such a well rounded way (that makes no sense) I’m so happy that I have you in my life ilyyy💚💗

@ijntba hihi you’re such a sweet person and I literally love your skam blog sm. I am so honored that you’re using one of my icons you have no idea. even though I’m confused when you post about anime, I still appreciate your passion lmao. mwah💛🧡

@hidden-joy liz!! you are such a kind soul and I absolutely love looking at the things you reblog and reading all the nice things that you put in the tags, it’s always so sweet and supportive!!! we’re relatively new mutuals, but I do hope to get to know you better in the future!!!💚💛

okay sorry to group y’all together but @fudgetunblr and @alexiswoke I like just became mutuals with y’all but I do love you and I’m glad you’re here and I hope 2021 treats you well and that i get to know you better!!❤️❤️

aaand one last final message for max and sarah, i know yall wont see this but ily🧡 💜

okay yeah I know I already said this but I really do love each and every one of you so much and I am so lucky to have so many amazing people in my life💕💕💓💕💖💖💕💘💕💗💞💓💕💖💖💘💕💓

#MWAH💕#my mutuals are pretty fuckin rad #also don’t tell anyone but the hearts at the end are the colors I associate you with #or they’re as close as I could get #*makes this post*#*goes back to sleep*

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deberiaestarescribiendo · 3 years

Text

Saint Jude's Miracle: a Javier Peña x OFC (Isa) FanFic. Chapter III

Summary: After the operation at the border, Javier accepts a task to continue his new partnership with the DEA but that would may affect his marriage with Isa who sees how he’s getting farther and farther away from her.

WC: 4,5k (Ups sorry)

Warnings: angst and domestic Javi cos I like to hurt my feelings, light smut: very light descriptions of oral (female receiving) and p in v sex (I’m trying guys, not very used to write this things in English)

A/N: Hi! This third chapter is a little longer because I didn’t know where to cut without making it just feelings and angst, so I add a little bit of spice and plot. Again thank you so much to the ones that find this and read it, like it and reblog it. It means a lot. And lastly, as usual, this has not been beta’d and I’m sorry for any mistake and bad grammar you find.

Spanish in cursive with translations right after in parenthesis

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

Stay

"Jav...what you found at the raid, what you did, my bosses are impressed. They are actually asking me if you’d be up to do this again, maybe they need your formal statement about those documents” Steve announces

“I’m doing whatever you need, Steve” he answers

“Really? Okay, they’re going to freak out once they know you’re back...kinda”

“Yeah...I wouldn’t be surprised if they think I switched sides or whatever and that’s how I got that intel” Javi jokes

“So, Javi Peña...you’re my informant now. I won’t treat you as kindly as you treated yours though” he mocks

“Fuck you, Steve”

“Yeah, that’s what you did with them and that’s exactly what I’m not going to do to you” he continues

Javi grins. He misses that, the bickering, talking to his friend.

“I’ll call you back, Javi. I let you know what they say” Steve says after Javier had been quite for a few minutes

“Anything, Steve”

A few calls back and forth and Javi’s heart is pounding on his chest, he doesn’t know if it’s excitement or fear or the two combined, but, anyway,this is the most alive he has felt in a long time.

Isa and Elvira sit on the garden, both of them on the grass drinking an ice cold cola. Javier is holding the exterior tubes of the air conditioner cursing like a sailor when the machine still doesn’t work, he has been trying to repair the thing for hours now, and the persistent calls interrupting him aren’t helping. Normally they call after dinner time. Javi locks himself in his office or in the living room if Elvi and Isa are already upstairs. They, whoever they are, are the ones guilty of her husband’s behavior lately. The ones that keep him up at night, they stress him and distract him. Get him farther and farther away from me she thinks. They’ve called at least four times already.

Isabel knows something is up. Every time Javi returns from one of those phone calls he grows more a more frustrated over the device.

“Fuck me” he mutters pressing violently every button.

“Are you alright, honey?” Isa laughs. She gives a gentle squeeze on his shoulder feeling the tense muscles underneath the shirt.

“We’re going to get a new one right now. Do you want to go to the mall?” He turns, his handsome face covered in sweat. Isa pulls his wet hair out of his forehead, with that brief distraction; Javi takes her cold drink from her hand really fast and gulps the whole thing in seconds.

“Hey, that was mine”

“What’s mine it’s yours, remember?” He winks “I really don’t know how to repair this shit” and he kicks the machine

“Javi, it’s going to cost a ton. I think my mum had an old one at the hair salon”

At the mention of her mother in law, her husband rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, I know” she tickles his belly, the white shirt glued to his skin “You just have to leave me there, we pick it up and then we leave. You don’t even have to talk to her”

Javi runs a hand through his dark wet hair “Well, fuck it, I can’t stand this hell anymore might as well go all the way down and say hi to the devil”

Isa snorts laughing and slaps him playfully “Javi, she’s not that bad”

“We hate each other, it’s fine” he shrugs “Anyway I have to go downtown. What if I drop both of you at your mother’s salon while I do some errands? Elvi likes to spend time with her”“That’s a good idea” she agrees, Isa is dying to know what “errands” he has to do, but she doesn’t ask.

“Pues se dejo la carrera a medio terminar, una gran decepción para su padre y para mi” (She didn’t finish her degree, it was such a disappointment for her father and me)

“Claro, mijita, es que una se espera hasta que ya termina los estudios y ya se casan y después tienen los muchachos” (Of course, love. You have to wait until you finish your studies and then you get married and have kids) Mrs Alvarez adds holding her hair in the towel while she waits for Carmen to start.

Isa is used to the bickering whenever she spends time at her mother’s salon. Her usual costumers know the entire story: First child to go to college in the family gets pregnant before getting married and then she had to drop out; a disgrace.

At the beginning of her pregnancy and her relationship with Javier, she blushed and tried to bury herself on the purple sofa where the clients waited when her mother and costumers started this conversation about her. But after years and years of the same discussion she just smiles boringly while she glances uninterested over the different magazines on the table and waits until they’re finished with her. Luckily she has her daughter now, who distracts the ladies with her funny comments, a song, or anything her bubbly self makes up. Elvira loves the salon; the ladies give her a few one dollar bills and candy whenever they have some.

“Tan linda, mi nieta. Ese es el consuelo que tengo” (My granddaughter is so lovely, that’s my only consolation) Carmen Alamos is a strong woman. Stern and straightforward, a good and god-fearing catholic that works hard to sustain her family and that has always kept a passion for knowledge. Isa remembers clearly when she was a teenager and she would clean up at the end of the day giving the chance for her mother to take a little time for herself that she usually spent reading her books and studying English so she could speak it and write it properly. She also kept studying other things out of curiosity and Carmen wanted her daughter to be someone, to really seize the opportunity to build a bright future for herself. Then shit happened. And Carmen sees only one culprit for that: Javier Peña.

After a few saddened sighs from the women, Carmen turns to her daughter.

“So what is it that you wanted?” she asks massaging Mrs Alvarez scalp.

“You still have the old Air conditioner from home right?” Isa tosses the magazines over the table and walks to the glass door. Javier is still somewhere in town.

“Yes, at the back office. Why do you need that?” she starts cutting the client’s hair with her swift and experienced hands.

“Ours broke down and it’s almost impossible to stay inside” Isa smiles seeing her daughter who looks mesmerized at her grandma’s skills.

“It’s so hot, abuelita, Mami had to sleep naked” Elvira says casually.

The three women at the salon gasp. Mrs Alvarez turns abruptly to face the little girl. Unfortunately for her hair, Carmen has chopped at the same time she turned and her hair is now uneven.

“Ay, Dios santo” Carmen quickly starts to solve what she’s done to the poor woman’s hair.

The sound of the car stopping breaks the uncomfortable moment. From the door, Isa sees Javier getting out the car. Tight jeans, black shirt and those aviator glasses she had gifted him on his birthday. He grins when he sees her and jumps the three steps towards the salon. The little bell rang when he opens the door while he takes off his glasses.

“Papi” Elvi runs and grabs him by his knees

“Hola, mi amor” (Hello, my love) he kisses her crown and hugs Isa with his other arm. “amores” ( my loves) he corrects

“Where were you?” Isa asks but he mutters later so she lets it go for the moment

“Señoras” (Ladies) he greets the ladies with a smile that rapidly disappears as he approaches his mother in law “Carmen, ¿cómo está?” (Carmen, how are you?)

“Hola, Javier. El aire está detrás.” (Hello, Javier. The Air conditioner is at the back) She answers dryly

“Gracias” Javi turns to Isa and rolls his eyes with a told you kind of expression.

“Por eso tu mama duerme desnuda, porque tiene a ese en la cama, ay pues no me extraña” (So that’s why your mum sleeps naked, she has him on her bed. It does not surprise me) Mrs Alvarez comments with a sly grin

Carmen jerks her harshly on the chair.

“Quédese quieta, señora Alvarez si no quiere que le haga un trasquilón” (Stay still, Mrs Alvarez if you don’t want a bad haircut)

Javier grunts carrying the heavy machine so Isa rushes to open the door for him and helps him get it to the car.

“We clearly agree in one thing, we hate each other’s guts” he leaves the device on the truck and dries the sweat on his forehead.

“Well you were the one that dishonored her little girl, what do you expect?” Isa hangs on him on her tip toes and kisses him softly. “Where were you?”

“Pardon?” He holds her by her hips and pushes her against his chest “If I recall correctly you were the one that seduced me” he ignores the second question

“You asked me out first”

“You approached me first” he smiles before lowering his touch to the end of her jeans shorts, but she slaps his hand away.

“I was waitressing, it was my job” Isa laughs “I’m going to say goodbye and take Elvi with me” she kisses him briefly one last time before climbing the stair to the salon.

Javi gets inside the car and watches as the little girl waves her goodbyes and Isa has annoyed expression. He knows her mother had some last comments about him as it is the usual thing with her. He can imagine perfectly how she’s complaining about him not giving her daughter a good life just because he couldn’t repair a damn air conditioner. He bites the inside of his cheek and leans on his seat, he knows the life he gives Isa and Elvi is about to be a little bit worse and it’s not because of a stupid machine.

It was too late to hide the papers he had on the dashboard: The documents that Steve had sent and his voyage plan to meet him in Mexico. He rushes to put everything inside the glove box, but Isa is already opening the door to the copilot seat. He pushes everything inside without much care.

“What was that?”

He was going to tell her but he has to find the perfect time so he can minimize the harm. He doesn’t want to seem too eager to leave, as he thinks that it is already the image his wife has of him. Javi Peña, always out the door.

“I had to pass by the office and grab some stupid documents. It’s nothing”

“I thought they’re closed for the summer…” Isa fastens her belt and turns to make sure Elvira has hers correctly locked.

“Yeah, but the doorman had a key and he opened it for me. Anyway, should we grab dinner somewhere? What do you say Elvi?” He smiles back to his daughter through the rearview mirror. Isa observes him with her arms crossed over her chest.

Javi starts the car, one hand on the steering wheel and the other on Isa’s thigh giving her gentle squeeze.

“Can we get ice-cream after?”

“Of course, baby. Anything for my girls”

He gets lost watching her do her little things: how she pulls her curls back to apply her night cream and the soft rose scent that it leaves on her face that he can smell when he buries his face on her neck; how lovely she looks in one of those big old t-shirts she uses as pajamas and how he’s dying to run his hands under it to find the familiar curves of her body. Without realizing it, he smiles lost in his daydreaming from the bathroom door. Her caramel eyes turn to him and a cheeky smile appears on her mouth.

“What?”

“Nothing”

“Okay…” she giggles “You can stop, you know? I’m not mad anymore”

“Stop what?”

“All these” she draws a circle in the air “Today. Eat out, ice-cream, now you look at me with those puppy eyes”

“I cannot take my family out? And look at my wife?” Javier comes closer and hugs her from behind, his large arms closing her tight against his chest. “That, by the way, looks quite gorgeous today” he says to her ear. He hums smelling the rose perfume, the one that has accompanied him every night of their marriage, the scent of home and making love in silence and sleepy kisses in the wake. He makes both of them swing in front of the mirror. I wish it was easier he thinks I wish I only wanted this

“Thanks” Isa caresses his strong forearms, following the veins and the freckles of his tanned skin.

When Javi opens his eyes he sees her reflection in the mirror; her eyes sparkle in the yellowish lights of the bathroom with tears struggling to be contained

“What’s wrong, baby?” Javi makes her turn and holds her with his arms on her lower back

“I…just…I feel like I’m becoming…” the tears finally roll out to her cheeks as she tries to swallow the lump on her throat

“What?” Javi puts his large hands on both sides of her head, wiping away the tears with his thumbs

“My mum…” she says eventually and crumbles to his chest in soft sobs

“God, what did she say?”

“That I’m becoming her… and I think, for once, I think she might be right” she whimpers and sniffs

“No, no. Mi amor…you’re not” he separates himself from her softly just so he can look at her face

“All my life I’ve seen her being like that…bitter, angry, asking question after question. I thought she was annoying. But now…well”

“I don’t get it”

“I think I understand. I don’t want to get to that point, but little by little we’re looking more and more like my parents marriage. I mean, you come home late and I get angry, I ask questions, and you get annoyed. I worry a lot and you’re getting bored of me” Isa fixes her gaze at some random point on the floor and she speaks faster and faster spitting every word until all that comes out from her mouth are soft whimpers

“Hold up, wait. I’m not bored of you” He pulls her chin up so he can look at her in the eye

“C’mon, Javi.” She bites her lip, trembling and tears now uncontrollably coming out of her eyes. “You hide things from me because you think that I’m gonna be mad and scream at you, which I do. And then you get inside your shell that I cannot get in” she points at the center of his chest.

Javi becomes silent and just cups her cheeks softly

“I don’t want to be that type of wife. I don’t want to scold you like if I were your mum. I want to be your friend, your confident, your lover”

“And you are, baby” He holds her again close to him and kisses her forehead “You are all of that”

“I don’t want just to be a housewife…I don’t want us to be a cliché”

“We are not that, babe”

“I’m exhausted, the house, Elvi and…”

“I don’t make things easier” Javi starts rocking their bodies softly side to side.

“No, you don’t. I wish you could just tell me what’s going on. It drives me crazy”

“Noth…” Isa shakes her head before he can finish

“Javi, please. The calls, the documents, the way you’re behaving” she counts

“Alright.” He sighs “They asked me to assist in a big operation. I’ve found something weird in one of the export’s companies that we manage at the office. So I called my old colleague and now I’m involved in this”

“Javi…” Isa murmurs

“I have to go to Mexico. Just for a week, meet him there and see what they got” The husband holds her by the arms, squeezing the skin as to alleviate the pressure he knows he is inflicting on her.

“When?” she says exhaling all the air in her lungs.

“In a week”

“Fuck…”

“I know, I didn’t tell because you would…”

“Be a pain in the ass?” she exits the bathroom and takes a seat on the right side of the bed.

“Worry” he completes. Javi turns off the lights and the two of them stay in the dim light of the nightstand lamp. The lamp she always leaves on when he’s away.

“Yeah” he crawls on the bed until he is kissing her nape “You’re never a pain in the ass by the way”

“I see how you react” she slightly turns her face, and Javier takes the opportunity to kiss her temple and the side of her mouth

“Nonsense” He circles her waist with both arms and pulls her against him. The softness of her skin and her warmth burn him with desire. He wants to take the pain away the only way he knows.

Isa responds with a moan at the feeling of his heat and the firmness of his chest. She lays her head back on his shoulder watching his hand roam around her body every touch of his fingers lighting a fire on her skin. He knows every corner, every touch that makes her tremble in pleasure and also how that ends conflicts right away.

“Javi” she pronounces his name like a plea. A plea for more, to make him stay with her and also to make her forget all her worries with his love.

His lips create a slow and unbearable path of kisses and bites where her skin more sensitive. His hands cup her breasts and the tender skin on her lower belly and hips.

“Te amo” (I love you) Isa says writhing, her whole body responding to his attention.

Javier looks at her, his deep brown eyes glowing, his breathing is now heavy. He pulls her in a swift movement to the end of the bed so he has access between her thighs. Isa laughs trying not to fall.

“Te vas a joder la espalda” (You’re going to hurt your back) she giggles

“Me estás diciendo viejo ¿o qué?” (You’re calling me old, or what?) he smirks and grabs her legs to open them

Isa smiles and covers her face with her forearm to hide her laughter.

“¿Ahora te ries?” (And now you’re laughing?) He’s standing on his knees between her thighs looking at her amused “Mala” (You’re mean) he gives a slap on her ass. When she uncovers her face, looking at him with her mouth open he mutters an apology.

“No, me gustó” (No, I liked it) she bites her lip and brushes her legs on his hip enticing him to come closer

He’s surprised for a second but then bends towards her, caging her against the mattress “Ah ¿sí?” (Ah, yeah?) Javi brushes his lips over her jaw pushing his hips towards her core

“No soy de las esposas que solo lo hacen en misionero un par de veces al mes, Javi” (I’m not the kind of wife that only does it missionary a couple of times a month, Javi) she grabs his hips and pushes him until his sex is against her. The wet friction of her damp panties sending shivers through her body.

“A mí me gusta el misionero” (I like missionary) He answers catching her lower lip with his, biting it gently

“You know what I mean” she rolls her eyes

“Yeah, I have a kinky wife” he slaps her again and swiftly grabs the waistband of her panties and rolls them to her feet. Isa rushes to take her over-sized t-shirt off and rests again laying on her back, legs wide open, exposed. “Mi amor” (my love) Javi moans watching her like that, squirming with desire and doesn’t waste time in adjusting his position so he can sink his face between her legs.

He tastes her and moans, words incomprehensible, and Isa closes her eyes while he drinks of her like she’s the first drop of water after a drought. His large hands hold her still and open when the pleasure it’s too much to handle. She begs, his name mixed with the name of God until she can control her trembles. Without giving her a moment to rest, Javi tops her and submerges himself in her holding a curse

“Mi amor” he repeats breathy on her ear. He thrusts into her slowly and deep at first but Isa’s legs wrap him even deeper, her nails scratch him and he starts going faster and harder. His forehead stays on hers watching how she closes her eyes and her mouth murmurs his name again and again. When he finally spills on her, she gives gentle kisses all over his face and hugs him impossibly tight.

“Te amo” she says again

―――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――

She admires at his profile, the way his plum lips are parted, breathing peacefully, his bare chest going up and down while he dreams. He looks beautiful like this, relaxed, almost boyish in a way. His sharp features are soft when she reaches to his face and traces his nose, his eyes and his jaw line with her finger. She has asked herself many times what is inside his head; those parts she doesn’t know. Sometimes she wishes to know everything; but sometimes she thinks the truth would hurt too much.

She knows that his former job as a DEA agent had affected him enormously. Isa knows the horrors that the drug war had caused in Colombia mainly by the news reports she’s seen and the brief stories Javier had told her at the beginning of their relationship. That Javier is dead, the agent, the man after monsters is gone, at least that’s what he tells her and himself.

Isabel met a broken man, a greyer version of himself, half way between the tough DEA agent and the young man that left Laredo full of dreams to see the world. Sometimes he was open, sometimes he was deep in his regrets and memories, Javier would always stay in a limbo where Isabel could reach him just in a physical way but his heart and his mind, even after many years, were still a mystery.

Where was he when he was quite? Where was he when he disappeared in his memories? Was he thinking about others? She knows quite well that he was more experienced than her in matters of the heart and almost in every other aspect. Isa had a high school sweetheart and just the one brief and disappointing relationship in college. He, in the other hand, had travelled the world, fought drug lords and corrupt governments, and the very system that employed him. He is older than her, and that doesn’t bother her, but sometimes she finds herself lacking in many ways: Lacking in interesting things to tell, in adventures, in knowledge other than being a housewife.

She sees how Elvira jumps in excitement when Javier comes home, she idolizes him and even though Isa doesn’t want to admit it, she is jealous. Elvira and her little world is hers, it’s the only thing she has. Every now and then she finds that her conversations circle only around her: her school, the new things Elvi likes and the things she says, to the point that Isabel has disappeared and only the mother exists.

And in that, she fears that her husband will lose all interest in her. All those doubts from the past come back now that he’s accepting those jobs that force him to leave the house for weeks. Was he running away? Why? And that little insidious voice answers: He didn’t love you back then, he doesn’t love you now. You just got pregnant in the worse moment and he had to act as a responsible adult

Javier had been single before meeting her for a long time, having sporadic lovers when he needed one. He didn’t tell her much about his past lovers but she recognized the type of men he was. He is intoxicating, raises desiring looks everywhere and she had fallen for that without a chance. She had been one of those girls that he dated briefly, a relationship with an expiring date, but then she took the pregnancy test and it came positive.

All he said when she told him was that he would be there for her for everything and whatever decision she would make; and he said yes to meet his parents, and he said yes to keep the baby and never complained or blamed her; but she knew that he didn’t planned to stay together much longer before she had told Javi the bad news. But everything changed after a dinner night in the Alamos’s household

“When are you marrying then? It has to be soon or else people would notice your belly” Francisco Alamos, her father, welcomed Javier in his house with his hands holding tightly his belt, ready at any moment to throw those big hands to his face if he said the wrong thing.

Javier had looked confused at first, but in a second he got himself together and answered with a bright smile that would have melted anyone but the Alamos:

“Everything has been so unplanned and out of the blue that I wanted that to be a surprised and, well, a little bit more romantic. Anyway, Mr. and Mrs. Alamos” he held Isa’s hand “Les pido la mano de su hija en matrimonio, si nos dan su bendición” (I ask for your daughter’s hand in marriage, with your blessing) he continued in Spanish

Isa nodded confused and didn’t say another word during dinner. When she escorted him to the door, she had asked if he was telling the truth, if he really wanted to marry her and form a family and he had agreed that it was for the better. And since then, Javier had acted the part and even if he had moments where his mind was elsewhere, he didn’t neglect his family in any way.

Isa dries a single tear that rolls down her cheek. The night is silent but the soft breathing of her husband and the air coming out the new Air conditioner; she cuddles his warm body, holding him tight against her chest; a futile gesture to bind him to her heart and the house.

“Stay” she whispers.

#Javier Peña #Narcos #Javier Peña Fanfiction #Javier Peña Fic #Narcos Fic #Narcos Fanfic #Pedro Pascal #pedro pascal characters #Pedro Pascal characters Fic #pedro pascal fanfiction

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snowflake-of-destruction · 4 years

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would you ever uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh write uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh monster scarf

Take what I wrote before getting distracted by something shiny. I’m not going to proofread it or attempt to remember how this came to be. Read more because 1) length 2) suggestive themes in one part. Warning: It’s dumb, but, I mean the whole premise is crack

It was all because of Roxas.

Those words were a perpetual reoccurrence in Axel's second life. The reasoning behind countless life decisions, good and bad, but predominantly the former since he couldn't bring himself to consider even the ones with heavy consequences if they involved the man that had breathed life and love back into his existence. In particularly romantic times, the fiery keyblade wielder would claim that it was because of Roxas that his lungs filled and emptied and he continued to exist, every exhale a tribute and whisper of the blonde's name. Such claims though were usually met with rolled eyes and uneven blotches of red that looked more like hives or fever than blushing and were all the more endearing for it, paired with a grumble that he shut up and stop being so cheesy from the object of his affection himself.

They were also paired with less life and death actions. It was all because of Roxas Axel got his head stuck in between the slots of the banister in Elsa's ice palace and had to be carved free and then wait for the remains to melt off him. It was all because of Roxas he had to keep buying new clothes, and not just because of tears and popped buttons that were casualties of overeager fingers but because ice cream once a day and sometimes more, replacing meals, was not something he could sustain and remain a rail now that he was fully human without the magic metabolism of a Nobody perpetually in his ideal state (Roxas had crowed that Axel may one day even have an actual ass to speak of, and after the redhead's subsequent, calculated pouting had been forced to show him how he appreciated what ass Axel did have now). It was all because of Roxas and his insistence on buying what was on sale, and that he knew best and paint always ended up more faded when applied to large areas than on paint chips that the walls of their apartment were such a very bright green that it scared Xion's dog, Dinah. Though it was Axel's fault partially for not questioning Roxas's knowledge when he knew full well that he'd once had to teach Roxas and Xion what paint was.

This time, it was all Roxas's fault that the scarf collection began.

What was Axel supposed to do but add a new ever present accessory to his wardrobe when Roxas ran over to a stall in the Agrabah market without even being summoned by the ever present yelling of one of the vendors trying to entice passersby and only managing to produce an intimidating cacophony of conflicting overzealous squawking that tended to repel Axel for one ( though he supposed it had to work on some people if they kept doing it) and ran back with a stretch of silken material in brilliant emerald interspersed with gold swoops and coils and clutches of blue and red flowers in busy bunches trailing through the air behind him like a banner?

"It's the color of your eyes!" Roxas had exclaimed in explanation, throwing the prize around Axel's neck, smiling brighter than the glaring sun, intensity enough to cast away every bit of grating sand and even more grating annoyance that Yensid had sent them to the desert world for the fourth time that month when he knew for a fact Sora and Kairi were both available but kept getting assigned new worlds, and keeping his hands twisted in the ends so he could use the scarf as a yoke to pull Axel's head down in order to kiss him without the need to stretch or press himself close enough enough that a simple kiss would lead to distracting thoughts and temptations not fit for a public marketplace.

Warmth settled in Axel's chest beyond even the usual warmed caramel slow melt that Roxas tended to inspire as the redhead reached up and pinched the water soft material of the scarf between two fingers and slid the calloused pads of his fingers along its coolness. "Thank you, I love it. I used to wear scarves a lot back in Radiant Garden before...." his smile turned sheepish and slightly pained in the way it still too often did when speaking even of happy memories from his first life as Lea. "Well, before." When Roxas let go, he looped the scarf a few more times around his neck, pulled to make the loops loose, and tucked the ends under. "Looks good," he said with far too much confidence for someone without a mirror and wearing a yellow and orange kurta and pants to blend in with the locals that didn't as much compliment the colors of the material circling his neck as directly contest them.

"You don't match," Roxas had done his part to inform him. The scarf would bring a pop of color to Axel's usual wardrobe of mostly black.

"I know," Axel seemed to relish the words, a smile crinkling the corners of eyes that lit in a way that Roxas could only compare to the times Axel greeted friends after long absences.

It became a self-perpetuating cycle. Axel would wear scarves because Roxas would buy them and look so immensely pleased with himself that his partner was surprised he didn't start humming. Roxas continued buying them because Axel looked at each one like it completed him.

Then it carried beyond that. Far beyond.

Roxas slacked to just taking pictures of interesting scarves he saw and sending them to Axel's gummi phone. Twilight Town hardly ever dipped below temperate, and even though many of the scarves Axel now owned were pure fashion statements, most were thicker and several of the infinity scarves were now part of woven together, braided scarf trios that increased their thickness as well as their propensity to clash hideously with whatever Axel wore, something he seemed to consider a bonus instead of a deterrent, ever the enigma, the man who considered walking outside without making sure his winged eyeliner was perfectly even a crime and was occasionally known to vainly fuss over his hair as if tending a firstborn child, but now took glee in mixing stripes with checks. Besides, Axel now owned scarves in the double digits. Roxas felt silly carrying on with impulse buying. They could be a fun fallback birthday or holiday gift now, but how many scarves did Axel really need?

The answer to the question Roxas luckily hadn't asked aloud was answered after he came home one night to see Axel cooking dinner with a scarf knitted to look like a giant strip of bacon that he hadn't seen before.

"New present from Namine?" After the artist had spent a month with Rapunzel, Eugene, and Cassandra (an event that caused the Guardians of Light to start taking bets on whether the handmaiden had influenced the length of her stay until Namine had upset all assumptions by announcing she was moving to Todayland and then proceeded to spam Kingstagram with pictures of her with Wilbur Robinson) she'd come back with several new talents she now was very likely to send examples to her friends. They'd already been sent matching knitted beanies in sea salt blue and a set of looped potholders.

"No, I've had this for a bit," Axel had answered vaguely, and Roxas had accepted it, easily distracted by the fact that the bacon scarf and a novelty apron with a racing ketchup and mustard bottle and the caption "I relish the fact that you mustard up the will to ketchup with me" was all Axel was wearing to cook dinner.

"Xion isn't home?" he asked unnecessarily.

One burnt dinner later, Roxas found himself with his wrists tied together with the bacon scarf, whining in protest as Axel pulled away and left him lying alone and terribly neglected on the bed, muttering under his breath about blindfolds as he searched through his top dresser drawer.

"Your scarves are hanging up in the closet. Remember? I got you that scarf rack to hang them all off of." It technically had been advertised as a hanging tie rack but a tie rack wasn't something they needed.

"Those are only some of the ones from you, a few everyday ones and ones I want to display," Axel tossed out casually like the sentence was perfectly normal as he slid open the second dresser drawer down--the one Roxas knew to skip over when he was putting away clothes after his turn doing laundry because Axel had started using it for overflow from the memory boxes of old papers, WINNER popsicle sticks, and the like he kept on the top shelf of the closet--only to have it explode with multicolored material that had apparently been shoved into every nook the dresser drawer had to offer, compressed until it became spring loaded. Axel did not appear to be bothered by the comical display. "My less important scarves are in here. Might need another drawer soon." It's said absently, the blissful unawareness of the hoarder who doesn't see a problem.

Roxas constricted the muscles of his stomach in an attempt to sit up without use of his arms or hands and turned toward his boyfriend, amused. "You have been hiding scarves?"

"Not hiding," a slip of defensiveness entered Axel's voice. "The box in the guest room is just because I haven't gotten a chance to unpack the ones Isa sent from Radiant Garden yet."

"Your old scarves?" That changed things in Roxas's eyes. He wouldn't make fun of any attempt of Axel's to regain and reclaim a happier past.

"No, the Restoration Committee had a town garage sale as a community event. I told Isa to buy me any interesting pieces and send them with the next gummi ship. I think he threw in a couple he bought too." Axel faced the bed with a bright red woolen scarf with white reindeer and snowflakes in one hand and a flimsy thing with cherry blossoms that had probably started its life as a woman's shawl in the other. "Is the mood still on or do you want me to help you out of that knot?" He gestured toward Roxas's tied hands with a flick of the hand that sent a waterfall ripple down the cherry blossom scarf.

"Mood's a little off," Roxas wriggled his wrists to keep feeling in his hands. "But nothing that can't be reclaimed. One question first though. There's a whole box in the guest room....besides the drawer and the scarf rack?"

Axel shoved scarves back into the drawer by the handful, only keeping out a thin black and blue striped fuzzy cashmere. "Nobody's using the third bedroom since you moved into mine. I don't see a problem. I'll move the box in here."

"The problem isn't cluttering the bedroom," Roxas trailed off as Axel approached the bed.

"Then what's the problem? They make me happy."

"...Then I guess I'm happy."

The decision that there was no problem just added to it. Scarves no longer confined to hiding spots were now found draped over lamps like decoration, hanging from fan blades like streamers, discarded on chairs when ones that were worn were taken off under the excuse they were just forgotten when the truth, that space to put them away neatly was limited, was apparent. They multiplied as if breeding. Roxas feared he'd have to host an intervention. Xion, for her part, was ready to co-host, insisting that Axel's collection wasn't normal. "I have a seashell collection. It doesn't take over our whole apartment!"

Intervention proved not to be necessary though. Axel got the situation under control on his own, after a fashion at least. It started with losing control entirely, and before that, a trip to Monstropolis.

[And then Axel buys a scarf that turns out to be alive and have a mind of its own. Whoops. It plays nice and docile for awhile but then starts strangling him or jumps off his neck to strangle someone else when it becomes enraged seeing so many of its fellows lying “”dead”” around the Sea Salt Trio’s apartment. They would make quick work of the scarf but it has many, many places to hide in camouflage and proves able to swap its pattern with another scarf if it touches it. Thus the hunt begins. But who is hunting who? ]

#borndeaddd

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halloweennut · 5 years

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Truth Universally Acknowledged

(what up i have no self control gang! Anyway arrange marriage chateban au as brought up in the discord. might write more. really AU)

If there was one thing Esteban hated it was being pitied, another was being mocked. And at his own engagement party and monster reception ball both were occurring behind hands and in across the room glances. He kept his face stoic and cool but his grip on his champagne flute hard. It nearly threatened to shatter in his hands, but then again, what else didn't?

It had barely been three months since he and Ash had had their "parting of the ways" wherein he pulled the rug from underneath her and took a near fatal shot to the chest for Elena. It barely began his apology and and it just as barely began to mend the harm he had done. It had taken him a month to recover, another to rebuild his reputation. Esteban would, albeit begrudgingly, have to thank Dona Paloma for handling that public relations fiasco. A delicate web of silver-tongued lies had been spun and had made their way through the country, making him more tragic than he actually was instead of a traitor.

While the country and people were on the mend, his family still had reservations, and Esteban couldn't blame them. Elena had wanted little to do with him outside of him waking up a week after getting shot - they both had sobbed and he had tried to hold her the best he could- and the second trial for him. At the very least they talked about everything, from his teens until now. Isabel had been lukewarm, torn between her loyalties to him and Elena, but he had seen her more often. His grandparents had run hot and cold and sometimes warm. But at the very least, they were all trying.

When the end of the second month came, more about his grand misadventures with Ash came to light, mostly in that they had made many monsters and various spirits...incensed, to say the least. Tensions were already harsh between humans and monsters. Ash trying to force an alliance had only made things worse. Naturally, the royal family had to make amends and clean up the diplomatic mess that had been made.

The Monster Ambassador came with no less than three were-Jaguars and in war paint. They were a small, flighty creature that looked and acted like a hummingbird, blunt and to the point and put far too much sugar in their drinks. Huitzilo wanted reparations for everything or at least a start. To begin with, land and space in Avalor and in Vallestrella. Easily done, once the jaquins were convinced. But other than that...no treaty could be agreed upon, nothing Avalor they couldn't get or already possessed. It took a grueling week of deliberations before the monster body came with a proposition and one that Elena had wished wouldn't be brought up: a marriage alliance. One of their highest ranking monsters would marry a member of the royal family. While it was the only viable one, Elena was hesitant to do that to anyone in her family, and who could she ask? They were either too young, too old, dead, married or in prison.

"I can't resurrect people from the dead. And Cristobal is still in jail," Elena paced in front of her family and grand council in one of the private palace parlors. "Not like he would be a good choice anyway!"

"We'd get his head on a spike," Naomi replied. "If I'm being honest here."

"Do we even know who the monster's are sending?" Dona Paloma asked. She and Esteban, begrudgingly, shared the council seat. "That would be helpful, but I doubt they would even think of that."

Elena shot her a look. "We're trying to create peace, Dona. And no, just that she is powerful and well respected."

"I'm afraid we're low on options, mijita," Francisco said. "But we can't force anyone."

"I mean…" Elena trailed off. "I did legalize same-sex marriage a few months ago-"

Everyone protested at that.

"Elena, no," Mateo said. "We all know you would do anything for Avalor, but this isn't something you should take on."

"Agreed," Gabe replied. "20 is no age to rush into a marriage. I've seen too many couples fall apart at my family's bakery barely months after we made the wedding cake."

"But it's for peace! We don't have options!" Elena exclaimed. "I don't know where else to-"

"I'll accept it."

Elena and the rest of the group turned to look at Esteban, who had been uncharacteristically silent for the whole meeting. Elena's face dropped and looked the most concerned he had seen her in regards to him, save the time where he could barely walk five feet without spotting his bandages and nearly passing out.

"Esteban, I couldn't ask you to-"

"And you don't have to," he said. "I'll take the proposal."

"Listen, I know you're trying to make up for everything but," Naomi replied, "you couldn't just up and marry some stranger!"

Esteban shook his head. "It was almost a reality more than once under Shuriki. At least now I have a say in it. Like abuelo said: our options are limited. I'm unmarried, alive, and thankfully not in jail."

Elena looked at him, almost pleadingly, as if to make him change his mind. "We just got you back. We can't lose you again."

"You won't," he said. "Just...Elena, prima, let me do this for you and for Avalor."

Elena sighed, resigned. "I permit it."

They had told Huitzilo shortly after, and a working treaty was signed. It was then Esteban finally learned the name of his fiancée: Chatana, Mother of Monsters, powerful sorceress and practical god in her own right. Funny how it all came back: monster, sorceress, it was karma incarnate. A week later, Esteban received the first letter from her. It was shockingly formal, nearly impersonal. He responded in kind, and kept responding as more letters came. Occasionally there would be a gift attached, but again, nothing personalized, mostly because they never said anything personal.

Their engagement ball would be the first time they actually met.

He could lie and say he wasn’t nervous.

Esteban Flores was terrified about what was going to walk through the ballroom doors when the Monster Embassy came. He expected everything and nothing, and the only solace he had was that he was surrounded by family - and oh how wonderful that felt - and the felt presence of the Royal Guard and the jaquins. Esteban took a sip of his champagne. It was a hollow gesture, but if people saw that he was calm and unfazed, they would be too. He felt a touch at his elbow and turned to see Naomi.

“You alright there? You look dazed,” she said. “Nervous?”

“Absolutely not,” he shook his head. “Just apprehensive is all. Who wouldn’t be?”

Naomi shrugged. “I suppose so…”

She trailed off, and Esteban could see her try to figure out the next sentence.

"You know you don’t have to...If you're doing this to try to make up for- " Naomi started. It was a statement Esteban had heard nearly every week since he’d been acquitted.

"I'm doing this for Avalor," Esteban tried not to snap “And that’s all there is to it.”

“Wow, you keyed up,” she forced a grin which he couldn’t help but return. She held up her own flute - he wouldn’t chastise her tonight for sneaking a glass of champagne behind her parents and Francisco and Luisa. “Bottoms up and le chaim.”

“Remind me to let you do a toast at my wedding,” Esteban laughed, clinking their glasses together.

“If you didn’t I’d be insulted,” Naomi replied, and both took a long sip. “I still call dibs on best man- er, lady? I don’t know.”

Before Esteban could answer in a teasing affirmative, Gabe approached.

“The Embassy is about to enter,” he stated. “My men and the jaquins are ready if they ambush.”

That had been a pressing fear that had been in everyone’s mind - that this had been a tactic to gather the entirety of the Avaloran Royal Family and nobility in one place to attack, despite the treaty. Elena wanted to give the monsters the benefit of the doubt, but took precautions nonetheless.

“Thank you, Captain,” Esteban nodded, and finished his glass, setting it on a passing maid’s tray. “Places then.”

The three made their way up to the dais to stand next to the rest of the group. His grandparents’ smiles were tight. Francisco gave his shoulder a comforting pat and Luisa fussed over the collar of his suit - a new one for the night, dark green with golden embroidery. Chatana was apparently found of the color green and it seemed like an appropriate move. Luisa gently held his face in her hands, pressing a kiss to his forehead. Isabel ran forward, hugging his middle tight as Elena looked on. He couldn’t read her expression, but she joined Isa in the hug before they all moved to their places: Francisco, Luisa and Isa on Elena’s right, Naomi, Mateo and Gabe on her left. Esteban stood directly next to her right side and stood straighter and prouder than any of the guards could wish.

“Ready?” Elena’s whisper barely met him over the lowering din of the crowd. He nodded.

“As I’ll ever be,” he replied. With that, Elena nodded to the guards manning the door. The guards then opened the doors, and the crowd went still. Eight jaguars entered, blacker than pitch, and there were a few gasps came from the crowd, even more so as they shifted to eight humans, draped in pelts and covered in black body paint. It was hard to tell where pelt ended and skin began in the inky void. Following them came four bird-sprite like creatures - a mix of various birds and humans that felt far too uncanny valley for comfort in their loveliness.

And then came the bride to be, flanked by Huitzilo. Chatana stood at least a head above the crowd, mighty wings held aloft and spread. Her presence was greater than some queens and it demanded attention, even in the simple pose and just as simple walk. Her face was stoic and proud as she followed behind her entourage. Esteban hadn’t expected her to be lovely - he expected the mother of monsters to be...monstrous, and he began to worry that it would be evident in her demeanor.

‘Well, you made your bed,” he thought to himself as he watched the were-jaguars stand at attention in two parallel lines in front of the dais, followed by the bird-sprites. Once Chatana came closer, he stepped down to meet her and her path paused. They bowed to one another - all a ceremonial formality - and Esteban took one of her hands and placed a kiss on the knuckles.

“Welcome to Avalor,” he said, standing to look at her face. “It is nice to finally meet you.”

Chatana’s eyes were warm up close, but the look on her face was confusing. Something mixed with some sort of bored amusement, confusion, and more that he couldn’t place. But she smiled slightly, still formal. “Likewise.”

The Ambassador looked pleased with himself as Chatana and Esteban both ignored him, her stiffly taking his arm as he led her up to the dais. And that was the extent of their conversation and interaction as more champagne was poured and Elena made a welcoming speech to the monsters and spoke of a new era for them and Avalor. She congratulated Esteban and Chatana, and the room toasted their engagement and marriage. As the night continued, Huitzilo and Esteban’s family equally continued to prompt the two to speak. They did of course, but it was stunted, and much like their letters, impersonal. It was chalked up to nerves and the overall inherent awkwardness of just meeting.

They all hoped it was just that as the very least.

#elena of avalor #chateban

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financiallymint · 7 years

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Simple Steps to Start Investing (UK)

I had the honour of interviewing Michael from FoxyMonkey on the subject of investing for university students in the UK. I wanted to talk to someone who had experience and who could give actionable advice to students, so I hammered him with questions and overall got a good step by step guide for beginner and broke students to get started with investing. Pretty cool.

Related: WTF is Investing?

Michael comes from Greece and went to study at Edinburgh University (my city’s uni yay) and is now in London working in Computer Science. His blog, FoxyMonkey, is mostly a hobby where he writes about investing and matched betting as a side hustle. Overall, a very nice guy with some interesting thoughts on Financial Independence and how to take control of your money.

The recording didn’t really work out (next time it will be in podcast form), so I simply wrote out the biggest takeaways from the interview and presented it into actionable steps to start investing NOW.

Related: Start Investing in the US

1. Start educating yourself

If you’ve read other articles on this blog, you’ll see the large reiteration. Education is key to getting started. This can be done through books, blogs and courses. Take action, be proactive and start learning about money. If schools won’t help us, then we must help ourselves.

Books mentioned:

The Richest Man In Babylon

Rich Dad Poor Dad

The Four Pillars of Investing

The Millionaire Fastlane

Smarter Investing

Blogs:

Mr Money Mustache

The Escape Artist

Pragmatic Capitalism

Monevator

2. Live the right lifestyle

This means implementing the right money habits and being conscious about your spending. Michael puts it perfectly: Spend less than you earn and invest the surplus. Start with doing a budget and implementing good money habits.

[caption id="attachment_1340" align="aligncenter" width="478"]

budgeting doesn't have to suck[/caption]

3. Choosing what to invest in

Once your money is sorted it out, it’s time to actually get started. Michael recommends using passive/robo platforms because of low fees and simplicity. This means: index funds. If you decide to go stock picking (buying 50 shares of Apple, for example) you’ll be competing against experts and people who know way more than you. With index funds, you’re with everyone else. It might be boring, but it keeps the fees low.

What is a robo platform? These are platforms that invest your money into the entire market through a robot. No one is managing your money, just a computer that makes sure you have the right percentage of stocks and bonds. It’s not risky and gives better returns than mutual funds. Learn more about them here.

4. Sign up to a platform

In the UK, you will be investing through a Stocks and Shares ISA. You can invest up to £20,000 in one year absolutely tax free.

Go to moneysupermarket.com and compare the different Stocks and Shares ISA

Choose the one that bests suits you: low fees, low trading fees, etc.

Percentage based fees may be cheaper if you’re not going to invest a lot. A fixed amount is better for larger sums.

What’s your risk appetite? Robo advisors will ask you whether you’re an ‘adventurous’ investor or more of a ‘conservative’ investor. From this the computer determines the percentage of stocks vs bonds in your portfolio.

Hargreaves Lansdown: one of the best but expensive

Halifax: what Michael uses, but minimum entry is £500

MoneyFarm: What I’m using, minimum is £1

All you need is a photo of your passport and proof of address (bank statement, for example). Verify your account and you’re set to go!

[caption id="attachment_1341" align="aligncenter" width="515"]

this is how it looks like on my side[/caption]

5. How much to invest?

Michael says the most important is to get started. No matter if it’s £10 or £100, getting started will get the ball rolling and make time. After that, keep it consistent. How much could you put away each month? Even if it’s just £10, make sure you stick to it.

Pay yourself first: Set a percentage of your income every month to put away for investing. The minute you receive your monthly income, whether from a paycheck, parents or a loan, try to put at least 15% of it into your ISA. You’ll thank yourself 10 years later when your capital has increased by 7% every year.

You’ve now planted your own money tree. Pretty fantastic I'd say.

Keep your emotions in check. Don’t start removing money the minute you hear bad news about the market. Train your emotional and financial intelligence to learn how to manage external factors and people’s advice. Be the one in control, the one who knows what’s happening.

6. Keep working on your finances

You’re now an investor. Woohoo! Not many college students can say they're investing in the stock market, so kudos to you. But you can’t stop now! This is just the beginning. Keep reading books and blogs, and educating yourself about money. Work hard to stay out of debt, earn more income, decrease expenses and invest more. What you invest now, will save you later.

What’s great about investing is that not only can you now tell people ‘yep, I’m an investor’, but you'll start getting excited about other parts of your financial life. The financial world may seem complicated and full of strange words like ‘equity’ and ‘venture capitalism’, but really it’s just used to confuse people. People are scared of finances because they don’t understand them. You don’t want to be one of those people, so make it a mission to understand your finances. Do this by practice:

How about starting a side hustle? Or making a debt repayment plan? Or doing a Money Experiment? You’ve taken a huge step to taking control of your money. Now’s not the time to stop.

We talked with Michael about the concept of Financial Independence and how being financially free is all about happiness and being able to do what you want and enjoy in life. If you work hard at improving your finances now, you’ll be able to manage them forever. And taking control of your money means making work optional, means not worrying about your financial situation, means actually enjoying your money. Imagine yourself in that position for a second… why say no to that?

#personal finance #financial education #college finance #student finance #finance #money #financial freedom #investing #uk

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hmhteen · 7 years

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HMH Teen Teaser: THE LOVE LETTERS OF ABELARD AND LILY!

We’re so excited about this one, people! This is the love story of Abelard, who has autism, and Lily, who has ADHD. They’ve known one another since they were kids, but one fateful day in detention, Lily kisses Abelard. Their relationship deepens and changes in ways difficult to describe in words. Especially because Abelard’s autism makes it difficult for him to communicate verbally...so they write one another text messages, often quoting an old book they both love, and just when they think they’re finally connecting, a decision Lily makes about her own mental health changes everything.

You can read the first four chapters of this romantic YA below!

CHAPTER ONE

The day Abelard and I broke the wall, we had a four- hour English test. Seriously. Every tenth grade student in the State of Texas had to take a four-hour English test, which is too long to sit still even if you are a normal person. And I’m not a normal person.

After the test, I told my feet to take me to geography. If I didn’t tell myself where to go, if I let my mind drift, I’d find myself in the quiet calm of the art wing, where the fluorescent lights flickered an appealingly low cycle of semipermanent gloom. Or I’d stand in the empty girls’ room just to be alone. Sometimes I think I’m not attention deficient but attention abundant. Too much everything.

When I got to geography, Coach Neuwirth handed out a boring article about the importance of corn as a primary crop in the early Americas. Then he left the room. He did this a lot. Ever since basketball season had ended, Coach Neuwirth seemed like someone who was counting the min- utes until the school year was over. To be fair, he wasn’t the only one running out the clock.

Thirty seconds after Coach Neuwirth left, the low murmur of voices turned into a conversational deluge. I sat in the back of the room because that’s where the two left- handed desks were — in the row reserved for stoner boys who do not like to make eye contact with teachers. Two seats in front sat Rogelio, turned sideways in his chair, talk- ing fast and casting glances in my direction.

“Cosababa, pelicular camisa,” Rogelio said, and the boys around him all laughed.

Okay, this is probably not what Rogelio said. I’m not a great listener. Also, my Spanish is terrible.

“Camisa,” he repeated.

At the word camisa, Emma K. turned to look at me, and whispered something to the blond girl next to her. I instantly wondered if I’d been talking to myself, which is a thing I do. It attracts attention.

Then it sank in. Camisa. Spanish for “shirt.”

Maybe there was something wrong with my shirt. Maybe the snap-button cowboy shirt I got at a thrift store was not charming and ironic as I’d imagined, but seri- ously ugly. Emma K. had whispered about my shirt. Even Rogelio and his friends, who often wore snap-button cow- boy shirts, had laughed at my shirt. Or maybe not, because my Spanish isn’t good, and anyway, Rogelio could have been talking about someone else. Not Emma K., though. She looked straight at me.

What if I’d popped open a button at bra level and I’d been walking around all day with my bra exposed, and was I even wearing a nice bra, a sexy black bra? Or was it just one of those tragic old bras with a ribbon or a rose that might have been cute once but, over repeated washings, had turned slightly gray and balled up like a dirty piece of dryer lint stuck to the center of my chest?

I clutched the front of my shirt, and Emma K. and the blond girl giggled. My shirt was properly buttoned, but I couldn’t sit in my chair for another minute. School was a molasses eternity, a nightmare ravel of bubble sheets and unkind whispers unfurled in slow motion. I had to leave, even though I’d promised my mother that I would under no circumstances skip school again.

I stood. My feet made a decision in favor of the door, but a squeaking metallic noise stopped me.

I turned.

Directly behind me was an accordion-folded, putty- colored vinyl wall, along with a gunmetal gray box with a handle sticking out of one end. The squeaking noise came from the metal box. The handle moved.

When our school was built in the sixties, someone decided that walls impede the free flow of educational ideas, because some of the third-floor rooms are all double-long, cut in half by retractable vinyl walls. Apparently, the archi- tect of this plan had never been to a high school cafeteria to experience the noise associated with the unimpeded flow of ideas. The wall doesn’t get opened much.

Last time anyone opened the wall was during Geography Fair. One of the custodians came with a strange circular key he inserted into a lock on the side of the box. He’d pushed the handle down and the wall had wheezed open, stuttering and complaining.

Now the handle jiggled up and down as if a bored ghost was trying to menace our class, but no one else was paying attention. I wondered if the custodian was trying to open the wall from the other side. It didn’t make sense.

I left my desk and walked to the box. I leaned over and grabbed it, surprised by the cool feel of solid metal. And suddenly, I felt much better. The world of noise and chaos faded away from me. The touch of real things can do this.

The movement stopped. I shook the bar up and down. It didn’t range very far before hitting the edge of what felt like teeth in a gear.

I pushed down hard on the handle. After a momen- tary lull, it sprang up in my hands, knocking with sur- prising force against my palms. I put both hands on the bar, planted the soles of my Converse sneakers, and pulled against it with all my might.

There was a loud pop, followed by the whipping sound of a wire cable unraveling. The bar went slack in my hands. The opposite end of the vinyl wall slid back three feet.

Everyone stopped talking. Students near the door craned their heads to see into the other classroom. Dakota Marquardt (male) said, “Shiiit!” and half the class giggled.

A rush of talking ensued, some of it in English, some in Spanish.

I dropped the handle and slid back into my chair, too late. Everyone had seen me.

Coach Neuwirth ran back into the room and tried to pull the accordion curtain closed. When he let go of the edge, it slid away, leaving a two-foot gap.

He turned and faced the room. “What the hell hap- pened here?”

It’s never good when a teacher like Coach Neuwirth swears.

I waited for someone to tell on me. Pretty much inevi- table.

Dakota Smith (female) stood and straightened her skirt. She pulled her long brown hair over her shoulder and leaned forward as though reaching across a podium for an invisible microphone.

“After you left, the handle on the wall began to move,” she began. “Lily put her hands on the handle and pushed down and the cable broke and — ”

“Thank you, Dakota.” Coach Neuwirth strode to his desk. “Lily Michaels-Ryan, please accompany me to my desk.”

I followed him to the front of the class, keenly aware that every set of eyes in the room was fixed on me. Coach Neuwirth filled out a form for me to take to the office, not the usual pink half-page referral form, but an ominous shade of yellow with pages of carbons. As I stared at the razor stubble on top of his pale head, I realized I’d messed up pretty badly. So badly, I probably wouldn’t be allowed to see my father in the summer.

“It wasn’t just me,” I said. “There was someone on the other side pushing down. I didn’t mean to break the door, it’s just . . .”

Coach Neuwirth ignored me.

“You’ll note, Miss Michaels-Ryan, that I have filled out a Skrellnetch form for you. Your mother will have to sign the kerblig and return it to the main office before you can be burn to clabs . . .”

This would be a good time to mention that I’d stopped taking my ADHD meds about a month earlier because they made me puke randomly and caused my head to ring like an empty bell at night. Side effects.

“. . . Your parents will have to sign the kerblig before you can be burn to clabs. Do you understand me?”

He waited, holding the Skrellnetch form that I needed to take to the office. Clearly, he had no plans to hand me the all-important Skrellnetch form until I answered him. I contemplated my choices. If I said yes, he would hold me responsible for remembering every clause in his statement, and I would be made to suffer later because I had no idea what he had just said. My heart pounded with a weird mix- ture of fear and exhilaration.

However, if I said no, Coach Neuwirth would consider it a sign of insubordination and general smart-assery. It didn’t look good for me.

“So . . . what copy does my mom sign again?”

Peals of laughter erupted from behind me. Someone muttered, “Ass-hat,” and the laughter increased.

“Get the hell out of my classroom,” Coach Neuwirth said. He threw the Skrellnetch paper across his desk at me.

I began my trek to the office, hoping I wouldn’t run into anyone while I held the stupid Skrellnetch form. After the noise and glare of the classroom, the quiet calm of the hall, with every other row of fluorescent lights off to save on electricity, was a relief. Six steps of cool dark, six steps of bright white burn. Down the stairs. The first floor had a band of colored tiles at shoulder height: white, mustard yel- low, white, blue. I held my right hand out and touched only the blue tiles as I passed through the hall, feeling my jittery state of anxiety mute into a dull, sad place in the center of my chest.

Down at the office, kindly Mrs. Treviño eyed my yel- low Skrellnetch form with visible regret.

“Lily, what happened?” she said, as though I’d twisted an ankle in gym, or had some other not-my-fault kind of accident.

“I broke the sliding wall between Coach Neuwirth’s and Ms. Cardeña’s rooms.”

Mrs. Treviño sighed deeply. I looked away as my lips started to quiver. A gray cloud of shame descended on me with remorseless speed. I’d like to be the good, thoughtful person Mrs. Treviño had mis- taken me for. A person who doesn’t break stuff.

“Well, you’re not the only one,” she said. “Come on back.”

She escorted me to the inner chamber. There, by the vice principal’s office, were two ugly orange chairs. On one chair sat Abelard Mitchell. I took one look at him and knew he’d been on the other side of the wall pulling up on the handle while I pushed down.

Mrs. Treviño gestured to the empty chair and left us alone in the waiting area.

I’d known Abelard since kindergarten. Since my last name was Michaels-Ryan and his was Mitchell, we stood next to each other at every elementary school function. Abelard was tall and slim but broad-shouldered, with a mop of sable brown hair and dark blue eyes. He was gorgeous, but he had some sort of processing delay, mild autism or Asperger’s syndrome or something. He didn’t interact like everyone else.

But sure. Neither did I. When I was seven, I acciden- tally smacked Abelard with my metal lunchbox because I couldn’t stop swinging my arms. I cut his cheek, but he didn’t cry, and no one noticed until later, so now he had this little scar, which was weirdly sexy. Abelard never said anything. He had to have noticed that I was standing there in front of him swinging my Hello Kitty lunchbox with happy, maniacal abandon.

I liked to believe that he could have cashed me in to the teacher and he didn’t.

I dropped into the chair next to him, feeling suddenly nervous to be sitting on a chair that was actually bolted to his chair — as though even the furniture was there to be punished.

“Hey,” I said, a little too loudly. “So you were on the other side of the wall? Who knew it would break like that? You’d think a handle roughly the same age as the Titanic would be sturdier. Although I guess that’s a bad compari- son.”

He said nothing. He was probably thinking about com- puter games, or quantum physics, or the novels of Hermann Hesse. From all available information, which I’ll admit was limited, Abelard was pretty brilliant.

“You were on the other side of the wall.” Abelard glanced at me and looked away.

“Yes.” I felt a strange thrill of complicity. “Usually, I’m here by myself. Why did you . . .”

I stopped before I asked him the stupidest of questions: Why did you break that? My least favorite question in the history of questions.

“The mechanism was squeaking. One of the gears is rusted. They need to oil it.”

I nodded. I didn’t know what to say, or if there was anything to say. I thought of Abelard, under the same anx- ious impulse to touch everything in the world of the here and now that we could feel with our hands. But unlike me, he was thinking about the hidden gears in the box, years of neglect and humidity, gears rusting away unused. He wanted to fix things, not destroy them. A more evolved monster, Abelard.

He leaned over and peered at me from under his shaggy fringe of hair. I caught a hint of his warm scent. Nice.

“Lily Michaels-Ryan,” he said. “You were in my English class last year. You hit me with a lunchbox in first grade.”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” I said. “I hope it didn’t hurt too much. On the plus side, I really do like the scar. It makes you look like a pirate, a little disreputable, you know?”

Abelard brought his hand to his cheek and traced the edges of the scar as though checking to see if it was still there. Suddenly, I wanted to run my hand along his cheek- bone to feel for that slightly raised skin, proof of my earlier bad act.

The sight of his hand on his cheek made me conscious of where my hand was on the arm of the chair, touching the sleeve of his shirt. A phone rang in the office around the corner. Mrs. Treviño’s voice came from the outer office, but it felt like she was on the other side of the world. We were alone.

“Abelard, why didn’t you tell anyone that I hit you with my lunchbox?” I said. “I never got in trouble for that.”

Abelard frowned in slow motion. He seemed slightly offended, like I’d accused his seven-year-old self of being a tattletale and a snitch. I’d been right. He had protected me, one freak to another. I felt a swell of something more than gratitude, more than surprise.

Abelard’s lips parted slightly, like he had something to say that he didn’t want anyone else to hear. I wanted to know what he was thinking. Suddenly, what Abelard had to say seemed like the most important thing in the world.

I turned my head and put my arm down on the chair to lean in so he could whisper in my ear. My arm slipped on the ancient vinyl, and I accidentally moved too close to Abelard, which is a thing that I do. I’m not good with per- sonal space.

Abelard didn’t say anything. I felt his warm breath on the side of my face, a thousand little hairs on my cheek moving in the soft breeze, and I thought of his cheek and how I’d wanted to run my finger along the edge of his scar. And still it seemed like Abelard had something to say, but it wasn’t coming, and maybe he was too anxious to speak. I didn’t know what to say either. My brain was not forming thoughts in English.

I lifted my face and he looked away. But his lips were there, centimeters from mine.

I kissed him. The kiss was over before I really knew what I was doing, just a momentary soft press of my lips against his. A stray impulse that didn’t make sense, my wires crossed by the randomness of the day.

What was I thinking?

“Well, it was nice of you not to tell on me, even though you were only seven.” I went on talking as though I hadn’t just kissed him. I do this a lot. When you live at the mercy of your impulses like I do, you pretty much have to.

“Maybe you should have told someone? You probably needed stitches. Not that I don’t like the scar — it’s a great scar.”

Abelard brought his index finger to his lips and frowned. He had one of those serious, symmetrical faces that a slight frown only improves.

“Lily,” he said slowly, “I — ”

I braced myself for a quick, awkward rejection, but before Abelard could finish his sentence, Vice Principal Krenwelge rounded the corner. I didn’t know whether to be disappointed or relieved.

CHAPTER TWO

My mother came to get me at school. She arrived look- ing frazzled, a small coffee stain over the left breast pocket of her shirt, lipstick reapplied but the rest of her makeup faded, leaving her skin blotchy, nose reddened by the sun. I expected her to be mad, but this was far worse. She looked defeated. Friday, the end of a long week, and now this.

Mom had a brief conference with Vice Principal Krenwelge, and then we drove home in silence. I was tired, beyond tired, needing the comfort of a darkened room.

“Are you mad at me?” I finally said.

We were stopped on Lamar at the light in front of Waterloo Records, where Dad’s band had a CD release when I was five. I remembered Mom in a tight camisole and brightly colored skirt, holding a sleepy baby Iris on her shoulder. Her hair dyed magenta red. Happy clothes. Sexy, even. Afterward, we walked to Amy’s for ice cream. Life in the before time.

“No, Lily, I’m not mad. You’re just lucky Abelard’s mom volunteered to pay the damages.”

This made me sit up.

“Why? Abelard and I broke the wall together. It was as much my fault as his.”

“Not according to your vice principal. Mrs. Mitchell seemed to think that it was Abelard’s idea to break the wall, and you were just following along.”

Mom rolled her eyes to let me know what she thought of this explanation. Me in close proximity to a broken thing: cause and effect. Mom knew who was at fault.

Why would Mrs. Mitchell think that Abelard was at fault? There could be only one reason. Abelard must have taken the blame for me. It didn’t feel right. Abelard wasn’t the breaky type. If I hadn’t pushed down on the stupid handle, Abelard might have found a janitor to oil the gears. “Abelard said the wall was already broken. Abelard said the gears hadn’t been oiled in an eternity.”

“Well, the next time Abelard decides to ‘fix’ something, don’t volunteer to help, okay?”

“Volunteer to help,” I mumbled.

I liked the idea that I’d jumped up because I’d intuited that the situation needed my special breaking expertise. But what if breaking and fixing were really the same activ- ity, reversed?

Did Abelard really “fix” things, or did he just break things, like me? I wanted to ask him about his experience fixing things and breaking things. I thought about the time I’d pulled up too hard on the back seat handle of the car door while pushing against the door with my hip, and the handle broke. And then for some reason, I flipped the child lock switch thinking it might fix the door, only it didn’t. It locked the door, permanently. I’d tried to fix it, I really had. “. . . and Mrs. Screngle says tuber work.” Mom glanced over at me. “Lily, are you listening?” “No,” I admitted. No point in lying. “Did you eat today?”

I had to think about it. The day seemed like an eternity, as though the time before I broke the wall and the time after served as a clear demarcation of events, like the birth of Jesus or the arrival of the dinosaur-ending meteor off the coast of the Yucatan. And now my mind was filled with thoughts of Abelard. Why had he covered for me?

“I don’t remember,” I said.

“Is your lunch still in your backpack?” Mom asked.

I dug through the backpack at my feet. Sure enough, my lunch was untouched in the outer pocket.

“I would have eaten, but they told us to eat during the test, and I was still working, and I just sort of forgot about it, and then we had to go straight to sixth period, so I didn’t have time.”

“Are you hungry now?” I nodded.

We drove through P. Terry’s for veggie burgers, and we split a chocolate shake on the way home, like I was being rewarded for screwing up. I was happy enough, but I couldn’t let things go. I kept thinking about my dad in Portland.

At the start of the school year, Mom had promised that I could visit Dad if I kept my grades up and didn’t skip class. I’d been trying, but things hadn’t been going too well. My grades are all over the place, and I try not to skip, but sometimes I can’t help it.

“So, Mom, about the summer . . . I mean, could I still see Dad?”

Secretly, I planned to go visit Dad and just stay on. Dad taught English at a homeschool cooperative connected to the farm where he worked, kids getting life credit for milk- ing goats and picking organic beets. Heaven. I’d miss Mom and Iris, but clearly I belonged in a “less-structured learn- ing environment.”

“I know you want to see your dad.” Mom paused. It wasn’t quite a pregnant pause, just an awkward millisecond or two. “But it’s not that simple. We’d have to talk to him, and he may not be in a position to have houseguests . . . and of course, your grades . . . and no more skipping . . .”

I stopped listening. A qualified yes is almost a full yes. I’d have to improve my grades and attend all my classes, blah, blah, blah. I could do that.

“You know, Lily, seeing your dad again isn’t going to solve all your problems.”

I nodded to let her know I’d heard her and stared out the window. She was wrong. My father had solved my big- gest problem. There was no reason to think he couldn’t solve my smaller ones.

***

My father taught me how to read.

When I was in second grade, the school reading spe- cialist decided I was dyslexic. She told my mom to read to me every single night, but Mom worked nights. So Dad read to me.

In the beginning, he read me books about cat warriors while he drank craft beer. When Dad got tired of reading books about cats, he picked up Nancy Drew and the Three Investigators from a used book store. These books amused him with their gee-whiz ’thirties and ’forties references: chaste country club dances, German housekeepers devot- edly making strudel, and clubhouses with secret tunnels made out of packing crates and junk. Nancy Drew ushered in cheaper beer: Tecate in cans. I laughed at Dad’s earnest voice for Ned Nickerson, Nancy’s straight-arrow boyfriend, and I fell asleep worrying how Nancy was going to get out of that cave by the ocean before high tide.

“Choral reading,” my mother said, echoing the reading specialist’s advice. “Dad reads a passage, Lily reads a passage.”

My father sat by my bed with the book held between us as I painfully sounded out each little word. I learned to read the same way Hercules learned to hold a full-grown bull in his arms, by having to brute-force sound my way through every syllable until the words got longer and heavier. At first, I read individual words, then sentences, and eventually paragraphs.

Together we read all of Harry Potter; The Lightning Thief ; The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe; Inkheart; and Diane Duane. When the words began to swim on the page, Dad read to me from his own personal library of medieval classics. By this time, I was sharing a bedroom with my sister, Iris, and she listened with rapt attention.

Dad read Le Morte d ’Arthur and Physica by Hildegard von Bingen, Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, and The Letters of Abelard and Heloise.

At about the time we started on Tolkien, with a nightly supplement of The Prose Edda and the Nibelungenlied, my father had discovered vodka. Cheap, easy to hide, and packed more of a punch than beer.

I never questioned the hours I spent sequestered away in my bedroom with Dad, reading while he drank. It was fun, and it was too good to last.

The end came when I was in fifth grade. My mom caught me alone in my room with her copy of Jane Eyre.

“Are you reading?” she asked, hands on her hips. Her dark green eyes glittered with some internal fire I recog- nized as hopefulness. She had a sort of feral alertness that alarmed me.

“What? . . . No,” I replied, thrown off my guard. I quickly regained my composure. “This book is weird. I can’t understand this language. What’s it about?”

“It’s a love story about a girl with a strong moral compass. It’s an older book, so the language can seem a little stilted, but it’s really good.” She smoothed the hair away from my forehead and attempted a wan smile. She looked sad. “You should have your father read it to you.”

“I will.”

I felt bad about lying to her, but mostly I felt relieved. Crisis averted! My father read me Jane Eyre, or he reread me Jane Eyre, because I’d already finished it by then. I didn’t care. Mom was happy; Dad was pleasantly drunk. Life was golden.

At the end of fifth grade, the school tested me again. I’d never seen my mother so thrilled. She came home wav- ing her copy of my test results over her head.

“Your phonemic scores are still relatively low,” she said. “But your comprehension is off the charts. You’ve made amazing progress, Lily.”

I didn’t immediately get the magnitude of what I’d done, but I think my father did. He greeted the news that I was in the 98th+ percentile in reading comprehension with a queasy smile. I’ll never forget the look he gave me. It was as though his usefulness on the planet had suddenly ended. Maybe he knew divorce was not far off.

“I’ve heard about this book Wuthering Heights,” I said, hoping I wasn’t overplaying the wide-eyed thing. “I don’t think I can read it by myself, though. It’s for older people, right? But we could read it together.”

“Sure thing, Lil,” Dad said, his eyes distant.

We all smiled at one another. The happiest part of my life ended there in the fifth grade.

CHAPTER THREE

Monday morning my mother woke me while it was still dark. She stood by my bed with a cup of tea and a piece of toast.

“Eat the toast,” Mom said. She hovered over me, already dressed for work in a white linen shirt and a fifties beaded cardigan that may have once been an ironic statement for her but that she now considers an heirloom.

“It’s the middle of the night.” I rolled over to face Iris’s twin bed next to mine. “Look. Iris is still asleep.”

My sister was an inanimate lump of covers. Iris usually springs out of bed like Snow White, ready to polish silver and sing with birds, but it was so early she wasn’t even stir- ring.

“I have to go to work early today,” Mom said. “You need to take your medication.”

“I can’t take it on empty stomach.”

“Hence the toast.” Mom thrust the plate at me. Reluctantly, I bit into the toast. At this hour of the morning, food seemed like a human rights violation. I chewed twice and swallowed with difficulty before slump- ing back on the bed.

“Now your medication.”

I took the pill and swallowed without hesitation. She handed me the lukewarm and very weak tea with milk to wash it down.

“You don’t trust me anymore,” I said.

“It just doesn’t seem like you’ve been taking your medi- cation lately, Lily. Maybe you’ve forgotten. I thought I would help you remember.”

Every morning for the past month, Mom had left a cup of tea, a piece of toast, and a pill on a plate for me by my bedside. And every morning I’d taken that pill and stashed it in an old pickle jar under my bed. I didn’t like the drug. It sucked the creamy goodness out of life.

Antidepressants tend to do that. I should know. This wasn’t the first one I’d been on.

Bells and whistles went off in my head. On Saturday, the day after Abelard and I broke the wall, Mom offered to take me and Iris to a movie. She didn’t go with us, and at the time, it seemed kind of weird. She must have gone home and searched the room for missing pills.

I probably should have flushed the medicine in the toilet so downstream fish and migratory waterfowl could expe- rience an unexpected rush of jittery calm and the sudden ability to meet deadlines and organize paperwork. Yes, I could have shared my drug bounty with the ecosystem, but a strange frugality had stopped me. The stuff was expensive.

Once Mom left, I looked under the bed. Sure enough, the pickle jar was gone.

I’m sure Mom was relieved to find my hidden stash, because I’d saved her a couple hundred bucks. One thing was for certain: She would never mention the pickle jar, and neither would I.

***

School. I met Rosalind at our usual spot under the live oaks in the courtyard for lunch.

Rosalind is my oldest friend all the way back to kinder- garten. She’s tiny and plays small children in local theatri- cal productions. With her long dark hair in braids and her giant brown eyes, she can pass for twelve. Maybe ten on a really big stage.

Rosalind was eating out of a bento box filled with brown rice, raw carrots, and seaweed salad. Rosalind’s parents are restricted-calorie-intake people who have formulated a plan to live for all of eternity. Like the children of vegan, mac- robiotic, gluten-shunning parents everywhere, Rosalind’s favorite food is pizza — though she likes classy pizza: feta cheese, black olives. Her dream is to move to New York and eat nothing but pizza. Also — acting.

“Lily, how was your trip to the vice principal’s office?” Rosalind asked.

“Gripping and poignant. I laughed, I cried — ”

“Was your mom mad?”

“Weirdly, no. I have a week in detention, but that’s it. She even said I can still see my dad this summer.”

“Really?” Rosalind raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Your mom said you could go to Portland?”

“If I keep my grades up and don’t skip class.”

Truth be told, Rosalind didn’t entirely approve of my plan to visit my dad and then refuse to return. She didn’t think I was cut out to be an organic beet farmer. Also, she would miss me.

I glanced across the courtyard. Abelard sat at his usual spot on the low wall under the crepe myrtle. Alone. The sight of him through the milling crowd sent a jolt of electricity up my spine. I realized I’d been scanning the halls all day, hoping to catch a glimpse of him.

I settled on the bench next to Rosalind, carefully avoid- ing a patch of grackle poo, and opened the lunch that Iris had packed for me. A tomato sandwich, apple, Oreos. I nibbled on an Oreo and set the rest aside.

“You’re not eating?” Rosalind said. “Why, if I had a sandwich on actual bread — bread made from real demon wheat, mind you —”

“Here, have it. It’s yours. Taste the evil.”

I handed Rosalind my sandwich, but she just shrugged. I suspect she actually likes brown rice.

“So you aren’t eating. What’s up?”

“I’m back on my drug-based diet. My stomach will

refuse all food until five thirty, at which point I will eat my entire day’s calories in two hours, mostly in potato chips. Straight out of the bag. If we even have potato chips. Might be stale crackers.”

“Healthy,” Rosalind said. “I thought you weren’t going to take the drugs anymore.”

“After my little trip to the vice principal’s office, my mother decided she would watch me take my meds, like some hospital matron in one of those old movies your parents love.”

“The Snake Pit, Olivia de Havilland,” Rosalind said. “Whatever.”

Rosalind frowned.

“The drugs aren’t good for you, Lily. They change you.” “It’s not like I have a choice.”

“Um, you know how my mother is always talking about . . . balance between . . . gluten and sugar can . . . talk to your mother . . . only if you . . . off the medication . . . take you to a dark place.”

I shrugged, uninterested in the topic of my medication and diet. Abelard was eating cookies or crackers, reading something on his phone, dark hair falling over his eyes. I couldn’t stop thinking about him. He was an attractive nui- sance, a shiny object.

“What do you think of Abelard?” I asked.

Rosalind followed my gaze. “I don’t know. He’s kind of in his own little bubble. Why do you ask?”

“He was on the other side of the wall when I — when we broke it.” Breaking the wall was beginning to feel like a shared secret, a source of pride. Abelard and I destroyed something — together.

“Okay,” Rosalind said slowly. Dubious. I know that look.

“He took the blame. For both of us. He didn’t have to do that.”

“And you think that was about you?” “Maybe it was about me,” I said.

I continued to stare. It was easy to stare at Abelard. He never lifted his head, never glanced in my direction. Plus — kind of beautiful. Rosalind had a point, though. Abelard was self-contained. Maybe he hadn’t thought about me once since I’d kissed him in the office. And here I was thinking obsessively about him, imagining we had some sort of secret kinship just because ten years ago I hit him in the face with my lunchbox.

“I’m just saying, don’t construct an elaborate fantasy about him before you find out what’s really going on in his head,” Rosalind said. “Abelard is not like everyone else.”

“Neither am I.” Rosalind sighed.

“You know what I mean, Lily. Unlike Abelard, you can carry on a conversation —”

“Almost like a normal person,” I interrupted. “You are a normal person,” she said.

I kind of loved that Rosalind thought there was nothing wrong with me that couldn’t be cured by regular helpings of wheatgrass shots and a little extra understanding. This was why she was my best friend — but it bothered me to hear her say Abelard was not like everyone else. Broken.

Whether she admitted it or not, I was also not like everyone else. Why be polite — why not just say “broken”?

I am a proud Broken American. There. I’ve said it.

CHAPTER FOUR

Normally I leave school each afternoon like I’m running the bulls at Pamplona. Not that afternoon. I went to the bathroom and fought for space at the mirror with the girls who did their makeup. I brushed my hair in the corner, but then one of the mirror regulars, a raccoon-eyed blonde named Montana Jordan or Jordan Montana, took pity on me.

“Here.” She waved me to a free spot in the mirror. I touched up my base and put on some lip gloss.

“You should really sclur your blash,” Montana Jordan/ Jordan Montana said. Her voice echoed noisily against the bathroom tile. “Screeb pretty.”

“Sure,” I replied. Screeb pretty. That was me.

“Sclur your blashes,” she said, holding out an eyelash curler.

“Oh.” Curl my eyelashes. My brain took the visual cue and made sense of the words. “No thanks. I’m on my way to detention. Coach Neuwirth.”

I stared at my reflection in the mirror — a slight bump on the bridge of my nose, skeptical green eyes. My wavy brown hair already starting to look like my time with the brush had been an exercise in futility. I couldn’t see how curly eyelashes would be much of an improvement.

“Really?” she said. “Me too.”

And then she went back to curling her eyelashes.

***

Abelard was already in detention when I arrived. The only other people in the room were Richard Hernandez from my algebra class and Rogelio. An emo boy I didn’t know wandered in after me.

I dropped my backpack on the floor and sat at the desk in front of Abelard, my heart pounding. Coach Neuwirth could show up at any moment. I turned around and faced Abelard before my heart rate settled.

“Okay,” I said. Extraneous hand movement. I do this when I’m nervous. “Why did you take the blame for break- ing the wall when it wasn’t just your fault? Because my mom said that your mom told the vice principal that you said you were to blame.”

I stopped because I’d run out of breath. Also — tortured sentence.

Abelard looked up. His eyes were a clearer, deeper shade of blue than I had remembered. He looked away.

“And when I hit you with the lunchbox in first grade, you never told anyone, but you probably should have. It wasn’t like we were really friends or anything —”

“You came to my house,” Abelard said in a surprisingly loud voice.

Tectonic shift of the earth’s crust, a realignment of everything. Abelard and I had a prior history, a reason I’d felt a natural connection between us. I wished I remembered.

“You came to my house,” Abelard repeated. “I was five. We watched Pokémon together. You insisted Charizard was a dragon, not a lizard.”

I’ve had an obsession with dragons ever since Dad read me The Poetic Edda. There’s a dragon in Norse mythology who chews on the roots of the tree of life. A bad thing, right? But my father contended that without the dragon, the tree of life would become overgrown and eventually choke itself out of existence. My personal spirit animal — the destructive dragon.

“Because — fire-breathing,” I said. “I mean, hello, dragon?”

Abelard blinked.

“Char — lizard, Charizard,” he said slowly. “Etymology.” Beside us Richard and Rogelio switched their conversa- tion seamlessly from English to Spanish. Should have been a hint, but I was too excited to pay attention. A rustling

noise at the front of the room and throat clearing. “Turn around.”

“Oh, you did not just play the Pokémon etymology card,” I said, experiencing a rush of word-borne feels. More fun words than I’d had in a long time. “Dragons are everything! It’s a dragon who nibbles on the roots of the tree of life, because otherwise —”

“Miss Michaels-Ryan! Turn around!” a voice boomed. “Stop pestering Mr. Mitchell.”

Pestering. I was pestering. A word invented by teach- ers to mean “bothering” but sounding infinitely worse, like something you’d get arrested for doing in a movie theater.

I swiveled, and Coach Neuwirth locked eyes on me. I felt my stomach flop, but at that moment Rogelio muttered something hilarious in Spanish. Rogelio is a natural-born confrontation clown, one of those guys who always have to get the last word in. It didn’t help Coach Neuwirth’s mood that the last word was in Spanish.

“We’re going to break up your little party,” Coach Neuwirth said. “Mr. Mondragon, please move next to Mr. Kreuz, Miss Michaels-Ryan, next to Mr. Hernandez.”

I moved back a row next to Richard Hernandez. Abelard turned sideways in his chair and stared out the window. The room went quiet, unearthly quiet. Montana Jordan/Jordan Montana slid soundlessly into the room and took a seat across from the emo boy. Coach Neuwirth glared at her from his desk.

“Nidhogg,” Abelard said in a voice that cut through the thick stillness. “Yggdrasil.”

Nidhogg — the dragon. Yggdrasil — the tree of life. I didn’t remember the names from Norse mythology, but Abelard did. Abelard, my secret cartoon-watching friend from a childhood I didn’t quite remember. Abelard, who knew Norse mythology and the finer points of gear mainte- nance. Was there anything he didn’t know?

***

Detention was pretty boring. Half an hour later, I’d fin- ished my homework. I hadn’t eaten my lunch, and I was hungry and tired, too burnt to read. There was nothing to do.

Richard Hernandez sat at the desk next to me, draw- ing. I leaned over, expecting to see badly drawn girls with gravity-defying breasts, motorcycles, guns — the standard Grand Theft Auto love letter to chaos and faceless sex. The stuff boys draw.

Instead, Richard was drawing Abelard. Abelard with a three-quarter profile, his right cheekbone illuminated by sunlight streaming in from the window. Richard had drawn the barest line of a mouth and was filling in the details of Abelard’s chin, muscles in his jaw shaded diagonally from top left to bottom right.

The only part of the picture Richard had finished was Abelard’s eyes. He’d perfectly captured the way Abelard’s dark blue eyes held the light, the open, almost mystical quality of his gaze.

I glanced at Abelard and felt a strange thrill in the pit of my stomach. There was something otherworldly about him. It wasn’t my imagination — Richard saw it too.

Richard finished Abelard’s chin and moved to his hair. “Wow,” I murmured.

Richard wrapped his right arm around his picture to shield it from my view and looked up. He had close-set, intelligent eyes and dark hair in a Caesar cut.

“That’s really good,” I whispered. Good was an insuf- ficient word for his drawing, like telling a rock star his music was nice. I felt a little stupid about that, but what could I do? Drugs kill thought — even the happy, helpful drugs.

“Shhh . . .” Coach Neuwirth hissed. “Thanks,” Richard mouthed silently.

Richard returned to drawing, and I continued to watch. Minutes passed while he sketched in rapid, assured move- ments. It was calming, watching Richard, as soothing as a lullaby. I almost forgot that I was hungry and that the skin over my skull was beginning to crawl and itch.

One of the basketball players came by to talk to Coach Neuwirth. They stepped out into the hall, and I leaned over toward Richard.

“You’re left-handed — like me. Also Leonardo da Vinci,” I whispered. “You shade in the same direction — top left to bottom right. Do you know they think da Vinci was dyslexic?”

I held my hands out to visualize this, making the clas- sic L for loser with my left hand. Kindergarten tricks. They never get old.

“You’re making that up,” Richard said. “How could anybody know?”

“I’m not making it up. I saw it on Nova. Da Vinci wrote letters backwards and misspelled words. Classic dyslexic tendencies. I should know. I’m dyslexic, too.”

“No you’re not.” Richard looked up, his close-set eyes in a savage frown. “You can read.”

Richard said the word read with the naked bitterness I usually reserve for the terms late slip or instruction sheet. Dyslexia. You can pass for normal for a while, but even- tually the anger gives you away. The monster will out. I decided I liked Richard.

“Yes, I’m totally normal,” I replied. “That’s why I’ve been in the same algebra class with you for two years running.”

“But I see you reading all the time. You always have a book —”

“I hear talking,” Coach Neuwirth boomed.

Richard startled at the sound of Coach Neuwirth’s voice. His pencil slipped, and the picture of Abelard floated off the desk, slid across the floor, and landed face-up in front of Rogelio Mondragon.

Richard froze, a stricken look on his face.

Coach Neuwirth was in the hall talking, his back half turned but still in the line of sight. I eased out of my seat in a crouch and moved slowly toward the picture, hoping to snatch it before Rogelio noticed.

I was too slow. Rogelio spotted the picture and grabbed it. He glanced at Abelard and back to the picture as his expression changed from perplexed to positively gleeful. It was as though he’d found a secret love letter, ready-made for a million stupid jokes. Someone was going to be made to suffer in both English and Spanish. Rogelio scanned the room, searching for his victim.

At the exact moment Rogelio’s eyes settled on me, Coach Neuwirth strode down the aisle and ripped the pic- ture out of Rogelio’s hands.

“Whose picture is this?” Coach Neuwirth demanded. Richard looked a little sick.

“It’s mine.” The words were out of my mouth before I realized what I was saying. Lies are like that sometimes.

Coach Neuwirth held the picture and examined it care- fully.

“So, this is your boyfriend?” Coach Neuwirth chuckled. “Pretty good likeness of our friend Abelard here.”

Hard to determine who he was trying to humiliate at this juncture, Abelard for being unlikely boyfriend mate- rial, or me for being, well, me. Sometimes I think Coach Neuwirth lets the cruelty fly randomly just to see who might get hit.

Abelard turned to look at me briefly. I couldn’t tell whether he was horrified, embarrassed, or intrigued that Coach Neuwirth just told the whole world he was my boy- friend. I looked away.

Coach Neuwirth handed the picture to me.

“Put it away, Ms. Michaels-Ryan,” Coach Neuwirth said.

I folded the drawing of Abelard and slipped it into my book.

***

In the afternoon when I returned home, the picture fell out of my book. Abelard, beautiful and distant. Richard Hernandez’s own version of the Mona Lisa, a mystery for the ages. Abelard, no doubt named for Peter Abelard from the twelfth-century text The Letters of Abelard and Heloise. Strange.

I drew a thought bubble over his head and wrote the words I am Abelard, medieval French philosopher and time traveler. I have come to the future on a quest for love and beauty, but find only the barren wasteland that is high school. My tra- vails are for not!

I stuck the picture on the bulletin board and collapsed on my bed, empty. I opened my book, a novel about a girl on the run with her brilliant, eccentric father. After three pages, I quit reading, because I didn’t care what happened with the father’s new girlfriend or the daughter’s desire to go to a normal school for more than three months at a time. My head had begun that drug-fueled end-of-the- day descent, circling the empty runway of a town called Apathy.

I put my book away.

My sister came into our bedroom.

Iris is in seventh grade. Tall like me, brown eyes to my green. Same wavy brown hair, same bump on the bridge of her nose. Iris doesn’t seem to have inherited my moth- er’s large breasts like I have. She wishes that she had my breasts, but she is wrong about this.

Iris attends the Liberal Arts, Math, and Engineering Academy — LAMEA, or LAME as everyone calls it. She is the perfect student, equally adept at the long-form essay and robotics, and building musical instruments out of found objects. Found objects are a big part of the curricu- lum at LAME.

For someone with such a full curricular life, Iris has an overdeveloped interest in my activities. Like being me has a 1950s-motorcycle-and-leather-bomber-jacket sort of glam- our for her, because she has never tasted the fruits of failure. I could tell her that living outside the lines is not all that, but she probably wouldn’t listen anyway.

“What are you doing?” Iris said. “Nothing.”

“Who is that?” She leaned over the picture of Abelard, studying it with the dreamy intensity she usually reserves for K-pop stars with ice-blond dyed hair and too much mascara.

“No one,” I replied. “A kid at my school. His name is Abelard.”

“He’s adorable,” she said.

“No.” I stared at the picture. “Well, yes, he is.”

I thought about my impulsive kiss, and my heart flopped in protest. Continued exposure to the sight of Abelard’s faraway eyes was unfair.

“It’s dinnertime,” Iris said. “Mom told me to tell you.” “Not hungry,” I replied.

“Mom made a really good salad. We’ve got Supernatural cued up.”

Supernatural. Salad. These are the things we do together, eat salads and watch Supernatural because all three of us, Mom, me, and Iris, think those guys are hot. Iris likes the taller baby-faced one, but Mom and I prefer the deep- voiced snarky brother. It’s like a miracle, Mom says, to find such transgenerational hotness on TV.

This was our familial idea of a good time. It meant nothing to me at that moment — good TV, hot guys in a seventies ride, salad.

“No thanks,” I said. “I’ll just lie here and listen to the inside of my skull buzz.”

Iris wandered off. I played Candy Crush on my phone until I saw little orange and blue striped candies exploding on the insides of my eyelids when I closed them, and still it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough pleasure, not enough light or color to fill the emptiness of my brain. It didn’t feel good or fun, but it was motion of a kind. If I stopped playing, I would realize that there were no thoughts left in my head and I was truly alone. This was what happened when my ADHD medicine wore off. This was why I hated drugs.

***

I left the picture of Abelard in my room, thinking I would show it to Rosalind over lunch. But when I packed my stuff up for school in the morning, the picture was gone. This didn’t surprise me in the least. Most pieces of paper I come into contact with disappear suddenly and without reason. It’s just the way it is.

******

Want to learn more about Abelard and Lily? Pre-order the book today from any of the links below!

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#hmh teen #hmhteen #am reading #amreading #yalit #ya lit #young adult fiction #booklr #bookstagram #excerpt #ya excerpt #the love letters of abelard and lily

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notaspringday · 7 years

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get to know me tag

i was tagged by @bonbunkookie ! thank you so much for tagging me!

RULES: you must answer these 92 statements and tag 20 people

THE LAST… 1.Drink: water 2.Phone call: my mom 3.Text message: to @flowerjoonie “Hey I think you will like the song Last Day by BTOB!” 4.Song you listened to: Someday by BTOB, I just started listening to them and I am OBSESSED 5.Time you cried: a few weeks ago thinking about someone close to me that has passed away recently

HAVE YOU EVER… 6.Dated someone twice: no, i wouldn't make the same mistake twice 7.Been cheated on: no 8.Kissed someone and regretted it: yes 9.Lost someone special: yes 10.Been depressed: yes 11.Gotten drunk and thrown up: no

LIST 3 FAVORITE COLORS: - light pink - gray - black

IN THE LAST YEAR HAVE YOU… 15.Made new friends: yes 16.Fallen out of love: no 17.Laughed until you cried: me everyday, i find everything hilarious 18.Found out someone was talking about you: yes 19.Met someone who changed you: no 20.Found out who your true friends are: yes 21.Kissed someone on your Facebook list: no

GENERAL… 22.How many of your Facebook friends do you know in real life: i don’t have Facebook 23.Do you have any pets: yes! 2 cats and a dog 24.Do you want to change your name: no 25.What did you do for your last birthday: i spent it at dance class and with my family and some close friends 26.What time did you wake up: 3:20 AM, it is 3:58 right now as I am writing this 27.What were you doing at midnight last night: just getting to sleep 28.Name something you cannot wait for: to graduate college and start my career 29.When was the last time you saw your mother: a few hours ago 30.What is one thing you wish you could change about your life: i want to move out of this town 31.What are you listening to right now: BTOB 32.Have you ever talked to a person named Tom: yes 33.Something that is getting on your nerves: my inability to lose weight and keep it off 34.Most visited website: Amazon 35.Elementary: ✔ 36. High School: ✔ 37.College/university: i’m in my second year of college! 38.Hair color: blonde 39.Long or short hair: medium-isa length? 40.Do you have a crush on someone: just kpop idols 41.What do you like about yourself: my eyes 42.Piercings: ears, but I want more 43.Blood type: i think it is O ? I honestly don't remember 44.Nickname: allie, al, allie-gator, allan, allay, baepsae 45.Relationship status: single for all eternity 46.Zodiac sign: Cancer 47.Pronouns: She/her 48.Favorite tv show: goblin! it is seriously so good!! 49.Tattoos: no 50.Right or left hand: right

FIRST…

51.Surgery: i got my tonsils out when I was 7 52.Piercing: i just have the traditional ear piercings that I got when I was 9 or 10 54.Sport: played: competitive volleyball and competitive dance Watched: i love basketball and football 55.Vacation: anywhere in europe or south korea 57.Eating:the last thing i ate was some angel hair pasta and starbursts 58.Drinking: water 59.I’m about to: online shop 60.Listening to: still BTOB 61.Waiting for: school to start so I can move into my dorm 62.Want: to get a real job 63.Get married: yes 64.Career: something in the computer science world or in the dermatology world

WHICH IS BETTER… (in a significant other?) 65.Hugs or kisses: hugs 66.Lips or eyes: Eyes 67.Shorter or taller: taller 68.Older or younger: older, but not by too much 70.Nice arms or nice stomach: it doesn't matter, but if I was given the option, i would honestly say arms 71.Sensitive or loud: a little bit of both 72.Hook up or relationship: relationship 73.Troublemaker or hesitant: a good combination of both, but more troublemaker because I need someone to balance out my super hesitant personality

HAVE YOU EVER… 74.Kissed a stranger?: no 75.Drank hard liquor?: honestly no 76.Lost glasses contact/lenses?: yes, but i always find them 77.Turned someone down?: yes 78.Sex on first date?: no 79.Broken someone’s heart?: yes 80.Had your heart broken?: no 81.Been arrested?: no 82.Cried when someone died?: yes, i bawled my eyes out for a few days 83.Fallen for a friend?: no

DO YOU BELIEVE IN… 84.Yourself?: for the most part 85.Miracles?: yes 86.Love at first sight?: yes, and I hope i find this one day 87.Santa Claus?: no, but i tell my parents I still do 88.Kiss on the first date?: depends on the situation 89.Angels?: yes

OTHER… 90.Current best friend’s name: Emmalee, my sis is my bestie @flowerjoonie 91.Eye color: icy blue/green, but more of an icy green lately 92.Favorite movie: anything and everything by Studio Ghibli

tagging: @armypowerr @kpoptrashfics @skyeruns @glowytaehyung @hiraiseuljung @jh1verse @jiminparksm @monsta-dee @i-like-to-think-that-im-cool @briwright1257 @thegdragonsdungeon @jungkooksweetheart @wingscomeback @taeonie @lovyugyeom @13kth @blossomkth @mxisbae @sftguk @gamjin

#i hope you guys fill this out so we can get to know each other more!!!#get to know me

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undercovermcdfan · 8 years

Text

the right impressions | vylance

summary: Dad AU. First introductions is everything. Vylance. Ensemble piece.

a/n: so y’all know the Dad AU—either from my own yelling/fics or @crybabytime’s beautiful comics (click here to go through her tag!), and honestly? I want to make a full-fledged, multi-chaptered fic of it one day. For now, here’s a fic featuring Laurance reintroducing Vylad as his partner to the kids and their reactions. Lowkey, I’ll probably will write a drabble about Zenix & Laurance’s talk

warning(s): divorce ment.

Laurance’s reassuring voice did little to ease his nerves.

“Just act as you normally do—Vylad, they love you,” Laurance said, albeit a little distracted as the clanks and shuffling of the kitchen in the background, “Maybe even more than me.”

Normally, the little statement at the end would make him chuckle and rolled his eyes affectionately. Though the sincerity of Laurance’s tone tempted him to believe in it, believe his reassuring lie… Vylad felt his cynical side jab at the misuse of love in this situation.

Did Laurance’s kids like him? Maybe. But love, he wasn’t sure.

They saw him now and again, though his travels thanks to work kept him from being a constant visitor in the household. They knew him as Uncle Vylad—to the three younger children, he was called this because he was a friend of Laurance; Zenix, the eldest, knew he was their other father… ex-father…? err, Garroth’s youngest brother and was their actual uncle. The friendly face who helped occasionally and had dinners whenever spare time allowed it; he honestly wondered if they could see him as something, something more.

Travis’s eyes always lit up joyfully when he came around, but curiosity and soft-hearted was his nature.

Isabel, while warming up to him slower than Travis, looked to him with admiration and didn’t hesitate to greet him now with open arms.

Malachi was only a baby, and he wasn’t sure if babies really have the “hate” and “love” idea down pat; but even with his little experience, the mild-mannered child still smiled and felt at ease with his presence, so that must’ve meant something.

Only child who looked to him with suspicion, keeping his distance… was Zenix. Though the nature of his and Laurance’s relationship wasn’t revealed yet, with how Zenix acted around him almost made Vylad wonder—did he know already? When the other children expressed their approval in their own way, Zenix’s judgmental eyes were the ones who reminded Vylad that the statement of ‘They love you’ was faulty.

But he couldn’t drag his feet forever.

This was long overdue— and it would be a strange to admit to his boyfriend of the past year that the only reason he’s having cold feet was thanks to his perceptive son.

If it weren’t for genuine nervousness and anxiety feeding thoughts of ‘is this too big of a change? Maybe it’s too soon.’, he’d almost laugh at the absurdity—wasn’t it in most relationships, the parents were the nerve-racking obstacle one would fret over? Not a seven-year-old child with eyes that almost feel although they could pick apart his weakness.

He breathed in, shifting the flowers in his hands as he reached to press the doorbell.

He breathed out.

Laurance’s voice echo in his mind: Just act as you normally do.

Safe to say the flowers didn’t lasted so long.

Travis and Isabel immediately asked for them after they shouted hellos and hugged his legs, nearly knocking him over; they greedily reached up, blues and greens brightly shone with wide smiles—and in truth, Vylad was a weak man and quickly conceded the flowers to the kids.

The house was filled with a delicious smell—which meant, as usual, the dinner won’t disappoint. Eventually, Laurance poked his head into the hall way, hair tied into a bun and bangs pushed back by a headband as he wiped his hands onto his apron; his face, similarly to Travis and Isabel, lit up, though with a little relief mixed in.

“Always one for punctuality, huh,” Laurance mused, stepping into the hall and halfway meeting Vylad for a tight hug, “I’m going to put the finishes touches to dinner—make yourself comfortable, the kids already set the table.”

“Oh, I-I’ll do that, um,” Vylad then sighed, “I’m sorry, though.”

“Hm?” Laurance pulled away, brows furrowed.

“I brought flowers but…”

Laurance nodded in understanding, “You let Isabel and Travis bully them away from you.”

Vylad wrinkled his nose, his frown turning into a slight pout as he muttered, “I wasn’t bullied… they’re simply convincing.”

Laurance laughed, almost leaning in to press a kiss to his forehead but a sudden ringing sounded and he straighten. “That’s dinner timer— can you tell Isa and Travis to wash up, and head for the table after?”

Vylad nodded, faltering slightly as he watched Laurance disappeared back into the kitchen with hurried steps. I wonder which way those two we—

His eyes locked onto another gaze, one that was watching from the stairs. No, not just watching. Glaring. Zenix, who pressed his lips into a thin line, sat on the stairway with arms crossed. Like his siblings and father, he was dressed nicely in a clean button up and black pants; he didn’t say anything and continued to glare for another moment.

“Um, hello Zenix,” Vylad started awkwardly, offering a small smile, “I… um… You should probably head to the dinner table. I’ll handle Isabel and Travis.”

Nothing.

Zenix simply avert his eyes to his feet, brows furrowed and simply ignoring him. Vylad sighed.

He didn’t know what to say—what could he say? He could only leave Zenix to his thoughts, making a mental note of the behavior. While Zenix never expressed overt liking of Vylad’s presence, the upset sight of him was… worrying and maybe his theory of the eldest already being aware was true.

But he can’t dwell on it for now.

Tracking down the little rascals was easy, as the two didn’t go far—they took apart the bouquet in no time, so that was a lost cause. He found Travis and Isabel giggling as they slowly bending the stalks of the flowers into a flower crowns (or rather, attempting to). Vylad smiled and patted their heads as they proudly showed off their half-made crowns, but the two hungry enough to abandon their project when he said Laurance wanted them to wash up before dinner.

Zenix wasn’t on the stairs when the three walked by again. Instead, Zenix was waiting at the table, a seat closest to Malachi’s highchair as the elder fussed over the baby’s bib… and acting a little more subdued than usual. Vylad’s eyes narrowed for a moment. Strange.

He didn’t meet with his eyes, hopping off to the kitchen without even a word. Vylad tried to search in recent memory—either from his own actions or events that Laurance told him, what would be upsetting Zenix.

But as he tried to get Travis and Isabel settled, he came up with nothing.

Dinner with Laurance was always an eventful fare—but with his children, it went from a sweet gesture they rarely could took delight in to a display of what a warm family was.

From Travis’s need to tell Vylad everything about what he missed since the last his visit and what his best friend from next door, Katelyn, showed him recent, to Isabel proudly showing off the fact she could count farther than her brother despite being the younger of the two, to Malachi’s babbles and absolutely destruction of his food as he mushed it against his face (which got the entire table laughing).

Even Vylad told some stories, interrupted every few minutes about questions of the places he visited and sometimes going off in tangents such as: “Wait, they have elephants in Asia too?” “But he said they’re itty-bitty small kind.” “So, like baby elephants.” “No, no—they’re not babies!” “I feel like I know what itty-bitty means; they’re baby ‘phants!”.

Yet Laurance nor Vylad missed the fact there was one voice who didn’t join in the conversation as much as the rest. Zenix sat at his seat, pushing around the food quietly—and though Laurance kept the smiles up, it would slip away every now and again, a worried gaze landing on the quiet eldest.

Eventually, dinner wrapped up and the table was cleared with the help of Vylad—it was a few moments they had, while Laurance told the kids to wait at the table rather than running off immediately for their hour of freedom before bed.

“Are you ready?” Laurance whispered to him, taking his hand gingerly and Vylad intertwine their fingers, giving the hold a squeeze.

“Yes, but,” Vylad frowned, “Do you think they’ll understand?”

“Well, we waited a year… and I know neither of us think this is a fling, Vylad,” Laurance softly smiled, placing a kiss on his knuckles, “Relax. They’re smart cookies—they’ll understand.”

They returned, hand in hand, neither Travis or Isabel noticed at first… but Zenix did, and frowned immediately.

“Da-ad, can we go?” Travis, slouching and slowly slipping out of his seat, started to whine.

Isabel shushed him, with a quick berate, “Don’t sit like that, you goof!”

“I’m not a goof! You are!” Travis immediately retorted, an offended look written on the child’s face.

“Nu-uh! You’re the one who’s sitting like that—Dad said we have to wait!” Isabel chided him.

“Goody two-shoes!”

“Goofy bad boy—“

“Isabel, Travis—please. What did I say about calling each other bad names?” Laurance looked at the two, who immediately lowered their eyes in guilt, “This is a special night— one that’s almost finished. So please, say sorry to each other.”

Both glanced at each other, shoulders slumped, as they give a unison “Sorry.”

“Hmm, we’ll work on apologies later—both of you owe a hug to each other for the bad names,” Laurance mused while the two kids nodded, pouting a little now but their mood not completely soured, thankfully; instead they turned their eyes to their father and himself, curious.

Laurance shifted back into a bright smile, “I have special news,” he wrapped an arm around his shoulders, carefully looking from child to child—both Isabel and Travis met with their father’s eyes while Zenix distracted himself while holding Malachi. Laurance paused at this, only for a moment, before he pushed on—“You know, Uncle Vylad is a really good friend, very nice and sweet one at that.”

Travis nodded, while Isabel tilted her head. Vylad carefully watched Zenix, who tensed a little as he frowned, keeping his eyes on Malachi.

“And… well, for a while, Uncle Vylad been more than that. I love him a lot—“ “—And I love your father—“ “…yes. We love each other very much, and we been more than friends. A special friend, even.”

Isabel immediately raised her hand, calling out excitedly, “So you’re dating?”

Laurance’s brows raised immediately, his voice not hiding his surprise, “Isabel, where did you learn that word?”

“From Granny Zianna’s TV shows!”

Travis then raised his hand, interrupting Laurance before he could think twice about that statement. “Does this mean Uncle Vylad is our papa too?”

“It’s complicated… but…” Laurance glanced at Vylad, who returned his searching look with a soft smile. “I’m fine with it. But I’m okay if you still want to say uncle as well.”

“Do you kiss?” Isabel called out, squinting at the two.

Laurance sputtered, “Isabel, no. I’m going to have a talk with Granny about what you’re watching, missy.”

Vylad chuckled, winking at Isabel as he nodded. “Your dad is shy, forgive him.”

Travis then waved his arm excitedly, “Will you get married?”

There’s a pause. Laurance glanced at him while Vylad’s brows immediately shot up; well… the question wasn’t a new one, when they passed the one year mark, his own mother asked curiously if they were. But before either could open their mouths to answer, Zenix spoke up finally.

“They can’t!”

The table fell silent as all eyes were on Zenix, who bristled under the attention. “Dad can’t! He has us—he doesn’t need to get married again, or need you!” His arms shifting Malachi, pointing an accusing finger at Vylad, and though the kid’s words stung, nothing was worse than the glassiness of Zenix’s gaze, his voice shaking a little, “Dad is just fine, we’re fine! We don’t need a second dad, w-we already… have…” Zenix’s voice started to die, and Isabel’s hand reached out in concern but he jerked away. Sliding out of his seat and placing Malachi on the floor (who let out a whine), they watched Zenix dart despite his siblings and father called out for him.

“Vylad, I—“

“Go. I’ll watch the kids, don’t worry.”

Laurance shot him a thankful look, before removing himself and chasing after his eldest. Travis and Isabel looked worriedly in their direction while Vylad picked up Malachi, rocking the gurgling child with a sinking feeling in his stomach.

Despite the fact… he didn’t have anything to feel exactly guilty for, part of him thought: I should’ve guessed what Zenix was moody about.

He was a smart kid after all—smarter than most would give the child credit. Ushering the kids upstairs, they changed into something more pajamalike and settling in Malachi’s room, as they wait…

Vylad sighed, watching the clock pass the twenty-minute mark. The children—apart from Malachi, of course—were as antsy as him, because Laurance or Zenix haven’t made an appearance.

Zenix’s outbursts weren’t a common thing seen by Travis or Isabel; at least to a serious degree, where he was driven to tears. But then again, Vylad was perfectly aware the tough and protective big brother role the eldest inhabit.

He put Malachi down into his crib, as the child started to drift while an hour almost pass; and when he turned, there stood Travis behind him, slightly hiding behind a big picture book in his hands as he nervously looked up.

“Um…” Travis turned to him, holding a book in his hands, “Dad usually reads but... could you?”

He smiled a little, taking the book from his hands. “Of course,” Glancing at the cover, he recognized the familiar tale, “The Ugly Duckling?”

“Yeah. It’s my favorite,” Travis answered, settling on the floor and Vylad sitting down beside him, “I like the ending.”

“He likes happy endings,” Isabel corrected, abandoning the toys she was playing with and settling on one side and Travis shot her scowl.

But before he can retort, Vylad interrupted the brewing fight with a “Well I like happy endings. There’s nothing wrong with liking them.” Travis gave a look of triumph and Isabel shrugged, looking rather unbothered.

“So I’ll read this and you two promise to go to bed after? It’s almost your bed time.” Both children nodded, snuggling closer to get a good view of the pictures. Vylad began the tale, letting himself get lost in the fairy tale as well.

It was only when Vylad came down, after putting Isabel and Travis in their respective beds, did he find Laurance and Zenix.

Or rather Laurance and fast-asleep Zenix, held by his father.

Both look drained, but when Laurance caught his eye, he gave a victory look as he rubbed Zenix’s back. “He doesn’t hate you.”

Vylad nodded, sitting down beside him on the couch. “I know that.”

“He’s just confused… he’s not as open to the idea because he remembers Ga.. your brother as his other dad,” Laurance said softly, “And he’s afraid.”

Vylad scooted closer and leaned against Laurance as he shut his eyes. “Afraid?”

“He doesn’t want me to get hurt, if you want a summary,” Laurance mused, looking down at Zenix with a gentle expression, “He acts carefree, but deep down he’s soft-hearted kid.”

“Like father, like son, I suppose?”

Laurance chuckled, nudging Vylad slightly before leaning his cheek against Vylad’s head. “I’m not that soft.” Vylad’s brow twitched for a moment and Laurance laughed again, insisting now, “You see me get emotional one time—“

“One?”

“A couple of times, and now I’m stuck with these labels,” he sighed mockingly, “Even though I let you get away with it every single time.”

“It’s because you’re soft,” Vylad pointed out, and Laurance’s nose wrinkled as he frowned.

Silence fell, though comforting and only sounds was the occasional mumbles from Zenix’s sleep.

But it didn’t last long, Laurance’s tone changing to worry as he absentmindedly rubbed soothing circles. “He needs some time, Vylad. He gone through a rough two years and… it being hard for me, I can’t imagine what he’s feeling,” Laurance softly said. “Garroth hasn’t been keeping up lately with his end of the deal, now this? It’s overwhelming.”

“…Should we… you know?” Vylad felt his heart tighten for a moment, his eyes opening and he started to pull away but Laurance’s hand stopped him.

“No! No, no—I’m not going to break up with you,” letting go of his arm and instead touching his cheek, Laurance’s eyes had determination in them, “Zenix is afraid but we just need to reassure that this change isn’t bad.”

“What if he doesn’t… well, like me?”

“He likes you, he’s just… shy about it,” both glance at the sleeping boy, and Laurance pressed a kiss to his forehead, “He always been a grumpy child, but I know him and he talks about you when you’re not here.”

Vylad pursed his lips, the corners curling up, “I hope good things.”

“It’s good things,” Laurance nudged him again, “He likes your pancakes. And your cool hair.”

“Don’t you like those things too?”

Laurance laughed, “Well, maybe you’re just a cool hair and pancakes kind of guy? It’s a very charming point, I must say.”

Vylad then laughed. “Of course you would.” And Laurance joined him.

Maybe they don’t have everything figured out now—but a step forward was a step forward. And surprisingly… he wasn’t discouraged.

“You know, I do have a question.”

Vylad hummed, prompting for Laurance to continue.

“Are you really alright with the kids calling you Dad too? I know you said it’s okay but… if it isn’t comfortable…”

Vylad lowered his eyes, feeling his cheeks grow warm—well he almost forgotten he gave his okay to that. “It’s… nice. I don’t mind,” he admitted, “They’re good kids, and if we’re taking this further… it’s a logical next step.”

“Vylad, technically they don’t have to call you dad unless we’re married. You’re skipping a few steps,” Laurance gave a teasing grin, “Unless you were planning on purposing right this moment.”

There’s a pause. Laurance’s smile faded for a moment, him fully turning to face him properly but then huffed when he noticed the sparkle in Vylad’s eyes.

“Vylad.”

He chuckled as Laurance pinched the bridge of his nose, heaving a sigh. “I’m sorry. But… it’s reassuring to see you a little excited.” Laurance shot him a side-long glare, shifting Zenix in his arms. “That was a mean-spirited joke,” Laurance whined, standing up, “I know I said it was too soon for marriage… I wouldn’t have... um…”

“You wouldn’t have turned me down?”

Laurance avoided his amused stare, and stammered out, “I-I’m going to put Zenix in his bed. You earned yourself dish duty for that joke.”

“Alright,” Vylad stood, rubbing his neck, and Laurance shook his head, turned to head up the stairs; he smiled, “I wonder if it’s a joke if a part of it was true.”

The stairs creaking stopped for a moment. Though Vylad couldn’t see his expression, he knew Laurance heard him. And he knew Laurance wouldn’t want him to see the fact he gotten him, as he hurried up the rest of the steps.

Truthfully, if Zenix didn’t have the outburst, a part of Vylad knew he would’ve answered Travis’s question Will you get married with a “I hope so.”

Because he did.

Just as he worried over the kids liking him, not as an uncle, but as a potential person to… well… join their family, Vylad saw marriage was already on the table. And as he headed to the kitchen, with Laurance’s reaction… it’s reassuring to know it was on his as well.

#aphmau #minecraft diaries #minecraft mystreet #vylance #ahhhhhh i wrote this between classes-- that's why it's kinda rushed?#istg one of these days I WILL right a fic that does this au justice #dad au #dads au #<-- the fact this au has two tags bc my dumb ass forgets which is the write one kills me #my writing

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