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amoristt · 3 years

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Grazing the Fire | IV

well hello. here i am, four years later, once again enamored with nathan enough to finally dust this baby off and pick up where i left it. im a little rusty so bear with me this chapter! much more to come <3

reblogs + tags and replies will make my entire day as i put a lot of effort into this :)! it also helps motivate me!

story continues beneath the read more. let me know if you can’t access it!

Warning: language, very vague s/a mentions

want to support me? heres my kofi!

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“Alright class, who can tell me,” A board stick clacks against the chalkboard. “Who can answer problem four?”

A few hands raise in the corners of your eye, but yours remains atop your desk. Eyes far away, mind in a murky haze and almost completely unaware. All you could focus on were the memories playing on repeat within the confines of your tired, tired brain. Hours ago, you were warm, you were comfortable. Safe.

Cheeks heated to a dusting blush when you remind yourself just how you had awoken that morning. At some point in the night, an angel had blessed you. Allowed you to wake up wrapped around none other than big, bad, Nathan Prescott. Your face nuzzled into his chest, broad but wiry hands pressed firmly over your shoulder and his arm slung over your waist to keep you against him. Thankfully you had been the first to wake up, blinking away the morning sun blazing through his blinds and painting the room stripes of gold. At that moment, before your headache came crashing down onto your skull, you were astounded by him.

Eye lashes brushing the top of his cheeks, his lips parted ever so slightly, chest rising and falling rhythmically. In that moment, there was no anger, no bitterness. Just a soft and peaceful slumber. It was like being the sole viewer of a magnificent painting- each stroke and detail placed just there just for you to pick out, to remember the curves and sharp edges down to the very foundation. From his unkempt hair down to the way his hand flattened onto the mattress where your indent still lived. Nathan was so beautiful like this.

For a long time you stayed there. It was as though you were afraid to move- you couldn’t bear to disturb him. You had wondered, if he was always like this, so at peace, what would he be like? Likely soft voiced, mild mannered. He’d do his school assignments without hassle and donate to the charity board. He would wander the town with his friends and listen to music in a beat up truck flying down the stretch of highway overlooking the bold, blue, and beautiful ocean. An entirely different version of himself- carefree, and a fair blue as opposed to a burning flame of red.

But, if that were the case, you’d never have gotten here. You’d never been both the outsider, and the only seeing eye. A lucky, albeit firstly unwilling witness to the display of depth before you.

It never hit you like it had quite in that moment how lucky you were.

But- just then- an alarm disturbed what serendipity existed. You nearly leapt out of your skin, clutched your hands to your chest at the sudden sound. A headache wove its way into your once untouched temples. Nathan groaned, mumbled, ‘god damn it’, under his breath, and thus his body was reanimated into life. He rubbed his eyes and he stretched, that familiar scowl coming over his eyes and lips as he took in the sunlight damn near blinding him. A polar opposite to the being you’d appreciated just moments earlier.

“Ugh, fuck, how the fuck is it seven already.” He groaned. “I feel like shit.”

“Well good morning to you too,” You started, welcoming Nathan into the world. “‘I’m feeling pretty shitty as well.”

You said that, but really… You were more than alright. Your head had hurt, slight nausea crept into the wells of your stomach, but other than that you’re sure you were phenomenally better than you’d have been waking up whereverTate would have left your ass.

“You need to get outta here, before everyone gets up.” Nathan drawled, but he didn’t sound as urgent as you expected him to be. You’d expected him to be angry that you were still in his room, but instead he just… accepted it.

You snickered, climbing out of his throne of a bed. “Wow, you’re giving me the morning after treatment?”

“Sure am. Get outta here, whore.”

“Oh fuck you.”

You located your heels from last night, resting upright near his dorm room door. Heels didn’t sound like the most practical to sneak out of a dorm with, so you instead opted to grappling them by the straps and carrying them at your side. Hair a mess, outfit riddled with wrinkles and makeup smudged under your eyes, you stood before Nathan in all your glory. He stared at you for a long, odd moment- and you for some reason felt exposed, or even, shy.

“What?” You ask expectantly, placing a hand on your hip.

His eyes trail to your line of vision. He shakes his head. “Just thinking about how now you really do look like my morning after.”

“Yeah?” You hummed. “Find it hard to believe you get a lot of those.”

Nathan shoots you a suggestive glance. “You’d be surprised. Everyone wants a piece of Prescott.”

Surely, he was joking, or maybe he wasn’t, but you… Didn’t like hearing that. It made your stomach feel odd, uncomfortably heavy. As he stood up, reminding you how many inches he had over your size, you swallowed and cleared your throat to flush out that crappy feeling. “Well,” you started, mood having dropped. “I’m gonna go, then.”

“What got your panties in a twist all the sudden?” He asked, raising a brow and pulling some clothes from his closet, tossing them onto the bed.

The bed you two had shared.

You hated the idea of his morning afters- whoever they may be.

“Not feeling great. Probably a side effect of the roofies.” You mumbled.

Nathan breathed a laugh. “Probably.”

He seemed so calm, right now. Perhaps due to it being so early, before the outside world had a chance to remind him just why he was so uptight all the tight. Before he needed to be so uptight all the time. He really did have so many versions of himself- all of whom you were slowly becoming familiar with. Compared to the person you’d believed him to be before your run ins, you’d never have assumed someone so dangerous could be so soft as last night, as this morning. In the beginning, you’d feared him. Avoided him like a plague, or a wild animal. Even when you were enraptured in the existence of him, you still wanted to keep away. You’d never have believed someone like you could wake up clutched to his chest, as though he were afraid if he released you, you’d be gone long before he woke.

Then, a sudden thought struck your mind.

He’d held you so tight. He’d welcomed you in the morning. No anger, no annoyance. His soft laugh at your banter and taunts. How your heels were standing upright instead of tossed haphazardly into some random corner, where he’d watch your struggle to find.

How he’d stayed awake to ensure your sleep.

“So are you just gonna stand there?” Nathan called you back to reality, hands gripping the hems of his shirt. “I gotta get ready and you need to wash up so you don’t look like a five dollar stripper.” Cruel words, but with absolutely no bite. You rolled your eyes.

“Yeah. But, hey,” You started. “Thank you for last night.”

“Yeah, yeah. You gotta start learning to watch your own back.” He says. “There’s gonna be times I won’t be there to drag your ass out of the fire.”

If you’d been charged, if you’d been stricken with a strange defensiveness, you’d have retorted, ‘than stop helping me’, but… Instead you allowed yourself the comfort of protection. You allowed Nathan Prescott to watch you.

“I know,” You reached for the door. “Thank you.”

With that, you bounded out of the dorm silent as a mouse.

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In hindsight, you should have left earlier. Class was merely 15 minutes away when you slipped out of Nathan's room and bounded towards the women's dorm. Albeit not exactly a long walk, by the time you discreetly snuck back into your own dorm, you had roughly twenty minutes to somehow pick an outfit from your countless unopened boxes and make yourself even slightly presentable.

Wiping off whatever make-up you could get and reapplying it, brushing out the tangles of your hair and nearly tearing off your scalp in the process, scattering your nightclothes over your floor and managing to scrounge out a semi-decent outfit for the day… You still looked a mess. If the mirror could laugh, it would have. Black mascara smudges under your eyes and frizzy untreated hair. What a lovely look.

You’d made it to class just five minutes late, but those five minutes were all it took for all eyes to be on you as you tried to slide into the classroom unnoticed. A couple classmates whispered to their table mates as you passed by, smelling of oversaturated cherry blossom perfume to hopefully cover the scent of alcohol. You sauntered to your seat and sank down with all your weight, suddenly exhausted. You’d made it with just five minutes tainting your record of attendance. The teacher greeted you with a disappointed sigh, and thus, the day began.

But, it was so hard to focus. All you could think about was Nathan.

“Alright class, who can tell me,” A board stick clacks against the chalkboard. “Who can answer problem four?”

You lowered your head.

“Ah, how about, ___?”

You snaked back into reality, blinking up at the chalk board that was somehow already riddled with math equations. Since you hadn’t been paying attention even in the slightest, your mouth gaped wide open, eyes scanning for something you understood even slightly so you didn’t look like a total idiot.

Sadly, you were out of luck. The teacher shook his head. “I’m shocked,” He said. “You're normally so on top of things. Oh well.”

“Oh, I’m sure she was on top of things,” A female voice sniggered behind you “Last night.”

Your face flushed a red, hot, ruby. What the hell was she talking about? How had they found out you were with Nathan? You were so sure of being sneaky, there was no way-

“Her and Tate totally got it on last night.”

You whipped around in your seat, facing girls who looked to be clones of some sort. Both with the same dark eyes, short brown hair, and freckles. “What?”

“Alright-” Your teacher blurted. “That's enough. April, May, enough. Let’s not discuss things outside of the classroom.”

The two girls batted their eyes. “Sorry sir.” One spoke, twirling a hand through her hair. Her sister's wide toothy grin never fumbled.

“Back to it then. Kate, can you help out __ with number four?”

The small, blonde girl nodded quickly, brushing a lock of hair behind her eyes and offering an empathic nod.

As you turned around in your seat, her answer fell on deaf ears. Your heart was racing in your chest, hands balled into fists while you stared ahead blankly.

They couldn’t seriously think that you chose to leave with Tate, could they? Surely someone must have seen the state you were in. Someone other than Nathan.

The clock ticks forward but time feels like it's passing almost unnaturally slow. With just 10 minutes left, you feel your phone vibrate in your pocket.

‘Nathan: consider ur favor officially returned

Your tongue poked from your lips, the tiniest of smiles taking over your once sullen features. Terrible thoughts and worries flew out the window while you type back, ‘damn. here i was gonna to ask you to do a backflip off the roof with me. there goes my plans.’

Nathan types for a moment. Typing, stopping, typing again.

‘Nathan: soundz like a blast. where and when?’

A small blush heats your cheeks. ‘very funny. thanks to last night i have an entire 24 hour session of studying to catch up with.’

His response is almost instant. ‘Nathan: boringgg. txt me when ur fun.’

Rolling your eyes, you shove your phone back into your pocket. It seems you’ve been able to secure enough of a friendship with him for some mindless banter even outside your little visits. You smile. He’s… Fun to talk to. Surprisingly.

Class comes to an end and you start to pack up the books and papers you’d hardly even glanced at the whole period. Whatever had been upsetting you before is lost in your mind while you think of the morning, the night before. All the things in-between. But, your happiness doesn’t last long. As you get up, you’re almost forced right back into your seat as a weight shoves into your shoulder. Your books scatter to the floor. April, the one who’d remarked about you earlier, glares at you in what looks to be disgust.

“Careful April,” Her sister hums as she saunters past you, keeping distance and raising her already shrill tone of voice. “Might wanna watch where you’re walking- I’d hate for you to catch something from this slut.”

You absolutely gawk at her. “What the fuck did you just say to me?”

April scoffs. “Oh come on, like everyone doesn’t know what you were up to last night.”

“Sleeping around isn’t a good color on you.” May hikes her bag over her shoulder and snickers at you. They both leave the class together, sickeningly in sync. You’re left stunned where you stand, unsure how the hell your life came to this so quickly. How you’ve stooped so low that the daughters of the world's most uncreative parents are able to bully you based on something that didn’t even happen.

Next class goes no better. The person to your right, a jockey looking brunette guy, asks, ‘have you ever heard of a Tate?’. You say no, that that’s the dumbest name you’ve ever heard. The idiot grins and goes back to marking down likely wrong answers on his test sheet and you debate kicking the leg of his chair out- but you don’t to avoid even more eyes on you. It makes you sick to your stomach- even more than recovering from the roofies does. How can everyone believe it? You barely even knew the guy and you were clearly uncomfortable with his advances. No one saw that?

After everything you’d worked for to build a reputation, trying so hard to not call out peoples shit for the sake of seeming friendly, tainted over something that didn’t even happen? And the kicker was that it hadn’t even been your fault! He’d drugged you, he’d have taken advantage of you! Yet you were the bad person?

Class came and went in the blink of an eye this time. Your mind wrapped up in the situation, your stomach churning. You wanted the day to be over with but you still had 4 more classes to suffer through. Why was this happening to you? Was Tate being treated just as horribly, or was he getting pats on the backs of his unaware friends?

Wandering down the halls to your locker, you noticed Lance and Kaz hanging around one of the drinking fountains. Your nerves quelled- your friends would surely make you feel much better. Especially since they had witnessed how awful you were feeling as you left. You approach with a relieved smile, ready to say your truth and finally have someone on your side.

“Hey guys.” You smile, but Lance looks down at his feet while Kaz places her hands to his hips. Your smile fades.

“You could have told us you were gonna spend the night with Tate,” Kaz snaps. “You didn’t need to lie like that just to leave. We were all worried about you and it was for nothing.”

“What?” You feel like you could cry. “No, Kaz, I really did try to leave. Tate tried to drug me and take me home, and-”

“He wouldn’t do that.” Lance interrupts, with a frown. He looks back down at the floor with knitted brows. “I’ve known Tate since before time. He wouldn't do something like that, especially not to one of my best friends. Plus he told me he was really into you. Why would he even try?”

“Are you serious?” You sputter. “You think I’d lie about something like that?”

“You’ve been lying about all sorts of things!” Kaz huffs. “What’s going on with you lately? You’ve been so distant, and secretive. What are you hiding that’s making you lie like this? We’re supposed to be your friends and then you lie to our faces just to go and fuck the first guy that shows you attention.”

“What…?” It was like acid. It was like the rug had been pulled from your feet sending you spiraling down the unending cliff. Kaz, your best friend, all that venom. How could they turn against you like this? What the hell is going on? You felt your throat tighten. “Look, I’m sorry if I’ve been distant, but I’m not lying to you, I-”

“We gotta go.” Lance isn’t in the mood to hear it. “We’ll catch up to you.. Some other time.”

Kaz says nothing as she pushes past you. Lance, at least, spares a short glance over his shoulder. You stood there alone in the hallway, your bag falling off your shoulder and clattering onto the floor with a thud echoing off the walls. Everything you had, all gone at once.

No one believed you.

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With nowhere to go where you felt like you could truly allow yourself to process the day's events, you went to the only place you knew.

Just outside of campus, where rocks lined the edge of the boundary, overlooking the outskirts of the town and the ocean stretching as far as the eye could see. You settled yourself there, staring at the vast waters and wondering how this had all happened. Unlucky didn’t even begin to cover how it felt. Not only did you feel violated with Tate attempting to do unthinkable things with your unconscious body, but you also felt alone, and walked on. Your best friends hadn’t believed you. While Lance seemed saddened, Kaz was so… Angry. Her words cut like knives into your skin.

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair. You didn’t deserve this.

You want to talk to Nathan, but knowing him, he’d see your state and bounce instantly. After all, this isn’t exactly very fun of you.

As the sun began to fall, splaying orange and blues over the wide open sky, behind you, you could hear voices. A group of them, some male, some female. Memories of when your notebook had gotten snatched by those two horsed face assholes came flooding back and with all your alertness, you stood up, and decided that this sitting place was no longer safe. Nothing was.

Before you even made it ten feet away, the group had found their way to your spot and gotten comfortable, one of the girls cheering, ‘this’ll be our hangout! look at how pretty the view is!’

You took a short drive down the stretches of road and decided that if you were going to lament in your own sadness, you were at least going to do so in a place that had something to cover the sound of your tears. Plus a nice view.

The beach, littered with its picnic tables and the sounds of crashing waves would suffice just fine. So, you pulled in the desolate parking lot and wandered down the sandy shores until you stumbled upon a picnic table shaded by a large willow cascading lushious branches to block out the sun- a perfect canopy for you to wallow under.

You had nothing at that moment. No friends, no reputation, no one to believe your tragic tale. And now, you’d just lost the one spot that made you feel comfortable when stress was building into your body like concrete. Tears pricked into the corners of your eyes and you bit your lip, dreading that feeling of a lump in your throat. Why you? Everything had been going so well. How could not even a single person believe that Tate had tried to hurt you?

Well, actually, there was one person.

Of course Nathan believed you. He’d been the one to rescue you, after all. Time and time again it seemed. How was it that even the ones closest to you would turn their back so fast, yet Nathan seemed to be there even when you didn’t want him to be? Even when you yelled at him, and he yelled right back, fire and sparks falling into embers around the two of you.

In that moment, you almost felt like you could finally relate to him. A reputation based on lies and things out of your control, paired with a hardheaded attitude to try and combat all the assumptions.

No wonder he was so angry.

“Hey bitch,” A voice suddenly called, and you had a split second moment where you were terrified of once again being the victim of a cruel prank or some classmates boredom. “How about next time you have a pity party you don’t fucking call me in the middle of it.”

You blinked away your tears and through the blurriness saw a figure coming towards you. All that sass, the tone...

“Nathan?” You breathed. It only takes moments before he’s in front of you, holding his phone in view, seeing that the call that had been running for nearly ten minute. You flush in embarrassment, pulling your phone from your back pocket. “How did that happen?”

“Well, can your ass dial numbers?” He taunts, ending the call.

“Damn it, dumb phone must have butt-dialed you. I knew I should’ve gotten a different one.” You mentally kick yourself. “It must have unlocked in my pocket.”

“You don’t have a password on your phone?” He taunts. When you shake your head, he whistles. “You are just begging for a robbery. I’ll keep that in mind when I’m in the mood to send random messages to all your buddies.”

“Fuck off.” You scowl, and he grins, hopping up on the picnic table next to you. The sun flatters his skin. He’s almost glowing.

“Speaking of buddies, how the hell did it pick my number out of your sea of friends?”

You shrug. “Probably cuz’ it’s a priority contact.”

“Oh lala, I’ve been upgraded to priority huh? Does it display a superman logo whenever you give it a ring?”

“Nope. When I press call it rings the nearest asshole in my vicinity. The fact that it’s you is your own problem.”

“Haha, fucking ha.” He leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees. He stares out at the water, watching waves pull and crash onto the beach. It’s almost beautiful, until he ruins it. “Yknow, you’re a really ugly crier.”

“Wow, thanks.” You shake your head. “That's exactly what I needed to hear right now. Why did you even stay on the line?.” Wiping your eyes, you start to forget your tears. “Couldn’t have been that wild of a conversation.”

Nathan shrugs. “Between the crying and the sound of the waves it was pretty nice.” He grins. “Very educational.”

“Awesome. Glad I was able to make your day.” It doesn’t feel like your usual bitey remarks. You’re tired, you’re still a little hurt and you can’t stop thinking about how such an amazing morning had turned into such a horrible day.

“So what’s got you all fucked up? Never seen you act like this big of a baby before.”

“Nothing. You already paid off your debt to me per this morning, so feel free to resume our regularly scheduled mutual hatred.” You say, lying through your teeth. You know you’re both past the point of hatred, but you’re feeling jaded, you can’t help it.

“Oh shut the fuck up,” He groans. “I didn’t drag my ass all the fucking way out to this shit hole of a beach just for you to give me that bullshit. What, did you fail a test? No one matched you on tinder?”

“Everyone thinks me and Tate slept together last night.” You blurt. “I think he’s telling people me and him had sex.”

Nathan tenses his shoulders and grimaces. “Fucking werido.”

“I told my best friends that he tried to take advantage of me and they don’t believe me. One of em’ even said he wouldn’t do something like that.”

“Fuck em’. Who needs best friends.”

“And to make everything so much better, these two bitches that I share four of my classes with harassed me all goddamn day. I mean, fucks sake, how the hell are girls named April and May of all things able to get to me. It’s bullshit. And to make matters worse, Tate is just… Getting away with it.”

“Yeah well, something tells me that Tate’s gonna get a real nice fucking taste of medicine eventually. I just gotta find him first. He’s got a lot of nerve spreading shit around given I knocked his ass onto the pavement.” Nathan brows knit at the memory.

You test the waters. “Why would you do that for me?”

He seems caught off guard, or maybe, surprised that you’d ask. Maybe he thinks you’re both beyond that point. He grumbles, “Why does it matter.”

“I’m just curious. We don’t owe each other anything, remember?”

“Yeah, well,” He huffs. “Don’t ask me questions to shit I don’t know the answer to.”

“You say that an awful lot.” You tease.

“Yeah well you ask dumbass questions an awful lot. Not everything I do has to have some weird ass motives behind it, ___. Maybe I’ve got beef with Tate that’s outside of you.”

“Uhuh. Sure.” You’re about to say something else, when your phone lights up with a text. The display makes your heart fall all over again.

Unknown Number: you should just pack up and go somewhere else. no one wants std’s from breathing your air xoxo

You don’t even know who that is. Now absolute strangers are on your case. You want to throw your phone into the ocean and leave.

Nathan scoffs. “Don’t even bat a fucking eye for that bitch, whoever the hell they are. Half the hoes you’ve mentioned have slept with half the football team,” he pinches his jacket, “and I would know.”

“Ew, Nathan,” You grimace, that same feeling from the morning returning. It feels, oddly, like jealousy. He nudges your arm with his elbow and grins playfully. It’s cute.

“Chill, I’m just fucking with you. You gotta know even I wouldn’t fuck girls that desperate. I’m a man of class.”

That last comment actually forces a laugh from you. It’s soft, but it’s real. The first laugh you’ve genuinely had all day. “That’s horrible.” You remark, giggling again.

It's almost like the slight restoration of your mood puts him at ease as well. He leans back on his hands and stares off into the ocean, those sparkling waters under the setting, orange sun. “I’m for real though. Those hoes aren’t worth your time. One day when we blow this shithole of a town they’re not even gonna matter.”

Your brows knit, eyes blinking up at him. Had you heard that right?

“We?” You ask, perplexed, albeit a little… Hopeful.

Nathan sputters. “Well- Like, when everyone’s older and-”

“You know what, it's fine.” You interrupt. “Fuck it. You’re right. We’re gonna blow this town and they’re just gonna be some shitty memories.”

He sucks in a shaky breath. You’ve never heard him scramble like that, like he’s been unmasked. The look he casts you when you agree, when you don’t tease or patronize and finally hop on the idea that yeah, what if the two of you really didn’t have to deal with it anymore.

What if the two of you could just exist, without the anger.

You look up at him. “Would you actually do that though?” You start. “With me, of all people?”

He swallows. His expression is tense, but he’s not upset. He appears nervous, caught off guard. Nathan tries, “I-”

Your phone rings. Shrill, piercing. Mood destroying.

“Jesus Christ, it’s my mom.” You grab your phone and Nathan looks forward, stone faced and silent as you hop off the table and answer. It’s your mother, who all but shouts into the phone that her and your father are taking a surprising visit to Arcadia Bay while they’re traveling by on their vacation. She insists that you be ready in about an hour for dinner, and likely there will be family photos.

Which means if you still look as wrecked as you did this morning, you’re gonna have a lot of washing up to do. With a quick goodbye, a short and sweet, ‘love you’, you hang up and sigh.

“You still tell your mom you love her?” He teases. “What are you, five?”

You frown. “You don’t tell your parents you love them?”

Nathan side eyes you, and just shrugs. It is all the answer you need, really, and for his sake you decide it wouldn’t be best to press the issue. Not now. But- it still makes your heart hurt just a little. You wished that he’d had it better growing up.

“Right… Do you want a ride home?”

“Fuck no, what am I,” He shoves his hands into his pockets. “a fucking girl scout?”

“I was just offering, weirdo.” When he doesn't get up, you feel like you’re missing out. Like if you stayed, maybe, just maybe, you’d get to know him a little better. “Hey, if you want, I can stay for a bit longer.”

He rolls his eyes. “You’re needed elsewhere. But,” he shrugs. “I don’t know. Fuckin’... Text me or something. Or not, I don’t care either way.”

There’s a small warmth in your chest that rises to your cheeks. He wants you to text him. “Yeah,” You say. “If I’m feeling fun.”

And with that, you bid him farewell, beginning your descent to the parking lot.

“Hey,” He calls, and you turn just in time to catch a small item he’s tossed right at you. A tiny key resides in the palm of your hand. “Spare. If shit hits the fan again-...” He shrugs, and actually looks away. “Just don’t be too fucking loud of I’ll kick your ass out myself. No Madison needed.”

The widest grin plays over your lips. “I’m gonna re-decorate your room while you’re gone.”

“Ah, you fucking better not.” He shouts. “Actually- you know what, give it back.”

“No, no! I’m sorry.” You play with the key between your fingers. “Thanks for this.”

“Yeah, whatever. Don’t lose it and remember- emergencies only. I don’t need you watching me sleep like fucking freak. We’re past that stage.”

“How many times will I have to say I was never watching you. Christ… But, alright. See ya, then.” The key is heavy in your palm.

You place it into your pocket and give him one last glance before you take off, leaving him to enjoy the sound of waves, birds, and the absence of your tears.

#nathan prescott #nathan prescott x reader #life is strange #grazing the fire #scenario #fanfic #fluff

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matryosika · 3 years

Text

shoot me, chapter VII

pairing — changbin x reader

rating — 18+

genre of the overall series — smut, angst, fluff if you squint

prologue chapter I chapter II chapter III chapter IV chapter V chapter VI

word count for this chapter — 5.3 k

warnings — angst, softdom!changbin, female masturbation, dirty talk/suggestive dialogues, piv, unprotected sex, very descriptive but fluffy smut.

note — here it is, finally! this has been probably my favorite chapter so far and i completely loved the smut scene for this (because i am a hopeless romantic). i really hope you enjoy it, and please leave an ask in case you want to leave me a positive message! they really do motivate me a lot to keep on writing.

also, i have a ko-fi, in case you are interested in tipping my writing! it is not obligated, of course, but i would treasure every tip forever!

taglist: @cozyblues @ahgasearmyfan @binnie-m00n @minaamhh @pinkishwen @spilledtee

as soon as the two of you stepped into changbin's apartment the whole energy that had been building up since the wedding event started to unleash itself. just like two teenagers experimenting together for the first time, changbin's hands dragged themselves along the sides of your body hungrily.

"this looks so good on you" changbin panted, the touch of his hands leaving a burning sensation on your skin even though it was still covered with the fabric of the dress.

"mhm?" you hummed, hooking your arms on the back of his neck and feeling how his longing gaze fixed on your lips. "mhm" he replied in the same tone you did, "all of the dresses look good on you, but this one..." changbin sighed with accelerated breath as he took a step back to admire your whole body "you look like a goddess".

a small smile appeared on your face as you felt changbin's embrace, his lips crashing into yours again on a sloppy but passional kiss "worship me then" you jokingly gasped in between kisses.

changbin's face froze a few centimeters away from yours while a smirk appeared in the corners of his lips "i was already planning on doing so".

one of his hands left the edge of your waist and traveled all the way to one of the pockets on his pants, pulling out a red little box. "what is that?" you asked in confusion, your heart skipping a beat or two while your face sank in the crook of his neck, kissing and softly biting his skin.

"my father helped arthur in choosing the wedding rings" changbin explained, making your whole body take a step back from him "so?" you replied.

"i saw something that reminded me of you" he said, offering you the tiny box.

with heavy breathing you accepted the gift, a little bit overwhelmed. a trail of thoughts were unraveling inside your mind: why did he buy something to me? and why is he giving it now in the middle of this? he took it to the event hall since he had it in his pocket, but what could it possibly be?

your fingers managed to remove the adhesive on each sides of the top, almost chuckling at the awkard silence that was formed with only the sounds of panting and heavy breathings filling the whole room.

it was a necklace.

an expensive one, if you dared to say.

"what is this for?" you inquired, holding the fine gold chain that had a medal with the face of an unknown person engraved in it "you saw a charm of a random man and thought of me?" you mocked him.

his fingers danced around the chain you were holding as he took it away from you, his body shortening the distance that was created a few seconds ago "i didn't say the necklace represented you" he mumbled as he hooked the necklace on your neck "think about what it really means".

your confused mind went blank as soon as you felt his lips peppering kisses on top of the chain and in your neck, softly biting and caressing the skin on your chest as he played with the charm. unconciously, your head fell slightly back to give him more access. "i don't get it" you moaned, feeling how his hands danced around your back while they slowly unzipped the dress.

"you will" he replied, his lips tracing your bare skin as you were undressing for him "does that feel good?"

"mhm" you chanted, feeling how the kisses he was leaving along your abdomen and thighs only made you wetter. your hands traveled to his hair, caressing it as your legs threatened to stop working at any second "funny how this is not the first time seeing you kneel in front of me" you joked, letting out a sigh when you felt the tip of his digits tracing the skin of your legs.

"i would be anytime on my knees for you, all you have to do is ask" changbin whispered.

the dress finally landed on your ankles and you stepped out of it to fully remove it, slightly smirking at the wise decision of wearing a fancy set of lingerie for the ocassion because, deep in your mind, you knew that this day was going to end up exactly like this: with you and changbin together.

changbin licked his lips while he admired your body from head to toes, his gaze fixing immediatly in yours. that gaze was exactly the one he had given you the first night you met him, and the first night you slept together. the gaze that, even though he had seen your naked body countless of times, was always present.

you couldn't help but squeeze your thighs together at the feeling of your cheeks burning in embarrassment "are you going to stay on your knees watching me all night?" you inquired, still working hard to keep the eye-contact even though your heart was probably going at a million miles per hour. the funniest part was that, even if you two had fucked a 100 times now, this time felt completely different. more concious, if you dared to say.

"this is my way of worshipping you" he said, his lips slightly parted as his hungrily gaze toured every inch of your skin "don't you like being admired?"

"i would prefer other ways of worshipping" you shyly teased in an attempt to relax yourself from the nerve-wrecking emotions you were starting to feel "let's say, a million dollars"

"if i could, i would buy you the entire world just for you to destroy it" he mumbled while caressing your legs and, with that statement, your heart started to feel as if it was sinking in your insides. the man who once represented everything you hated was kneeling in front of you and willing to act as you pleased, yet, that didn't meant anything. that didn't make you feel powerful.

what made you feel powerful was him. owning you.

a couple of seconds in silence passed by as you watched him in awe. he was sure of what he was doing because you couldn't catch a glimpse of hesitation in his eyes. if anything, his gaze was nothing but honest.

his lips lost no time in making contact with the skin of your legs again, leaving a trace of kisses in the opposite direction as before. "if i destroyed the whole world, you would be included there" you sighed, repressing a whine once you felt his teeth and lips softly marking the skin on your hips. "do it" he panted as his hands touched the soft lace beige panties you were wearing, his lips now focusing specially on the exposed skin of your breasts leaving kisses on your chest "i would bear it for you"

his lips crashed into yours once again, this time slower. his taste was intoxicating and, no matter how many times you kissed, you just couldn't get enough of it. his tongue grazed slightly against yours as he parted his lips more to softly bit on your lower lip. "can we take this somewhere else?" you asked in despair, mostly worried about the fact that your legs could give up any second now.

changbin made you feel things you hadn't experience before and, even though it frightened you to a certain extend, it made you curious. "you have been expecting this all night, haven't you?" he smirked against your lips.

"have you?" you replied, tilting your head. if there's one thing that you loved to do was to tease him by answering his questions with more questions. however, changbin couldn't stand that.

"yeah, i did" he muttered, his fingers playing with the strands of hair that fell all the way down the sides of your face "you have no idea all the things that crossed through my mind the moment i saw you standing next to the altar in the church"

you pushed his body slightly "you have such a perverted, unholy mind. can't even hold back in such a sacred place" you joked, feeling changbin's gaze dragging itself all over the features on your face.

"y/n, you are the only holy thing i would get on my knees for".

he had such a way with words, but the ones he was particularly chosing tonight made your heart feel a sincere warmth that you hadn't experience before.

and it was making you nervous.

"just take me before i regret this" you mumbled, your arms once again hooking behind changbin's neck. his body descended slightly and soon you felt his strong hands caressing the back of your thighs, inviting you to climb into his his body "do you regret any of this?" he asked.

your body was pressed against his as he carried you, your legs crossed and resting in his lower back. the way his arms wrapped around your fragile body reminded you how this was actually the first time you felt small.

you had always been the big girl. the big girl who had to deal with her abusive household, the big girl who had to defend her mother from her emotionally unstable father, the big girl who watched her mother go from man to man until she decided to settle, the big girl who was not allowed to ask for anything because life hadn't given her enough.

but as you smelled his scent and felt the warm of his built arms around your waist, the world started to feel big for a used soul like yours. you smiled with half-lidded eyes, your breath getting caught up in your throat.

"no" you whispered, your breathing mixing up with this.

"no?" he repeated, his hands playing with your back "that's it? you are not going to answer my question with another question?"

"no" you replied, shaking your head from side to side. one of his hands left your back to hold one side of your face, stroking slightly the soft skin of your cheeks.

your lips traveled once again to the crook of his neck once he started to walk with you to his room. with each step, your core rubbed against his clothed abdomen and you couldn't help but to let out small whimpers every time your bodies grazed together "so i assume you have been expecting this all night" he teased, his bulge growing every time he heard those sweet sounds escaping your lips.

you didn't reply but, instead, started to bite softly the skin of his neck as you felt his figure descending into the bed. his hands softly traveled to your back, unclenching the top part of your underwear as his digits traced the lace beige fabric on top of it "you wore this for me, right?" he inquired.

you gave him a soft smile "you will never know, changbin". as soon as you finished that sentence, you let out a small gasp when you felt his cold finger rings caressing your nipples as they got hard under his touch.

"i have always loved how sensitive you are" he muttered, pinching and stroking them ever so slightly. compared to other times, you could clearly see that changbin was holding back a lot of the instincts that usually arise from him during sex and, as much as you loved him being rough with you, you were curious as to what you could expect from him tonight.

he licked his lips before making contact with your hardened buds, earning a quiet moan from you as your head fell slightly back "does that feel good, y/n?"

you swallowed and nodded "mhm". the mixture between the feeling of his lips against your body and the sound of his voice pronunciating your name was something that you were definetly going to engrave in your mind forever "look at all the mess you are making in my lap" he muttered, your gaze falling on his black formal pants.

before you could apologize, his fingers traced your slit over your panties. he held his fingers coated with your escence that were glistening due to the light that emanated from the window and, without parting his eyes from yours, he licked your arousal off his digits. as you witnessed the scene, a spark of electricity traveled around your body and into your core.

"you always taste good" he whispered "you have a tight grip on me, do you know that?"

you tilted your head and smirked "is that a secret?" you inquired.

"i wish it wasn't" changbin replied as you felt a pinch in your heart. even though what happened in private with him was something good, it wasn't supposed to be happening at all and both of you knew it.

before any more words could be spilled between the two of you, you leaned in for another kiss. your hands toured his body desperately, helping him get rid of the clothes that were now the biggest obstacle between both of your bodies.

his chest and back were already decorated with a light layer of sweat and that only fed up the friction in between your bodies. the way your nipples rubbed against his chest every time you leaned in for a kiss had you on edge and moving your hips against his bulge, trying to let him know that you couldn't keep up with the foreplay anymore. "you can't wait?" you shook your head, the sound of your accelerated brething revealing what you couldn't put into words.

"turn around" he ordered, lifting up your legs from his lap as he was sitting at the edge of the bed. you got up from your previous seat and caught a glimpse of a big mirror that was strategically placed in front of you.

"you re-decorated your room?" you teased. last week you had been there but that mirror wasn't around.

"i have a lot of ideas, actually" he answered, his head rolled slightly back to see your figure standing in front of him. soon, you felt [and saw through the mirror] both of his hands bringing your body closer to his lap again, only this time you were facing the mirror instead of him. taking advantage of the position you were now in, he kissed the skin on your back as he managed to get you out of the last piece of clothing you were wearing.

"it isn't fair" you whined, looking at the mirror "i am naked and you still have your pants on"

changbin's eyes fixed on your reflection, admiring your body completely as if it was the first time he had seen it "you already made a mess on my lap, it's okay if you keep on doing it" he provoked.

his hands guided you to sit on him again, spreading your legs open in front of the mirror. you didn't really took the time to think this whole thing through but, as soon as you saw your core completely exposed and changbin's facial expressions as his hands toured your whole body, your cheeks turned completely bright red.

"what?" changbin asked, smiling every time you let out small gasps as his digits traced your slit, avoiding that place where you needed him the most "do you feel embarrassed?"

"i feel exposed" you answered back as you let out a faint laugh.

"look at yourself" he demanded against your skin, his eyes admiring your body as his digits made contact with your bundle of nerves that was pulsating with desire "look how beautiful you look for me".

even though your eyes wanted to shut close due to the pleasure and shame, you tried your best to appreciate your body under his hold "i can't believe you are completely mine" he groaned, his digits moving in circular motions against your clit making you moan.

"yours?" you asked in between sighs. changbin's gaze was darker than usual and that only made you clench harder against thin air. he smiled, again showing that cockiness you utterly hated.

without saying a word, he thrusted one of his digits inside you. you whined at the sensation, feeling again the coldness of his rings against your warm core "you want to know how i know that?" he inquired.

you moaned again when you felt the finger tips of his opposite hand brushing against your bud "look at me" he ordered, immediatly making you look for his dark gaze in the reflection of the mirror. after a few seconds, his face held a victorious smirk "your body sells you out every damn time, y/n". you licked your lips at the confusion, only to be interrupted by a loud moan once you felt the pace of his fingers inside you matching the one with his digits against your clit "the way you clench around my fingers only by looking at me betrays you"

"you are still this cocky, changbin?" you asked in between moans, your eyes fixed on the way changbin's figure took care of you.

"you are still lying, y/n?" he replied while leaving faint kisses against your shoulders. "you look so small underneath me, you know that?" all he got from an answer was a soft moan, but he still continued "look at how gorgeous your body looks when it's being touched by me"

your hands rested on your breasts as you twisted and pinched on your hardened nipples, the tension on your lower back increasing as well as the pleasure you were receiving. "you always take me so well, it makes me proud"

a small cry left your lips at his words, knowing that your whole body clenched around his finger tips harder than usual at the praise. he didn't say anything, but the smile that he had on his face revealed that he definetly felt it. "my y/n, there is not a part of you that i don't find pleasing"

his words, combined with his touch, were definetly sending you to cloud 9. by the way your whimpers were starting to sound and your hips desperately grinded against changbin's touch, he knew that you were close. "do you want to be good for me, huh?" he questioned, his eyes admiring the grimaces of pleasure you made.

"mhm" you moaned "please don't stop, changbin".

your head rested completely on his shoulder and, as much as changbin wanted you to look at yourself in the mirror, he noticed that the position was rather perfect to help you chase the orgasm that you dearly longed for. "even when you are like this" he whispered in your ear, the tingle of his hot breath against your skin making you squirm under his arms "too fucked out to even keep your eyes opened and too filthy to even be considered a saint, i think you are the most beautiful"

"changbin" you gasped loudly, your back arching your back as it withdrew from his chest, your juices coating completely his fingertips "that's my good girl" he grunted, feeling how your walls violently clenched around his digits "you are doing so well, y/n"

again, you clenched even harder at his words once you reached the highest point of your orgasm. your eyes were completely shut that you swore you could see a night sky filled with starts, the sensations of pleasure wrapping every single part of your body as the only thing you could think of was changbin.

"thank you" you whispered with broken words and teary eyes due to the overwhelming sensation you just had experience. even though you had cum countless of times with him, this one felt different.

"you took me well" changbin replied, peppering kisses in your cheek as your breathing stabilize itself. this was not his usual self, but you would be lying if you said that you didn't like it.

as soon as you reincorporated on his lap, you saw your reflection in the mirror and a smile appeared across your face. your messy hair, your rosy cheeks decorated with tears and your still trembling body that was being roughly held by changbin's arms was such a sight you would never forget.

"come here" he said, getting you up from his lap as he stood from the bed too. with swift movements, he unbuckled his belt and got rid of the remaining clothes in his body. you couldn't really help but to stare at him, his soft caramel skin and the way his veins stood out in his arms was something that had always drive you insane.

carefully, his hands guided you to rest your back on the soft mattress, feeling a sensation of comfort as soon as you smelled the bed-sheets that had their scent imprinted all over them. "what else are you going to do to praise me?" you joked.

he leaned in to start kissing your chest and breasts while your legs automatically hooking around his waist and resting on his lower back "see how your body reacts to me" he groaned, biting softly your skin without too much strength since pain was not something he wanted to inflict on you today.

with eagerness, you squeezed your legs again around him, his cock making casual contact against your wet core "do you want me?" he asked.

you looked at him with lustful eyes as he rested his body on his forearms, and you couldn't help but smile. "i am here, that should tell you everything you need to know"

changbin's gaze fixed on the necklace he had given you a few minutes before and started peppering kisses against your skin, but he didn't reply anything to that.

one of his hands guided his cock inside you, letting out a groan once he felt your tight warm walls welcoming him "you always makes me feel so good" he panted, melting at the sweet sound of your moans.

his pace was slow and more delicate than usual, but you couldn't deny that you loved it. the way his hips softly slammed into yours while his pubis brushed against your clit with every thrust had you seeing stars "fuck changbin" you cried.

"you are doing good, y/n" he reassured, both of his hands looking out for yours as he placed them on either sides of your head "your pretty body can take my cock so well"

once again, you clenched at his words "you like that, don't you?" he whispered.

"mhm" you hummed "your voice..." a small whimper left your lips when you felt his pace increasing, but the softness of each thrust was still there "i love it when you talk to me like that"

"yeah?" he asked, almost in a chanting manner "do you like it when i tell you how good your body reacts to me, y/n?"

you squeezed your legs together once again, forcing changbin deeper into your tight cunt "fuck, yes".

the way he was holding your hands as he pounded you was something you found oddly intimate, but you liked it. this felt more than a casual session of sex, but you couldn't quite understand what was the thing that made it different tonight.

"changbin" you whimpered.

"yeah, baby?"

"no one has ever made this feel good before" you admitted, melting at his gaze. "god, you feel so good inside me"

"i know, princess" he replied with a heavy groan, leaning further to place a kiss on your forehead "no one can make you feel like i do".

both of your bodies were tired, but the passion and intimacy that was built inside that room was something that you two had never experience before. the way his breathing was getting caught up in his throat and the way your whines and moans were starting to sound louder than before only indicated that the both of you were ready to let go.

and all of the sudden, an unconcious sentence left your lips in the middle of the intimacy

"don't leave me".

changbin's body slightly tensed up at your words and you cursed yourself mentally for saying such a thing out loud. however, his gaze transmitted you some sort of comfort "i'm here, i'm not going anywhere".

his lips approached yours in a kiss, repressing every single pant or moan that you two could possibly emit. the pace on his hips increased too, desperate to make you feel completely good "i am so close changbin"

he let go of one of your hands as his digits found your bundle of nerves again, rubbing it just like before and adjusting the pace of each thrust to make sure you were getting nothing but pleasure. your back arched once again, your chest rising to meet his body.

"you are so precious" he moaned "i can never forget the image of you cuming all over my cock"

again, the knot unraveled at his words. both of your arms hooked around his shoulders and back as you held his body tightly, your finger nails sinking into his skin as he cursed under his breath due to the pain. "please cum inside me" you pleaded in a broken whisper "i need you to fill me up"

those words were the push he needed to let go as well, painting your inner walls white as he held your trembling body tightly "y/n" he moaned, feeling how your hips grinded involuntarily against him in an attempt to get him deeper "you are such a goddess".

a smile appeared into your face as your eyes found his again. "i know, you told me that before"

"i will never get tired of telling you"

after some time and few attempts to catch his breath, changbin got up from his bed and looked for a towel to clean the mess he had made in you. while he did that, you laid down thinking about everything that had happen: everything he said, everything you did, the necklace and the eerie sensations you felt throughout the night.

but since you had promised yourself to let go for the night, you tried to push all those feelings away from your own good.

"do you want to take a bath?" he asked as he dragged the towel along your inner thighs.

"i want to sleep" you admitted.

"with me?" he teased "are you really planning on giving me the honor?"

"don't make me regret it, fuck"

and just with those words, he got into his own bed with you. the warmth of his body was familiar to you, but you had never felt it like this before. your body curled up against his while your face rested on his chest, noticing how it went up and down every once in a while.

"achilles" he mumbled out of nowhere.

"huh?" you asked in confusion, your head separating from his chest so you could look at his eyes.

"think about it"

but you didn't want to think about anything. you just wanted to sleep next to him, feel his body leaning against yours while you felt his embrace throughout the night.

"maybe later" you replied, yawning. your head once again fell into his chest and changbin couldn't help but smile.

even though he was a succesful man at such a young age, this was the very first time he ever felt lucky and fortunate. and even though you slept safe and sound next to him, he spent the whole night thinking about the words that left your lips.

please don't leave me.

the next morning, changbin dropped you at arthur's house with the promise of taking you out for dinner later that day. even when you refused twice, changbin ended up convincing you. you wanted to go, but the rational part of your brain kept trying to contradict you.

you stepped into the house wearing the same clothes as yesterday, only now you were wearing a new accessory gifted by no other than seo changbin. achilles, you thought as you closed the front door.

you were exhausted from last night and, at this point, all you wanted to do was to run upstairs and into your bed. as you walked through the hall, a small smile escaped from your lips by recalling the events of the previous night.

"y/n" a voice interrupted, making you turn around in your heels.

"you got married yesterday" you mumbled, looking at the figure of arthur standing outside of his studio-office-whatever the fuck that room was. "aren't you supposed to be at your honey moon by now?"

"care to explain this?" he inquired, completely ignoring you or what you said. as he held his cellphone in front of you, your body turned into ice and your knees felt extremely weak.

"what are you doing with that?" you asked, defensive. as he swiped through his gallery, things got worse and worse.

"better yet, what are you doing with him?" he replied "i can finally see what your mother taught you"

"this isn't about her so don't even dare to bring up her name" you snapped back "how did you get those pictures?"

"changbin, really?" he frowned his eyebrows, "i really thought he would be interested in... any other kind of woman"

"what i do or not do is none of your business" you muttered, looking directly at the series of pictures that captured the moment you and changbin left the event hall, kissing and fooling with each other.

"he is a smart man, y/n" arthur intervened "if he hasn't realized that you are no good for him by now, he will". tears started to prick into the corners of your eyes, but you would be damned if you let him see you in a vulnerable state "do you love him?" he asked with a tint of smugness in his words.

you didn't reply.

"even if you just appreciate him as a...." he looked at you and then at the cellphone, in dispair "friend, i would reccomend you to be the bigger person here and just stay away from him"

"this isn't your call to make, arthur" you groaned "stop trying to control everyone else's lives just because you couldn't control mine or hyejin's.

"i am not sure if you are aware, y/n" he said, walking around you and into the hall "but the wealth of changbin's family depends on me". you crossed your arms, still trying to think about anything that would stop you from crying in front of your father "do you really want him to throw all the effort he has made throughout his life just for a whim of yours?"

you bit your lower lip.

"i am going to be in europe for two weeks" he added as he signaled a bunch of suitcases that were by the door "i want you out of korea by then, since you only came here for the wedding". he approached you with careful steps as his rough fingers held the necklace changbin had given you the night before "i want you out of his life too, for good. he has a commitment with me and the company, and i don't want you intervening in that"

he looked at the charm and then at you as you stood there completely frozen "i truly hope you had enjoy your time here in korea" he added with a bright, cynical smile as he walked to the suitcases.

it wasn't until you heard the front door going off that you started sobbing uncontrollably in the living room floor.

you had ruined everything, and you had ruined it big time.

what started as a game to get back at your own father ended up being an emotional set up for you, and you were not sure how to fix it.

#stray kids smut #skz smut #stray kids x reader #skz angst #stray kids angst #changbin smut #changbin x reader #kpop smut #stray kids imagines #stray kids oneshots #skz x reader #skz imagined #skz one shots

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crowfootwrites · 3 years

Text

Los Guardianes | Part V [Nestor Oceteva x Fem!Reader]

Ok, I promise there's a comedown from all the adrenaline after this! And very soon we will see characters other than Cristóbal lol.

Warnings: mentions of blood, drugs, and domestic violence; police interactions; language | Words: 1,900+

Taglist: @chibsytelford @megapeacelovemusic-blog @broiderie @est1887 @mveggieburger

Part IV of Los Guardianes

As you thundered down the alley, you glanced over at a wailing Cristóbal, splashes of crimson quickly drying across his arms and t-shirt from where you had carried him.

“It’s gonna be ok, Cristóbal, alright? I promise. Just hang tight,” you shouted over the strained whining of the engine. He quieted, shaking violently in his seat, but you turned your attention back towards the road, quickly reaching the end of the alley. You made a sharp right, having no idea where to go, but hoping to find a main street quickly.

Luck appeared to be on your side. You kept your eye on the rearview, but you didn’t see anyone behind you yet. You came up on a main street, mostly empty of traffic, and made a sharp left, immediately flooring the accelerator again. Your eyes flickered to passing signs, looking for anything you recognized.

“Fuck!” you growled, squeezing the steering wheel as you passed a sign for the Sun Bowl, panic rising in your chest as you realized you were in El Paso, Texas. You had no idea how you were going to get all the way back to California without getting caught, either by your kidnappers or by police, although at this point, you would have preferred the police. But you also had plenty of experience with dirty cops, and if your kidnappers had brought you here, of all places, it seemed likely that the police would be in their pockets.

You whipped past a sign for I-10 northbound and made for the onramp, revving the engine to merge into traffic. You darted immediately into the fast lane. Traffic was relatively light, but you hadn’t yet decided if that was good or bad. Your eyes flicked keenly between the road in front of you, your odometer, and the traffic behind you, watching for signs of a tail. It seemed like you were clear for the time being, but you hesitated to get too comfortable. It wouldn’t be long before the shattered back window drew some kind of attention.

Taking stock of your surroundings, you realized you had an almost full tank of gas. You wouldn’t be able to make it all the way back to Santo Padre on one tank, and you had no idea how you were going to pay for another. But you relegated that to the back of your mind, a concern for later. There was a balled-up hoodie in the backseat, and you stared blankly at the rosary swinging from the rearview. The glove compartment was empty.

Your eyes tracked the nearest freeway sign, realizing I-10 would take you into New Mexico. From there, you could head towards Phoenix. You didn’t love the idea of staying on a major freeway for so long, but it was the quickest way to get where you were going. From just south of Phoenix, you could take smaller highways towards home, and that suited you better. But the feeling of being chased propelled you forward; you were constantly pushing the odometer and scanning of your surroundings.

You reached New Mexico without a problem, but without a solid plan in place, you sped through it. As you careened down the highway towards an empty desert horizon, you heard Cristóbal’s breathing begin to calm. There was no chance of your pulse slowing or your body settling; you sat on the edge of the driver's seat, your thighs and core constantly clenched, ready for hell when it came.

Around two hours after you left El Paso, you were rapidly approaching Deming, New Mexico, and by then your brain was shouting at you to stop. You wanted to try to find a gas station to get yourself and Cristóbal cleaned up, in case you did get pulled over. You also wanted to check the trunk. While you had certainly been making good time, a sneaking suspicion nagged at you, one that questioned why no one had come after you or appeared to have reported the car stolen.

On the far edge of Deming, once you had passed through the center of the city, you followed signs for a gas station that looked, from the highway, to be mostly empty, in the middle of an empty stretch of commercial buildings and vacant lots. You guided the car towards the back of the gas station lot, behind the building, where you breathed a sigh of relief that there were bathrooms on the exterior of the building. You pulled into a parking space and only once you had scanned your surroundings did you get out. You went around to the passenger side door and guided Cristóbal out, grabbing the hoodie from the backseat.

The lock on the bathroom door was broken, so you pushed your way in, gagging a little at the stench. The sink was filthy, but the water ran clear, and you quickly rinsed your skin, watching the pink-tinged water swirl down the drain. Flashes of the man you killed flickered behind your eyes whenever you closed them, bile rising in your throat. The gnawing in your stomach reminded you that you hadn’t eaten in almost 24 hours. The adrenaline had kept the hunger at bay, but suddenly you were so hungry you felt nauseous. You helped Cristóbal wash his face and hands, then pulled the hoodie over your soiled shirt, zipping it all the way up.

Back at the car, you popped the trunk and your mouth fell open.

“Oh, fuck,” you groaned. Six bricks of cocaine were packed into the back of the small trunk, along with a duffel bag. You supposed that was why no one had reported the car stolen. It made you feel a little better that the cops wouldn’t necessarily be looking for you, but if you did get pulled over, you’d be fucked. You dug through the duffel bag, finding it full of clothes, and your heart lifted when your fingers skimmed smooth leather. You pulled out a black leather wallet, flipping it over in your hands. There was no ID, but there was a singular twenty dollar bill in it, and that would have to do.

Cash in hand, you tugged Cristóbal into the gas station store with you, grabbing a couple of protein bars and a large bottle of water, wanting to hang on to enough money for gas down the road.

You planned to dispose of the cocaine out in the middle of the desert, so you hightailed it out of Deming. A little less than an hour later, you took a tiny offramp and followed a deserted road past a dilapidated gas station out into the barren desert. You pulled the car off into the dirt, sending a cloud of dust up around you.

“Wait in the car,” you told Cristóbal gently, who nodded at you with wide eyes.

Pulling the sleeves of the hoodie over your hands, you dumped the clothes out of the duffel bag and packed the drugs into it, zipping it up. Careful not to touch anything with your bare hands, you slung it over your shoulder and hauled it towards a thick patch of scrub brush several yards from the road. Dropping the bag behind a clump of brush and prickly pear cacti, you booked it back towards the car, heading immediately back towards the highway.

You were approaching Gila Bend in Arizona as dusk gathered over the skyline. You had already gotten off of I-10 and onto the smaller highway that would take you to Yuma. From there it would be an easy drive to Santo Padre, one you had even made before. You had every intention of driving through the night, desperation fluttering in your heart at the thought of home. You were hungry again, and you could hear Cristóbal’s stomach grumbling from the passenger seat, but you were dangerously low on gas.

Pulling into a small gas station in Gila Bend, you went inside the store to pay, bringing Cristóbal with you. When you came back out, your breath hitched in your throat and you froze. A police officer was standing beside the car, inspecting the shattered back window. Flashbacks flooded your brain and you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to force them out. Through the rapid swirling in your mind, you felt Cristóbal squeezing your hand hard, the touch pulling you out of your trance. Immediately, your mind went into overdrive, laying out a plan.

You approached the car, schooling your features into a timid expression.

The burly, dark-haired officer looked up curiously at your approach, and you caught the slightest softening in his eyes as he studied you and the child clinging to you. He looked young and green, fresh on the job, and you wanted to use that to your favor.

“Good evening, ma’am,” he said, hands authoritative on his hips.

“Evening,” you murmured, dropping your gaze meekly.

“You know it’s illegal to drive with a busted window?” he asked sternly.

You let all of the stress of the last couple of days pour into your brain, breaking the dam behind your eyes. Tears tumbled freely over your cheeks as you looked back up at him and he startled slightly at the sight.

“I’m so sorry, officer,” you sniffled. “My son and I, w–we came from El Paso, trying to get away from my husband. He smashed it as we were leaving. I’m just trying to get us to California so we can stay with my brother.” Your voice caught on a sob, cracking on the last syllable.

The officer’s stance softened and your heart lifted just slightly. His inexperience was showing.

“Who is this car registered to?” he asked.

Your chest tightened as you prayed he wouldn’t run plates or ask to see documentation. “It’s mine, sir,” you whispered, meeting his eyes with your most sorrowful look. “He just didn’t like that we were leaving.” You hoped that you looked wretched enough to prevent him from asking too many questions.

The officer pursed his lips, his thumb lightly tapping his utility belt. “Where you headed to in California, ma’am?” he asked.

“Palm Desert,” you lied smoothly, letting your lower lip tremble for good measure. “I have family there, sir.”

The officer hesitated as he considered what to do next. “And you’ll be safe there?” he asked. “Does your husband know where you’re headed?”

“Probably, sir. Th–they’re the only family I have. But they’re going to help me file a protective order against him. And... start the divorce process,” you mumbled, shuffling your feet in the dirt. You felt a quick pang in your heart as you said the words, ones that weren’t too far from true in another time.

Perhaps sensing that it was a good time to lay it on thick, Cristóbal tugged on your hand. As you glanced down at him, he reached his arms up and you pulled his weary form into your arms, depositing him on your hip.

The officer studied the pair of you intently, then sighed. “Alright. I’m not going to write you a ticket, but once you get to Palm Desert, you need to get that window fixed, do you understand me?”

You nodded fervently. “Thank you – officer, thank you so much,” you stammered, hugging Cristóbal tight. The officer tipped his hat and turned on his heel, making his way towards his police cruiser. Your body felt limp as the rush wore off yet again. Your mind reeled, pushing the limits of what you could handle without sleep. You needed to get home, and soon.

You slid into the driver’s side seat and slid Cristóbal over, helping him buckle his seatbelt.

Praying for an uneventful last leg of your journey, you pulled away from the fluorescent lights of the gas station, headed yet again towards the moonlit horizon.

Part VI of Los Guardianes

#mayans fx #mayans mc #mayansmc #nestor oceteva #nestor oceteva imagine #nestor oceteva x reader #mayans mc imagine #mayans fanfic #mayans mc x reader

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css1992 · 3 years

Text

Guilty Pleasure

Summary: Peter and Beck used to be a power couple in the porn industry, but after Beck dumps him, Peter is forced to start over. With no money, no family and nowhere to go, he doesn’t have much choice other than to keep doing porn, so he joins Just4Fans to get back on his feet and then one day he gets a very generous tip from someone under the username of YKWIM. All the warnings listed on Part I apply.

Read on AO3

Part I / Part II / Part III / Part IV / Part V / Part VI / Part VII / Part VIII / Part IX / Part X / Part XI / Epilogue

-x-

Living with Ned and MJ was both a dream come true and a bit of a nightmare.

A dream, because when they were kids, they always talked about how they would all go the same college and live together one day, and Peter would finally have a real home – and a real family, he used to think to himself, in secret.

A nightmare, because he couldn’t help but feel a little jealous of his friends, and that was the worst kind of feeling to have for the people who opened their arms and their home for him when he needed the most. Still, he couldn’t avoid it and he felt awful for that. They were both attending NYU; Ned was majoring in Computer Science and MJ in Journalism. All according to the plans they made in high school.

When Peter was younger, he made plans, too. He wanted to study Biochemistry, his teachers used to say he could probably get a scholarship to a good college, he was smart enough. Mr. Harrington, his science teacher, even offered to write letters of recommendation for him. Instead, Peter’s life choices led him to his current predicament: a 20 year-old porn actor, selling dirty pictures for a living, crashing on his friends’ couch, not a single dollar in his wallet.

He was definitely not getting any awards for good decision making, that was for sure.

He had been staying with Ned and MJ for a week when he was finally able to set up his Just4Fans account. He knew that had to be a temporary thing, it couldn’t last, even if he wanted it to. He wouldn’t be young forever, let alone a “pretty twink”, as his subscribers loved to call him. He had maybe three or four years left of that hype, at most, then he would be too old for that, and/or people would start getting bored of him. So he had to be smart, the plan was to save up as much as he could while he thought about what he was going to do once the fountain of youth dried up, and the clock was ticking fast.

But for the time being, porn.

Good thing he had his own Instagram account with a few thousand followers. All the other social media accounts were under Beck’s name, and those had hundreds of thousands of followers, but Peter no longer had access to them – he checked. He also checked and noticed that Beck hadn’t announced that they had split up yet, his last post dated from five days earlier, when he released their last video together – two days after kicking him out of the house, the asshole.

So Peter posted a few Instagram stories explaining to his followers that he and Beck weren’t a thing anymore – he didn’t give many details, he didn’t want any drama, specially not with Beck – and that he had set up a Just4Fans account for the time being. In minutes, his Instagram blew up. Apparently, people were either heartbroken over their breakup; relieved he “got rid of that perv!”; or devastated they wouldn’t get to see them doing porn together anymore.

He got a hundred subscribers in just a few hours, which was incredible. The subscription fee was ten dollars a month, so even after the website’s cut plus tax deduction, it still was a good start. He wondered what kind of money Beck made with their videos, because they had thousands of subscribers on their channel.

Once he got the hang of the site, he tried to post at least two sets of pictures a day – which was challenging at that moment, because the apartment was tiny and he didn’t have any outfits or toys with him, they were all at Beck’s. He made plans that as soon as he got the subscription money in around fifteen days, he would try to buy a few things and take tons of pictures to last a few weeks.

He also made sure to answer people’s messages every single day, which often earned him a little more money in tips. It was shocking how many people were willing to tip him just because he answered them. Some other people asked for extra content, like specific pictures, videos or even voice notes, which he sent via “pay-per-view messages”.

In the end, he felt like he was prostituting himself. Again.

He would never judge a person for earning their living in any way necessary, as long as it didn’t hurt anyone, he just never thought that would be him. Never ever. As a kid, he thought he’d be an astronaut. Growing up, he wanted to be a physicist. As a teen, he made plans to study Biochemistry. And somehow he ended up selling his body online, one way or another.

He didn’t dwell on that for long, he focused on the fact that it was temporary. If he managed to retain at least some of the people that had subscribed to his account for two or three years, then he would be able to start a small business of some kind in the future. Maybe he could go back to school. Twenty-three wasn’t too old for college, right?

Right.

It was two weeks later when he got a weird message. Not a weird message, actually, a weird tip. Someone under the username of YKWIM had sent him ten thousand dollars for no reason, there was no prior conversation, nor did the person ask for anything in return. Peter was sure there must have been a mistake, maybe they had typed in some extra zeros or maybe they had sent it to the wrong person, so he decided to reach out.

“Hey. I think there must’ve been some sort of mistake with your last tip. Lol.”

He left his phone on the counter and got started on dinner. He was a terrible cook, but to be fair, they all were, so it was fine. Ned and MJ were both at work, but they would be home soon and they were having a quiet night in. Those few weeks at their place had been good for Peter, it felt nice not to be alone after what happened, but at the same time, he was starting to feel like he really needed his own space. He was already looking for an apartment to move into as soon as he got the money. He was hoping to get one in the same building or at least close by, so that they could still see each other often.

His cell phone beeped as he sliced some onions and he stopped to check.

“Hey, gorgeous. There’s been no mistake, it’s correct.” Peter was taken aback by the answer, so he checked again to see how much the person had tipped him, and sure enough, there it was. Ten thousand dollars. Ten thousand. American dollars.

“Oh. Wow, that was very, very generous of you. Is there any particular content that you’d like to see from me as a thank you? I could send you exclusive pics and videos, whatever you want.” Inwardly, he was thinking that no amount of pictures or videos from him would ever be worth ten thousand dollars. Ten thousand dollars, holy fuck.

“That would be excellent.”

“Great. What would you like to see?”

Please don’t be weird, please don’t be weird, please don’t be weird… Usually, Peter’s subscribers liked to see him in cute outfits or with cute toys, but some people liked very messed up stuff. He usually said no, but that person had just sent him ten thousand dollars. Fuck, that was so much money, it would cover rent for at least a few months.

“I’ve enjoyed everything you’ve put out so far, baby, so surprise me. I’m sure I’m gonna like whatever you send.”

God, generous and reasonable? Had Peter died and gone to porn heaven?

“You flatter me.” He typed in quickly, leaving the sauce unattended for a few seconds. “Give me a few hours to work on it, I don’t want to disappoint you.”

“Take your time, but I don’t think you could disappoint me if you tried.”

Peter felt so stupid when he blushed and giggled to himself, because that was exactly how Beck lured him in when he was seventeen, with charming, easy words. He was an adult now, for Christ’s sake, and he didn’t even know who he was talking to. To be fair, it was probably a woman. For some weird reason, according to his Just4Fans statistics, a surprisingly large percentage of his subscribers were middle-aged, cisgender, heterosexual women. Peter supposed those were the ones who used to follow his “love story” with Beck – most of them hadn’t got over them yet, apparently they were “the perfect couple! So cute!”.

He couldn’t blame them, they sold them the perfect love story. And for a time, it was true. Peter really thought Beck was it for him, the love of his life, his soulmate. He didn’t know at which point it all became an act to Beck – or if maybe it had always been an act.

He sighed, shaking his head, he couldn’t afford to waste time thinking about him, so he focused on what he should send YKWIM.

As he finished making dinner, he tried to come up with ideas. They said they loved everything Peter had posted so far – he had posted thirty pictures and five short clips over the past two weeks. The pictures were all in MJ’s bedroom – she offered –, most of them in her bed. There were only a few pictures in which he was completely naked, in the others he had some sort of underwear on – lingerie or tight briefs.

So, he decided he should do something similar, but different enough that YKWIM would feel somewhat special. He had a few good ideas, but they would have to wait for the next morning, he would need good lighting and privacy.

“Hey, nerd, what’s up,” He almost burned his fingers when he heard MJ’s voice, and realized he had spaced out for a minute there. He shook his head quickly and smiled at her.

“Nothing, how was you day?”

The next morning, once Ned went to visit his family and MJ left for work, Peter started working on the pictures. For some reason, he didn’t want to tell his friends about YKWIM, just like he didn’t want to tell them about Beck when they first met, three years earlier. And if he really was as smart as his teachers used to say, he would have seen the pattern. But as it was, he just focused on the fact that YKWIM was probably a woman living on the other side of the world, who just liked to get off to pictures of pretty boys in lingerie.

But.

For the sake of getting in the mood for the pictures, he imagined YKWIM was a guy. Not too tall, but taller than him. He imagined he had a beard, but not a full one, like Beck’s, no, perfectly trimmed, scratchy, in a good way. He’d have dark, warm eyes, not blue and cold. He’d be older, older than Beck, more mature than him. A real man. Maybe he’d have a few streaks of gray amidst his otherwise dark hair.

He’d be gentle, despite Peter’s past. He’d treat him like he was the first one to ever touch him, even if he knew that was far from the truth. He would be careful, mindful of his pleasure. He’d start off slowly, kissing along his collarbones, fingers brushing the sensitive skin on the inside of his thighs, just shy of where Peter wanted him to touch, as his mouth traveled down his chest; hot, moist breath leaving a trail of kisses down his stomach.

He sighed. Yeah, that would do to put him in the mood.

He put on a white t-shirt that was just long enough to graze the tops of his thighs, and a simple, plain black thong. He decided to take the pictures in the shower – the classic wet, white t-shirt, he couldn’t really go wrong with that. He positioned the camera on top of the bathroom sink, set the timer, and started posing.

First, he rested his back against the wall, one hand pulling the t-shirt down to cover the front his underwear, eyes staring directly at the camera lens as water ran down his face, neck and chest, making his nipples stiffen, becoming visible under the wet shirt.

Next, he pressed his chest to the wall, looking at the camera from over his shoulder, lips parted, just a peek of his exposed ass cheeks showing where the t-shirt ended, but by then it was so wet it was mostly see-through.

Then he turned so his side was facing the camera and stuck his head directly under the stream of water, running his hands through his hair, back arched obscenely, eyes closed. He let his hands travel all the way down his neck, chest, and stomach, hearing the familiar “click” as the camera took several pictures.

He turned around again, placed his hands on the wall and lifted his t-shirt just over his lower back, sticking his ass out, showing off his provocative underwear.

He got out of the shower and turned the camera into filming mode, then got back under the water and also shot a short clip of he sensually and slowly taking the thong off, but in a way that the viewer couldn’t really see the skin that was revealed. He pulled the wet t-shirt down so it covered everything, but by then it was so see-through that it left nothing to the imagination. Peter twirled a little, then threw an innocent, shy smile at the camera.

That should do it.

He finished his shower, put the wet clothes in the washer, then went to edit the pictures. He didn’t do much, just adjusted the light and contrast, then cut them into squares, because he though it looked classier or whatever. He chuckled to himself at the absurdity of that thought, as he attached the photos and the video to a direct message to YKWIM.

“Hey, gorgeous! Hopefully these won’t disappoint. Let me know if you’d like something different.”

He cringed re-reading the message, he thought he sounded desperate and insecure about himself and he supposed that wasn’t very attractive, so he decided to change it just a little.

“Hey, gorgeous! Hopefully these won’t disappoint.” And he finished off with a hot face emoji, because why not.

He sent the message and went on with his day. Ned and MJ were both back for lunch and since none of them felt like cooking – and they all sucked at it anyway –, they ordered something to eat in front of the TV, as they binge-watched the first seasons of The Office.

“Oh, hey, Pete, I almost forgot, I talked to our landlord earlier and he said there’s an apartment on the fifth floor that should be vacated by the end of the month, if you’re interested,” Ned told him around a mouthful of pizza and Peter’s head snapped up.

“I’m definitely interested!”

“Cool, I’ll talk to him for you, I’m sure I can get you a good deal on rent.” He winked, and Peter smiled, feeling hopeful.

Things were getting better. Slowly, yes, but they were. He was spending time with his friends – who he had neglected for the past two years–; he had a good amount of money to withdraw in the next few days, that could get him going for a while; he was still doing porn, yes, but at least he was in control of the whole thing, including his own body, which was nice; and he only cried for Beck every other night instead of every single night, so he had that going for him.

All in all, things were looking up.

Ned and MJ convinced him to go out for a bit in the afternoon, they said he had been cooped up in the apartment for three weeks and should breathe in some fresh air, and since it was the first somewhat warm day of March, they decided to go jog at Central Park in the afternoon. They didn’t really jog, but they walked around some and Peter must admit that it felt good to stretch his legs and feel the sun on his skin for a change.

They were lying on the grass, resting for a bit, when they saw a blur of red and gold fly overhead. People started cheering and clapping and Peter smiled when MJ groaned, because he knew exactly what she was going to say.

“How can people cheer for that guy, he’s an egocentric, misogynistic, elitist, disgusting asshole.” He laughed to himself, because he knew what came next.

“He’s a genius, he changed the world multiple times and he even saved it at least twice. I think he’s pretty cool,” Ned argued without any heat and Peter could hear MJ rolling her eyes.

Peter didn’t love or hate Tony Stark or Iron Man, like most people, he just – didn’t pay him any mind. Sure, when he was a kid, he was obsessed with him, he was New York’s first superhero after Captain America, who was still in the ice when Stark announced he was Iron Man. But as he grew older, he had other concerns in mind other than who was the coolest Avenger, so he kind of forgot they existed, except for when there was some crazy alien threat looming over New York City – which was, like, a biannual thing since they found out aliens existed back in 2012.

The fact that Iron Man was flying over Central Park on a Saturday afternoon was a little alarming though. From what Peter knew, Stark was mostly retired since around 2016, he only ever “avenged” when there was a big threat, like the near-end-of-the-world they had back in 2018.

“Do you think we’re under attack?” Peter asked and Ned shook his head calmly.

“Nah, I think he must be late for something. I read an interview recently and he said he uses the suit sometimes when he needs to get some place fast.”

Seemed like overkill, but who was Peter to judge, he would probably do the same if had a suit like that.

They spent the rest of the afternoon in the park and then headed home for the night. MJ turned in early, she said she was beat from a busy week, and Peter and Ned stayed up until a little later, re-watching Star Wars movies. It was close to 2AM when Ned said his goodnight and Peter went to check his Just4Fans, because he hadn’t answered any messages all day long.

There were quite a few, but he did notice there was one missing. YKWIM hadn’t answered him yet and Peter immediately felt like a failure. They probably hated the pictures, they must have thought “ugh, ten thousand dollars for that?”. Peter should have photoshopped them. He could have made himself look at least a little bit better, if only–

Before he could hate on himself too much, YKWIM messaged him, like they could read minds. Peter quickly opened their chat, still a little worried about their reaction to the pictures.

“Damn, baby! You have no fucking idea what those did to me. Fuck! Can I show you? Please?”

Peter was oddly relieved to read that, and was endeared by the fact that they actually asked before sending a dick pic. Or a clit pic? Was that a thing?

“Of course, gorgeous, I’d love to see it.”

Within seconds, they sent a video in the chat. Peter was a little surprised by that, but pressed play anyway, and almost fell off the couch when he did.

It was a thirteen seconds video. He could see the man’s midriff, all the way down to the tops of his thighs. His belly was toned and spattered with dark hair that led down to perfectly trimmed pubes that framed the most beautiful cock Peter had ever seen. There was no other way to put it.

It was long and thick, but not so much so that it would hurt – Peter knew better –, it stood proudly between his thighs, attached to a heavy set of balls that made his mouth water. He was jacking it mercilessly, Peter could only hear him grunting quietly before his balls recoiled and he came, covering his stomach in thick, pearly white come. Peter whimpered, pressing down on his hard-on, and almost cried when the video was over.

“Fuck, daddy, that was so fucking hot.” It was probably the first time ever that he actually meant that answering a DM from a subscriber.

“That was the third time today, baby, I have been thinking about those pics from the minute you sent them. Spent the whole day with blue balls, even after coming twice.”

Fuck.

“Wish I could have helped you with that.”

“Who knows, honey, maybe someday.”

Yeah, Peter thought, biting his pillow on the couch so he wouldn’t be heard when he came embarrassingly hard in his pajamas pants, face burning with shame. Maybe someday.

#starker #peter parker x tony stark

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ttlmt · 3 years

Note

do it bee

alright.

there’s a few things i kept seeing confusion about, so i’ll try to clear it up the best i can with my amateur enthusiast knowledge.

disclaimer: all of this could be completely wrong. this is just what i’ve learned from working as a bookseller in the past and taking a few classes on publishing and just generally doing a lot of personal research into it both as a reader and with interest in joining the industry. i do not know dan’s individual situation, nor am an expert by any means. i am also coming at this as a canadian, so the innerworkings of uk/us publishing are just from what ive learned here.

you will get through this book:

bee’s possibly incorrect far too long guide to the publishing industry and how international editions and signed copies might work for daniel howell’s new book ‘you will get through this night’ available for preorder now

follow @daysuntilthisnight for a countdown #shamelessselfpromo

1) the uk vs us edition

the uk cover is the one without dan’s face on it. the us cover is the one with dan’s face on it. its not uncommon to have multiple covers and putting someones face on the cover is a very american publisher thing to do, personally i really like both. the cover you get is dependent on where you/your country order the book from.

if you ordered from danandphilshop or shop.danielhowell, you will be getting the uk cover, as it is a uk business. if you ordered from the us store right when the book was announced and before the signed copies sold out, it will probably be the uk cover (more on that in the bit about signed books). after that, i’m not sure because i do not know how irlmerch’s distribution works.

one thing to note is all books have an ISBN number which is like a universal barcode for the book at all stores and it comes from the publisher. the beginning of the isbn dictates the publisher/language/product type/etc and the end identifies the particular book. the uk edition and the us edition have different isbn numbers, as will the ebook, audiobook, etc. this is a good way to figure out which edition you are buying from your local bookstore, and you can cross reference with the isbn in uk or us stores. its usually listed at the bottom of the product page online.

if you live in a country besides the us or the uk, it depends whether the book is being distributed or published in your country. distribution is often more cost effective, and is usually the way it works. as far as i know, dan’s book is being distributed (not published) to the countries on this list with the exception of the us where it is being published (not distributed). if a book is being published in a country, it will have a different isbn and sometimes a different cover. if a book is being distributed it will have the same isbn and cover as the country it is distributed from (usually the closest publishing hub, so london or new york in this case).

to know what edition is in your country, you can compare the isbn numbers and/or the covers. you can also take a look at your other books to see whats normal in your country to get sort of an idea. im assuming europe will get the uk edition but im not sure about other countries.

here in canada for example, our books are usually distributed from the US meaning you will be getting the us cover if you order the book from a canadian store. i ordered from irlmerch when dan’s book was announced though, so i think im getting the uk edition.

1.5) covers and book design

most of the time, especially with new authors, the author has very little say in the final decisions re: book cover and book design. they usually get input, and the publisher gets final say. book design is also a very different thing then general graphic design and professionals genuinely go to school for this. thats not to say there arent bad book designs or that regular people can’t do it too, it’s just something to keep in mind.

2) signed books vs signed editions

there are a few different ways that signed books can work. primarily, there are signed editions and signed books. both are physically signed by the author, the difference is when in the process these books are signed.

signed books is the ‘old-fashioned’ way, where the author will sit at a table and sign copies of their book. the author usually signs on the title page and for a long time, this was the only way to do it. they have already been printed by the publisher so they will have the same isbn as unsigned books. signed books are usually more limited, often they can be personalized, and if you have ever gone to a proper book signing where the author signed the book in front of you, you have a signed book. signed books are also sometimes made available at the authors local bookstore because they are able to sign them in person. as far as i know, the books that were ordered from danandphilshop or shop.danielhowell during the initial signed run will be signed books. i also believe there are/were limited signed books from uk retailers, i think those are/were signed books (not editions) where the isbn matches the normal first edition of the book.

signed editions are a fairly new thing, and have made signed books so much more accessible which is awesome! signed editions have a different isbn then their normal edition and signed book counterparts. they are technically two different books and are listed as a separate book in stores. that is because signed editions have one (1) extra page. this allows the author to be sent boxes of pages, not books, to sign BEFORE the books are bound. the pages are then sent back to the publisher to be included in the final printed copy of the book.

signed editions help authors to sign even more copies which allows for things like signing hundreds of thousands of copies of a book in some cases. if you are familiar with john green’s books (and hank’s too), he is a large part of the reason signed editions increased in popularity. for example, his book turtles all the way down had a signed edition and a normal edition, they were the same price but the signed edition included the one more page that john had signed. this also allows authors to do fully signed first edition runs, such as john’s new book the anthropocene reviewed (which comes out the same day as dan’s book lol), where every single copy of the first edition is signed (so there is no such thing as an unsigned american first edition, this is becoming more popular for some authors to do especially if the first edition print is not very a large quantity).

if you saw dan’s ig story from today (which was almost definitely a delayed post lmao), he was signing the signed edition papers that will be bound in the signed edition copies of the book in the us. as far as i know, it is only the us publisher that has this option. as you can see on the us store books-a-million, there is a signed edition and a normal edition. they are listed seperately and there are different isbns. the signed edition will be bound with the one extra page that dan has signed.

both types of signed books have been actually signed by dan and are so cool to have if that’s something you want and are able to get. if not, you’re not missing much.

3) book piracy and pricing

i’m not here to tell you what to do, so i won’t. i know being able to buy books is a privilege and dan is a millionaire. full stop. he doesn’t need the money and you probably do.

books are expensive. the difference between cost and price of a book can vary drastically. does your calc textbook actually cost the publisher $300? probably not, but it does cost more per copy to print less copies of something (like a textbook) then it does to print millions of copies of a nyt bestseller. does a $24 book cost that much to develop/print/distribute? maybe.

but most of that money goes to the publisher. the fact of the matter is authors get very little from the actual sale of the book (usually only a couple dollars), which okay, not exactly convincing you against piracy but hear me out. the actual number of sales a book has lets a publisher know how successful a book is, which helps to decide how many more prints/editions are made and often dictates future opportunities for authors.

a series of books that i love is very popular on tumblr, but there was a serious problem a few years ago where copies of the book were being pirated so much, sales were down so drastically, that the publisher almost didn't continue to publish the series. in the case of smaller authors or your favourite ongoing series, buying your copy of the book could be the difference between the existence of the next book or not. in dan’s case, i don’t know what his future plans are, idk if he plans to write more in the future, but i do know that publishers look at previous sales to decide if they are going to publish a book in the future.

ebooks are usually cheaper and more accessible if money is an issue. used books, while not helping with sales, are also a great option if you’re willing to wait and look around. you can often request your local library buy a book and read it that way, or they might even already have it. there probably even audiobooks and ebooks at your local library. stores like am*zon are usually cheaper as well. online stores of large chains like b&n and indigo will often have the books cheaper to match amazon. however if you can, support your local bookstore.

of course if the author is a horrible person do whatever tf you want. also fuck the textbook industry.

tldr: dan worked really hard on his book with professionals to make it the best it could possibly be. i think it looks beautiful, and it will help a lot of people. the publishing industry is a mess but really cool. check the isbn of the copy you ordered if you want clarification or you can just wait for the surprise.

#this is nearly 2k words #i was supposed to work today xsfhkdf #but this was fun!#also if anyone has any more info or anything id love to be (nicely) informed #and any other qs i can attempt to answer #ask #anon

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equestrianwritingsstuff · 3 years

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Is Drowning going to be continued?

Yes it will be! Enjoy!

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4... I may make a masterlist with visuals on the character's faces soon.

This one is not my best work as I had no motivation today, but it filled with whump and angst? (I have no idea what that really means, but I heard it had something to do with mental side of whump). Not too much comfort and fluff.

@shydragonrider @asrasmysoulmate

Warnings: (past) knock-out gas mention, mental torture, forced to allow someone to be hurt, threatening, feverish whumpee, IVs, needles, medical setting, burning (mention/threat), physical torture, blood, pnuemonia

"Did you really think that I was just going to let two million dollars fly past my head?" Villain asked as he reclined lazily upon the bed, one leg draped over the other.

"I didn't-" Hero took a deep breath, filling her lungs up with the vital oxygen, before continuing. "I didn't think that you had the nerve to betray me."

Villain tutted- a small chuckle filled with amusement. "I have more nerve that you give me credit for."

Hero and Supervillain were discarded on the ground, wrists tied to other's, in a white cell that could be described as clinically professional. Hero could feel the supervillain's uneasy breaths as his warm body was shoved against her's.

The room was quite capacious. A hospital bed laid in a corner with a chair by the foot of it. The chair was blocked by three sides of a hard-looking material that obscured the inhabitant from looking anywhere other than the bed. Next to the chair-like object, a vintage-looking table with a Bohemian placemat was placed. A small succulent grew in a plastic container, the circular green and purple leaves beaming under the LEDs that illuminated the room. There were no windows, or anything really other than the various moniters and implements.

Though Hero could not see him, she knew that Supervillain's head was loosely dangling. And, judging by the slow breathing, he was still unconscious from whatever drug was used on them. It wore off pretty quickly on Hero, but between Supervillain's already weakened immune system, and the fact that it was a gas, it effected him more greatly.

"What are we doing here? They could've just killed us and be done with it," Hero said, trying to adjust herself to be more comfortable. One wrist was bent painfully where the heroes failed to adhere to her comfort.

"Ever here of the term lab rats, darling?"

Lab rats... in a way, it was a vile term. Vulgar is a sense, but not mortifyingly revolting either. But still, it made Hero cringe as she put the pieces of the puzzle together. Medical room as a cell... they were to be experimented on. Or tortured medically. Or something along those lines.

"But he is sick," Hero pointed out, but the wicked smile on Villain's face made her regret mentioning anything.

"Hmm. Precisely my dear," Villain stood up and crouched in front of Hero. His minty breath gusting just along her cheeks. She crunched up her nose in protest, but the Villain still sat there.

"You see... there is this new drug that the heroes created to give people optimum strength and stamina. But the side effects are... let's say undesirable."

"Undesirable?"

"Yes. Intense pain and fatigue after the intial boost. It is derived from adrenaline, so just imagine that pure exhaustion he will be feeling."

"H-he?" Hero stuttered.

"Yes he," Villain chuckled. "What good would it be for you to be given this stuff?" He shrugged and stepped away.

Hero didn't get it. There had to be a catch, an unwaiting punishment on her end, but there was nothing. At least Villain didn't say anything.

"The doctor will be in shortly," Villain said and walked out.

The doctor. It had an interesting ring to it. Orderly and seemed to hold high authority.

Supervillain shifted behind Hero and coughed. Hero could hear his harsh breathing, the liquid within his lungs gurgling about.

"Where 'm I?" He groaned.

"Supervillain?" Hero chirped and grabbed his cold fingers with her warm ones.

"Hero," He replied, squeezing back. It was a weak gesture, but meant the world to Hero.

The two remained silent, cherishing the other's touch. It wasn't too long before a man in a white coat opened the door, followed by a timid looking woman.

Medic.

Hero felt an inner rage- one that was not only fueled by Villain's betrayal, but also by her former friend's initial disloyalty.

But she could not act upon it, because the second the restraints were unlocked, she was scooped up by a couple heroes. They carried her struggling body over to the chair.

Hero knew that they were going to seat her in there, so in one last desperate attempt to catch a glance at the supervillain, she looked behind her.

Supervillain was being ruthlessly dragged across the floor and to the bed. Gears turned and Hero suddenly came to the breathtaking realization.

She was going to have to watch the doctor administer the drug to Supervillain. She squirmed with more aggression. No! She couldn't let this happen. He was too sick, too weak, to withstand whatever miseries the serum brought.

"Let him go! You can have me!" She growled, but her attempts to protect the sick supervillain were fruitless.

"Calm yourself Hero. It'll be easier," the doctor spoke. His voice was deep and oddly calming, given the circumstances.

"No," Hero hissed, ignoring the doctor's attempts to charm her into compliance. She wasn't that easily brainwashed.

Hero was strapped into the chair. Leather straps were placed upon her forehead and temples, restricting any kind of head motion. Her hands were brutally cuffed by unpadded, metal sleeves on the armrests. Her ankles were also held steadfast to the floor by ankle cuffs and bolts. She felt so vulnerable and exposed as she watched the guards heave the limp supervillain upon the bed to restrain him in almost an identical manner. Except, a leather strap was placed around his chest and torso.

Once the two were settled and properly restrained, the doctor put himself between the two captives.

"I don't know what that insufferable villain told you to about the procedure, but he most likely completely over exaggerated it," he said, holding a clipboard.

Hero nearly sighed with relief.

"This drug is going to give Supervillain superhuman strength and energy. Once it wears off, it was be increasingly painful and will make him feel absolutely miserable."

"This," the doctor continued as he walked closer to Hero, eyeing her. "is your part of the job. We are going to bring in men and women alike and threaten to burn them with fire. This," the doctor tapped a red button that was just far enough for her fingers to reach, "will stop the drug flow and start a morphine flow to numb the pain. If you press it, the civilians will be hurt. Understand?"

Hero whimpered, sinking as far back as the leather and metal restraints allowed, fear and nervousness coursing through her like caffeine- raising her heartbeat and making her fidget.

A guard handed the doctor a tubular object. Hero jerked away as the doctor put the object close to her ear. Suddenly, and without warning, there was a stinging prick.

"Ow!" Hero exclaimed, but the pain quickly resided.

"Bring them in," the doctor ordered. The door banged open and the scuffling a feet was heard. There was a short scream and rattling of chains. The smell of gasoline filled the air as surprised whimpers echoed throughout the room.

Adrenaline pumped through Hero's veins as her brain made sense of the situation. She had to choose: Supervillain or countless other people.

Innocents.

It's the most logical choice to save the innocents, Hero told herself as the doctor and Medic hooked up an IV line. It was an improvised IV, no doubt about it. The needle had a tube that parted ways that each led up to their own bag of liquid- one was yellowish, the other green.

Supervillain groaned slightly, moving his head over weakly to watch the doctors inject the sharp needle.

"What'dya doing?" He asked weakly, pulling slightly at his restraints. His eyes widened, but only briefly as they almost slipped back closed again- exhausted from the pneumonia and drug in his system.

"Begin induction," the doctor ordered Medic who nodded stiffly. She opened a tab with the green liquid. Hero watched as the serum made it's way through the tubing and into Supervillain's hand. Supervillain watched too, with a dazed look to his gaze.

Within only a few seconds, Supervillain's body seized up as his breathing increased rapidly. He pulled desperately at the restraints, but didn't seem to be in pain.

Actually, his face shone with a newfound energy. In a way, he even looked happily excited.

"Hero!" A woman's voice rang through Hero's ears. "Hero, please. Don't let them hurt me please. Please."

There was a scream, then a couple more. Hero pulled back her head, trying to block out the screeches. The begs and pleas. It was all too much, way too much.

She knew that she couldn't press the button when the drug finished its cycle.

Within a few minutes, Supervillain's buoyant facial expressions receded gradually into a look of pure agony. He hissed, shaking his head back and forth with rigor, but his strength was fading until he was left sobbing and coughing weakly.

Even though he didn't show it after the sobs ceased, the supervillain was still in obvious pain. His lips raised periodically, showing clenched teeth. After thirty minutes, or so Hero guessed, the doctor spoke up.

"Take the civilians away."

There was another shuffle of feet, another slammed door and then silence.

Until the doctor spoke up.

"Release Hero and Supervillain." Guards buzzed around the two, unlocking restraints. The second Hero was free, she bounded over to Supervillain, nearly laying upon him.

"Hey, hey, hey," Hero wrapped shaky hands around feverish cheeks. Supervillain's eyes were half-lidded. The visible parts of the brown eyes were glassy and very unfocused, staring at the ceiling with no intent whatsoever. He was barely conscious and very weak.

Impossibly weak, with or without the sickness.

Medic worked to remove the IV carefully. It took a bit to ensure it was done somewhat safely, but the bruised, bleeding wound wasn't even disinfected.

This torture went on for days. Hero, being mentally tortured, started contemplating pressing the botton- before remembering her duty as a hero.

One day, when the doctors were done, Hero scooped Supervillain up. His pneumonia was worsening, blood seeped through his lips more often. The doctors started giving him antibiotics, but it was never enough.

"Do you regret this yet, Hero?" Villain asked that one particular day as he drew a chair up besides Hero and the shivering supervillain.

Hero didn't even hesitate to give the short, but meaningful answer.

"Yes."

#supervillain whumpee #hero caretaker #villain whumper #hero whumper #lab whump #medical whump #heros and villains #writing #threat #pneumonia #tw needles #mental torture #drugged whumpee #feverish whumpee

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itsclydebitches · 3 years

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Hi Clyde 👋🏻 So Ive been watching as your response posts come thru about RWBY and you obviously know alot about it. As someone who knows nothing at all about it, I was wondering if you could explain it to me. Supernatural I get. Jupiter Ascending I get. Even that Jar Jar Binks post floating around Tumblr (if you havent seen it yet, it’s probably a good thing) I get, but RWBY im still sort of having trouble getting up the interest to watch. Is it worth it?

Hello! I'm definitely answering asks in a timely fashion. Watch me go! 😅

Ah, is RWBY worth it. That there is the million dollar question. Not to give a copout answer, but I really think it depends on what you're looking to get out of the show. Our beloved JA and SPN are great comparisons because they're both extremes too. They're doing something really interesting that succeeds in captivating its audience... and then, arguably, faceplant when it comes to a lot of basic writing expectations. SPN far more-so than JA imo, just due to being a 15 season show vs. a 2 hour movie. Though not quite of the same caliber, RWBY has a lot of the same whimsy and creativity. A sort of, "Go with the flow not because it necessarily makes sense, but because it's fun." Or, as the RWBY fandom puts it, everything follows the "Rule of Cool." If you like JA's awkwardly delivered "I love dogs" you may also like the awkwardness of Ruby eating cookies by having them disappear when they approach her face. The self-awareness that RWBY had in the beginning — we're a low budget webseries created for the fun of it with lots of ridiculous gags and flashy action — feels, to me, similar to the self-awareness of JA: "We're a film that's going to take a 13yo girl's fantasies very seriously, right up through getting an angel-wolf-alien as a boyfriend." There's even a lot to be said for RWBY's similar motivations: a girl power story, a focus on the action (with Monty's fantastic choreography), meant to be progressive in particular ways, etc.

Personally, I really love the first three Volumes of RWBY. They're ridiculous, badly animated at times, and mishandle a racism allegory like whoa... but they've got a lot of heart. They're fun. They're enjoyable in that "Turn your brain off" manner. The basic premise is that a girl with silver eyes gets into a Huntsmen Academy two years early — a school that trains young adults to battle the monsters that populate their world. She's set up as the pure hearted hero with the mysterious power via her eye color. She gains a team of three other girls who must learn to work together as they navigate school and a coming war. Everyone has crazy outfits, crazier weapons, and at one point there's an epic food fight battle that I've watched on Youtube too many times. It's playful and has just enough worldbuilding to spark the imagination; just enough solid characterization to get you to fall in love with the cast. If it were the summer of 2016 I'd recommend RWBY wholeheartedly as the webseries equivalent of a beach read.

The problem is that things #happened at the end of Volume 3. No spoilers, but suffice to say things got intense during that finale, thrusting the show into a very different era. Suddenly, the show wanted to take itself seriously in a way it never had before... so many in the fandom, such as myself, started taking it more seriously too. We had higher expectations for the show since the show itself was egging those expectations on, tackling sensitive material and talking up the impact of their work. Yet, sadly, these expectations weren't met, with the problems becoming more pronounced with each new Volume. The retconning added up. Certain characters were done dirty. The allegories got really offensive. RWBY's idea of feminism became warped. We've got a ship that many consider queerbaiting at this point. Morals are all over the place and there's no longer a consistent message to the show... it's a lot. The sort of "It's a lot" that we might say about SPN too. Fans are right to point out the laundry list of bad writing choices and offensive content strewn across SPN's 15 seasons. Fans are also right to point out the many aspects that kept its audience hooked despite all that. Same with RWBY. Me? I think RWBY is a very badly written show now... but I enjoyed it enough, for long enough, that I'm still invested enough to see it through. Meanwhile, others don't see anything wrong with the writing at all. They've hailed the last two Volumes as the best to date, with even better work to come. There's a pretty intense split between those who critique the show and those who insist on its near perfection.

So I suppose I'd recommend it, just because I'm not confident in giving a definitive "Lol yeah this is trash" condemnation. Not just because there were things I did (and at times still do) love about RWBY, but because my interpretation, quite obviously, is subjective. I can't ignore that those of us who critique the show are the minority. So statistically, if RWBY ends up being your thing, you're probably more likely to enjoy all that the show has produced thus far — within reason — than you are to have a falling out with it. I think overall there's enough good in RWBY to give it a shot, especially when, depending on how you approach your shows, that good might still be there for you 8 Volumes later. Just go in knowing that, if you enjoy the first 3 Volumes, you might be severely disappointed down the line.

The other upside though? The initial episodes are very short! So you can try a couple out without giving RWBY too much of a time investment.

(Also, side note, but WHAT Jar Jar Binks post?? Oh god I'm scared lol)

#rwby #rwde #is this rwde?#idk anymore #mymetas

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queenmylovely · 4 years

Text

Wedding Party III

Summary: Ben hardy x fem!reader. The night before the wedding is for the bachelorette party and the bachelorette party only, right?

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: cussing, building tension, flirty texting, spoiler alert: heavy make-out section (very light smut, no underwear is removed, pretty much just descriptive grinding lol)

A/N: Part 3 to part 3 of the celebration! Thank you so much again to everyone who follows me, including the people that have since I hit 500, cause it’s been quite a minute. This one’s a little shorter, but it gets the job done I think. Make sure to catch reader’s Freudian slip lol. Yell at me if you must. Any feedback is super appreciated but especially replies, messages, and asks are super helpful for my writing ‘cause I get to hear what you think!

Part I, Part II, Part IV, Mini i, Mini ii, Masterlist

(dorky cutie, gif by @catspawzz-yeahyeahyeahthedrummer)

💖💖💖

How you were up at 3:00am the night before your best friend’s rehearsal dinner and subsequent bachelorette party was beyond you. Well, it wasn’t really beyond you because you knew why. It was that damn Ben. You and he had been texting since that first game night and some nights it lasted until one of you fell asleep in the very early morning, phone in hand.

It stayed… mostly friendly, but every so often it ventured towards flirtation, which you thoroughly appreciated. But then the morning would come and one of you would inevitably make the switch back to just friendly. All in person interactions followed the same type of pattern. A couple more game nights as each other’s partners, dinner parties sitting across from each other and sharing looks and laughs, and brunches with free flowing mimosas and bloody mary’s that turned you both into tipsy, touchy flirts were enough to make both of you desperately want a quick fuck in a wedding reception bathroom (or anyplace and anytime sooner), and maybe more too.

In any sort of wedding related event, the two of you were paired up, and usually by the happy couple themselves. It was some sort of sweet torture that the two of you were walking together. You both greatly enjoyed spending so much time together, talking, flirting, whatever, but the damn rules were always on the edge of your minds.

Not that either of you knew the other was aware of the rules as well. Ben had the tiniest inkling that you might be, but he didn’t want to risk bringing it up in case you didn’t because he would’ve been a little embarrassed. You were completely clueless and were more focused on not breaking the rules than figuring out if Ben had any idea about it, because boy was it getting hard not to break them.

Anyway, it was 3:00am and you were struggling to keep your eyes open, but Ben’s texts always came right when they were about to close.

Ben: So what r u guys doing for Luce’s party?

Y/N: umm i think that’s a secret

Ben: A secret? I already told u what we’re doing 😤

Y/N: that’s on you bud

Ben: Rude

Ben: Whatever it is try not to get too drunk so I don't have to deal with u complaining of a hangover at the wedding

Y/N: says the guy who shows up to most of the brunches hungover or half drunk from the night before. besides, it’ll be hard to get drunk when i don’t have my personal drink maker there

Ben: Ah ur dependent on me now? No one else does it quite like me?

Y/N: that’s right, hardy. no one else keeps me filled up the way you do, it’s why i keep you around

Y/N: *my cup

Ben: It’s not the stimulating conversation or my charming good looks?

Y/N: those help, but no it’s your usefulness as a personal bartender

Ben: If I’m ur personal bartender, where are my tips?

Y/N: i’ll settle up after the wedding

Ben: Looking forward to it

_____

About 16 hours and a rehearsal and rehearsal dinner later, the wedding party was splitting into two groups for the respective bachelor and bachelorette parties.

You saw the boys gathered by one of the tables where the rehearsal dinner had been. Lucy and Rami were talking so everyone was taking a minute before it was time to leave. From where you were you could see Joe and Sami talking in hushed tones and counting what looked like a few hundred dollars in bills ranging from ones to twenties.

Catching Ben’s eye as he was scowling at you, you couldn’t help but laugh. Since he had told you that they were going on a chartered boat that had been set up for poker, you knew exactly what the money was for. Ben walked quickly over to you, crossing his arms and giving you a look once he got there.

When he didn’t say anything you asked, “Can I help you?”

“You haven’t told anyone have you?” Ben asked, still frowning. The little crease between his eyebrows and the slight pout of his lips made it hard to remember to answer his question.

“Of— of course not, I’m not gonna risk ruining the surprise for Rami,” you said, placing your hand on his still crossed forearm before smirking and saying, “Unlike you.”

Ben’s frown deepened for a second and you worried if you had been too mean, but then he just started laughing. You joined in and both of you took a step closer without realizing.

“Shut up,” Ben said, still chuckling.

You looked up at him with a challenge in your eyes and replied, “Make me.”

Ben suppressed a groan and looked down at you, biting his lip. There were a few seconds of heated silence and you felt yourself moving closer to Ben as he was doing the same.

“Y/N, we’re ready to head out, are you?” Emma called from where she and the rest of the bridesmaids were.

Ben cleared his throat and you turned around to tell her yeah. Then you turned back to Ben, putting your hand on his arm again, “See you tomorrow, then.”

“Have fun, be safe,” he told you.

“You too, don’t go falling off the boat,” you said with a smile that he returned.

Then he leaned down and kissed your cheek quickly, saying bye as he stepped back and you waved before turning around and following the group out the door.

_____

The bachelorette party was set up at your apartment because it was bigger than Emma’s and so that it could maintain the surprise for Lucy. It had required a bit of thinking for you and Emma to figure out what to do because Lucy didn’t want to go to a stripclub or anything of the like. Plus, since she was having the party the night before her wedding, she didn’t want a wicked hangover. She also wanted her mom, aunt, and young cousin to come, so it had to be something that they could participate in too.

Everyone went inside, seeing the multiple tables set up in the living room, wondering aloud what the plan was. It was only a couple minutes before there was a knock on the door. Just outside, there were two women wearing aprons that you let in with a smile.

Emma stood up to introduce them, “Everyone, this is Katy and Jay, they’ll be teaching us how to make cocktails tonight!”

Everyone exclaimed happily, and you were glad to see Lucy smiling brightly in excitement. You went to the kitchen and wheeled out a bar cart that had all of the equipment, alcohol, and mixers that would be needed. There were enough tables for everyone to be in pairs, and you were paired with Lucy so that Emma could be with her cousin, May.

One from each pair grabbed one of each of the items that Katy and Jay said to grab. The group included one pregnant bridesmaid, one who just didn’t drink, and the fourteen year old May, so your instructors had planned drinks that would still be good without alcohol.

The class ended up being a lot of fun; they taught different types of martinis, spritzes, mojitos, and G&T’s, so that by the time they were all made and everyone that was drinking tried them all, it was enough to be more than a little tipsy.

Jay and Katy took their leave after many thanks and promises of more cocktail parties in the future. Then you announced the next part of the evening.

“It-- it is now time for a fashion ex-- extara--vangza!” you exclaimed, stumbling over the long word and causing everyone to crack up with you.

Then Emma came out of your room, pulling, along with the help of her mom and aunt, two giant racks of clothes that you and she had spent the past few weeks collecting at different thrift and second-hand stores. You had gotten old wedding dresses, prom dresses, funky patterned shirts, bohemian skirts, oversized blazers with giant shoulder pads, sparkly bralettes, and everything in between.

Seeing the clothes, Lucy jumped up and ran over, immediately looking through them and soon there was a little crowd around the racks.

Emma tried to shout over everyone, “We have seven minutes to create an entire outfit and then we will have our fashion show! Don’t worry, this is only the first of many!”

The whole affair was full of laughs, shouts of excitement, and a couple quick arguments over who got what. Then the runway had to be prepared, which meant turning on the color changing LED lights you had and turning on a playlist of Beyoncé, ABBA, Rihanna, Adele, Lizzo, Lady Gaga, Billie Eilish, and Queen, though only the upbeat songs.

Everyone did their best struts down the runway and then posed strikingly at the end, channeling their inner model. The crowd said their oohs and ahhs and clapped for each one. You and Emma took turns modelling and being a photographer each round so that all of the outfits were captured during their walk.

After about five rounds, the fashion show devolved into a dance party where everyone was laughing and singing along with the songs.

Around midnight, you lost Lucy’s mom, her aunt, and May to tiredness. And once the first group had left, it wasn’t long before others started leaving as well. By 12:30am, the only ones left were Lucy and Emma, to help clean up. But you both tried to make Lucy sit and relax since she was the bride and shouldn’t have to clean up after her own party. She refused and helped anyway, hanging up the clothes that had gotten left on the couches and floor. Though a lot of them ended up in a large tote bag she found in your room that she planned to take home with her.

Once all the trash was thrown away, the dishwasher was running, and the last stray glittery shirt was hung up, you ushered Emma and Lucy out the door with hugs, kisses, and reminders to get a good night’s sleep.

You flopped on your couch, tired out but also somehow wired with energy and you debated over watching one episode of TV or just going to sleep. You were reaching to grab the remote to turn off the music when there was a knock at the door.

Rolling your eyes and smiling on the way, you unlocked it and threw it open, the question, “What, did you realize you left one of the pairs of cute trousers behind?” halfway out of your mouth before you realized that it wasn’t Lucy and Emma.

“Ben,” you said in surprise. Probably the last person you were expecting at this moment was Ben, but there he was, in dark jeans and a plain white t-shirt that fit him too well to leave anything to your imagination, his hair a little messy like he had been running his hands through it and his cheeks flushed pink due to what you could only assume was alcohol.

You opened the door wider and let him in, after you remembered to stop just staring at him and trying to imagine what he’d look like with those clothes off.

Ben smiled at you sweetly and said hi. Then he looked you up and down and a brief look of confusion crossed his face.

You looked down at yourself and realized that you were still wearing one of the sequin bralettes, a black mesh t-shirt underneath that, a high waisted neon purple skater skirt, and a houndstooth yellow and pink blazer with shoulder pads. Chuckling at yourself, you explained, “Oh, we had a fashion show.”

As the two of you walked into your living room, Ben nodded in understanding.

“Sit. How was the boat? Who won big in poker?” you asked as you sat on your feet, kneeling. You asked a little more enthusiastically than usual, but you were still kinda tipsy.

“Boat was good. Ummm I think maybe Rami won, yeah, he has a good poker face, he’s a good actor. Has an Oscar, you know,” Ben rambled, and you nodded with a smile as you thought that he must be kinda tipsy himself. Then he turned so he was facing you more and closed his eyes, shaking his head, “But we didn’t even play poker for long.”

“No?” you asked, leaning closer to him.

“No,” he said, opening his eyes slowly and smiling, “We did karaoke instead.”

“That sounds fun,” you whispered, looking down to his hand that was very close to yours. If you had been sober, you would’ve just looked, but you weren’t, so you grabbed it in yours and started playing with his fingers.

“Mmmm,” Ben hummed and you wondered whether it was in agreement to your statement or because he enjoyed what you were doing.

“What did you sing?” you asked curiously.

Ben flipped your hands so that he was the one doing the playing as he responded, “Me and Joe did a duet of ‘Greased Lightnin’’ from Grease. He was Danny and I was Kenickie.”

“Kenickie was always my favorite,” you commented, looking up from your hands to his eyes.

Ben looked up to your eyes as well, leaning in and asking, “Really?”

You moved closer too, and as you nodded, you felt his breath on your lips yet again.

This time, there were no interruptions and you closed the last few inches together, your lips finally meeting. The first kiss was soft, but the next one was a little more urgent, and the next even more so. Before you knew it, you were parting your mouth for Ben’s tongue and he was teasing along your lower lip, daring you to follow into his mouth.

You moaned as Ben’s hands came to your waist and he helped you straddle his lap. Your hands went to his chest and down to his stomach, feeling the taught muscles that you had seen through his shirt. Ben pushed your blazer off your shoulders and then one of his hands moved to tangle in your hair and the other slid lower and underneath your skirt to your ass

Breaking the kiss, you instead moved to placing kisses along his jaw then down his neck, scraping your teeth lightly on his pulse point and making Ben shudder. He moved his hands back to your waist and pushed down, at the same time grinding his hips up into you from below. You gasped and moaned, feeling his hardness pressing against you through only your underwear.

Kissing back up to his mouth, you bit his lower lip, getting a groan and another grind of his hips in return. Your hands slid up his torso and then to his hair, tugging it lightly and Ben continued to help you move with him as he moaned. Each pass of his hard cock on your clothed pussy made you a little more desperate for more and you whined whenever he grazed your clit.

When you tilted your head back in pleasure, Ben took the opportunity to move to your neck, kissing down the column of your throat before starting a search for your sweet spot. He found it quickly, and started sucking, but as good as it felt, you had to stop him.

“Ben, no marks, the wedding.”

Just that simple sentence knocked the sense back into both of you and you each leaned back, your hands all moving to your own sides.

“We can’t do this,” you said in unison, and then looked at each other in confusion.

“Wait--” you started.

“What--” Ben said at the same time.

“Why can’t we?” you asked him, a few thoughts falling into place as you remembered that initial conversation when Lucy had singled out Ben.

“Well, I’m just not supposed to-- I mean, I probably shouldn’t say…” he trailed off awkwardly and you got off his lap quickly, pacing in front of the couch as you came to a conclusion.

“Did Lucy tell you not to sleep with me?” you asked, turning to Ben quickly.

“No, well yes, well kind of. I guess it’s fine. Rami told me not to sleep with anyone from the wedding party, he didn’t single out you. But I assumed that Lucy felt the same way,” Ben said sheepishly, a blush covering his cheeks.

“Don’t be embarrassed, Lucy told me not to sleep with anyone either. Except she did single you out. She excused that it was because we’re walking together, but it’s probably because we’re both sluts. Nice to know I’ve got an ally out here,” you said wryly but when you looked over at Ben he just looked very confused. You quickly added, “That wasn’t meant as an insult.”

“No, it’s fine. I’m just surprised that they would go to such lengths. And I’m a little mad,” he commented.

You nodded and flopped back down on the couch next to him, “Yeah, me too, but I can see their point.”

Both of you sighed and then laughed.

“And we probably shouldn’t do anything tonight?” you asked, wanting his agreement, because you were close to just saying fuck it and doing something anyway.

“Yeah, we probably shouldn’t tonight,” he said, facing you and you could see that there was still a healthy amount of desire in his eyes. “But I make no promises for the reception.”

💖💖💖

Permanent taglist: @riseetothesun @caborhapch @drowseoftaylor @queenlover05 @johndeaconshands @supersonicfreddie

Series taglist: @killer-queen-87 @theprettyandthereckless @radiob-l-a-hblah @theonsasheart @hannafuckingsucks

If you would like to be added to the taglist for this little series or my permanent one, just send me a message or ask!

#my roommate yelled at me for this #called me a tease #I aim to frustrate #bohemian rhapsody #borhap #ben hardy #ben jones #fic #series #wedding party #queenmylovely #bohemian rhapsody x reader #borhap boys #borhap cast #borhap x reader #bohemian rapsody movie

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patchworkstateofmind · 3 years

Text

Returning a Favor | A Marvel AU Fanfic, Chapter 1

Uhm, Ive never actually posted on tumblr before, and also never written about Marvel, so I hope if anyone even reads this, you will hopefully be nice ^^

So, anyways, this is a scene from an Idea I had, it takes place in the time between Spiderman Homecoming and Avengers Infinity War. If you like the idea or my writing style, make sure to let me know, so I can continue my Idea^^

I actually recommend to listen to some music while reading this, I suggest a dark academia, royal core playlist on youtube. (I think its suits this story the best, but you do you)

Okay I should stop blabbering, Lets go!

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Title of Chapter: Ballroom Talk

Word Count: 2,4k

Other Chapters: Ch.1, Ch.2

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The music hangs heavy in the air, as you leaned against the wooden railing of the staircase. Dozens of couples twirled and turned over the marble floor and the golden chandeliers, lit with real candles set the ballroom in a magnificent golden light. Golden specks of dust whirled through the air and the movement of the puffy skirts only made them twirl even more.

You looked down your crystal glass, hmm, empty. Sighing you placed your glass on the platter of a waiter that walked by you. Your gaze crossed the room, looking at the majestic oil paintings, probably worth thousands of dollars. Decadent.

Your eyes met brown. Great, the eyes you were trying to forget. You adverted your gaze and turned around, the skirt of your dress swaying as you made your way down the side of the ballroom, trying to get away. “Excuse me.”, said a voice behind you. You sighed.

“look, I don’t have time for this right now.” You turned around and he stood in front of you. Towering at least 2 feet over you normally, he now was eye to eye with you. Heels do seem have a good point. “I know, I’m really sorry, but I was told to do this.”, he said, so he knew too, that it was just an annoyance, rather than a mission. Gosh, he sounded so much like a teenager, it was almost embarrassing.

“I know too. But I am not joining your little team of ´Revengers´”, you painted quotation marks in the air and even though the half mask on his face managed to hide his emotion quite well, you were sure you could see him snarl. You chuckled lightly. “Let me guess, your friends are right out there, ready to crash the party any moment”. You nodded your head towards one of the stained-glass windows. “Okay, kiddo.”, you began. Actually, you weren’t quite sure how old he was, he seemed at least your age, if not older, but you liked the way it railed him up.

“I know that normally, we would have a nice fight of words and then your teammates come crashing in, saving you, because you obviously aren’t strong enough to handle me on your own. You and your friends set everything on fire, I get away and yet again you think you’ve won because you’ve killed another ten old bastards, that don’t mean anything to us. But you need the accomplishment, and we don’t want you to feel like you always destroy everything without any results. And yet you do.”

He opened his mouth, trying to defend himself, but you simply talk over him. “Let’s face it. You couldn’t find a point to start your search, so you thought you would show up here, thinking that we are dumb enough to not disguise a hidden meeting better than a ball. And you thought you could crash this meeting but then noticed, that it is a real ball. And now you want information, so they sent you in her, totally blending in with everybody here.” You reach for his neck and fix the collar of his button up.

“But now you noticed that there is no one important here, that actually has information. And I know that your teammates probably realised this, but I’m not quite sure if you are intelligent enough to do too, so I’m throwing you this bone.” You make an eccentric pause. “Peter, have you noticed that not even one important person is here.”, you pointed towards the dancefloor. “And you know why? Because there is a hidden meeting, but we all know that you and your little team aren’t even remotely clever enough to even think about this, so we sat up this ball. Of course, that’s not the only reason, its also to get rich old bastards on our side, feeding them with bacon wrapped dates and hors d´oeuvres and telling them that we are this”, you pinch your fingers together. “Close to curing cancer.”

“Are you serious?”, Peter brushes his hand trough his hair. “So this is all a setup to lead us into the false direction?”. “You look distressed”, you say and reach for the tablet of yet another waiter that walks by. “Here, try some of that, it will calm you down, but yes, this is just a setup”. You take the glass and press it into Peters’ hand. He doesn’t seem to pay attention to you though, his hand lays on his ear and the other, with the glass, he raised up to his mouth. “Did you hear that Mr Stark?”, he asked.

You try to swallow a giggle. “So, I was right”, you say and turn around, making your way down the corridor. “You really couldn’t think one step further and realise that we aren’t dumb enough to hide secret things better, tsk.”

It takes Peter a few seconds to notice you are leaving, but when he does, he is sprinting down the corridor after you. “Wait!”, he yells. “Come on Peter”, you answer annoyed, it comes out as a snarl. “Why are you so relentless? You had the mission to get information, I gave you information. Its not my fault that the information is that you suck”

“Hey! We don’t suck!”, he defends and jumps around, side to side, trying to move in front of you, but your massive skirt is blocking his way, making him dance around you. Though you must admit that even though this tight corset and the puffy skirt annoy you, you can’t seem to help but thank the 18th century fashion for making people stay away from you.

“Why don’t you just go back to your friends outside, because as you can see, there is nothing interesting here, just a bunch of old dudes, dancing with young and impressionable girls on the search for a rich sugar daddy”, You say. You are really done with this shit.

“I don’t think we have that what we want yet”, a voice came from in front of you. To be fair, you didn’t expect anybody else here, which made you stop in your tracks. You needed a Minute to calm your muscles again, trying to keep your masquerade on. “Oh, thank god”, Peter huffs out from behind you. Great, you are stuck.

You raise one side of your mouth to a smirk. “Captain America, didn’t expect to see you here. Thought you would be busy with squeezing yourself into those tight spandexes.”, you say. “Though I must say, tailcoats suit you much better, you should make them into your uniform, rather than that ridiculously patriotic Costume you always wear.” “I could say the same to you, oh, wait, you look like the wallpaper of my grandma exploded on you”, he says and grins. “Ouuh, burn”, You say mockingly. “You know you could just say you like me better without clothes”, You say and glance back over your shoulder. Only to find that Peter is blushing, you look back at Cap, he’s blushing too. Double kill.

“Well, if you would excuse me Gentleman, I’ve got a dinner date to keep”, You try to manoeuvre your skirt around Cap, but he positions himself right in front of you. “I don’t think so.”, he crosses his arms over his chest. “That’s not very nice, to keep a lady from following her plans”, You say and try once again, but he takes a step sideways, blocking your path yet again. “Let’s see it like this”, Cap begins. “You can either talk with me right now, or we will take this outside and you can see if you were right with the assumption that it takes more people than one to fight you.

You sigh. “Nice move, America. Taking advantage of the girl in heels, so it can’t run away.” You turn around and look at Peter. He has taken off his mask and you lock eyes with him. “Well then kiddo”, you say and open your hand. “Give me your glass, if you don’t use it, then don’t mind if I do” He hands you the wine glass and you throw your head back, downing it in one swift motion. You place the glass onto a side table and motion for Captain America to follow you. “You want to dance?”, you ask. He lifts an eyebrow. “So, you really wanna fight”, he asks. “Nah, not now. I mean it literally, if I have to spend more time here, then why don’t use it”

He turns around to look at Peter. “Go outside, I will meet you there, if I don’t come out in ten Minutes send them in” You can’t help but snicker at this and now its your turn to cross the arms over your chest. “Are you so afraid of me? The mighty Captain America- Oh wait, the mighty one was Thor, wasn’t it? Well anyways, I’m gonna spend the rest of my evening on the dance floor”

With those words you make your way back to the ball room. The music is still the same, eerily beautiful, like from an old historian drama. You reach the end of the hallway and look at the Captain. He reaches into the inside of his tailcoat and pulls out a velvet mask. “Glad to see you thought about bringing one yourself, I counted on the fact that I would have to lend you one of mine.” You tap onto your mask. A light beige, velvet half mask, adorned with blue pearls and light blue lace. It matched with your dress.

He holds out his elbow and you interlock your arm into his. You make your way to the dance floor, its not a formation dance, so you don’t stick out when you two join in in a free space. He places his hand on the side of your body and you reach out to place your hand in his. You begin the turn around the floor, not thinking about a choreography.

“Okay, Mr. America”, you say, now quieter, although the music and the chitter chatter all around you should make it hard for anybody else to hear your conversation. “You have this one dance, if you want to talk any longer, we will have to fight. And we both know that a fight will end in at least on person to be hurt. And I don’t know why, but I don’t think it will be me.”

He meets your stern gaze with just as much aversion. “I do think too that one dance is more than enough”. “By then, start your questions”. You turn outwards and twirl yourself back in under his arm. “Why are you doing this ball?”, he asks. “Like I said, its easier to have meetings that shall not be interrupted, if you have something where the people that could interrupt are occupied” “So, I guess that’s why you are here too, because they don’t want you to interrupt either?”, he asks and you can hear his intention right through. “I am really sorry, but I think we both know that you will not be able to question my loyalty”

He leaves your hand to place his on the other side of your waist and you place yours on his shoulders. With a swift motion he lifts you up as the music reaches its climax and with a turn puts you back down on your feet. “Next question”, you say. “You are running out of time”

“Why this masquerade?” You sigh. “I know, it’s very cliché isn’t it; I also don’t know why it has to be in this Victorian style, but I guess it should make the people here feel more at home, old people like old stuff, don’t they? But of course, I shouldn’t tell you about old stuff, I mean, you’re the 100-year-old” He rolls his eyes. “You know that’s not what I meant”. “Ugh, I know, you see, this is a disguise for a meeting, but its also a coming together of really rich people, and really rich people tend to do really bad stuff. Its easier to gather blackmail bait when people feel safe because of a mask that isn’t hiding anything.” “So, it’s a trick to steal money from the rich?” “No, its to steal Power from the rich. If you want to really win this game of power, you got to have the rich and powerful on your side, not only the handymen. And based on the facts I do know; you don’t even seem to have the handymen on your side. The Avengers, always there for the people”, you sigh mockingly. “but doing nothing more, than leaving a trail of misery and destruction. Cut to the chase, what is really the reason you and your friends are here?”

“Where is the secret headquarters of Hydra?”, he asks, and you drop your smile. “Oh, straight to the point I guess”, You say and take a step away from him. He grabs your hands and pulls you back in, this time his hand lands on your back, holding you firmly in place. He leans down to your ear. For other people it must look like you are a couple, but the snarl in his voice is more than enough to find out the real affirmation between you two.

“Cut it, we know that you and your little crew have connections to hydra” You lean back, trying to bring space between you two and snarl back. “You should be careful who you make assumptions about, some people are not very happy to be affiliated with those people.” “Those people!?”, he gets louder. “Last time I remembered you blowing up a part of Siberia, destroying everything in a 100-mile radius. You are nothing better than Hydra.”

“I am not in affiliation with Hydra, but remember this for the next time we meet, America.”, you hiss and now you lean into him. “I will rip everything you love apart if you don’t keep your dirty hands of my business. And I think we both know that I won’t hesitate. But maybe I shouldn’t threaten you” You lean back and push against his chest, stepping away. “If you dare once again to interfere with my business, I will destroy everything any of you are fond of. Your little boy, Peter. This naïve and sweet boy. How about we start with him? Or maybe start with something that hurts. I come to know about a certain woman named… What was it? Peggy?”

With these words you turn around and storm of, you don’t hear footsteps behind you, and you are really sure that he won’t be following you.

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Thank you for reading!

Have a great day!

#mcu #marvel #marvel cinematic universe #marvel au #marvelfanfic #the avengers #marvels the avengers #marvel captain america #captain america #spiderman #marvels spider man #captain america fanfiction #marvelfanfiction #peter parker #marvel imagine #peter parker fanfiction #iron man

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missmonsters2 · 5 years

Text

Drive Her Crazy || Part X

PAIRING: Wanda Maximoff x OFC/Reader

Summary: AU. Meet Wanda, the new ‘It’ girl. She’s built her social standing as a social influencer through Instagram and vlogging on Youtube. Queen Bee in her social circle, she’s got everyone wrapped around her finger. She’s perfect, you think. Girls like that require a little finesse, and you’re ready to play the game.

Warnings: Non-healthy relationship, psychological games, smut. 18+ only.

NOTE: Wow, I can’t believe we are finished. Thank you to everyone who read this story, enjoyed it, liked it, reblogged it, or commented! My heart is super full. This is the happiest ending for our lovely crazies 💛

[Please watch out for my next series which will feature Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader, The Color of You 😊]

PART I || PART II || PART III || PART IV || PART V || PART VI || PART VII || PART VIII || PART IX

PART X of X

Count: 5231

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“Great work, Vision! You’re good for today.”

Vision sighed, pulling off his headphones, and walking out the recording studio.

He thanked everyone for their hard work on his way out.

The single he recently released was doing quite well, and he was quickly gaining a fanbase.

His breakup with Wanda had actually inspired some pretty good lyrics, and with some help to finesse the finished product, the single was becoming a hit.

Vision hadn’t spoken Wanda since they split up at the party, but it’s not like he could avoid the headlines Wanda and her new girlfriend made. It was everywhere because you were so famous.

He still often spoke to Tony who updated him with what everyone’s been up to and Pepper was kind enough to give him advice from time to time.

Digging his hand into his pocket, he felt his ring there. He couldn’t bear to get rid of the engagement ring he got Wanda yet. It felt like it was the only thing left of her he had.

As he walked out of recording studio, the exit he usually took was blocked off by cleaners, so he turned another way.

It was a hall of records. Vision smiled slightly as he passed by each one.

But then he saw one that made him stop.

It was your record, for the first album you released that has now gone triple platinum.

He saw a couple more of your records framed up.

He was reeling.

This was too weird.

Someone was passing by, and Vision stopped them. It was Ryan, the engineer that would be helping him with his album.

“Ryan...what’s this? Why are her albums framed up here?”

Ryan gave him a weird look as he gazed over your albums.

“She’s an artiste at this company. Has been for a really long time. You never see her around, though. She’s been here long enough and produced enough results that they just let her do her own thing. In fact, you guys share the same manager.”

“What?” Vision choked.

Ryan had his eyebrows scrunched at Vision. Maybe he was a fan?

“I-I gotta go,” Vision said as he turned around and bolted out.

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“Can I look yet?”

“No, and don’t you dare peek.”

You have your hands over Wanda’s eyes as you safely guide her into your guys’ new home. She had mostly been busy with work, so you had taken the liberty of making sure everything would be set up.

Of course, you still had sent her a billion texts to see what type of furniture and color theme Wanda preferred.

Today was the move-in day, and you had picked your girlfriend up when she was done work for the day.

“Please, I just want to see now,” Wanda whined, and you hushed her.

“Patience is a virtue, love,” you tease her. You hear her huff slightly.

“Well, I’m very naughty,” she teased you right back, and you had to bite your lip.

Dear lord, you needed to move faster before Wanda decided she wanted to have her wicked way with you without you being able to show her the whole place.

Once you’re in the perfect spot, you smile as you kiss the back of Wanda’s head gently before releasing your hands.

Wanda’s eyes flutter open, awe washing over her as she takes a look at the entire place.

It was big.

It was beautiful.

It was her dream home.

The soft, pastel colors and marbling of the furniture was a dream. She turns around, jumping into your arms, kissing you right on your mouth.

“I love it,” she gushes. “Thank you for taking care of all this.”

You merely hum happily, leaning in to kiss her again. Wanda walks around the house, touching nearly everything and gushing about how everything looks perfect.

By the time you make it back to the living room, she turns to you, head tilted to the side with her fingers on her chin.

“You know, maybe there is one thing that’s missing,” she says, taking a look around herself.

“Really? What?” You ask, trying your best to think if you missed anything.

Wanda looks back at you with a wicked grin.

“I think we need to christen the house.”

Before you know it, you’re revisiting every room in the house again.

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Wanda is on cloud nine by the time she reaches her friends for brunch the next day.

“Hey, girls. Sorry, I’m late,” she greets them as she takes her seat next to Lily. Her other friend Anna from her party and at the charity was there too. Finally, Stacey had been invited by Anna.

Lily was snickering as Wanda took a seat. “What happened? Miss DJ didn’t want to let you out of bed?”

Wanda immediately flushed red at her cheeks, the heat traveling all the way to her ears.

Because that’s exactly what happened.

You had tried to convince her to stay in bed longer using your sexy, cocky smirk she liked, and your deft fingers and tongue.

Managing to keep in her in bed for another half hour, Wanda put all her willpower into getting up and running to the bathroom where you couldn’t follow.

She definitely wanted to stay in bed longer too.

“Damn, girl, you really getting it,” Lily whistled, and Wanda had to push her friend playfully.

“I’m so jealous of you,” Anna whined as she sighed wistfully with her head in her hands. “I can’t believe you’re dating Lady Phantom. I had no idea she was so romantic. Everyone’s been talking about how she serenaded you at your party.”

Wanda only lightly chuckled, cheeks warm from the praises.

“Oh!” Anna exclaimed as she sat upright, pulling her phone up and searching for something before showing it to Wanda. “Since your last interview where you revealed you were dating her, so many other tabloids are picking it up.”

Wanda grabbed the phone, looking at the headlines.

LADY PHANTOM HAS A GIRLFRIEND?

INFLUENCER WANDA MAXIMOFF BAGS ELUSIVE DJ.

LADY PHANTOM AND WANDA MAXIMOFF CAUGHT HOLDING HANDS AND KISSING WHILE WALKING

DJ LADY PHANTOM AND INFLUENCER WANDA MAXIMOFF BUY A HOUSE TOGETHER? IS THE ELUSIVE DJ SETTLING DOWN?

Wanda bit her lip as she clicked on one of the headlines, skimming through it.

A close source says that Lady Phantom may have whisked Wanda Maximoff right off her feet from new artist Vision. The source says that the DJ romantically serenaded Wanda at her birthday party recently. Swoon! What a lucky girl!

The smile on Wanda’s face was so broad as she passed her phone back to Anna.

She was the girl who locked you down.

“It’s crazy how they’ve already got this much information. We just bought the house in Los Altos Hills,” Wanda says offhandedly, casually dropping the neighborhood she now resides in.

“What?” Stacey exclaims, surprised, and a little bit jealous as well. She had tried to cling to you during the party, but you didn’t seem interested at all.

“Nice houses there aren’t under $1.6 million and the photos you posted to Instagram...shit, how much was it?”

Wanda just smiled and shrugged, she wasn’t about to brag how you and she got a $5 million dollar house.

It was crazy to her. She would’ve never been able to buy one of the beautiful houses of Los Altos Hills with Vision.

It just felt like her dreams of having everything she wanted in her life and to share it with the person she loves was all coming true.

The rest of the brunch went on as usual. The girls were screaming in excitement that she would be doing a photoshoot with David King. Wanda hadn’t even told them that she would be auditioning for a movie soon after.

“Excuse me,” Wanda called the waitress as she was passing by. “Could I get an order of the traditional breakfast bowl to go? Medium poached eggs and extra hollandaise sauce, please.”

The waitress nodded with a smile before leaving.

“You bringing some for your girlfriend?” Lily asked with teasing in her tone.

Wanda nodded with a smile, “Yeah, we, uh, didn’t have time for breakfast this morning, and she had to go to the studio right after. I’m going to visit her with food.”

Lily sighed adoringly, “Oh, young love, how it is...”

“You’re younger than me, Lil,” Wanda said, and they both laughed.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Wanda was on her way, closing in on the studio to see you when her phone started vibrating.

She transferred your food into her other hand that was holding up her bag as she dug her free hand into her back pocket, tongue out as she picked up.

“Hello,” she answered, not being able to check the caller ID before she picked up.

“Wanda--” The voice was frantic.

“Vision?” Wanda answered confusedly. Why was her ex calling her?

“How’ve you been? I heard your single is doing well. I’m happy for you,” Wanda told him warmly regardless of why he was calling her.

“Yeah, Wanda, listen, you need to break up with your girlfriend. I told you there was something wrong with her!”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Wanda said heatedly. How could he just call to say that?

“I knew this opportunity to sign on was too good to be true. She’s from the same company, even has the same manager as me! I know she sent her manager to recruit me on the day of your birthday. She set me up to not show up!”

“Did someone tell you that?” Wanda asked, her walk becoming brisker as she was getting heated.

“No, but--”

“Then how the hell do you know that’s true? So what that you’re in the same company with the same manager? She tells me she hardly talks to her manager as she essentially handles her own work. Also, even if that were true, no one told you to drink yourself to a blackout state and miss my birthday. You could’ve signed on, had your celebratory drink, and left,” Wanda huffed.

“I am not hashing this out with you again, Viz,” Wanda said finally.

“Wanda, please, listen to me. There really is something off about her. She’s clearly obsessed with you. Who knows how long she’s been plotting to get you.”

“You want me to be offended my girlfriend wants me and finds me desirable?”

“No, I want you to be offended that she has no boundaries and sabotaged me to get you!”

“That’s seriously insane, Vision. She’s a famous DJ, and I’m just a social influencer. Does that make any sense to you?”

“Wanda--”

“Vision!” Wanda interrupted him. “I don’t want to hear about this again. We’re supposed to have an amicable breakup. Seriously, don’t call me again if you’re going to just say this.”

She could hear him saying something else as she hung up. She huffed again, rolling her eyes slightly.

Wanda tried to shake off the icky mood that the call put her in. She didn’t want to be grumpy when she saw you.

She placed her knuckles against the door softly as she knocked.

It wasn’t you who opened the door, but the guy seemed to have recognized her and let her in, putting his finger to his lips to signal her to be quiet.

She sheepishly shrugged her shoulders as she tiptoed in.

There she found you, your back facing her as you were looking over the recording, playing it with headphones on.

Wanda heard you hum lightly before you pressed a button to speak to the singer inside the recording studio.

“That was pretty good, but can you try redoing the last line? Instead of just holding the note on the last word, do a vocal run.”

The singer nodded, clearing her throat as she got ready.

Everyone watched as she redid it, and it sounded amazing. The difference was so subtle, but it sent chills down their spine.

“That’s perfect! Great job. Why don’t you take a break?” You suggested.

Once everyone began to relax, you turned around, surprise in your eyes as you saw your girlfriend standing there.

Wanda immediately went over to embrace you, kissing you softly.

Damn, you were so sexy when you worked.

You hummed into the kiss, clearly enjoying it.

“Mm,” you pulled back slightly. “What are you doing here? I thought you had brunch with your friends.”

Wanda gave you a half-smirk, holding onto the lapels of your leather jacket. “Well, I thought since you weren’t able to get breakfast this morning due to your shenanigans, I thought I’d bring you some.”

“What kind of shenanigans?” A dude from the back yelled, and everyone laughed as you rolled your eyes.

You looked back at your girlfriend, adoration just filling your eyes as you looked at her. Grabbing her hand and the food off the table, you led her out.

“C’mon, let’s eat outside. There’s too much testosterone in here.”

The boys laughed again, and Wanda giggled.

You led her out to the back where a lovely table and bench were in the shade under a tree.

Taking out the food, your stomach nearly ate itself, smelling the aroma.

You really were hungry.

But the hunger was definitely worth keeping Wanda in bed as long as you could this morning.

“So,” you said as you scooped some food onto your spoon. “How was brunch?”

“It was good. Lily, Anna, and Stacey were there.”

“Stacey as in...that girl from your birthday?”

Wanda scrunched her nose up at that but nodded. “Yeah...she totally wants to kill me so she can date you.”

You laughed, bringing your hand to your mouth. You swallowed your food before talking again.

“I highly doubt she could get the drop on you, so no worries there.”

“You’re damn right,” Wanda mumbled as you smiled.

Wanda watched you eat, her mouth curling upwards without her even realizing. You were always so focused on your food while eating, and she thought it was endearing.

“So,” Wanda says. “Have you...seen the tabloids by any chance?”

Your licking remnants of hollandaise sauce from your lips as you hear Wanda ask that. You nod, scooping more food.

“Mhm,” you say, spoon in their air as you have yet to put it into your mouth. You tilt your head, brow quirked as you look up slightly. “I hear a very, very attractive social influencer has bagged an elusive DJ. Apparently, they’ve been spotted buying a house together. How scandalous.”

Wanda is grinning ear to ear. God, why were you also so funny?

“Yes,” she plays along. “All the tabloids are saying that the DJ is settling down, can you believe that?”

You’re trying to hide your grin as you reply. “Buying a house is now settling down? Whew, that is quite the leap. What will the public say when she gets married?”

“Do you think she’s considering marriage?” Wanda asks, biting her thumb lightly as she regards you. God, she hopes you are.

You’ve finished your food, packing it away back into its bag to be thrown away later.

You look at Wanda.

And by God, she just might be everything you’ve ever wanted.

The thought of someone else won’t even cross your mind.

If it isn’t Wanda, it just won’t do.

You brush your leg against her lightly under the table, gently smiling as you lean back on your hands a little.

The two of you are gazing into each other’s eyes, just feeling like everything is right in the world.

“I would say that now she’s found the right person, it’s a part of her plans.”

Wanda beams.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

The next two week passes by quickly, and before Wanda knows it, she’s heading over to meet up with David King at his studio bright and early.

Her stomach is exploding with butterflies as she walks in.

Wanda wishes that you could be here with her, but you were stuck doing an interview with someone for a magazine today.

David’s assistant recognizes her for today’s appointment, greeting Wanda with a friendly smile and a handshake.

She leads Wanda over into the room where David is just finishing setting up the lighting.

“Hey!” He greets as he comes in to hug her with a kiss on her cheek. “Are you ready for some collaborating today?”

Wanda nods excitedly.

“Great! Let’s talk about what you want your theme to be. Once we have that, I’ll know what other magazines to send your photos and interview to in addition to posting it on my website.”

Wanda and David sit at the table, he pours her some tea while they work together on what she wants out of this photoshoot and interview.

“I want to show my personality, that I’m not just some dumb social influencer. I won’t just rep anything, and there are brands I really care about working with. I also want to show that I have other interests as well, like...acting.”

David smiles, kindly at her. “Yes, I’ve been told you’ve secured an audition in two weeks.”

Wanda bashfully smiles and shrugs, “Not so much me who secured it, but I definitely don’t want to disappoint her.”

David snorts, “I’m pretty sure you could murder someone, and she wouldn’t be disappointed.”

Wanda just boisterously laughs because she does get that vibe from you, but that just makes it all more endearing to her that you love her so.

After they’ve settled on themes, they immediately work on taking photos as David wants to use as much natural lighting as he can. David finds that the whole process is really smooth because Wanda is someone who wants to be a part of the process, not just doing everything he tells her.

It’s much more fulfilling to work with her. He is quite happy you got him to take a chance on her.

Once they’ve taken photos, they’re both looking over them. Wanda gives her opinion on some of the selections as an amateur photographer herself, and David finds it so refreshing.

Wanda was definitely not afraid to give her opinions, ask for perspective, or ask for his reasonings.

In the next part, they work on the short essay David can post to his blog along with the photos. Additionally, he gets her to answer a few interview questions so the magazine he picks to give his photos to can use the answers she provides too.

The entire collaboration takes the whole day, so by the time they finish, the sun has just finished setting.

“It was so great to work with you, Wanda,” David gushes as he goes in to hug her again. “Seriously, I haven’t had such a great collaboration like this in a long time.”

“Oh my god, no, please. It’s such an honor to work with you,” Wanda modestly says, while she raves about him.

David just grins as her while she turns to get her things in order.

“I’m so glad your girlfriend was able to get me to meet you. I was honestly surprised by the whole thing.”

“What do you mean?” Wanda asks as she starts to pack her things back into her bag.

“Well, you know,” David says with a shake of his hand. “I actually usually have a very strict rule about not working with social media influencers. I’ve tried a couple in the past, but I found them to be incredibly vapid.”

Wanda just smiles, unsure how to answer but pleased that he obviously found her different.

“I’ve actually seen your vlogs and Instagram before, it was my boyfriend Liam who had originally discovered you months ago. Your girlfriend was over that day, and I showed her your profile. I didn’t think she would actually end up finding you, befriend you, and then end up dating you.”

It was like time slowed for Wanda.

What?

You actually had known of her beforehand?

Wanda immediately flashed back to when she first met you and invited you inside for drinks.

“What do you do for work?”

“I suppose Vision would say I’m a photographer. It’s nothing really, I post vlogs and brands pay me to represent their stuff.”

“No way! That’s seriously amazing. So, you’re kind of famous?”

But by what David said, you would’ve already known what she did and that she had a following.

Why did you lie?

Vision’s call from two weeks ago popped into her mind, and she felt like she was going to be sick to her stomach.

God, was what he said true?

“Are you okay?” David asked with worry as he looked at Wanda, who looked a little pale.

Wanda snapped out of it, turning to him with a smile.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she says, pulling her bag onto her shoulder. “Yeah, it’s crazy how things work out, isn’t it? I’ve got to head home now. Once again, thank you so much, David.”

He hushes her and sees her off.

Wanda is making a beeline, hailing for a cab.

She needs to see you.

Now.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

“This is beautiful, thank you. Please keep the change.”

You took the bouquet of flowers you just bought from a flower shop on your way home.

It was filled with all of Wanda’s favorite flowers and wrapped together nicely. You wanted to congratulate her on her big day with David. You knew once he would post it to his site and give it to whatever magazines, Wanda was going to be blowing up.

It definitely would work in her favor for her audition in two weeks.

You drove home, idly tapping on the steering wheel as you thought about what to have for a late dinner. You knew it was unlikely that Wanda could eat much today since they decided to get everything done today.

Maybe order in some pizza?

But then Wanda wanted to stay in shape as much as possible before her audition.

Maybe lemon & butter salmon?

You pull up into your driveway, turning your car off as you grab the bouquet.

“I’m home!” You call out as you walk in, but there’s no response.

The house is completely dark, which you find strange because Wanda is usually in the living room watching TV or in the kitchen when she’s waiting for you.

“Wanda?” You call out as you walk up the stairs.

You enter the bedroom.

The small lamp on the bedside is on, and you find Wanda sitting on her chair in front of the vanity mirror you got her.

You walk over to her, but she doesn’t talk to you.

“Baby?” You call softly as you kneel down before her, placing the bouquet down, touching her shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

Did something happen?

Was she hurt?

David had texted you when it was over that it went great, and thanked you again for getting him to meet her.

So, what was wrong?

Wanda looks at you with a still expression. She turns her whole body to you and her jaw clenches before she releases it.

“I want to ask you something, and please tell me the truth.”

You scrunch your eyebrows together because you have no idea what she wants to ask you, but you nod.

“Did you,” Wanda breathes. “Did you know who I was before you met me?”

The stillness hits you immediately.

You regard her, taking in her desperate expression as she looks at you.

You could’ve lied.

You could tell her that David may have shown you her profile before, but you hardly cared to notice or remember it.

You could’ve told her anything, and Wanda would’ve believed it.

But...there was something else there.

So, you didn’t.

“I did,” you admitted, watching as Wanda stood up, walking over to the other side of the room with disbelief on her face.

You stood up as well, crossing your arms but making no move to her.

“Why did you lie?” Wanda asked. “Were you stalking me? Is that how you found me at the fast-food chain?”

“I wouldn’t say stalking,” you say as if she was being dramatic. “I came to California for work planned months before, you just happened to be here as well. Was I interested in you? Yes. Did I somehow know that you were going to be there to eat and live in the same community? No.”

Wanda’s mind was reeling. She couldn’t help but replay Vision’s words over and over in her head.

“Did you want me? From the very beginning?”

You couldn’t help but quirk your eyebrow. There was definitely something she was hiding from you.

“As I said, I was interested in you, but I knew you were engaged.”

“Is it true?” She asked, and you’re not even sure what she’s referring to. “That you and Vision are under the same company? That you even share a manager?”

Ah, it hits you. Now you know where this is coming from. Vision had found out what he could. But you knew Charles would never tell him that you had purposely sent him to Vision.

“Yes,” you admit once more.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Wanda asks, frustration in her tone.

You shrug your shoulders. “As I told you, I don’t often talk to my manager as I handle my own affairs. It’s not really any of my business who he decides to sign on.”

“So you didn’t deliberately get your manager to sign Vision on and make him miss my birthday?”

You paused.

Another choice.

You could lie.

It would be so easy to.

But you had to push it more.

“I did show my manager Vision’s work on SoundCloud,” you say instead. It was true, even if it wasn’t the whole truth.

Wanda understands, anyways.

Her breath hitches, and she’s putting her hands to her face.

She can’t believe this is happening.

This time, you begin to walk over to her, standing right before her.

“You’re insane,” Wanda says with a crazed laugh. “Vision’s right. You are obsessed with me. You were sabotaging him to get me! What am I to you even? Some sort of sick prize?”

Your jaw clenches a little. She’s starting to hit on your nerve a little, but you remain patient.

You close in on her, backing her until she hits the wall. You raise your arms slowly to either side of her head, giving her ample time to leave if she wanted.

But she didn’t.

“I wouldn’t say signing him onto a record label, giving him the spotlight, actually earning money for his work, which I heard he’s doing pretty well now, by the way, is sabotaging him. Here’s the thing, Wanda. Yes, I did set him up. I told my manager to sign his untalented ass on and treat him like a king on your birthday. But guess what? Vision didn’t have to stay. If he really, truly, wanted to leave, Charles couldn’t have done anything about that. No one forced him to keep taking the next drink. No one told him to not care about you.”

Wanda is silent, angry tears come up to her waterline as she stares at you with a clenched jaw.

“I’m not putting myself up on a pedestal here, but it was me that came through for you every time,” You tell Wanda. “Am I obsessed with you? Maybe. But don’t stand there and pretend that you don’t enjoy my attention. You love the fact that Lady Phantom dedicates sets to you, serenaded you, bought you $100,000 necklace in front of everyone. You love people giving you accolades that we’re together. You love that people are jealous of the fact that they’re looking at me while I’m looking at you.”

You called her out, hitting her right on the dot.

She can’t even deny it because it’s true.

But Wanda still loves you. That much is real.

“So what?” She scoffs. “It’s all fake then? Everything you did was a meticulously thought out plan to win me? Everything you did was purposely done to draw me to you?”

“There’s nothing wrong with planning,” you say to her softly. “Even if I did plan it, it doesn’t mean I don’t care. I care very much. My heart was breaking about the fact you were with someone that was dragging you behind, making you feel guilty about wanting more out of life. It broke my heart to think that you spend every year alone on Pietro’s anniversary because he didn’t try to do more for you. It made me angry to hear people snidely make comments about you when Vision didn’t show up for your birthday. I hate when you’re not in the spotlight because that’s where you deserve to be. If someone is stealing it from you, I’ll do everything I can to shift the light to you.”

Wanda had a single tear slide down her cheek. She grabs onto the ends of your jacket, desperate to feel you closer.

She has to know.

She needs to know.

“Do you even love me?” She asks softly, and it nearly breaks your heart all over.

You lift one hand to lower it to her face, cupping her jaw and neck delicately. You move your face closer to hers, giving her all the time she needs to pull away if she doesn’t want you.

”I do. So much. In a way that only you could ever understand.”

Wanda doesn’t pull away.

She never wanted to in the first place.

This was never about breaking up.

You knew that. Which is why you risked telling her the entire truth.

She wanted to know that what you had for her was real, that she could never be replaced.

That you were hers.

You press your lips to her firmly, your tongue swiping her bottom lip as she moans softly.

She pulls you closer to her, pressing your body to hers completely as she melts into you. She lifts her arms, wrapping them around your neck as she continues to kiss you.

You push off the wall, redirecting her to your shared bed as you topple on top of her with a knee in between her legs.

You pull back softly, your hand drifting underneath her shirt as you caress the soft skin there.

Her eyes open slowly, and she just looks electric to you.

“I love you,” she says quietly, and you can’t help but press another soft kiss to her as your hand lowers into her panties.

“You secretly love it, don’t you? What I do to you.” You say against her jaw, and it’s a little muffled.

Wanda’s breath hitches, chest rising as you touch her just the right way against her clit, rubbing through her wet folds.

She nods, but you want to hear it.

“I want to hear you say it, baby,” you huskily say as you tease her. Your other hand is around the back of her neck, just grasping at her hair.

Wanda’s moaning shamelessly as you circle her clit again, diving lower as your fingers tease her entrance. God, it feels so slippery.

Fuck, she really wants your fingers in her. The knotting in her stomach gets even worse when you nibble her collarbone.

But she knows you won’t give it to her until she gives you what you want.

“I love it,” Wanda moans. “I love the way you drive me crazy.”

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cookinguptales · 4 years

Note

I've a small query (if it doesn't float your boat, no worries!) I was interested in how you got into learning languages, what led you to it? I've become curious since learning a new language as an adult has only increased my awe of multilingual folk (additionally, I vaguely remember a post about a request in exchange for a donation to charity, and wondered if there were any you'd like a donation to)

First of all, good luck with the language learning! It’s not easy as an adult, but I do think it’s worth it, both in terms of cultural fluency and brain elasticity.

My answer to the language thing is actually extremely complicated, so I’ll be putting it under the cut. I’ll put the charity stuff above the cut so more people can see it.

— I’d just like to warn you, though, before I start, that I have been locked in this house for over a month with no respite and I HAVE A LOT OF WORDS AND FEELINGS IN ME SO THIS POST HAS SO MANY OF BOTH OF THOSE THINGS!!

anyway

There are so many charities that I want to donate to now that it honestly makes my head spin. Every time I look at a site like GoFundMe it kind of makes me want to cry. So a lot of donations I’ve made have been to like local businesses, restaurants, etc. who will close down without help. (Also a lot of local native groups, who are disproportionately suffering right now.) I’ve also been donating to various food banks — Philabundance, a Philly-centric charity that deals with food insecurity in general, is a good one. That was a regular of mine even before the outbreak. I’ve also donated to a lot of the local services in the small town where I’m in now, though you’ll need to PM me if you want the name of that. (It’s… very small.)

Off Their Plate is another great charity that’s been working with small restaurants (who can’t open for business) to get food to first responders. They’re partnered with World Central Kitchen, which is another fantastic charity that helps out during disasters. Plus well-known ones like Feeding America, No Kid Hungry (important while school is out and kids aren’t getting breakfast/lunch there), Direct Relief, etc.

(I uhhh may have overstrained my charity budget the past couple months. It’s odd how that adds to stress and relieves it at the same time.)

I tend to avoid religious charities, especially Salvation Army, because they’re occasionally discriminatory in how they distribute resources and we no longer have laws & oversight to make sure they don’t do shady shit. So I just avoid them in general now. I also avoid the American Red Cross because they’ve been known to misuse funds. Research is key!

I also worry about some of my regular charities, like Immigration Equality & Rainbow Railroad (helps LGBTQ people in dangerous countries immigrate to less dangerous ones), the Native American Rights Fund, various local abortion funds, RAICES (provides legal services to immigrants & refugees), the ACLU, Dysautonomia International, the Rainforest Action Network, etc… A lot of them are getting fewer donations than they’re used to because we’re in the middle of such life-shattering events.

If you are really interested in making a donation (please, please, please do) those are all good options. I also fully recommend looking up needy organizations, services, people, etc. in your own area. I try to donate to a healthy mixture of national/international organizations, local needs, and temporary issues du jour. (Disaster relief, bail funds for protesters, fighting new discriminatory laws, etc.) I would genuinely appreciate any donations, especially if you find a cause near and dear to your heart that I would never even hear about. Anything along these same lines, y’know? If you have anything you’d like me to do in return, just hmu.

I constantly stress about who to donate to — there are so many good organizations and so few dollars to give them — but at a certain point, every dollar to a cause you believe in counts. Every dollar you donate helps to make the world a little bit better for at least one person. That’s what I have to tell myself to calm myself down, haha. So even the smallest donation you make to any of these groups would mean a lot to me.

Anyway, onto the language stuff:

For me personally, I grew up bilingual. Deafness runs in my family, so I learned sign language from a very young age. Note: I say “sign language” rather than ASL. I learned sign language kind of organically, which ended up making a mess later in life. My parents mostly taught me, but so did my daycare (at a deaf school) and so did my babysitters and so did other family members, etc. The point is, not all of them used the same sign language. There was a wide mixture of ASL, SEE, and home signs and my current signing style is… problematic. lmao. My family all understands it (hey, they taught it to me) and I can have conversations with American sign language users, but I know they can’t love my signing lmao. I’ve considered sitting down and taking a legit ASL class for years, but there are so many classes I want to take… I don’t know.

After that, it largely became a case of taking languages whenever they were made available to me. I’ve always liked them. We moved around a lot when I was a preteen so I went to a lot of different schools. (4th, 5th, 6th, 7th, and 8th grade were all different schools.) It was rough at home and hard to make friends so I guess I threw myself into academics a lot. My sixth grade school was an odd one; it was a 6-8 grade school and you were supposed to take a crash course in three different languages in sixth grade so you could choose one and take it in 7th and 8th grade. I ended up taking Spanish, French, and German that year. I liked French best! But then we moved so it was kind of moot. (And I hated German, sorry Germans. My mouth doesn’t like the noises. It didn’t help that my teacher was weirdly sympathetic to Nazi-era Germany…? But I guess that’s another post.)

When we moved to Florida, you had to have special permission to take language classes in 7th grade. (FL doesn’t have great academics.) But since I’d already had some Spanish in NC, they let me take it! And then I moved schools again. This new school, my 8th grade school, I’d be in until I graduated 12th grade years later — but the employee turnover at that school was almost comedically bad? I took Spanish for like a year and a half there and had three different teachers. So at this point I’d had 5 different Spanish teachers, all from different countries (where they spoke slightly different Spanish!), all reteaching the same ideas over and over again because they didn’t know where the last teacher had left off. In the end, my last Spanish teacher sent me to the school library with some textbooks because he felt like I was very good at languages and he couldn’t adequately teach me in the environment he’d been thrown into. (My high school was very terrible. So he was right.)

SO I SWITCHED TO FRENCH. I took French for 3-4 years in high school (can’t remember when I started) but the same shit started happening. By the last year, my French teacher had the French I, II, III, and IV students IN THE SAME CLASS and she just put the advanced students in small groups and had us do independent study. Sigh… Around this same time, I started three other languages. At this point, I was getting kind of accustomed to self-study so I applied for a Latin class in the Florida Virtual School and took a year of that. I also spent a summer studying at the University of Chicago when I was 16-17 and learned Middle Egyptian then. (Yes, I was an ancient cultures nerd even back then.)

The Japanese has always been an odd case. Like I said, my 8-12 education was fairly terrible. They had this thing where they used a computer program to teach kids math and the teacher kind of taught along? When I transferred to the school in the middle of 8th grade, the teacher didn’t know what to do with me so he just plopped me in front of a computer and told me to do as much as I could. They started me in… Pre-Algebra, I think? Which I’d already taken in sixth grade. So I ended up getting through Pre-Algebra, Geometry, Algebra, and Algebra II, which… wasn’t in the teacher’s plans. I’d kind of finished several years of math in like a quarter. And then they didn’t have any more classes. So he just told me to like. Sit quietly and amuse myself for the last few months of school?? (Terrible, terrible school.) So I went to the library and found a book about Japanese and started teaching myself that. I really, really liked Japanese! Like it’s a language that just clicks really well with the way my brain works, I think. It’s very logical, I like the syllabary, etc. And I think growing up signing helped me with pictographic languages like Middle Egyptian and Japanese. My brain easily connects visual symbols with concepts.

When I went to college, the plan was honestly to learn more Egyptian and start translating, and I kept taking French to help me read old research in various ancient study fields. I ended up transferring out of the NELC major, though, due to some ethical problems… I guess that’s another post. Several years into my RELS/FOLK degree I went to my parents like. Look. I love learning this stuff but none of it’s useful. Remember how much I loved Japanese? Can I go back to learning that? I could translate that and that’s a legit skill. So I applied to a program through my school and studied in Japan for a while and ended up really doubling down on that language. Weird how I came back to it years later, but I guess it was always the one I loved best.

I have a mind that’s very pattern-based, so I guess I’ve always loved learning languages and the patterns behind them. (This may be why languages with a lot of rule exceptions, like French, irritate me.) They’re like puzzles that I’ve always enjoyed teasing out. Unfortunately, the way my education bounced around meant that I never got a good grounding in most of those languages, so I’ve largely lost them. I can still read French fairly well and my Japanese is good… My Spanish is like. Enough to get me around in the southern US. My German is abysmal. I remember very little Latin & Middle Egyptian. (It’s been over 10 years, I guess.)

So I guess what I feel the need to say to you is that if you don’t use it, you will lose it. I did well in all my language classes. They’ve always been fairly easy for me. Like. Straight As, no problem. I don’t say this to brag. I say it so you know that even for someone like me, whose brain is fairly well-wired for languages, it’s very, very difficult to retain languages when you’re not using them. If you’re not used to taking languages or you started late in life, it’s even harder. So even on the days you don’t want to practice! You gotta practice! Ganbare! Bon chance!

#replies #god these are so many words #sorry to everyone #shaymeson

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chnsfairy · 5 years

Text

name please ? | han jisung

words ; 3,441

genre ; fluff, a bit of crack

requested ; yes, who prompt 1;iv ( @skzrequests )

warnings ; barista!reader, guitarist!jisung, like two curse words

a/n ; ok so i bent the prompt juST a lil bit but it has the same general idea and i think it turned out ok so i hope you enjoy it lovely !

m.list in bio

“you know y/n, one day you’re gonna have to learn how to make latte art properly,, (￣￣|||)” woojin complains before once again guiding your hand over the small mug which at this point is just a huge mess

“and on your own”

(￣ε￣＠) (￣ε￣＠) meanie

“you’ve been what ? working here for half a year and you still dont know how-” woojin tried to continue, but unfortunately for him, his attempt to teach you how to correctly use steamed milk has come to a crashing halt as a loud bang followed by groans was heard by the front door

you turned on your heel and headed towards the front of the counter,, trying to figure out what exactly caused the ruckus in the usually peaceful coffee shop

excluding your’s and woojin’s bickering in the back

“uhhhh excuse me ???” you ask,, carefully peering over to the giant mess that was now on the floor

“you ok sir ?” (・人・)

sprawl across the floor, carrying a guitar case, it seemed as if the stranger misinterpreted both the speed he was entering the door at and the size of the case,, cause it seemed he got caught at the door ahfjksadhfkjsa poor kid (｡╯︵╰｡)

he came dressed in some simple ripped light jeans, white t-shirt, and light jacket, plus his fluffy brown hair messily laying atop his head as if he just got out of bed

i mean who knows maybe he did

yes he did

“aH ! im um,, so sorry im late....”

after finally collecting himself the stranger stood up and picked up his guitar case,, pink tinting his face from embarrassment and like...you know... he kinda cute (*/ω＼)

no tea no shade

especially when he started messing with his already messy hair yeah there was no use trying to fix that mess but uWU LOOK AT HIS CHEEKS AND SPARKLY BROWN EYES AHHH !!!! (/▽＼*)｡o○♡

woah woah there cool in y/n he just walked in

it’s not your fault he just happens to be absolutely adorable

but maybe it would be best to stop staring at him,,,,

when the boy started walking towards the counter you found yourself quickly shuffling behind woojin, who was now confused, as you pushed him up front to handle with the newcomer,,

CAUsE SORRY BUT THERE WAS NO WAY YOU WERE GOING TO BE GETTING THROUGH A FULL CONVERSATION WITHOUT MAKING A FOOL OF YOURSELF SO WHY DONT WE STOP THAT POSSIBILITY NOW

“hi so i was hired a couple days ago to play a few nights a week ?? this is the right place yeah ? im sure i got the address right....if n-”

woojin interrupted his ramblings before he could continue any further,, bless him

“ oh !! so thats who the boss was talking about !! yeah let me just head back to make eveything’s in order, um y/n can you get him a drink or something ?”

walking away from you he left you completely exposed,, giving the other boy across from you an awkward laugh you grabbed woojin’s shirt quickly to stop him from leaving

“woojin you didnt tell me we were getting a new guitarist !!” you whispered harshly

“ᵒʳ ᵃ ᶜᵘᵗᵉ ᵒⁿᵉ”

“well sorry i didnt think it was important ¯\_(ツ)_/¯”

“does our friendship mean nothing to you”

woojin laughs quietly as he walks through the the door leaving you alone with the cafe’s new guitarist who just so happens to be looking like a whole ass model

“so um,, ” you started nervously,, mAN who thought this one person you make you so fLUSTERED JHASKKSAFKL

“want anything to drink ?”

after staring at menu up on the wall for a couple seconds the guitarist gave you a small smile JHFJKAGJISFIJEHUIGH before nodding his head

“sure can i have an iced latte ?”

out of habit you immediately asked “name please ?”

“oh you know... just your friendly neighborhood squirrel”

(・・ ) ? (・・ ) ? (・・ ) ?

you eyed the boy who was now leaning up against the counter smiling to himself

“i- oh come on wh-”

“thats the name,, you better write it down”

sighing to yourself you carefully wrote it down,, not necessarily sure if you even need to but who cares

as the musician pulled out his wallet to pay you put up your hand to stop him

cause no way you were letting this cute boy pay for his drink

plus he’s an employee as well

“it’s on the house”

“no please let me pay for it ( `ε´ )”

“nope”

so without anyone else there to help, you stepped away from the register and started prepare this strange guitarist’s drink

quietly laughing to yourself as you do so

moments later woojin walks back through the door and out from behind the counter and motions for mystery boy to follow him towards the small stage the cafe had

it was small and shoved into a corner, all wooden as most of the cafe was and it was covered with many different plants and decorated with fairy lights

vv aesthetic if you do say so yourself

then in the center of it was a stool and microphone for performer to set up with and use when they were performing

a couple months ago you had a band play here on friday’s so you had some other equipment in the back but it seemed unnecessary for a simple acoustic guitar

you watched as the boy looked at the fairy lights and the actually quiet beautiful set up in awe

the musician started to unpack his guitar case as you finished off his drink and started walking towards the stage where woojin was showing him where everything was

“you know now that i really think about it ‘squirrel’ kinda suits you”

the sparkly eyed boy laughed as you handed him his drink,, unknowing of what you should say you ended up standing there awkwardly for a few seconds before realizing there was another customer back at the register

“ah- i should,, probably go” you said jabbing your thumb towards the counter before awkwardly heading back

what was tHAT AHHH !! STOP BEING SO WEIRD Y/N OK

ITS REALLY NOT YOUR FAULT HIS HAIR JUST LOOKS PERFECT AND HIS EYES ARE BRIGHT AND HIS SMILES CUTE AND OK TIME TO STOP NOPE NOPE NOPE

you dont even know his name....(｡•́︿•̀｡) (｡•́︿•̀｡) (｡•́︿•̀｡)

lil thot wont give it to you

but thats ok

if he wants to play it like this then thats fINE

you can deal with that

hopefully....

by the time you had finished helping out the other customer you started to hear the sweet sound of an acoustic guitar being played throughout the coffee shop

“you know he’s not half bad,,,”

woojin had returned from helping the musician get settled and soon found his regular spot on a stool in the corner

“yeah,, he’s pretty good isn’t he”

and then a few minutes later you found yourself completely absorbed in the brunette’s angelic voice filling the shop, his guitar only making it even more beautiful

your staring was soon interrupted by woojin pushing you off to the side so he could help a lady who had walked in about a minute ago,, which you hadn’t realized (＞﹏＜) oops

“y/n would you like to go take your break ?”

(´♡‿♡`) (´♡‿♡`) (´♡‿♡`)

!!!!!

“ can i ???”

woojin motioned you to go once again,, and as you were already so distracted it wouldn’t have made much of a difference

you found yourself sitting at an empty table in the corner,, you’ve heard some other guitarists perform many times in your life but this one takes the cake

you’re not too sure what it is about him but,,, he just looked and sounded so sincere with every word he sang ??? the guitar and him looked like they were a single creature,, knowing exactly how to work as one

it was just really beautiful

he was playing a cover of a song you’ve heard a few times before called ‘better days’ by jaie,, he also seemed to have ended up adding some extra elements to fit his voice better and overall it made an incredible impact

almost everyone else in the cafe had their eyes on the musician singing up front who looked so immersed in his music there would’ve been no time for stage fright

“i’ve had my better days, and you’ve had your better days too” he sang quietly

soon after the song had ended there was a light applause from the customers in the coffee shop,, including you who soon.... realized that you need a paycheck....

yeah ok the cute boy is gonna have to wait we gotta get that bread kids

(╥_╥) (╥_╥)

after making the short walk back to your position behind the counter where woojin found his spot once again on his stool until he had to go make up some drinks you started to hear an acoustic version of million dollar man by lana del rey flow through the cafe

it was simple and elegant and you felt kinda sad you couldnt sit and watch :(((((

there was only a couple hours left before you had to close up so you guess it wasnt that bad,, at least you got to listen to some pretty music during the normally slow and quiet closing shift

honestly at this rate you might fall asleep if the guitarist kept the atmosphere this peaceful,, i mean you weren’t complaining bUT THAT PROBABLY WOULDN’T LOOK GOOD TO THE BOSS

so instead you ended up reading for the most of the time until all the customers had all left and woojin had begun wiping down tables and sweeping floors as mystery boy packed up his guitar and papers

then after you finished cleaning up the counter and throwing all the trash out back you collected your own belongings and changed back into your own plain jeans and sweatshirt before clocking out for the day

as you headed back towards the front you saw woojin talking to the unnamed guitarist and waved at the pair before finally walking out the door and into the early spring air

“bye jinnie !! i’ll see you tomorrow !”

nodding his head woojin continued to chat with the brunette as you started heading down the block and towards your apartment

man,,, why did he have to be so cute ??! >:((((

its not fAIR HE DIDNT EVEN TELL YOU HIS NAME HES MEANNN

(ノ_<、) you’ll have to get it from him tomorrow

aAAH even if it’s the last thing you have to do

ok so maybe you went to sleep thinking about the sparkly eyed boy who played beautiful guitar and had an aMAZING voice but like ajdhjsahd who wouldn’t

the next day was mainly the same,,, you had your regulars and a few newcomers who just so happened to be in the neighborhood and stopped in for a drink

and of course the guitarist walked back into the shop a little after 4,, this time slightly more put together

his hair was styled a bit and looked even better but how the fuck is that possible,, today he was also wearing a leather jacket over a yellow hoodie and black jeans

although you hadn’t realized he’d come in yet ahjksfhasdjk

but when you finally looked up you were pleasantly surprised

but jeSUS HI YOU’VE SEEN WHAT AN ANGEL LOOKS LIKE BYE YOU CAN GO TO HELL NOW YEET

“what are you a ninja ? ”

“yes y/n,, i am in fact a ninja ”

“hEY WHY DO YOU KNOW MY NAME >:CCCCCC”

its nOT FAIR hE JUST- HNGGG

“it’s on your name tag”

“oh yeah”

you slightly pouted at the boy in front of you who had become slightly amused by your reaction,, you were cute uwu

“and what would you like today ?” you proceeded as you tried to keep the conversation going

“hmm how about a cappuccino”

he responded after a couple of seconds

“nO i cANT DO THE FANCY ART THINGYYY (╥﹏╥)”

you sighed once again before talking out a paper cup sharpie in hand

“and name ?”

"you said it yourself,,, im a ninja”

you laughed again before rolling your eyes as you scribbled down ‘ninja’ on the cup

“you’re funny you know that ?”

the male shrugged his shoulders and picked up his guitar case once again

“actually no beCAUSE MY JOKES ARE NEVER APPRECIATED”

he then laughs hysterically before heading back towards the lit stage,, leaving you puzzled

“heY uM woojin ????” you needed to find that man to help do the steamed milk,,, or maybe the whole drink all together

luckily he just came back from his break when you shoved the paper cup into his hands

“ninja ?”

“dont ask. pretty art. make. plEASE ? (ಥ﹏ಥ)” you had started tugging on your friends sleeve because you just really didnt want to give a cute boy a cappuccino without pretty art on it :(((

“fine fine fine,, but this is the LAST time,,, im teaching you this weekend i swear...”

“woojin i loveeeee youuuu” (´ ε ` )♡

“(￢_￢) i know”

minutes later after the musician had gotten set up and with his pretty decorated cappuccino the sweet sound of his voice and guitar filled the air,, having all other customers in the room turn their heads to find exactly where it was coming from

especially as he started doing a cover of instagram by dean,, which was yA KNOW AMAZING

he continued to play for a couple hours until you had to close up,, although every so often he ended up glancing your way,, to find that you were also watching he quickly turned away as he felt his face heat up (⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄)

lucky you,, he didnt see you freak out at the exact same time

and thats basically how it went every day for a while

the still unnamed guitarist would walk in some time after 4, ordered a drink and then played for a couple hours before it was time to close up

nothing out of the ordinary

i mean maybe nOT GIVING HIS NAME

CAUSE GODDAMNIT YOU’RE GETTING ANNOYED BY ALWAYS WRITING SOME RANDOM NAME ON HIS CUP

HE CUTE OK YOU WANNA KNOW HIS NAME AHHHH

oh why dont you ask, you question ????

YOU’VE TRIED

“ok real name this time”

“y/n i’ve already told you”

ψ( ` ∇ ´ )ψ ψ( ` ∇ ´ )ψ ψ( ` ∇ ´ )ψ NO

“well tell me again”

“yeah i decided that it changed today”

sighing you completely gave up on this argument and motioned back to the sharpie in your hand

“kermit the frog.” he said before crossing his arms in a fake pout

“fuck you i love kermit the frog”

“oh i didn’t know you loved me”

((╬◣﹏◢)) aAHHHH NDHFJKJK WHY CANT HE JUST LEAVE YOUR HEART ALONE ALREADY HUH

“nO I- HNGG T^T ....φ(・∀・*)”

you once again angrily scribbled down this boys fake name,, damn you just wanted to knoW AHHH !!! (╥﹏╥)

those were days where five minute arguments were involved with the name picking yet there were others that lasted only 30 seconds

“ __〆(￣ー￣ ) and name please ?”

“ironman”

“yeah no im just leaving this here today”

so after a couple weeks it was just a thing between the two of you

it was your bit per-say

ok maybe you have a tiny crush on the guy but like ???? who wouldn’t ???? he’s just AHhfhasjkf

words cant properly explain it

the two of you clicked almost immediately and you dont feel as if it would be completely wrong to call him a friend

except most friends know each other’s name...so there’s that bit to work out

iF HE WOULD JUST GIVE IT TO YOU

so after a month of random names on paper cups you had a mission today to get this cute boy’s name on his drink today >:(

“ok please please please please please please your name????”

he gave you another one of his bright smiles before simply saying “han”

(￣_￣)・・・ “han what?”

“just han”

(¯ . ¯٥) the lil liar

you know it’s a last name you’re nOT STUPID

“it’s my stage name”

“＼＼٩(๑`^´๑)۶／／ WELL THAT DOESN’T COUNT”

“TOO BAD Y/N”

you pouted once again at your failed attempt to get his real name,,, the meanie,,, why does he tease you like this >:ccc

but you gotta get paid so you grumpily write down his stage name on the cup as he walked over to the stage

“get his name yet ?” woojin comes up from behind you as you hand him the cup

“no :((( bUT why cant you tell me ????”

“i’ve been sworn to secrecy”

“wHY IS KEEPING A NAME A SECRET” you argue as you watch woojin prepare the drink

“because he finds you cute when you get flustered like this”

“bECAUSE IT’S JUST A NAME LIKE- wait what (・・ ) ”

“oops that was another secret soRRy”

you turned back around and grabbed your friends shoulders and shook him probably a bit too violently

“WOOJIN YOU DONT KEEP THINGS LIKE THIS FROM YOUR BEST FRIEND OK WE HAVE A PACT”

“what pact ?????”

“it was an unspoken pact.”

“thEN HOW AM I- you know what never mind i shouldn’t question your insanity” he waved you off so he could finish making ‘han’s drink leaving you both flustered and confused behind the counter as his guitar soon started filling the empty sounding coffee shop

about two hours later there only remained a few other people left so you decided to take your break for the evening as by now there probably wouldnt be much to do

soon a new song had started playing throughout the cafe and your head turned to see the guitarist giving you a shy smile

it was one you had never heard before so the gentle acoustic guitar and han’s comforting voice drew you back towards one of the shop’s tables where you then sat until all other customers ended up leaving

as the two of you were completely unaware of woojin cleaning up the shop, han continued playing and you continued listening to the mystery song before woojin shouted from the back room, forcing you to break eye contact and awkwardly smile at the guitarist

“y/n im clocking you out ok ?!”

“ ok !!” you shouted back before once again turning towards han who was now packing up his case

“what was that last song?”

he muscician scratched the back of his neck before laughing sightly

“uhh it was an original although i haven’t actually titled it yet,, i just wanted to test it out”

“oh wow !! well it was really good, you have my approval ☆⌒(≧▽° )”

“woah really ? thank you that mean a lot...”

(・人・) (・人・) (・人・)

ok woojin it would be great if you could just walk in here and break the awkward silence by now hnNG

“jisung”

∑(O_O;)

“sorry what ??”

“han jisung,,, thats my name”

(O.O)(O.O)

“i think you deserve it by now”

Σ(°ロ°) Σ(°ロ°) Σ(°ロ°)

“aWE A CUTE NAME FOR A CUTE BOY LOOK-”

oh shit (o_O)

well you certainly did not mean to say that out loud

“oops sorry heheheheh”

jisung was GONE

this barista who he had been secretly pining over for a month just called him cute all his insides are just HJSADHKJAKDSA

help the poor boy

his stomach is doing flips as we speak

i mean he couldn’t just leave it as is

cOME ON WHERE’S YOUR CONFIDENCE ヾ(。＞＜)シ

“so um,, does that mean i can take you out to coffee sometime ?”

(;;;*_*) (;;;*_*)

“although unless you dont want to-”

“yes.”

“i get that like you kinda just learned my name”

“yes.”

“not too sure why that was kept a secret so long but- what?”

“jisung 1. ahhh cute name, 2. yes, i’d love to (／。＼)”

jisung gave you another one of his adorable bright smiles that felt as if it could light up a whole room,, which is did as always,, although this time he looked almost even happier

and for once you went to sleep without racking your brain for ideas as to what his name could be

bonus ;

“although if you give them something other than your name i will leave”

“y/n”

“like did me saying ‘name please ?’ cause you to freak out or something ?? honestly i’m very curious”

“wELL when it just so happens to be someone looking very cute...yes i did,,,,”

“aWWEEE JISUNG”

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boredout305 · 4 years

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Eric Friedl/Goner Records Update

Photo by Don Perry

Alongside Zac Ives, Eric Friedl is the co-owner of Goner Records. He also plays in The Oblivians and True Sons of Thunder.

Located in Memphis, Tennessee, Goner operates as both a record label and storefront. Like Shangri-La, Goner Records has been a Memphis institution since the storefront’s opening in 2004. Every year, Goner hosts Gonerfest—a still-vibrant music festival stretching several days. For those outside of Memphis, Goner’s frequently updated online store is a hub for what’s new in esoteric music. The site’s message board is a place to get updates on touring bands, small labels’ releases and anything else music related.

Like countless small businesses, Goner has been impacted by the COVID-19 pandemic. The storefront has been closed since March 16. I caught up with Friedl to talk about how Goner’s coping with these changes and what their plans are for the future. Goner is and hopefully will remain an important part of independent music’s infrastructure.

Interview by Ryan Leach

Ryan: How’s everyone at Goner doing?

Eric: We’re good. But like everyone, we’ve fallen into a freefall. Locally, we’ve been doing door deliveries. People have been stopping by to pick up records. We’ve had some success selling online. If we really scale back and don’t spend anything for a minute, we can hang on for a little while. We might have to lay off our staff; have folks go on unemployment. Goner would be reduced to just me and Zac (Ives) as the owners. We could limp through it that way. We’re trying to figure it out.

Ryan: Like most small businesses in America, Goner’s storefront is closed. How are these alternative strategies like doing door deliveries and having folks stop by to pick up records working?

Eric: One of our regulars just can’t stop buying records. He’ll call me up in the morning—I guess he’s unaccustomed to looking at the site—and I’ll tell him what’s come in. He’ll respond, “Oh, man, I’ve got to get that album.” We then pack his records and he comes by to grab them. We’ve delivered a few records off locally. It’s super informal. But every little bit counts. People have been helping out. It’s been great.

Ryan: You had mentioned to me a couple of months ago that you were going to relaunch the Goner website. While the COVID-19 pandemic and economic meltdown have been an unmitigated disaster, it was at least fortuitous timing.

Eric: We were getting ready to launch the site when the coronavirus hit. We wanted to fine-tune it a little more and add some things. But once it became imperative that we be able to sell stuff online, we said, “Screw it. Here it is. We’ll fix it as we go.”

Ryan: I went to buy the Aquarium Blood LP you had recently released and it took me to a Bandcamp site initially.

Eric: (laughs) It really is a matter of working out the kinks as we go.

Ryan: While everyone’s situation has changed, in some ways Goner wasn’t a case of just punching a timeclock. Record stores are hubs and hangouts for people. When Trailer Space closed down in Austin, it was a significant loss.

Eric: It is weird. We definitely weren’t a Trailer Space-style of hangout, but people on their regular circuit would stop by and explore the used bin. On weekends, we had a big crew of normal folks buying classic rock albums. There’s absolutely no way to sell that stuff online. We were stocked for those folks and that side of the business completely died. We had a bunch of really cool events coming up. You feel like you’re right in the middle of things and then you’re isolated. That was sort of my idea with doing these video check-ins. I sent out requests for people to give us video updates. I want to show people that we’re still in this. Facebook just makes us feel like we’re on our own little islands, which we really are now. We’re isolated from one another. It doesn’t have that sense of community that you can get from other places online. We’re just hoping to keep people’s spirits up as we go forward into the unknown.

Ryan: That’s a good point. Used bins are the home of the “five-dollar record,” although I’m unsure what people are selling them for now. You’re not going to sell used copies of David Bowie’s Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars or a Led Zeppelin record online. They’re so ubiquitous that it doesn’t make much sense. However, they’re perfect for a store.

Eric: Sure. People would walk in and buy’em. We’ve had people call up and ask, “Do you have this Allman Brothers record? You do. Great, I’ll pick it up.” They can buy it on eBay. They can buy it on Discogs. But because they live locally, they can stop by the shop, purchase it, and listen to it this afternoon. It still works. The store sold a lot of meat-and-potatoes rock ‘n’ roll records. We needed that balance between selling weird, underground rock records and classic rock albums.

Ryan: Byrds, Bread and Toto records all at the same place without the shipping price and wait.

Eric: It’s awesome. There is a little bit of that at the store. Speaking of which, if anyone out there is looking for a Sister Sledge record, we’ve got it! Call us up.

Ryan: Talking about the atomization associated with Facebook—I think of the site’s sort of opposites. Terminal Boredom’s message board was a great place for likeminded people to share ideas about music. The Goner message board, which has been revamped, was a predecessor of sorts to Terminal’s board.

Eric: Yeah. Even for me, it’s frustrating to use the Goner board. It’s such a dinosaur. It kept chugging along for years. We need to tweak it and make it more functional. It’s hard to envision people staying on it now like they used to. But it is there, and it was a big hub for people who were into underground stuff. Terminal Boredom was too. I always felt comfortable reading that stuff up until a point. The squabbles got to be a bit much and I’d lose track of what was going on. Anyway, check out the Goner board!

Ryan: For bedroom record labels like ours (Spacecase), you could sell 15 titles almost right away by going on those boards. And you didn’t need to pay a public relations company a couple grand to do it.

Eric: You were getting your records in front of the right people.

Eric Friedl photo by Mor Fleisher-Leach

Ryan: Beyond COVID-19 and the global economic meltdown, in our milieu we had Apollo Masters burn down a couple months ago. I use Musicol out in Columbus, Ohio, and I know they’re going to be closed for at least a few weeks. Did the Goner label have anything in the works that’s been put on hold?

Eric: The Bloodshot Bill record is done and is supposed to come out on April 10. We’ve got those shipping soon. We did the preorders on that album, so it is in motion—if you get what I mean. We had this Optic Sink record in the works. Optic Sink is Natalie (Hoffmann) from Nots and Ben Bauermeister from the Magic Kids. It’s really cool, electronic stuff. That’s at the digitally mastered stage. The Ar-Kaics record is up there. So is the new Quintron record. We have a choice of getting these lacquers cut and then wait to press. Or we can try to hang tight and wait. I think we’re going to have to wait to minimize expenses right now. They’re all there. I think once we get through this it’s going to be a clusterfuck of people trying to rush through records. But who really knows what’s going to happen? There are all these Record Store Day LPs that supposedly got pressed or are getting pressed.

Ryan: I read that Record Store Day’s date has been pushed back to June 20, 2020. That might be a little optimistic.

Eric: Yeah. It’ll be interesting. It’s another nail in the coffin for trying to sell records. We’re limping along. If we can get our weekend regulars in to pick up records, that’ll help. But this shutdown is going to put a lot of people—obviously, record stores included—out of business. Labels are going to be in trouble too. If you’ve got records scheduled for a Record Store Day release in mid-April, that’s done. That money isn’t coming back until Record Store Day finally happens. The market was already shrinking before all of this hit.

Ryan: You’re still getting new stuff in. Goner’s site is getting updated regularly. What new records have you been listening to?

Eric: We’re trying. It’s going to be hard justifying it going forward. We were really excited to get that Dadamah record (This is Not a Dream) in. I remember it coming out in the early 1990s. That kind of dreamy, New Zealand stuff is what we want to push. However, the hard part is that everyone into that subgenre already knows about it. It’s difficult to get new people into it. We did that Chubby and the Gang record (“All Along the Uxbridge Road” 7”). That was a street punk-type of chugger. We sold a bunch of records for them. Alec (McIntyre) and Cole (Wheeler) at the shop were really into it. So, we gave it a shot. That’s been interesting—getting into the American Oi!-type stuff. We were trying to put some more of that material out when everything ground to a halt. It’s not really my scene, but it’s been interesting weeding through all of this stuff and going, “Oh, yeah, this is pretty good.” Currently, I’ve been trying to find music for the kids at home that they’ll find palatable. They’re playing really crappy stuff. It’s a constant battle. They like songs from cartoons.

Ryan: I bought that recent Exek record (Some Beautiful Species Left) off the Goner site. It was great. It had a real Neu! and Tuxedomoon feel to it.

Eric: That’s a great record. I appreciate that.

Ryan: It’ll be difficult getting inventory. Just thinking about it now—Revolver (Distribution) is closed for at least another couple of weeks.

Eric: Yep. Because all of the distributors and stores are closing, it drives the people who want those records straight to the labels. It’s bad for the stores, good for the labels. We’re a store and a label, so we kind of benefit. But it takes away from having a centralized place to buy records. Which is fine, but it’s something else to worry about down the line.

Ryan: I always looked at our (Spacecase’s) relationship with Goner as symbiotic. I always knew you were going to buy our releases. The Goner store has enabled us to kick the can down the road for a couple extra years.

Eric: For sure.

Ryan: Any closing thoughts, Eric?

Eric: We’re just another small business caught up in total economic collapse. We’re lucky in the sense that we have a pretty loyal customer base. It’s awesome. But in the end we’re very vulnerable. We have to make tough decisions on how to move forward and keep it going. We’ve always had to do that. It’s just that right now it’s so dramatic. You screw up, you’re done. It’s really heavy. At the same time, we’re not going down without a fight. We’ll see what models develop. If we can get through this—if it’s not too long—we’ll make it. If not, everyone’s going to get wiped out. But we’ll see.

Website: goner-records.com

Gonerfest photo courtesy of Eric Friedl

#eric friedl #goner records #interviews #memphis

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marlahey · 5 years

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time only heals if we work through it now

a chicago pd fic pairings/characters: rising upstead, jay + hailey friendship if that’s more your speed episode tags/spoilers: set during and post 6.22 (reckoning) warnings: a lot of angsty avoidance of talking notes: this is the first really creative thing I’ve produced in like three months so please be gentle lol. title courtesy of the jonas brothers song ‘hesitate’ which I love and also stole from my friend grace. love you. read on: ao3 // ff

Jay is always the last person she touches before they breach a door.

Depending on who goes first (usually her, though she never knows if that’s out of respect for her abilities or old ranger habits) there is one hand on the shoulder, (usually his) a final, I’ve got you, before the doorframe splinters or groans and anything can happen on the other side. After their bricks shatter the glass, she is first through the stash house back door. And until they’re back at the precinct unloading their spoils, Hailey’s heart seems to live in her ears, a roaring soundtrack to the story cloaked entirely in black and spoken in aggressive shouts. Though it’s not nerves, not more than the standard I really don’t want to get shot, it feels like everything is muffled beneath a pressing reminder of everything they stand to lose. “That was a five hundred thousand dollar rip,” she marvels aloud. “...that we can’t tell anyone about.” “And if this whole thing doesn’t work,” Jay says in that dry tone of his, “We’re gonna go back to writing traffic tickets.” Levity feels like the only way they can look at the possibility of their failure head on. It’s too much, she thinks, to consider how everything might change for the unit if they can’t bring Kelton down. And for them. The second thought is a little harder to bear, though it’s an admission Hailey makes only to herself. “Your sergeant at organized crime take you back?” she asks. Would he take me, too? “No,” he replies around a laugh. It’s nice to hear him laugh again. “He holds grudges. He was so pissed when I left. Besides, I’m going where you go.” Jay says it so matter of factly that Hailey has to stop and look at him. “Yeah?” He keeps her gaze. “Yeah. It’s hard to find a good partner.” Something’s happening inside her chest, that thing she’s been trying to ignore for months now. “That sounds good to me.” Her cheeks can’t hold up a smile too long. “We both know Kelton won’t let any of us stay together.” Jay’s jaw sets, but before either of them can say anything more, the rest of the unit reappears and it’s back to business. Later, Hailey thinks. Think about this later. ii. Later, of course, there’s no time to think. The first shot pops off – barely muffled – her hand lands instinctively on her gun but it’s useless; the next four tear through the van like it’s made of butter. “Get down!” Before she can even gasp, Jay is yanking her down to the floor. Only instinct and training keep her from hitting her head. He peels away; she can’t catch her breath. Hailey gives up on her gun. The unmistakable weight of a vest falls open over her back and then Jay’s arms are around her again, dragging her closer, tight around her shoulders and her neck, forcing her head down against him. The part of her brain that says, this might be it is shouted quiet by the rest of her brain that says, Jay’s here. He’s got you. Debris and dust and light hail down; he growls and it jolts her out of her panic. She wants to tell him that one vest isn’t going to cut it. She wants to tell him that by holding her this way he’s exposed – his arms, his hands, his head – she wants to ask him if her ears are ever going to stop ringing – and then it’s over. The whole thing couldn’t have lasted more than eight seconds, but it felt like years between one heartbeat and the next. Does Hailey look as different as she feels? Jay’s solid warmth pulls away again and she wants – for a split second – beyond all reason or logic or anything resembling professionalism, to fold herself back into him. Where she’s safe. His hand is on her face, calluses rough against her cheek. Hailey can see his mouth moving, forming the syllables of her name, but she can’t hear yet. “You good? You okay?” She can’t speak yet either it seems; Hailey just nods, almost frantically. Voight’s voice from outside the hollowed van sounds as though it’s coming from underwater. “Jay! Hailey! You good?” “We’re good, we’re good!” Jay shouts back, and she jumps; her hearing is back, now dialled up to eleven. Are we? “Do not exit till we get the all clear! Who’s got eyes?” Jay’s chest heaves with exertion as he pushes up to his elbows above her. Adam is audible through the radio on the table, miraculously unscathed, but she can only just understand him over the tinny sound still in her ears. Wilson is down. Dread curls like a root in the pit of her stomach. Hailey has to swallow before she can speak. “Jay,” she says, and that’s all her mind can come up with. His hand lands on her shoulder, squeezing gently. I’ve got you. Hailey finds her eyes glued to his stomach, where she knows the scar of a bullet should have lived beneath his shirt. As they haul each other mostly upright, the vest slipping to hit the floor with a solid thump, her fingers brush the spot of their own accord. “I’m okay.” Jay touches her hand with his own and Hailey pulls away, feeling oddly like she’s been caught. “I’m okay.” I thought he was dead. Her breath shudders on the way out; the next is better. Hailey can feel the weight of his stare, as familiar as the kevlar. He starts, “You sure–” “I’m good.” She meets Jay’s gaze to prove her point. He just looks back, some of the adrenaline fading from around his eyes, and it’s a little too easy to fall back into the routine. Upton and Halstead: partners in Intelligence. She nods once and he lets go, shifting back only enough to sit heavily against the desk with a sigh. Hailey doesn’t think; she just follows him down to the floor, suddenly too bone-weary to care that they’re pressed together from hip to shoulder. She finds her eyes glued to the kevlar vest still splayed half-open at their feet. We almost died. He probably saved your life. You��re alive. “Think we have to write up the cost?” Jay asks sardonically, gesturing at the side of the vehicle riddled with holes. Hailey just snorts. He doesn’t say more and neither does she, suddenly content to come back down to earth in comfortable, relative quiet. It’s hard to tell how much time passes this way, though Hailey just lets herself be in it a while. Give us a break. But soon enough, sirens and tires and clamouring voices fill in the silence. Someone thumps on the side of the van– “All clear!” – and if Jay notices her flinch, he doesn’t say anything. Hailey takes one last deep, steadying breath and pulls herself to her feet. “I’ll take Wilson’s body, you check in with Voight? Maybe we can get lucky with his phone.” “Sounds good,” Jay replies. A uniformed officer pulls the door open; she has to squint against the light. He touches her shoulder again, just once, and lets her out first. iii. She knows something’s up the moment he appears at the top of the stairs. When she follows him into the break room and asks what’s going on, Hailey is half-expecting Jay to lie, for her to have to work a little harder to get at whatever it is that’s bothering him. “I have no idea.” And he doesn’t, she knows; it’s the same not knowing that’s been plaguing half the unit for weeks now– ever since Eva. While Kim and Kevin may be more content to politely pretend they can’t see the furtive looks Voight, Adam, and Antonio have been exchanging, it prickles beneath Hailey’s skin– and now, clearly, it’s come to a head with Jay too. “Voight just left and he said–” Jay breaks off and it takes everything in her to be steady– “he said something about me running the unit.” The root of dread coils tighter. Hailey follows Jay’s gaze out to the bullpen, where the announcement of Kelton’s victory still plays, and then back. “We lost.” She hasn’t seen him look this way in a long time– not since he almost died and she was almost too late to save him. Hailey takes a deep breath. Jay’s not wrong. So what’s left? “Kelton is who he is,” she says firmly. “His time for reckoning is coming.” He scoffs a little, more out of frustration than anything. “Not in time for this unit. For us.” Us? Her heart stumbles. “We’ve only been partners a couple years,” she starts, going for more levity and probably failing. “You’ll forget about me just fine.” Hailey forces a smile, but she can’t hold it up against the way Jay’s looking at her now, too open and unguarded to handle. “Hailey…” He does that thing where he laughs with just one corner of his mouth and trails off, shaking his head. Jay opens his mouth as if to speak. She thinks, not now. I’m not strong enough. Hailey knows him, and he knows her; Jay doesn’t say whatever he’s thinking– because he won’t (or can’t) give voice to whatever their partnership has become. She tries to smile again. Maybe she’s the one who can’t let him. “We’ll be alright,” Hailey says, and wills it to be true. iv. Kelton’s reckoning occurs through blood and bullets; theirs could also be counted in shell-casings and scars, but at least she and Jay have survived. So far, at least. With half the unit out of commission (speaking of things Hailey can’t look at head on), Voight’s strangely dark premonition comes to pass. As the most senior remaining detective, Jay assumes command of Intelligence. All their attempts to reach both Antonio and their sargeant go unanswered, which only carves deeper frown lines in Platt’s face. (She’s taken herself off the front desk to help them and pulled her best patrol officers up into the bullpen. Kim takes responsibility for them without being asked; Hailey mirrors Jay’s immensely grateful look at the routine grunt work being taken off their plates for the time being.) Whoever had killed Kelton had been careful; there’s evidence of a break-in but absolutely no DNA that isn’t their former mayor’s. It’s also hard to decide whether it’s a relief or not that the potential list of killers is long, since Jay had pointedly avoided eye contact when he told them that both Hank and Antonio were in the wind. I’m going to do what needs to be done. Voight’s last words to Jay keep replaying in her mind, but Hailey can see that they haunt her partner. Chicago, as difficult and often corrupt as it already is, feels truly rocked by this – the Ivory Tower calls for an update seemingly every time the unit tries to come up for air. CPD’s new interim superintendent is not exactly sympathetic to the strain the 21st district (and arguably the entire force) is now under; as the days wear on with few leads, Jay takes fewer and fewer breaks and stays behind later and later. Is their city just full of monsters? Are they only pretending to fight a darkness that already exists inside of them, rooted and watered by the horrors of this job? There has to be light somewhere, Hailey thinks, as she buzzes herself up the stairs in search of her phone she’d left behind. The solitary glow of her partner’s desk lamp lighting the Intelligence bullpen is perhaps a bit too on the nose. Voight’s office is still shuttered and closed; Jay refuses to work in there, even though his paperwork pile is already twice the height of hers. “You good?” he asks, beating her to the punch. Hailey nods, reaching into her drawer and holding up her cell. “Just forgot this. What are you working on?” Jay sighs, dragging a tired hand over his face. He’d tell her he needed a shave, she knows, if she pointed out the two-day scruff. She doesn't. “I hate reports,” he complains. It’s a familiar conversation. Hailey feels an abrupt urge to smile that she hasn’t had in at least a week. “I dunno how Voight dealt with all this red tape all the time.” He didn’t, a lot of the time, she thinks. Hailey doesn’t say that either. “Have you been home since yesterday?” she asks instead. “You were already here when I got in this morning. You haven’t eaten.” The scratching of pen slows. “What day is it?” “Wednesday.” Jay’s jaw flexes just slightly, his version of a wince. “You gotta get some rest Jay,” Hailey goes on. “You can’t keep this up. You’re gonna be dead on your feet.” “I’m fine,” he says. The stubbornness in his tone is familiar, too. “We have to get this right. Intelligence isn’t safe just because Kelton’s dead.” “We’re a team,” she counters. “You don’t have to do this all by yourself.” A shadow creases his face. Hailey knows there’s some things about his last conversation with Voight that Jay didn’t tell her, that his relationship with their (former?) sergeant is longer and more complex than even Adam’s was. Is. But she won’t back down. “Finish that and then I’m taking you home. You can ride with me tomorrow and get your car after shift.” Years or months or even a few weeks ago, Hailey would have considered what their co-workers would think at the sight of them arriving together. Besides the fact that neither Kim nor Kevin would say anything (Platt is probably another story) tonight she finds she doesn’t care. Her partner opens his mouth as if to argue, but Hailey just shrugs out of her coat and settles across from him in her own desk chair. She can be stubborn too. After a long beat of silence, Jay exhales slowly and his pen resumes its task across the page. Hailey forces herself not to look up from her phone, but every so often she can feel the weight of his stare. He doesn’t often accept support; even the spoken value of their ‘beer and talk’ arrangement sometimes isn’t enough to get Jay to cave. Hailey would cave though, for him. She’d do nearly anything if he was the one asking. Hailey has to resolve, right then and there in the silent and mostly dark bullpen, to never examine that truth too closely. “Okay,” Jay says sometime later, pulling her out of a mindless game of Crossy Road. “I’m done.” He leans back in his chair with a long sigh. “Tell me we’re doing the right thing here, Hailey.” You know I can’t tell you that. Though the unit and the district may have their suspicions as to the timing of Kelton’s murder and Intelligence leader disappearances, no one dares speak them aloud. Hailey squares her shoulders and meets Jay’s eye. “We’re doing our jobs.” It’s not an answer, of course; his scoff calls her out. But when Jay speaks again, it’s full of a quiet desperation she’s only heard a handful of times since they became partners. “I just hope I’m wrong.” Hailey doesn’t bother pretending. “I think we’re all hoping that too.” She picks up her coat and he follows as she hoped he would. “We can only do our jobs. The rest is for someone else to decide.” Jay possibly (probably) disagrees, but he just ushers her through the gate. As Hailey turns out of the district lot, he props his elbow against the window and tilts his head against his hand, staring out at nothing. She finds her attention drawn, almost unwittingly, over to him as the late night lights of Chicago pass them by. He looks so far away, even with the scant distance between them. So she reaches out the only way she knows how. ”Molly’s? I could use a drink.” Jay stills; Hailey braces herself for a refusal. Please just let us be us. “We can drink at mine,” he says. “I know I have a bottle of something kicking around.” She squeezes the steering wheel a little in relief. “Sounds good.” When they arrive, he holds the door open for her to enter first. “Sorry about the mess.” There’s a somewhat rumpled blanket over the back of the couch, half a newspaper on the coffee table, and Jay’s beanie dangling from a hook by the door. “This is a mess?” He laughs dryly. “Old habit.” Hailey drops herself onto the couch as he disappears into the kitchen. She hears cabinets and the clinking of glasses and wills her shoulders to relax. Jay isn’t the only one taking on more than usual; she’d never hear the end of it if he caught her not taking her own advice. A minute later, a heavy glass of amber liquid lands in front of Hailey with an audible thump. Jay pulls the blanket from behind his back and tosses it unceremoniously into her lap. “You’re always cold,” he says when she just looks at him. “Don’t even try to deny it.” Hailey just busies herself with the throw and her glass so she doesn’t blush. “Thanks.” She holds her glass out; Jay clinks against it with a silent nod. There’s gratitude in his eyes. Hailey just smiles gently and hopes it’s enough. The scotch burns on the way down and she thinks, you’re alive. You’re alive.

She wakes with a start; the blanket slips from around her shoulders (when had that happened?) and Hailey’s mind flashes back to the kevlar vest on the floor of their ruined surveillance van. But she blinks blearily and Jay’s apartment returns, quiet and dark. And when she turns her head, she’s surprised to find him slumped beside her, still holding his empty glass. Something aches deep inside her chest. Hailey sits up carefully. Leaning forward, she wraps her fingers around Jay’s glass and pries it gently from his hand. Before she can do anything more, his eyes snap open, bright and wild; Jay seizes her wrist in an iron grip before she can even reel back, and Hailey’s heart leaps up into her throat. “It’s me,” she says, as quiet and calm as she can manage. “It’s just me.” “Hailey,” Jay breathes. The hair on the back of her neck rises. He releases her. “Shit, sorry.” She just shakes her head. “I can’t believe I fell asleep.” “You and me both,” he replies. Hailey musters a faint smile. “I should–” “Stay.” Jay isn’t touching her anymore, but he may as well be for the way all her limbs suddenly freeze in place. Hailey sees a flash of that open expression from the break room, before everything truly went to hell. “It’s late,” he continues. “You’ve had a few.” “I’m fine, Jay.” It’s not a lie, exactly. But her body won’t stop betraying her. They haven’t been this close since the van. It’s like she suddenly stopped knowing how to be around him. Jay swallows; Hailey watches his Adam’s apple bob and hates herself a little. “I’d feel better if you stayed.” She can only stare. How can he be so inarticulate one day and so unselfconscious the next? Hailey wishes she could blame the alcohol, or the hour, but Jay is a Ranger; he’s asleep to alert faster than she can blink. “We can stop by your place before we go in.” “I keep an emergency go bag in the car,” she blurts, unthinking, and Jay exhales a laugh with just one side of his mouth. “Of course you do.” This is a bad idea. “Are you actually going to sleep?” she asks, “If I stay?” Jay’s jaw works. Gotcha. “Probably.” Hailey rolls her eyes fondly. “Gotta work on your poker face there, Halstead.” He chuckles and leans back. “Pretty sure it’s no use with you.” It’s so frank and honest that her stomach pitfalls. Hailey stands then, handing the glass back to Jay and feeling abruptly silly for playing hot potato with it. “Be right back.” When Hailey returns, Jay is in sweats and a t shirt, putting sheets on the couch. It’s the most dressed down she’s ever seen him. “I just washed the ones on my bed,” he says with a smile. “Promise. All yours.” “I’m not kicking you out of your own bed,” Hailey protests. “I’ll take the couch. You’ll barely fit on it anyway.” Jay goes to counter, but she musters her best don’t fuck with me glare. His lips twitch like he wants to laugh; he just puts a pillow down. It feels downright domestic, standing in the bathroom with him and brushing her teeth. The part of Hailey that wants to fidget in her pajama shorts and t-shirt struggles with the rest of her that is always a little more instinctively relaxed around her partner, in a way – if Hailey’s being honest with herself – she had to work for with Adam. Besides the disaster that was Booth, Jay makes no demands of her, never asking for more than she’s ready to give. They’ve disagreed before, certainly, on cases. But never morally – never fundamentally – or in a way that spoke to the core of their personalities clashing. Hailey supposes that’s the upside of dragging each other’s demons into the light and finding support in looking right at their own darkness. “Sure you’re okay out here?” Jay leans on the doorframe of his room and watches as she slides beneath both the throw and another blanket he’d insisted on leaving out for her. “Beats a concrete basement floor,” Hailey quips. He makes a face and she laughs lightly at him. “I’m kidding. Jay this is fine, really. Go to bed. I’ll see you in the morning.” Jay looks at her a moment longer, before apparently deciding against whatever’s on his mind. “Night.” Hailey lies awake for longer than she’d like to admit, but he doesn’t have to know that.

The smell of coffee draws her into awareness. Hailey tries to sit up quickly, suddenly too mindful of Jay potentially catching her asleep and vulnerable again. But there’s no sign of him until she’s folding the blankets carefully into a small pile on one end of the couch. Jay emerges from the kitchen with two mugs and offers her one, which she accepts with a grateful, “Thanks.” Hailey pulls her legs up to sit cross legged, leaning back against the arm of the couch while he shifts to face her. It would be too easy, she thinks, to shuffle forward a little and be touching knees. Somehow it seems more intimate than being locked in his arms with nowhere to go. “Get any sleep?” Jay asks, eyeing her over the rim of his mug. “Yeah,” Hailey admits after a moment of thought. “Actually. You?” She can see the edges of a smile: the corner of his mouth, the gentle crinkle of his eyes. “Yeah, actually.” There’s something inexplicably tender in his expression, despite the fact that she can’t see half his face. Hailey suddenly wishes she could flee, but just wraps both hands around her cup and drinks instead. “Bathroom’s all yours,” Jay says. “I’m just gonna get dressed.” The rest of the morning passes in the same quiet camaraderie that settles in during a long sting. By the time they’re pulling back up to the precinct, Hailey can almost pretend the last 12 hours were just a strange dream. She and Jay are early enough to work that not even Platt has arrived quite yet; the buzzer of the gate up to Intelligence feels almost jarring in the quiet. Hailey can see Atwater’s desk before they hit the top of the stairs. She’s almost there; they’re almost back to normal and then– “Hailey.” His fingers brush her elbow and she turns. Just behind her, Jay is just below as well; they’re very nearly the same height. The air feels close, like it did on the couch, and the van, like something electric is rising, or a flash flood that might just sweep her away. He glances down then up, as though suddenly boyish and bashful. It’s somehow difficult to imagine any other version of Jay that isn’t calm and confident. His jaw flexes. She sees that same look, that almost lost, vulnerable, and open one that always catches her off guard; she’s unmoored and the one thing that usually grounds her is the same thing knocking her off balance. Jay’s just looking at her, like he wants to speak but he knows that the truth – whatever the Truth is – might be the thing that shatters them both to pieces. She thinks, tell me. She thinks, don’t. And then Hailey stops thinking. She just leans forward and slides her arms around Jay’s neck, letting herself fit between the open edges of his jacket. He stiffens, but before Hailey can jump back over the enormous line she’s just crossed, Jay pulls her in. His arm wraps around her so far that she’s sure he can feel her ribs against his fingertips, while his other hand touches the back of her neck, so lightly at first that Hailey shivers. And then Jay tightens his grip and she’s suddenly safe again, despite everything. Hailey hooks her chin over his shoulder; he turns his face into the curve of her neck. She can only keep breathing as Jay sighs, so deeply that Hailey can feel his whole body rise and fall against hers. The whole world seems to have narrowed into sensations: fingertips tangling into her hair, calluses on the nape of her neck, warm breath over her collar. Hailey closes her eyes. You’re alive. She pulls back first, if only because she risks never moving again. She also risks crying, with the look in Jay’s eyes. But Hailey manages a smile and puts her hand on his shoulder. “C’mon. Let’s get to work.” As she turns, Jay’s hand touches her own. He squeezes, just once. Hailey returns the pressure without looking back and Jay releases her, following her up into the bullpen. It’s not enough, she thinks, a little selfish and foolish and desperate. But for now it has to be.

#chicago pd #upstead #chicago pd imagine #jay halstead #hailey upton #mine: fic #feels good to finally put this out

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stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale · 5 years

Text

with you [1/6]

Summary: Clementine pops the question.

Preview:

Mitch frowns, holding up the ring, “Then, why the stupid ring? It doesn’t mean anything. Wearing this and saying you’re married doesn’t change anything, so why bother?”

“It means something to me, okay?” Clementine snaps. “I don’t care if it’s ‘not a thing’ anymore. Is it so wrong that maybe I want to try and give him something that most of us thought was long dead? That I want something like that?” She snatches the ring away from him. “Yesterday, AJ found a wedding photo that belonged to this walker couple, and Louis explained what it meant and I just… I haven’t been able to get it out of my head. I didn’t ask you to understand what I want to do. I asked you if you could adjust the ring for me.”

Mitch eyes her quietly. Then, he straightens up. “Fine,” he says, holding out his hand, “I’ll fix your fucking ring.”

Warnings: There’s a little dirty talk but it’s just Mitch, no actual sexual content, just some good ‘ol smooching. Ruby’s a fucking sweetheart. Mitch is Clem’s tsundere best friend. Violet’s pretty angsty. Nightmares occur. This is long, sorry.

Author’s Note: Hey so episode 3 has killed me and I’m coping by writing some overly gushy Clouis even though I should be finishing up the final part of my Aasim story but it’s fine. I got this asks months ago requesting some married!clouis where Louis proposes to Clem, but then I thought, “Know what’s even better?? Clementine proposing to Louis” because my boy needs some real love and I’m a ho for this concept.

Also, Mitch is alive in this because fuck Lilly I miss my boy my fic my rules

---

It was back in the train station that the thought ever crossed her mind. Which is actually kind of strange to think about, Clementine realizes as she examines the small box in her hand.

She feels Louis shift beside her, turning over to sleep on his side facing her. She sits at the edge of the bed, peering over her shoulder at him. He’s quiet tonight with a calm face. He nuzzles closer into his pillow as his near silent sigh escapes his lips.

Clementine smiles to herself. She opens the box, setting the lid on her desk and pulls out two freshly polished rings. She lets the larger one fall down her pointer finger as she examines it, twisting it around until she finds the detail she’s looking for, and she smiles again.

Then, she turns to the sleeping boy beside her. One arm is tucked under his pillow while the other rests close to his chest. Clementine holds her breath as she carefully, gently pulls his hand closer to her. He doesn’t move or wake.

She easily slips the band onto his ring finger and lets out her breath.

It actually fits. Not too loose, not too tight, but snug enough that it’ll only come off with a little force. And it does. She slides the ring off and places it back in the box. Her heart beats loud in her chest and she recognizes the fluttering and tightening in her gut.

Tomorrow evening.

It’s so close.

And to think had AJ not rummaged through that walker’s pockets, she probably wouldn’t be holding this box in her hands.

---

Two Weeks Earlier...

A supply run to the train station was a spur of the moment thing when the three of them were out hunting. They’d only caught three full-grown rabbits when Louis mentioned that it wasn’t too far away. AJ had been all for the idea, and Clementine figured it wouldn’t be so awful to go back and collect anything they might’ve missed from their previous trip.

Up ahead, but not too far, Louis is telling some crazy, exaggerated story that left AJ hanging onto every single word.

Clementine spots a walker from the corner of her eye lingering in the trees, it’s head twitching with interest at the sound of Louis’ laughter. It’s the first one they’ve spotted in the time they’ve traveled, likely due to James doing his part of their arrangement.

They’ve worked out a decent system; anywhere they plan to hunt or scavenge, they let James know in advance so he can gather and lead stray walkers away, making trips a lot easier and a lot quicker. In exchange, he’s welcome to come and stay in a room and eat with them whenever he wants. He didn’t often stay many nights in a row, but Clementine’s just glad to see him opening up with the others and making friends.

Clementine picks up a large rock and chucks it. The walker follows the noise.

The decrepit train station is empty. When they enter, there sat the dead couple, slumped over and still tied to their chairs. Everything looks the same as they left it last. They gather as much as they can, like leftover food and duct tape and a few bandages.

“Oh-ho!” Louis calls out from behind the counter. “Looks like I found your secret stash.”

Clem quirks a brow and leans over the counter to peer down at him. He flashes her a bright smile and waves a beaten up chocolate bar.

“Seriously?” When she tries to reach for it, he teasingly jerks it away.

“I don’t think so, darling,” he pockets the bar. “Gotta save stuff like that for a special occasion.”

“Special occasion,” she scoffs. “Like?”

“Like when it’s your birthday, or if it’s someone else’s birthday and you forgot to get them a present,” Louis then glances away, “or, y’know, for date night.”

“Date night, huh?” Clementine smirks.

“Woah...”

From behind her, Clementine hears AJ shuffling around the dead couple. He’s unfolding something small and gray curiously. Upon a closer look, Clementine can tell it’s a wallet, and from it, AJ pulls out a five-dollar bill to study it.

“Look at that,” Louis approaches the boy, “looks like dinner’s on AJ.”

“Huh?”

Louis takes the wallet and pulls out some credit cards. “By the looks of it, we’re getting a three-course meal.”

“With extra dessert,” Clementine smiles.

AJ looks between the two of them, clearly confused. “I don’t get it.”

“Money,” he explains. When he turns it around, something falls out and Louis pauses. “...Huh.” He bends down to pick it up. He flips it around and a smile tugs at his lips.

“What is it?” AJ asked.

Louis motions to the couple. “It’s, uhm... their wedding photo.” He hands it over to AJ.

“Wedding photo?” AJ studies the picture. Clementine moves around them to look as well.

It’s jarring, the idea that the young couple are the same people as the decaying bodies in the chairs before them. They’re both so clean and happy with wide smiles.

The woman’s beautiful, Clementine thinks, with her hair pulled back into a bun of curls and her cheeks a pretty pink. Her dress is white with glittering details, and her diamond ring is visible on her hand resting against her husband's chest.

“They look...” AJ’s mouth twists as he searches for the right word.

“Happy?” Louis offers.

“Well, yeah, they’re smiling, but...” AJ looks at the dead bodies. “I don’t know. It’s weird. Why’re they dressed like that?”

Louis laughs. “Well, little dude, back before the walkers came, people used to get married. It was a pretty big deal, and when they did, they’d have a wedding. Think of it like a huge party with lots and lots of people to celebrate the couple getting married.”

“Okay, but,” AJ says, “but what does it mean? To be married?”

“Uh, well,” Louis scratches his neck, “it’s what people used to do to prove they really loved each other, I guess. It was, like, a big step to take to marry someone and call them your wife, or your husband.”

“And anyone can do it? Even me?” asks AJ. “I can get married?”

Clementine smiles, and says, “You’re a little young for that right now.”

AJ frowns and crosses his arms. “How old do I gotta be?”

“Well, there isn’t really a set age, I guess-”

“And I can marry who I want?”

“Yes, but,” Clementine shoots Louis, who’s completely amused by the conversation, a glance as if looking for help with an explanation, “it’s not really something people do anymore.”

“Why not? I mean, you just throw a party, right? And I can marry whoever I love? Like you, right?”

At that, Louis laughs. Clementine sighs. “Uh...”

“Well, little dude, marriage wasn’t for that kind of love,” Louis says, “it’s a bit more complicated than that.” He puts the picture back into the wallet and tucks it back into the dead man’s pocket. “These two didn’t love each other like you and Clem do. They got married because...” Louis’ smile almost turns sad, “they were in love, as a couple.”

“Oh...” AJ thinks, “oh, like, a kissing love.”

“A kissing love,” Louis agrees. He winks at Clementine, and her heart flutters.

“Like you and Clem?”

Blood rushes to Clementine’s cheeks as a loud, nervous laugh escapes Louis.

Before AJ can ask his next question, there’s a soft bang against the door. The conversation’s forgotten as they get low and carefully maneuver close to the door. AJ peeks out the window.

“Monster.”

Clementine nods. They all stand, relaxing a little. The door’s closed so one walker isn’t a threat.

Louis hauls a large bag over his shoulder. “Well, I think we’ve gotten all we can get,” he says, “should head back before dark.”

Clementine nods. “Right.”

But, she doesn’t move. She watches Louis and AJ leave, and hears the walker being dealt with. Clementine turns back to the couple, her eyes glancing down at the man’s rotten hand.

He still has his ring on.

“Clem?”

“...Coming.”

---

It stuck with her the rest of the day. From when they entered the gates of the school again and all throughout dinner.

Marriage wasn’t something she ever thought of. Sure, there had been that dumb “marry, ‘flip’, kill” question that seemed to come up during their card games, and sure, from all the groups she’d been in, some have had married couples.

Like Kenny and Katjaa.

Like Christa and Omid.

Like David and Kate.

...Like Rebecca and Alvin.

And before the walkers, her parents had been married. Happily married. She didn’t remember a lot about them, but there were things that stood out in her brain when she concentrated her thoughts.

Like how her father would always kiss her mother’s cheek before going to work and after coming home. It didn’t matter if she was cooking, or still in bed, or working on a project, or on the phone, he always kissed her, like it was some unspoken rule.

And how they laughed together. Her father had this deep, rumbling voice that practically shook the house when he laughed, and his laugh only made her mother laugh harder.

And the cute names they called each other. Honeybun. That’s what her father called her mother. Honeybun.

But, marriage wasn’t something that stuck in her brain, not something she actively thought about. However, seeing that wedding photo, the couple who died together tied to those chairs, and actually talking about it, hearing Louis talk about it... it stuck with her.

AJ had let the conversation go after Louis moved onto another topic. She knew that he was trying to avoid the obvious question on AJ’s mind.

“Like you and Clem?”

Like Louis and her...

“Yoo-hoo?”

A hand waves in front of her face. She blinks and turns to Louis. They’re on the outside couch sitting in front of a fire. His arm rests comfortably behind her.

He grins. “Where’d you go?”

“Nowhere.”

“You went somewhere.”

Clementine sighs. “Just thinking, I guess.”

“You got watch, Lou,” Ruby says, approaching them. “You and Aasim.”

“Aw, seriously?” Louis sighs before grinning. “Hey, wanna switch? I can take your morning shift and you can go with Aasim tonight?”

“Nope,” Ruby shook her head and points back at the tower. “Get goin.’“

Louis slouches, mumbling quietly, “I tried, my dude...” Clementine rolls her eyes and elbows him.

“Don’t keep him waiting.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Louis stands, reaching his arms high over his head to stretch out his body. He lets out a satisfied groan as his arms fall back to his sides. “I’ll be there in a second.”

Ruby nods and walks off.

His foot taps hers. “Guess I’ll see you tonight,” he says. Then, he leans forward. His fingers caress her jawline as he lightly pulls her towards him and places a soft kiss on her cheek. “I’ll try not to wake you.”

“Goodnight,” is all she can muster up to say.

“Goodnight, darling.” He leaves her with a smile.

And as she watches him walk away, it occurs to her with a single, strange thought.

I want to marry that boy.

---

Clementine tries to fall asleep, but she’s restless. She doesn’t know how long she’s laid there, but no position, no angle allows sleep to take her.

AJ snores quietly in his bed on the other side of the room. Louis still won’t be back for a few hours.

So, she gets up and leaves. As she’s quietly closing the door behind her, she hears footsteps. Instinctively, she turns to see who it is.

Violet keeps her eyes forward as she walks down the hall, not giving Clementine any acknowledgment.

It’d been awful between the two of them ever since the delta fight two years ago. She couldn’t even breathe in Violet’s direction without getting ‘fuck you’ eyes, and talking was completely out of question. Not that Clementine didn’t still try, but it seems that Violet’s determined to keep herself in the shadows of the school, only talking to Tenn and Louis, and on rare occasions Ruby, Omar, and Aasim.

Louis once tried to help them patch things up. It didn’t go over well.

What else could she do, though? Clementine can’t force their friendship back together. Not after everything.

Clementine tries to put it out of her mind as she moves down the opposite direction. Down by the entrance doors, she finds Ruby grimacing at something in her hands.

“Hi, Ruby,” she greets.

“Oh, hi, Clem,” Ruby smiles. “Thought you went off ‘ta bed?”

“Can’t sleep.”

Ruby nods understandingly. “Well, you wanna help me fix Willy’s shirt?” she holds up a dirty blue shirt with a tear along the side. “Got it caught again and didn’t bother stopin’ to untangle himself.”

“Of course.”

Clementine kept the shirt still and flattened out while Ruby went to work.

“Wish that runt would be more careful,” murmurs Ruby, “always tearing his clothes up. What’ll happen if he ruins all of ‘em? That boy’ll be in nothin’ but rags.”

“You could have him sew his own stuff.”

Ruby scoffs. “Yeah, right.”

Clementine watches her steady hand as she sews in a comfortable silence. Being around Ruby like this is peaceful. The two had gotten close over the years, and for that, she’s grateful. She adores Ruby.

Clementine glances around and decides to just go for it while it was just the two of them. ”Hey, Ruby, can I ask you a personal question?”

“Sure, hon,” Ruby smiles. “What’s on yer mind?”

“Uh, well...” Clementine starts. “Have you... ever liked someone?” Ruby stops her needlework and perks a brow. “Like, had a crush?”

The redness on Ruby’s cheeks brighten. “I-uh- what in the world are ya asking me that for?”

“Just curious if anyone ever caught your fancy,” Clementine replies. She didn’t think the question would actually make Ruby flustered.

Ruby pokes herself with the needle, hissing a cuss.

“Well,” she says, “hate ta disappoint you, but no.”

“Never?”

Ruby shakes her head. “Nu-uh.”

Clementine thinks back to Aasim and Louis’ constant teasing of the poor boy.

“You don’t like anyone here like that? Not even a little?”

Ruby hesitates. “No.” She finishes sewing up the shirt and holds it up in front of her. “Why the sudden question?” she asks.

“I don’t know,” Clementine answers honestly.

Ruby shifts her weight onto one foot and scratches at her arm. After an awkward silence. “Well... alright, can ya keep a secret?”

Clementine perks up. “Yes.”

Ruby shakes her head. “Don’t get excited. He, uh, he’s not real.”

“What?”

Ruby’s blush deepens. “Sometime, after all the adults left, I had a hard time sleepin’ at night. Ms. Martin was startin’ ta worry ‘bout me. She told me I should try readin’, and I remember tellin’ her how stupid that was. But...” Ruby sighs, “I still let her read ta me before bed one night. A love story called ‘The Woodsman.’ Well, kinda a love story. She read it so well and,” she grins, “I guess I kinda fell in love with Milo.”

Clementine smiles back. “And, why’s that?”

“Milo’s this handsome woodsman doin’ everythin’ he can to help support him and his family, right. He’s kind, like, genuine kind. And the way he describes and talks about Abigail just is enough ta melt your heart. Or make ya cry.”

“Do they end up together?” asks Clementine.

Ruby shakes her head. “No. Ya see, Abigail’s taken and forced ta live on top this big ‘ol mountain by this old, ugly witch as punishment fer Milo killin’ one of her wolves.” She runs her fingers over the fresh stitching in Willy’s shirt and sighs. “Milo tries and tries again ta climb the mountain and save her, but every time he gets a little bit closer, he slips and tumbles down.”

“Shit,” Clementine says.

“Everything he does, he does it fer her. To free her of that witch’s cruelty. And the crazy part’s that he doesn’t even know if she loves him back. He don’t care if she does or not, he keeps climbin’ anyway and it eventually kills him,” Ruby shakes her head. “Never makes it back to Abigail.”

“That’s...” Clementine frowns, “awful.”

“Can’t tell ya how many times that part’s made me cry,” Ruby laughs, “and it’s even worse ‘cause as he’s laying at the bottom dyin’ he still thinkin’ ‘bout how only he knows she’s up there and only he can save her and... he dies. He dies and becomes a star.”

“A star?”

“In the sky. High up there and he watches and protects her from the witch until eventually, Abigail dies, too.”

“And becomes a star, too, right?”

Ruby nods. “Right.” She wipes at her eyes with the back of her hand. “Guess I always liked the idea of someone lovin’ me that much, enough ta fall down a mountain over and over again just ta save me. It’s silly, ‘cause I know someone like that doesn’t exist, but… thinkin’ they do still helps me sleep at night.” She begins to fold up the shirt. “After we lost Ms. Martin, I went through some of her things and found the book. Can’t tell ya how many times I’ve read it.” Ruby gives her a sheepish grin. “Huh… never told that ta anyone before.”

“That’s...” Clementine reaches out and touches Ruby’s shoulder, “really sweet, actually.”

“Don’t tell anyone,” Ruby smirks. “Don’t want anyone ta think I’m too soft.”

Clementine laughs. “I promise.”

Ruby yawns then, and says, “Well, sorry I blabbered so much. Think it’s time I hit the hay. Thanks fer helpin’ me and... fer listenin.’”

“It sounds like a good read,” Clementine says.

“I’d let you borrow it if ya want.”

“I think I’d like that.”

Ruby beams at her, smile wide across her face. She gathers all her things and is just about to walk back to her room when Clementine stops her.

“Ruby?”

“Hm?”

“Can I tell you a secret?”

“Don’t hafta,” Ruby says. “Just ‘cause I shared, I mean.”

Clementine shakes her head. “I know.”

“Well, alright, then.”

Clementine hesitates, and in a whisper, she says, “I think I’m in love with Louis.”

Ruby laughs. “Oh, hon, that ain’t no secret,” she grins, “it’s all over yer face when yer together. His, too.”

“No, I mean...I’m in love with him.” Clementine meets Ruby’s eye. “If Louis were cursed by some witch and put on top of a mountain, I’d never stop climbing to get him back.”

Ruby’s grin falters as her eyes widen a bit with shock at the realization of Clementine’s words. “Oh...”

“Is that crazy?”

“No,” Ruby walks toward her, reaching down to grab her hands. “Not at all.”

“Really?”

“Really,” Ruby says firmly. “In fact, you should tell him that.”

“Yeah?” Clementine smirks. “’Hey, Louis, by the way, if you ever happen to get cursed and kidnapped by a witch I promise to save you.’”

That makes Ruby giggle. “Well, if any one of us were ta get cursed...” The two laugh together. Ruby lets go of her hands. “Serious, though? Tell him you love him. Ya never know in this world... don’t want any more regrets than we already got.”

“I know. Believe me, I know.”

---

Clementine’s still awake when Louis sneaks in. He tries his best to be quiet, tiptoeing around before slowly sliding into bed with her with a huff.

Clem lifts her head off the pillow. “Hey,” she whispers.

“Shit didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You didn’t,” she sighs. “Been in and out.”

Louis scoots closer to her so that her chin presses against his shoulder. He entwines their fingers and brings their hands to rest against his chest. He’s freezing from being outside.

“How was watch?” she asks.

“Same ‘ol, same ‘ol,” he replies. “Convinced Aasim to play go-fish with a twist ‘til he got mad,” he yawns, “and threatened to throw my deck away.”

Clementine smirks. “Sounds about right.” She gets comfortable, pressing her body against his side. He kisses the back of her hand. She sees his eyes fluttering shut as the day's exhaustion catches up with him.

“How’s your night?” he asks.

“Good, but better now.” She watches the corner of his mouth twitch into a grin.

Clementine watches their hands raise and fall with every breath he takes, and soon he’s fast asleep. His heartbeat is soft against her hand. She keeps herself awake a little while longer to make sure he remains peaceful. And he does.

As she runs her thumb over his, she wonders if the couple if the train station were holding hands when they died. She wonders what their last kiss was like, what their final words to each other were. She wonders if there were a lot of things left unspoken, things that wanted to be said, needed to be said.

She squeezes his hand and allows her eyes to rest.

---

In the morning, Clementine’s determined to find James.

She sneaks out, leaving Louis in bed. AJ’s already up, walking around on patrol. She makes sure to tell the others she’s going out to find James, making up an excuse, saying she’s worried that he hasn’t been back in a week.

AJ insists that he go with her, but Clem manages to convince him that she’ll just walk the perimeter since that’s usually where James sticks around. That calms him down, but he still mumbles about never going alone. So, Clementine takes Rosie with her. After all, Rosie could use the walk.

After she’s left, she wanders around to his usual spots close to the school, letting Rosie sniff around and chew up some sticks. She eventually finds him near his barn full of walkers.

When he sees her, he slips his mask off. “Clementine,” he greets softly. Rosie comes up to him and licks his hand. He softly pats her head. “Ah, Rosie.”

“James, you’re okay.”

“Yes,” he says. “You were worried?”

“Just haven’t seen you in a while. Wanted to check up on you.”

He smiles. “You’re very kind,” he says. He stands from the log he’s sitting on and says, “It’s been peaceful out here. And cool. Sleeping outdoors when it’s like this always makes me feel good.”

“I can see that. Just, don’t forget to check in with us, okay? Willy’s been asking about you.”

That makes James smile.

Clementine crosses her arms and takes a breath to steady her quick pulse. “Actually, there's another reason I wanted to find you.”

“Oh?” he asks. “What is it?”

“Well, uhm,” Clementine looks up at the barn. It’s faint, but she can hear them shuffling around and groaning inside. “Of the walkers you’ve found, do any of them happen to be wearing a ring?”

James cocks his head to the side. “That’s a strange question.”

“I know,” Clementine admits.

“What do you need a ring for?”

Clementine doesn’t reply. She tries to think of an excuse, to hide her true intentions, but her mind’s suddenly gone blank.

“Clementine?”

“I just... need a ring. Nothing fancy.”

James doesn’t push. He slips his mask on and as he walks over to the barn, he says, “I’ll look.”

He’s inside for a long time. Long enough that Clementine starts to get anxious. She wanders about, kicking at rocks and watching for stray walkers. She throws a stick for Rosie a few times.

Eventually, he does come out, and Clementine is right there, eager to see his findings.

James shakes his head. “Sorry.”

She gives a disappointed sigh.

She was hoping that she wouldn’t have to go back to the train station. It’s out of the way, and with only Rosie...

Actually...

“That’s okay,” she says. “Mind tagging along with me, then?”

“Where?”

“There’s a train station a little ways away,” she explains. “There’s a ring there.”

He’s curious, but again, he doesn’t push. “Okay.”

They don’t speak much as they walk. Clementine’s a little glad, it gives her a moment to really think about what she’s doing.

It’s odd that she’s considering the “feelings” of the dead walkers left in the train station, but she keeps telling herself they’re dead, they don’t need their wedding rings anymore. If anything, they'd be glad their rings could be used again for their intended purpose, right?

Then again, the couple had made a request to be left alone, one that Clementine didn’t honor. Perhaps they wouldn’t be too thrilled with her stealing from them after all.

The area around the train station is clear, just like it was yesterday. Once inside, they approach the couple. Clementine bends down and slips the gold ring off the male walker’s finger, wiping it off on her jacket. She studies it, and something occurs to her.

What if it doesn’t fit?

She slips it onto her ring finger. It’s a little loose. When she looks at it, she realizes it might even be too small for Louis. His hands are bigger than hers and if it’s only a little loose on her...

She turns back to James. “Try this on.”

“Uhm, what?” He blinks down at her.

“Your hands are bigger. I just need to see if it’ll fit.”

James’ eyes dart between her and the ring. “Clementine... you- you’re not... uhm, asking...”

She stares at his suddenly terrified face and it hits her. “No! No, I’m not- no!”

“I-It’s just, um, Tennessee once told me-”

“I’m not proposing to you!” She exclaims that way louder than she probably should have. This causes Rosie to bark.

James visibly relaxes. “Oh,” he says, “then why do you need me to wear it?”

“Because I...” Clem lowers her head, weighing her options here. She decides that James is trustworthy and that the truth is the best answer. “Because you have bigger hands than me and... I need to see if this will fit Louis.”

The surprise is clear in his expression even though his face is covered by his mask.

“I see,” he says. “When did this happen?”

“Nothing’s ‘happened,’ really. Not yet.”

“He asked you...?”

“No,” Clem shakes her head. “He... actually has no idea about this.”

James smiles slightly. “Oh.”

“So,” Clementine’s face is warm when she offers him the ring. “Will you just try it on?”

James takes the ring, but when he tries to slip it on, it barely goes past the mid-knuckle. “Seems he has smaller hands than me,” he says, referring to the walker.

“Shit. It probably won’t fit Louis then, either.”

Well, there went her plan.

“Keep it anyway,” James hands it back to her, “in case you can’t find anything else. I’ll keep an eye out for any walkers I come across, see what I can collect.”

“Thank you.”

An awkward silence falls over them, so Clem decides to check the lady walker, only to find her ring missing.

“Well... I might need not any rings. After all, it’s the thought that counts, right?” she half-jokes.

“Giving up so quick is unlike you,” says James. “His hands aren’t mine. It might fit.”

“I guess.”

“At least keep it as a symbol of what you’re asking. It’ll mean a lot to him, regardless.”

Clementine runs a finger over the smooth band. It almost feels heavy, not physically, but with all the intentions behind it.

“Did you ever think about these things with Charlie?”

“...At one time, yes.” He says nothing more.

With the ring in her possession, Clementine leaves the couple behind once more.

She fumbles with the ring secured in her pocket. “Maybe there’s a way to change it? Stretch it, maybe?”

“I wouldn’t know,” James says. “Maybe ask Mitch. He has plenty of tools. Maybe he could help.”

Clementine hadn’t thought of that.

Their tool collection doubled after they took down the raiders and stole most of their supplies. Plenty of things used for building or repairing or breaking things down. Mitch and Willy were thrilled when they dragged it all back to the school. They kept most of it hidden away in the basement. Maybe they did have something that could help.

---

James comes back with her to the school. Once they’re through the gates, he takes off his mask and is nearly run into by Willy and AJ.

“James!”

“You’re back!”

“Good to see you’re not dead,” Mitch says, approaching and knocking James’ shoulder with his fist.

“Yes,” James replies awkwardly, rubbing at his arm where Mitch punched him.

Ruby comes over to greet them, too.

“James, you hungry? I can have Omar whip you up something.”

“No, thank you, I’m alright-”

Willy grabs a hold of his arm and drags James over to one of the tables. “C’mon! Look what I did to this crossbow!”

“It’s super cool!” AJ exclaims.

“Oh-okay!”

Clementine grins before turning to Mitch and Ruby.

“He stayin’ a while this time?” she asks.

“I don’t know,” replies Clementine. “Hopefully.”

“Louis was asking for you earlier,” Mitch says. “Something about tuning the piano or some shit.”

Clementine smiles. ‘Tuning the piano’ meant piano lessons. He’d been teaching her to play for a few months now, insisting she learns so they can do duets together. She isn’t great, but she’s improving.

Ruby giggles at the expression Clementine’s face. She snaps out of it and says, “Okay, I will go find him.”

Mitch rolls his eyes and walks away.

Before Clementine can call after him, Ruby says, “I left ‘The Woodsman’ in yer room fer ya.”

“Thanks,” she says. “Can’t wait to read it.”

“Enjoy tuning the piano,” Ruby smiles before walking off.

Clementine decides that Louis can wait a little longer. She spots Mitch over on the couch, sharpening his knife with some handheld tool.

“Hey,” she greets. He barely looks up from his work.

“What’s up?”

“I need your help with something.”

“Oh, do you?” he says flatly.

“Yes,” Clementine frowns. “In the basement.”

“Right now?”

“Right now.”

Mitch examines his freshly sharpened knife. “...Fine. I was going down there anyway.” He tucks his weapon away and moves over to the basement doors. Clementine follows close behind. Mitch yanks open the doors with a grunt, and as they go down the stairs, he asks, “What’ja need?”

They stop at one of the work desks. Clem pulls out the ring. “Is there anyway you can make this bigger?”

Mitch stares at the ring with a deadpan expression.

“Serious?”

“Is that a no?” Clementine asks.

Mitch snatches the ring out of her hand. “Make it bigger?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“That’s for me to know.”

He shoots her another look. He taps the ring on the desk a few times then examines it again. Then, he bites it.

“Look, if you can’t do anything, just say so,” Clementine says, annoyed.

Mitch quirks a brow at her. “Fine,” he leans against the counter, holding the ring up, “I’ll see what I can do… if you tell me what it’s for.”

Clementine’s insides tighten. She knows he won’t give in, as stubborn as he tends to be, and if she wants his help, she’d have to give in. Not point in fighting.

“Fine, fuck it,” she says. “You’re going to find out anyway, might as well tell you now.” She crosses her arms and leans against the table as well. “But, you gotta keep it to yourself, at least for right now. Got it?”

“Fine.”

“It’s for Louis.”

“Louis?”

“Yeah, I’m…” she closes her eyes and takes a breath, “I’m asking him to marry me.”

Wow, saying it out loud is… strange.

When Mitch doesn’t say anything, she looks up at him. His expression is almost funny.

“...Why?” he finally asks.

Clementine shrugs, saying, “Because I love him.”

“Gross.”

She elbows him.

“Wait, you’re asking him to marry you? You know that’s not even a thing anymore, right?” Mitch asks. “That shit doesn’t matter.”

“Maybe not to everyone, and, honestly, it didn’t matter to me either until now,” she explains. “And it’s not a big deal, I just… want to let him know how I feel and I need a ring to give to him.”

“So, what? You’re gonna have a wedding?”

“I-I don’t know,” she admits.”I haven’t thought that far ahead yet.”

Mitch’s brows furrow as he eyes her and Clementine can see the gears turning in his head. She figured he wouldn’t understand what she wants to do, or that he’d call her an idiot, or-

“Are you doing this so you two can fuck?” Mitch asks bluntly.

It feels like her heart stops in her chest as her eyes pop wide open. “Excuse me?”

“You don’t gotta be married to screw around. I’m not saying that you should or anything, though. These walls are fucking thin,” Mitch explains.

Clementine’s mouth moves but no words came out. She shakes her head. “No, that’s not- we’re not- just-”

“Y’know,” Mitch ignores her stuttering, “My grams used to tell us we’d go to Hell if we had sex before we were married and all kinds of stupid shit. Yet, here we are, literally living in hell, and I doubt it’s because some idiots fucked before someone ‘officially’ declared them married,” Mitch says.

“That’s not why I’m doing this!” Clementine manages. “That’s not even- It’s not your business, anyway!”

Mitch frowns, holding up the ring, “Then, why the stupid ring? It doesn’t mean anything. Wearing this and saying you’re married doesn’t change anything, so why bother?”

Mitch eyes her quietly. Then, he straightens up. “Fine,” he says, holding out his hand, “I’ll fix your fucking ring.”

She hesitates but hands it back in his palm. Then, he searches around in one of the drawers and pulls out some string. “Gimme your hand,” he demands.

“Why?”

“Just do it.”

She does so, and he wraps the string around her ring finger. He pinches it and slides it off, then cuts it with his knife. He gives her the rest of the string. “Measure his finger and get back to me.”

“Uhm?”

“Do it when he’s asleep or something.”

Clementine watches as he starts darting around, pulling tools off shelves and digging around in drawers, muttering to himself. When he notices she’s still standing there, he says, “Don’t you gotta meet your husband-to-be?”

Shit, she almost forgot.

“Right, the piano,” she says.

Then, Mitch tenses. “Wait…” his face twists in disgust, “Oh, God, is ‘tuning the piano’ code for...?”

It takes her a second to get what he’s talking about.

“Mitch, I will stab you.”

“Yeah, yeah, I don’t wanna hear about it anyway,” he waves her off. “Go do your gross stuff.”

She leaves the basement flustered and ready to strangle Mitch. She takes a deep breath to calm herself and looks around for AJ. He’s still over sitting with James, Willy and Tenn. Determining he’s in good hands, she goes into the school.

---

A week passes before she's able to figure out how to measure Louis' finger.

She comes in after her night shift to see him and AJ still awake and reading a book together. She recognizes the cover as the one Ruby gave her.

"That was so cool!" AJ exclaims. "That wolf came outta nowhere and swish! Off goes its head!"

Louis laughs as AJ chops his hands through the air and jumps off the bed.

"Shouldn't you be asleep?" Clementine asks.

AJ freezes. "Oh, I couldn't sleep."

"I thought maybe a story would calm him down but it seems that backfired," Louis explains. He closes the book and sets it on the nightstand. This causes AJ to pout.

"C'mon, one more chapter?"

"Sorry, little dude, it's time to get some shut eye."

"But, I'm not tired!"

"We can read some more tomorrow night, okay?"

"Promise?" AJ holds out his pinky, expression serious. Louis hooks their pinkies together.

"Promise."

Then, AJ turns to Clementine. "I'm still not tired, though. Can I go check and see if Tenn's still awake? I'll go on patrol if he's not."

Clementine sighs. "Fine, just don't cause too much trouble."

"I won't!"

He grabs his box of crayons off his desk and hurries out the door.

Louis slips off his jacket and flops down onto their bed. "Now that the small child is gone, and we're alone..." he trails off. Clementine feels her pulse quicken at the suggestive look on his face, but then rolls her eyes when he pulls out his deck of cards from his pocket. “How about we play a game?”

“Another card game, hm?”

“Don’t sound so thrilled,” he laughs. He shuffles through his deck, flipping and rearranging them. She joins him on the bed, sitting across from him with her legs crossed. She reaches over and plucks the deck out of his hands.

“How about we mix it up?” She sets the cards on the table.

"What did you have in mind?” he asks.

She smirks. “Close your eyes.”

Louis raises a curious brow up at her. “Don’t think I’ve heard of that one.”

“Just do it,” she says.

“And what happens when I do?”

“You’ll have to close them and see.”

She can see his confidence starting to bend, but he rearranges his position on the bed to be more comfortable and clears his throat to try and hide it. Then, he closes his eyes.

“Keep them closed,” she says. “And no peeking.”

“A little peeking?”

“Nope,” she pinches his arm. “Peek and you lose.” She keeps an eye on his somewhat nervous face as she grabs his hand with the palm facing upwards.

“Uh, remind me,” he blurts out, “what-uh, what are the rules of this game, exactly?”

“You keep your eyes closed,” she says. She uses her pointer finger to trace an L on his palm. Almost immediately, he closes his fist and jerks it away. He covers up a laugh with a cough.

“What-!?”

“Eyes closed!” Clem presses her other hand over his eyes.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m going to spell something out on your hand,” she explains, “and when I’m done you tell me what it is. And you can’t look or pull away.”

“Seriously?” he asks. “Do you have any idea how much that tickles?”

“Well, I didn’t think you were ticklish,” she teases.

“I’m not!” he objects.

She grabs his hand again. “I’ll give you an easy one to start, okay?”

She tries to move as little as possible to pull the string out of her pocket. She traces the L again. His fingers twitch and he grows tense with keeping the laughter bottled up inside him. She carefully spells the rest of his name as well as wraps the string lightly around his ring finger before quickly pulling it off.

“Don’t open them,” she says.

When she’s done, he pulls away again and rubs his hands together. He keeps his eyes closed.

“What did I spell?” she asks him. She ties the string at the measurement mark.

“Louis.”

“Are you sure?” she teases.

“I think I know how to spell my own name, thank you,” he says. “Even with whatever sneaky finger trick you’re trying to pull.”

“Well, I guess you win.”

“Can I open my eyes now?”

“No.”

“What? Isn’t it your turn?”

“Nope.”

“Darling, I’m starting to think this game’s a little rigged.”

Clementine takes a moment to glance over his face. His brows are knitted with concentration, and she can tell he’s biting the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. She pockets the sting and reaches for his hand again. She absently traces the lines along his palm. His hand twitches again.

“Okay, that’s not even a word,” he complains.

She brings his hand up and kisses his knuckles.

Then, she leans over and kisses his chin, then his cheek. His breath stops before coming out shaky. She kisses his jaw. She lets go of his hand and runs her fingers over the thin fabric of his shirt. They move to his collarbone and his neck. She presses her thumb lightly against his pulse point. It beats hard. His skin is warm.

He carefully grabs her waist.

She traces a heart over his chest.

He tightens his grip on her.

And she finally presses her lips to his with a satisfied sigh.

---

The world’s a blur when her eyes flutter open.

She feels relaxed, calm as she weaves in and out of dreamless sleep. The body wrapped around her is warm, tight... and trembling?

And suddenly, she’s cold and awake, and Louis is gasping for air.

Fear runs through her veins as she jolts up. Louis has his head tucked between his knees, shaking and trying to breathe. All that escapes his lungs are short puffs. Her hands are on him immediately, pulling him close even when he flinches away.

“No-” he whimpers.

“Louis,” she whispers, pushing his dreads away from his face, “it’s okay, it’s me.”

He shakes his head. “Shit-” he sobs. He cries are muffled by his arm but Clementine can see how red and wet his eyes are. “-I’m sorry-” she hears him cry, “-I’m sorry, I’m sorry-”

She holds him tight against her.

He’d been sleeping so calmly these past few weeks. But, even so, the nightmares always back. They always did for her, too. But, that’s where she and Louis differed. Clementine’s nightmares have become a natural, accepted part of her life. She knows there’s no escape from them.

But Louis… even now, two years later, he still dreams of that woman. Shit, Clementine couldn’t even remember her name or what she looked like, but she knew Louis did. Her name engraved itself into his brain the moment he heard Minerva’s distressed cry at seeing her fall over dead.

She’s tried telling him over and over again that what he did was self-defense, that if he hadn’t done what he did, that woman wouldn’t have hesitated to kill him. Fuck, that woman wouldn’t have hesitated to cut off his hand had AJ not attacked her. In her mind, Louis had no reason to feel so horrified, so ashamed.

“-I didn’t mean to-”

But he did feel those things and she wouldn’t ever ignore that. She wouldn’t ever belittle that.

So, she holds him and let him quietly weep until he physically can’t anymore. She rubs his back and his arms to try and calm his shaking. She whispers comforting words into his ear and kisses his temple, his cheek. She wipes the cold sweat off his brow.

And when they wake up tomorrow morning, she doesn’t say anything.

She watches him move about the room, gathering up his boots and sitting on the bed. He laces them up and rests his elbows on his knees. She doesn’t need to see his face to tell he’s exhausted.

“Clementine?” he whispers.

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

And like that, any doubts about what she wants are gone.

“I love you, too.”

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