#specifically she called him handsome. and also a headache
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We're three weeks in team, the end is in sight! Have some blupjeans
Also vague mentions of sex but nothing explicit and barry gets playfully called a whore
@taznovembercelebration
Day 21: first/only
Barry has a work thing to go to and, as always, Lup's his first choice for a plus one.
Read it on AO3
When Barry comes home, Lup's dancing around the kitchen to her music nearly on full blast, and the house smells divine. She smiles when she notices him and turns the volume down before it gives him a headache. Excitedly, she says, “so?!”
“They gave me the award.”
She yells happily and hugs him and kisses his cheek. “Congratulations!”
He feels his insides gets all mushy, but from decades of practice, he's able to keep his cool. “Thanks. There's going to be a dinner next week, and they gave me a plus one, so…”
She goes back to stirring the pot she has on the stove, shaking her head. “Barry, Barry, Barry. Are you sure you want me to come with? I don't want to scare away all the corporate girls. I'm sure they'll be all over you, now that you're a big shot.”
“Oh, god,” he sits at the breakfast bar, “now I definitely want you to come with me.”
“What? You don't want the ladies fawning all over you?”
“I'm super good on that. I'd just not go if I could. They want me to make a speech. I need moral support.”
Lup laughs. “Then of course I'll go with you.”
She turns her music back up to an acceptable level for Barry's sensitive ears. He plays sous-chef as she cooks, chopping various vegetables and shredding cheese as he's told. They talk about their days, Barry's award, his speech, the upcoming dinner.
“Have you ever had a plus one that isn't me?”
Barry squints at the ceiling, “I think I went to something in college with that one girl.”
“The redhead?”
“No, it was…” he clicks his tongue, “god. What was her name? I don't even remember anymore. The one I, like, half dated for a few months.”
“You half dated a lot of people in college, you'll have to be more specific.”
“I did not see that many people.”
She points at him with her spoon, flinging some sauce in his direction, “you were a whore in college, Barry.”
“Maybe! But that's because I didn't date that much. I may have been a whore, but I was faithful.”
She rolls her eyes at him, but she's smiling. “Ethical sluttiness aside, I know you went to something with the redhead.”
He snaps his fingers, “it was the blonde who I broke up with because she talked shit about you, we went to an event with the science department. She had the bible verse tattoo.”
“Oh, yeah… wasn't that grad school?”
He shrugs. “Hell if I know. My time in academia's all just a haze of caffeine, homework, and sex.”
“I hear that.”
The dinner rolls around later that week. Barry's waiting at the front door when Lup comes down the stairs in all her glory. She's wearing a sparkling, floor length, fitted emerald green dress with off-the-shoulder straps, a sweetheart neckline, and an alluring slit up one of her legs. It goes with the dark green suit jacket she picked out for him. Her shoes and accessories are gold, matching his tie.
“Quit tugging at your collar,” she says, swatting his hand away. He hadn't even realised he was doing it. She does up the buttons he'd left undone and tightens his tie up to his neck. She adjusts his collar and lapels until she's satisfied and says, “there. So handsome.”
“I don't want to do this. I'd rather stay here and watch movies with you.”
“Aw, Bear,” she cups his cheek, “I know. But I'm not letting you miss out on a dinner where you're the guest of honour. Even if it's dull.”
He groans. “Fine.”
He opens the door for her, then locks it behind him. The whole drive over, he's reciting his thank you speech in his head. It's a lot of filler nonsense thanking the company and the directors and whatever other higher-ups need their asses kissed.
When they pull up to the fancy hotel holding the banquet, Barry has to take a few deep breaths before turning the car off and getting out. Lup puts a hand on his shoulder. “You gonna be okay?”
“Yeah. Just. One second.”
She squeezes his shoulder. “If you genuinely feel like you're going to panic, tell me and we'll go. You know I'm good at excuses, and I have no problem being the bad guy.”
He looks over at her. “Really?”
“Of course. I care more about you not having a panic attack than I do about you making a dumb speech at a dinner. I'll pretend I'm sick all day long for you, babe. Remember the halloween party in middle school?”
He relaxes some, and laughs. “You pretended to have the stomach flu, and committed so hard you didn't come to school for a week.”
“Exactly. And I'd do it again.”
He takes a breath. “Okay. I'm ready.”
He always feels more confident walking into a room with Lup on his arm. Even if they are just long time childhood friends, she's stunning, and charming, and smart, and wonderful in every way. To think she's as committed to him and he is to her, to the point where they bought a house together (for logistical reasons, of course), it still blows his mind all these years later. He may be hopelessly in love with her, but he's long since been able to set that aside to preserve what they have.
They mingle and chat to all sorts of people that Barry kind of knows. Corporate life really is quite different than academic life. There's so many people on the outskirts that he knows of, but probably couldn't pick them out in a crowd.
One person he does know, however, is his supervisor, Craig. He's a burly guy, looks like he'd be an asshole, but is actually quite cool. When he sees Barry, he grins widely. “Barry!” He shakes his hand firmly, “congratulations! Well deserved.”
“Thank you. There was certainly a lot of work that went into getting here.”
He spots Lup at Barry's side and his eyebrows raise. “And this must be your lovely wife.”
Barry's whole body goes stiff. “Uh-”
But Craig's already reaching to shake Lup's hand, “it's a pleasure to finally meet you…”
She takes his hand. “Lup Taaco.”
“Lup, that's right.” He taps his temple, “I knew it started with an L, but this ol’ noggin lost the rest of it. I've heard so much about you.”
“Have you now?” She side-eyes Barry.
Sure, he's talked about her a lot. There's a lot to say about Lup. They've got over 30 years of friendship under their belts. He didn't know Craig assumed they were married.
“Oh, yes,” Craig says, “I've heard all about you two meeting as children and going through school, and college, and adult life.” He puts a hand to his chest. “Such a sweet love story.”
Lup links her arm with Barry's again. “I think so, too. Barry's truly my first and only love.”
“Why don't we go sit down!” Barry says, a little too loudly.
“Great idea, babe. I can't be standing around in these heels all night.”
Lup's called him babe before. That's normal. She calls everyone babe. He's totally not overthinking it after she called him her first and only love. He's especially not overthinking it because that's exactly how he feels about her.
He's all good.
Craig escorts them to their table, and Corporate Dinner Banquet drags on. Barry's able to get himself back to some semblance of a normal demeanor. Eventually, it comes time for the award presentation and his speech. Lup has a hand on his back for as long as she can as he stands and walks away. He makes his way on stage and takes the dumb little plaque with his name on it, and stands at the podium and makes his boring speech no one wants to hear. Near the end, the light bouncing off the sparkles of Lup's dress catch his eye.
“And… there's one more person I'd like to thank. Lup,” What's he doing? Is he dumb? Maybe, but this is the most genuine thing he'll say all night. He looks right at her, not caring about the rest of the room, “you're my best friend, have been for most of my life. You've been there for everything. My highest highs and lowest lows. I never would've gotten this far without you, and I hope we can spend the rest of our lives facing the world together.” He hesitates, but makes the leap, “I love you.”
She blows him a kiss as the room applauds. He gets off stage as fast as he can while still looking normal. When he sits down, she presses a kiss to his cheek. “That was so sweet, I didn't know you were going to do that.”
He laughs nervously. “Me neither.”
An hour later, they're in the car heading home. It's quiet, just the sounds of the road and the radio on low keeping them company. At a red light, Barry drums on the steering wheel. “Lup?”
“Mhm?”
“Why didn't you correct Craig when he called you my wife?”
He can see her look over at him in his periphery. “Why didn't you?”
“I froze up. I didn't realise he'd made that assumption. And then you played along, so then it'd be weird if I didn't.”
Lup hums. “Well, for one thing, we've been claiming each other as common law spouses ever since we'd been living together long enough to do so. It was easier to play along. Besides,” she reaches over and guides one of his hands off the wheel, linking their fingers together, “nothing I said was untrue.”
He takes a shaky breath and squeezes her hand, “even the part about… being your first and only love?”
“Especially that part,” she says softly.
He's silent as they drive down the darkened city streets. He can feel her eyes on him and her hand slots perfectly into his own. He wants to kiss her so badly. But. Driving. “God, I wish I'd waited until we got home to do this.”
Lup laughs and kisses his hand. “We're almost there, then I can kiss your brains out.”
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Puzzles Can Be Fun
pairing: boss!Tony Stark x employee!malereader
summary: Your boss Tony is a flirt. everyone knows that. but what about when he asks you out?
a/n: I had like no inspiration forever but then this piece of shit came into my brainnnn. hope you enjoy :)
-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-
Working for Tony Stark is a pain and pleasure at the same time.
The billionaire can never fail to make you laugh, but he also never fails to give you a headache.
You've worked for him for a few years since your older sister Pepper didn't get the job and she instead recommended you, her younger brother.
Tony is a great man, but he's quite flirty. He leaves you gifts on your desk daily, uses terrible pick up lines as he leans against your doorframe every afternoon. He’s never truly asked you out on a date, and if that wasn’t proof that he’s kidding, the models he takes home every night are. He barely looks your way as he leads them out of his office and to his fancy cars. But that’s okay. You can’t be upset over losing something that was never really yours.
Today is no different. You arrive a little bit later than usual, a permanent blush coating your cheeks after being hit on by the hot barista when you were getting Tony's morning coffee. You knock on your bosses door but don’t wait for a “come in” before walking in. It’s a struggle with the drink carrier in one hand and folders in the other. He’s sitting at a table covered in gadgets that you couldn’t name if your life depended on it, and he drops the screwdriver he’s holding to turn around and grin at you. “Hey handsome! How is my favorite employee this fine morning?” He says, standing up to grab some of the folders for you. “What do you want Tony? You’re being suspiciously nice.” You say. He fake gasps, holding a hand up to his chest as if your words hurt him.
You roll your eyes, setting down his coffee near his work station and sit in the chair he keeps near his, specifically for when you have no work to do and want to watch him work. He sits down next to you. He picks up the screwdriver again and goes back to working on one of the iron man suit hands. “I want to know if you’d come with me to a gala tomorrow? I don’t know if I’ll survive the night without you.” You’re barely paying attention as you begin filling out some forms in the files you brought in. “I work tomorrow. I have loads of paperwork to do.” “I’m your boss though.” “And boss, you scheduled for me to work 6 days a week. Tomorrow is one of those days.” “Okay then brainiac, as your boss, I’m giving you the duty of coming with me to an event tomorrow night.”
You sigh, looking up from the legal document and focusing on him. “Fine. What do you want me to wear?” You give in. He grins. “Something fancy. Other than that, I leave it up to you. You have great style.”
It’s silent for a few minutes as you both continue on your work.
“What’s this?” You hum, looking up when he doesn’t say anything. He’s glaring at his coffee cup like it just insulted him. “It’s your usual. A black coffee with two extra shots of espresso, vanilla creamer and an unhealthy and disgusting amount of sugar. Why? Is something wrong with it?” He shakes his head and then turns the cup a bit so you can see the words written on the side of it. There are a few numbers written on it. A phone number with the note:
Hope you enjoy the coffee pretty boy
Call me :)
The blush is back on your face, and you shake your head as you try to focus back on the paperwork in front of you. “The barista that works at the cafe down the road was flirting with me I think. I didn’t know if he was serious but I uh…I guess he was.” You shrug.
Tony instantly throws the to-go cup in the trashcan next to his table. “What the hell Tony? That was a perfectly good cup of coffee. He probably just didn’t know which cup was mine.” You say, but Tony doesn’t respond as he goes back to work like nothing happened.
You huff, standing up and looking into the trash can. It landed the perfect way, and you can still see the number on the cup. You put it in a contact on your phone.
“What? It’s not like you're gonna go out with him right?” Tony asks, his eyes not moving from his work. You sigh, sending a quick hello to the barista and grab the files off the table. It’s time to go back to your own desk.
“I don’t know. But the least I could do if I'm not going to is send him a quick message. I don’t wanna seem rude. Why does it matter to you?” He shrugs, not meeting your eyes. “It doesn’t sweetheart. Why don’t you go make me a coffee? I know yours are always made with love unlike that asshole. I bet his coffee was made with poison.” You scoff, rolling your eyes as you begin walking out of the office. You’re not Tony Stark's “sweetheart”.
A few hours later, you're sitting at your desk when Tony exits his office. He smiles at you, but you're still quite salty over the events this morning. He doesn’t say anything about it if he notices.
“So sweetheart, what are you doing tonight?” You groan, spinning around to look at the wall of hung up important reminders for you and simultaneously avoid looking at him. “Why do you wanna know Mr. Stark?”
He shrugs, looking at the dying flowers on your desk. “Do you need new flowers?” “Yes I do actually. The ones you got me are dying so I'm going to buy some more soon.” “Hm….interesting. Anyway, you never answered my question.” “That’s because I asked my own Mr. Stark.” He huffs.
“I want to take you out to dinner. Tonight.” His words take a moment to register in your head and then you're laughing. You’ve heard those words from Tony many times, but never once have they been uttered to you. His classic smirk drops a bit, but he begins to chuckle along with you. “W-why are we laughing? I mean….if you’re busy we can go another day.” You’re beginning to think he’s serious.
“That’s very funny Tony. Have a good night. I’ll see you tomorrow.” “I’m not kidding sweetheart.” You freeze, pretending to be focused on the work in front of you as you mow over his sentence. He’s silent, patiently- not really as he can never be patient- waiting for your reply.
“I can’t go out with you Tony.” His smile drops. “What? Why?” He asks. “Because you're my boss. I don’t know all the rules but I know that's pretty bad.” He sighs, leaning on your desk in a way that makes it hard to say no.
“But I’m your boss. I make the rules.” He says and you chuckle. “I’m sorry Tony. My answer is no. Now, if you don’t need anything else today, I’m going to go home and do puzzles while I watch TV and dinner.”
You’re packing up your stuff, and in a last bit of hope he rushes out, “I like puzzles! I would love to come over and help you with them. Thank you for the invite sweetheart.” You stop what you’re doing and look at him. “You can’t sit still for more than two minutes and the only puzzles you like involve mechanics. And also, I didn’t invite you.” You deadpan, and he mocks offensive. “You clearly don’t know me at all! I love puzzles. And dinner. I like dinner. So, what do you say? I’ll swing by at six and bring chinese from that place you like?”
You take a moment to stare at him before you huff, nodding and trying not to smile at the grin that forms on his face. He nods and then speeds off to his office, leaving you alone to roll your eyes at his antics. Tony Stark is an annoying man, that's for sure. But you gotta give it to him, he’s pretty convincing.
Later that night, now in sweats and a t-shirt, you grab a three thousand piece puzzle from your closet. You have bigger ones, but you know Tony will quickly become bored and stressed with even a 100 piece one.
There's a knock on the door, and you find yourself checking your hair in the glass of a photo hanging in your hallway. You open the door, and Tony's standing there. He's wearing the same clothes as earlier, black jeans and a t-shirt, but he looks as good as always.
He smiles his classic charming smile, holding up the fruit box filled with take out containers. in his other hand is a bouquet of flowers, a different type then the kind he got you last time. He notices your wide eyes at the gift and mumbles, “For your desk.”
You find yourself smiling a bit, taking the bouquet from him and smiling. “Thank you Tony. Come in.”
He follows you into your home, setting the food on the kitchen counter and looking at the puzzle spread out on your living room table. “That's…..a lot of pieces.”
You chuckle. “I'm not finishing it today. Don't panic. I’m not gonna torture you to much.” You say.
You grab some silverware and go to the living room, grabbing a random container of food along the way. Tony follows, sitting dangerously close to you. “So, what's it gonna look like when it's done?” You can practically feel his breath on your neck as he speaks, making you lightly shiver and show him the box.
It's a picture of what looks like a thousand butterflies, and he shouldn't be surprised with the knowledge that you draw butterflies flying on his arms during every single meeting.
You start building the border, watching with a small smile as Tony separates them by pieces with pictures on them and pieces with no pictures, just color.
About 30 minutes later, Tony's rambling on about some movie he watched recently. He seems to have forgot the main task at hand. But that's okay, you already have most of the border done.
He suddenly stops talking, sitting up from his lying position and looking at the puzzle again. “I got this.” He starts grabbing random border pieces and connecting the ones that connect. Your phone starts buzzing, the baristas contact showing up. You decline his call, not missing the way Tony clenches and unclenches his jaw.
Another 10 minutes later, you can tell he's becoming agitated. You place a gentle hand over one of his. “Its just a puzzle Tony. Take a deep breath and control your anger.” He chuckles and rolls his eyes, but does it anyway.
“I’m not mad, I'm just……94.27 percent annoyed. Not at you though, sweetheart.” He says and you laugh.
He sets down the pieces, going back to lying down and you ask, “You knew you'd hate this. Why are you really here Tony?”
He sighs, still looking at the ceiling as he admits, “I want to get closer to you. If I do, maybe you'll consider going out with me.” This brings a small chuckle out of you. “I told you I can't go out with you Tony. Even if we get closer.” You say, not looking up from the puzzle as you do.
He nods, and you think he's dropped the subject until he sits up to look at you. His brown eyes are staring at yours, making you slightly nervous. Not in a bad way though? This is confusing.
“Look at me sweetheart. Look me in the eyes and tell me you don't feel the same way.” Your eyes widen, and a smirk makes its way onto his face when you blush. “Well…I….I can't exactly say that I don't…” He grins, and your instantly being lifted off the couch and into his arms.
He grabs you like your nothing, and then practically slams you into the wall and begins kissing you like his life depends on it. And lets set the record straight, it was the best wall make out of all time.
His hands start traveling, and your instantly snapped back into reality. You gently push him off of you, but his erratic breathing and blown pupils are making what you're about to say so much harder. “I don't want to be one of your one night stands Tony. I've wanted this for a really long time but I won't do it if things are going to go back to the way they were before tomorrow morning.” He takes a moment to collect himself before he mumbles against your lips, “It won't be. I'm yours alright? And I'm hoping you'll be mine. We can take this as slow as you want. And also I'd really love it if you'd never talk to that barista ever again unless you're ordering my coffee. And if he does it again, I'll buy the cafe. Let's see him flirt on the clock again.”
You laugh, giving him a quick kiss before leaning to the side to whisper in his ear, “Your mine? You promise?” “I promise.” “Then I'm yours. All of me.” The look in your eyes is all the confirmation he needs and suddenly you're being thrown over his shoulder.
Your laughter fills the apartment as he carry you down the hallway and to your room, the puzzles long forgotten.
#tony stark x you#marvel x reader#marvel x you#fluff#tony stark x reader#tony stark#iron man#iron man x reader#iron man x you
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Rock Hudson and Jane Wyman in All That Heaven Allows (Douglas Sirk, 1955)
Cast: Jane Wyman, Rock Hudson, Agnes Moorehead, Gloria Talbott, William Reynolds, Conrad Nagel, Charles Drake, Virginia Grey, Jacqueline deWit, Donald Curtis, Merry Anders. Screenplay: Peg Fenwick, based on a story by Edna L. Lee and Harry Lee. Cinematography: Russell Metty. Art direction: Alexander Golitzen, Eric Orbom. Music: Frank Skinner.
Pauline Kael called All That Heaven Allows "trashy," and others have called it "campy," but the ongoing reevaluation of the work of its director, Douglas Sirk, has delivered a new respect for the film, leading to, among other things, its selection in 1995 for inclusion in the Library of Congress's National Film Registry. Some would still call it a triumph of form over content, because no one today seriously questions Sirk's brilliant exploitation of the technical resources available to him, specifically his unusually expressive work, in collaboration with cinematographer Russell Metty, in Technicolor, a proprietary medium whose proprietors had rigidly fixed ideas about what could be done with it. Sirk called on Metty for, among other things, more shadows and more use of reflections than were conventional in Technicolor. See, for example, the near-silhouetted figures of Rock Hudson and Jane Wyman in the still above, with its subtle backlighting. And notice how the television set that's an unwelcome gift to Wyman's Cary Scott from her children is used in the scenes in which it appears: It's never turned on, but instead its blank screen reflects Cary's face, almost as if the set is a cage in which she's trapped. In another scene, it reflects the flames in the fireplace, becoming a little bit of hell. But that symbolic use of the TV set also suggests why we ought to take All That Heaven Allows more seriously for its content, as filmmakers like Rainer Werner Fassbinder and Todd Haynes have done by echoing it in their films. Because ATHA is the epitome of the "woman's picture" as ironic commentary on what women experienced in the 1950s. For all her masculine name, Cary undergoes a constant reminder of her vulnerability as a woman: She is nearly raped by the drunken Howard Hoffer (Donald Curtis). At or near 40 (Wyman was 38), she is thought by her children to be beyond remarrying for love or even sex: Hence their tolerance of a proposal from the asexual or possibly closeted Harvey (Conrad Nagel), who admits he can't offer her much beyond "companionship." The television set is pushed on her by everyone who thinks it will provide relief from loneliness. The children only come round to something like acceptance of their mother's independence after she has broken off the engagement to the handsome, virile (and younger) Ron Kirby (Hudson), and they have started new lives of their own: The daughter is getting married and the son is going off to work in Iran -- a reflection of different times. No wonder Cary suffers psychosomatic headaches. I admit to having problems with the film's ending, in which she seemingly finds fulfillment only by devoting herself to nursing the now-vulnerable Ron back to health, as if a woman can only be useful by serving a man. But Sirk himself had problems with that ending, which was imposed on him by the producer, Ross Hunter. Sirk wanted more ambiguity about whether Ron would live or die. All That Heaven Allows was ignored by the Academy, though Metty's cinematography certainly deserved notice -- it was probably judged a little too unconventional by his peers -- as did Frank Skinner's score, with its effective use of quotations from Liszt and Brahms and its resistance to melodramatic overstatement.
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6 and 19 from the ask game thingie for aila and alistair? <3
THANKYOU FOR THA ASKS ! <3
6. When did they realize they loved each other?
SOBS !!! Alistair sustains that he loved her the whole time but Aila calls bullshit and always tries to get him to tell her when it happened exactly. He did say one time that he hadnt realized it until after they went to redcliffe. He told her he was a royal bastard and she still liked him, she barely gave a shit in fact. she even went out of her way to protect Arl Eamond and his family, though she had a blatant dislike for them. Once all that was over and he got back to camp his brain would not leave him alone and just kept replaying their interactions together and it was like he got punched in the face. He knew he liked her but thats when he was like oh maker im so SCREWED! According to Aila it happened to her around the same time. Heres this guy that she thinks is handsome and funny, oh whatever might as well flirt and enjoy his company while we go through hell together, its not serious. But then they just have the best chemistry and begin to develop something more, which she has literally never experienced as circle mages tend not to risk love. Still shes lying to herself like “hah i totally could stop if i wanted to.”
And then they went to redcliffe and she continues lying to herself like “yeah sure i could do this an easier way but that would be dumb haha, going back to the circle is much smarter haha..” so then she returns to the circle relives some trauma, and oh yeah kills a specific abusive templar who was being attacked by demons in front of everyone and then doesn’t let anyone ask about it. ANYWAY she gets a little unhinged during the circle quest, but she realizes he still sees her the same way. Hes not scared of her, he doesnt think shes cruel, he still looks at her adoringly, and then he gives her the rose and its all over for her. Thats when shes like oh no… i love him.
19. How do they deal with being away from each other for a long time?
Its very hard for them, but they have to be apart so often now that theyre use to it. Ive mentioned this many a time but they both wear their wedding rings on their wardens oaths and it like their own little connection to eachother. They write letters constantly even if they arent able to send them they just save them up to send next time they can. Aila usually sends some kind of pressed flower or leaves and gives him a little information about what it represents and its uses, like :
“This is embrium also known as Salubrious Embrium, though im never going to bother remembering that. im sure you recognize it as we had to drudge through miles and miles of wilderness many times together. The smell of these little beauties apparently cured some Orlesian lords daughters illness. The healers must of felt right stupid. I hope you can still smell it as it is a lovely smell. I think of you too often, such a headache. Let me know what you think of these when you write back so I can add it to my notes. Love, your beautiful charming Wife.”
He honestly has a more difficult time than her, she misses him dearly but has always been more comfortable in solitude so its easier for her to distract herself. He saves all of her letters and rereads them often, always replying as soon as he possibly can. He tends to be occupied by worries of her safety, he knows she can take care of herself, he knows it well. BUT he also knows that she tends to put herself in danger OFTEN and sometimes his brain just becomes an anxious mess. His worries are always resolved with one of her letters telling him to “relax his pretty head” and that she will be safe for him.
#I FEEL LIKE I ALWAYS RIGHT TOO MUCH !!!! but i cant help it i love them#alistair#aila amell#ailistair#ask games#otp asks
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Why do you use << instead of " ? Is it a style thing?
Hi Anon :) I already answered a very similar ask a while ago, so don't mind if I copypaste part of it.
The punctuation style I use is « » as opposed to << (yeah they look almost the same but not to my fussy ass apparently).
I suppose I got used to writing with those ever since being a kid, and if I think about it, I'm comfortable using " " for other things, like emphasis on certain words, for example:
«What do you mean "red"?»
Or
He didn't want to go to any of those "family gatherings", they gave him a headache.
I also use the inverted commas when I want to indicate that characters are speaking in the past, and the POV is thinking about their words in the present. Or I use them for characters who sign (I've been using " " a lot with Joseph, and the difference between " " and « » helps visually when Joey either signs or speaks through people's earpieces).
More generally, dialogues in narrative have a lot of very specific rules regarding punctuation marks, and to be honest I've never vibed with them. You'll find a lot of different people telling you that You Must Write Dialogues This Or That Way, but I'm of the opinion that if the way one writes dialogues is easy to follow & works with the pace/vibe desired for a specific story, then all the pompous rules can go out the window ♥ (especially if you're writing for yourself and it's a self indulgent thing, and if you're publishing with an editor they will change the dialogue style according to their preferred print method so it's useless to stress about it, they'll change it anyway)
Just to make an example, I've read books with this kind of dialogue style:
He said: « Don't. » And she didn't listen. « I will do as I see fit. » She argued instead.
With the space between a caporal and a word. Which is in complete disagreement with everything the "rulebook for dialogues" will tell you, but I see nothing wrong with it, it just gives a very specific, surreal pacing to the story ("Der Spiegel Im Spiegel" by Michael Ende is written in that way to name one).
So I guess we could call it a style thing, or we could say that I'm the punctuation anarchist lmao. Whichever you prefer. Stay handsome!
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*murmurs Spanish niceties that don’t sound as good in English but I swear I’m being affectionate*
#specifically she called him handsome. and also a headache#but out of love I promise#look I’m a simple Mexican artist- I wanna add a little bit of Spanish ✨ into everything I do#I do it in rl anyway even to those who don’t speak it lolol#sketchysart#fanart#jatp fanart#jatp#luke jatp#jatp reggie#jatp alex#luke patterson#reggie peters#alex mercer#julie molina#julie and the phantoms#comic
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"I'll Always Be There" ~ S. Winchester (requested)
Summary: When Y/N gets hit on during a night out at the bar, she'd never expect it to end with Sam in a bar fight. She also never expected it to end with a love confession.
Pairing: Sam Winchester x Fem!Reader
Word Count: 2,493
Content Warning: an almost sexual assault (?), swearing, physical altercation, sexual references/humor, alcohol consumption
Genre: Angst to Fluff, Friends to Lovers
Extra Notes: this isn't completely canon to Sam but i wrote it this way anyway hehehe
Based On the Request: "I was thinking that reader is a hunter with the boys and on one night out at a bar or something a man won’t leave her alone and Sam comes and saves her (cheesy I know lol) and after that he admits his feelings for her. Or something like that :)"
Features the One-Liner: "I will always be there to protect you."
Takes Place: soon after John dies but not specifically clarified
Originally Written: 01/31/2022
Supernatural masterlist can be found here!
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"That was a rough one," I commented as Dean, Sam, and I climbed into the Impala.
"You're telling me," Sam scoffed. "I've never seen a Tulpa that hard to get rid of."
"What do you guys say we hit up a local bar? I'm itching for a Jack and Coke," Dean added as he started the car.
"I'm down," I replied.
Sam simply nodded as Dean began to drive off, turning the radio on. "Ooh, Aerosmith."
Sam groaned under his breath, which only made Dean turn the radio up even louder.
"Dream on, dream on!" Dean shouted at the top of his lungs.
"Dream until your dreams come true!" I sang along with Dean.
"Why do I even hang out with you two?" Sam asked, pinching the bridge of his nose.
"Him, you got stuck with. Me, because you love me, Sammy," I joked, ruffling his ever-growing hair beneath my hand.
"Don't call me Sammy."
☆☆☆
Soon enough, we'd found ourselves at a local bar. I was sitting at the bar, sipping on a Whiskey Sour, Dean was playing darts and occasionally coming over to get a couple of shots of various alcohols, and Sam was sitting at a table near Dean, doing nerdy things on his computer.
"Well, aren't you pretty?" I heard a deep voice say. It was an attractive voice. It almost sounded like Dean when he first spoke.
I turned my head to be met with the sight of a somewhat attractive man. He was the stereotypical kind of attractive: tall, dark, and handsome.
"I'll have an Amaretto Sour," he told the bartender. This definitely wasn't something Dean would've done. In fact, he probably would've laughed this man to scorn for ordering what he'd considered the girliest drink on the menu. "Oh, and get another drink for this lady," he instructed, gesturing to me. That's how I knew it wasn't Dean. Unless we'd made some sort of bet, Dean would've never paid for my drinks.
Sam on the other hand, would've paid for every drink I wanted if I'd allowed him to. There were a couple instances where I'd even thought about taking him up on it, just to see how many drinks he'd buy before cutting me off. I'd decided against it though, knowing that the headache the next day would not be worth it.
"Oh, no, really, I'm fine," I protested, a little stunned by his behavior. He was straddling the line between being polite and being creepy, and I didn't like it.
"My name's Marco," he said, sitting down on the stool next to mine.
"Hi," I replied, avoiding eye contact. I also avoided telling him my name, just in case he was creepy.
"Aren't you gonna tell me your name?" Yep, he was creepy.
"I-I don't really feel comfortable sharing my name with you."
His hand trailed up to my hair, pushing some hair behind my ear. "Nonsense, you can trust me."
"You know, I really don't think that I can," I replied frankly.
"Why not?"
"I don't even know you and you come over here and buy me a drink, and you call me pretty, and you run your fingers through my hair without even letting me give you the OK," I told him, practically shouting by this point.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," he told me. "How about I make it up to you? Why don't I buy you a snack or something to go with that drink? What would you like?"
"Nothing. You can keep your crappy bar food and your drink," I retaliated, standing up from my stool. "I'm leaving."
Suddenly, there was a tight grip around my wrist, so tight that I wondered if it would leave a bruise tomorrow.
"You're not going anywhere."
I attempted to wiggle out of his grip, but it was no use. He was just that strong.
It was then that he unexpectedly kissed me, right on the lips. Immediately, I pulled away, attempting to slap him with my opposite hand, but he caught it before it reached his face.
"What's the matter, gorgeous? I wanna buy you a drink. The least you could do is stay and drink it."
"No, I don't want to!" I whined, still trying to get out of his grasp.
"Well, you're going to."
It was then that I heard the most comforting thing I'd ever heard. "She said no," Sam said loudly, suddenly appearing beside me and helping me out of Marco's grasp.
"Or what? What are you gonna do about it, Beanpole?"
"I'll smash your face into that bar if you lay another fingernail on her."
I had to admit, this was a side of Sam I'd never seen. I'd never seen him so jealous, so protective, especially over me.
"What the hell is your problem?" Marco asked, his voice laced with annoyance. As if he wasn't being the annoyance right now.
"Right now, it's you, you ugly ass-"
BAM!
Marco knocked Sam to the floor, ramming his fist into Sam's nose once more. With a punch like that, I was sure Sam would have a broken nose.
"Sam!" I shrieked, not sure what to do next.
Sam attempted to shove Marco off of him, but Marco had control over Sam, so this time, he slammed his hand into Sam's gut. I could tell by the look on Sam's face that he was queasy when Marco did that.
I wasn't sure how, but after a few more throws from Marco, Sam had somehow gained dominance over Marco, Sam's hand colliding into his face.
"Sammy!" Dean yelled, attempting to pull Sam off of Marco. It was no use though. Sam was too heavy for Dean to pull off of him, and Sam wasn't done fighting just yet.
Sam's elbow rammed into Marco's stomach, not once, not twice, but three times in a row.
"Sam, you're gonna break his rib!" I screamed, knowing that if this continued on much longer, Dean and I would most likely find ourselves trying to bail Sam out of jail later that night.
After throwing a couple more punches, so many punches to the point where I wasn't even sure Marco was still conscious, Sam leaned over him. He spat in his eye before growling, "Don't you ever touch another woman again."
☆☆☆
"What the hell were you thinking?" Dean asked on the car ride to the motel.
"Dean," I said, attempting to stop him from the tangent he was about to go off on.
Sam stayed silent, simply giving his older brother a death glare.
"Well, you got in your first bar fight, Sam. How do you feel? Are you officially a man now?" Dean asked mockingly.
Sam looked at the floor, leaning into me even more, if that was possible.
I ran my hand over Sam's hair, in hopes of somehow calming him. I knew he was in for a rough night, so I was considering this car ride the (somewhat) calm before the storm.
"Sam, you do understand you could go to jail for that? Hell, you probably will go to jail for it if they find out where we're staying."
Sam groaned loudly, rolling his eyes. "And you'll find some way to get me out because you know you can't do this job on your own."
"Sammy, not this time. I hate to say it, but whatever this little crisis you're going through is, it has to stop. It might do you some good to get away from all this, even if that does mean spending time in the slammer."
"Dean, can we please just ride in silence until we get back to the motel?" I asked softly.
Dean rolled his eyes reluctantly, but stayed silent the rest of the way to our motel. I breathed a heavy sigh in response, wishing that I could teleport to our motel room.
☆☆☆
"What were you thinking?" I asked Sam as I continued to clean up his scratches and bruises.
"I don't know, maybe that I didn't want you to get assaulted," Sam replied.
"Sam, I would've been fi-"
"No, you wouldn't," he scoffed. "You couldn't even loosen his grip. If I hadn't saved your ass, you'd probably be knocked out in an alleyway somewhere."
"What's gotten into you?"
"What?" he asked, like he was confused about what I had reference to.
"Look, Sam, I understand you're going through a lot right now with your dad dy-"
"This has nothing to do with that. I'm glad he's gone."
"Sam, I don't know who you are anymore," I exhaled. "You're always in a bad mood, you make stupid decisions like you did tonight-"
"So it was stupid to save you from getting raped?"
"No, it's just… I just… I don't understand what's wrong, Sam. And you refuse to tell me so I can't help you. I just want to know what's wrong."
It was then that Sam began crying, almost silently. He attempted to wipe his cheeks, but winced at the pain from the bruises on his fingers.
I raised my hands to his cheeks, moving his hands as delicately as I could before wiping the tears myself. "Please talk to me."
He swallowed before sighing, a few more tears falling as he did so. "I can't do this anymore."
"What do you mean?"
"I can't keep pretending I'm OK. As much as I hated my dad, I miss him. And I miss when me and Dean were finally getting closer. Ever since he died, we've been distant."
"It's OK, Sam. It's OK to feel this way. I just wish you hadn't taken it out on some dude in a bar… even if he was an ass," I giggled during the last part of my statement.
He let out a soft chuckle, and I knew things would be alright. I knew as soon as he got things off his chest, he'd be OK.
"Hey, thank you. For protecting me," I said.
"I'm always gonna be there to protect you."
He took one of my hands in both of his, just holding it for a moment. I lifted his hands with my opposite hand, softly kissing his knuckles where some bruises were forming.
I knew what he meant by his statement. He didn't explicitly say it, but I knew what it meant. "I love you," was what he was trying to convey.
I loved Sam too, though I didn't know quite how to tell him that. I always had this feeling in the pit of my stomach that if I ever told him, things would end badly. Maybe they wouldn't let me hunt with them anymore. Maybe I'd still be able to hunt with them but things wouldn't be the same. But the worst part was maybe he'd hate me.
"Thank you," I spoke softly, kissing his knuckles once more.
"It's nothing," he whispered with a chuckle. "Like you said, Dean, I'm stuck with. But you… God, I love you."
We sat in silence for a moment, not saying anything and just enjoying each other's company. I couldn't lie, I wanted to kiss him. Or rather, I'd wanted him to kiss me.
I wasn't sure what to do next. On one hand, we'd just confessed our love to each other. On the other hand, I wasn't quite sure I'd cleaned up all of his bruises.
"Are you two gonna kiss or something?" Dean asked, breaking both of us from… whatever that was happening between us.
I opted for a scream, seeing as I didn't know he'd even walked back in the room. Sam opted for shouting, "What the hell?!" I assumed he didn't realize Dean was back either.
Dean let out a low chuckle as he placed a bag down on the table. "Got you your favorite cereal, even if you did almost get arrested tonight."
"I got out of there before the cops showed up. Plus, it was his own fault. Freakin' douchebag didn't know how to think with his upstairs brain," Sam replied, grumbling the last sentence under his breath.
As Dean began unpacking everything in the grocery bag, Sam and I continued to sit there in silence. This silence was more of an awkward silence than the previous one, which had been a more comfortable silence.
After about thirty seconds, Dean commented, "I meant what I said."
"What?" Sam asked.
"About kissing her. That would've been the perfect moment."
"Shut up," Sam complained, throwing the roll of gauze at the back of Dean's head.
Dean just chuckled, "It's not my fault you don't know how to act around women. You should've seen the way she was looking at you."
"I was not looking at him in any specific way," I argued.
"Yeah, right," he argued. "You would've taken him right there if you knew I wasn't supposed to get back soon."
I scoffed in response, turning back to Sam, who was now face-palming at his brother's statement.
"Hey, I'm gonna go for a drive. Just, um…" Dean stopped for a moment pulling a… package, we'll call it… out of his pocket, "Remember to wrap it before you tap it."
Before Dean could even take another step, Sam stopped him by saying, "Dean, you are hammered out of your mind right now. If the store wasn't within walking distance, I wouldn't have even let you leave then. You are not driving anywhere."
"How can I be hammered out of my mind right now? I got like, four shots in before you decided to imitate The Rock and give that dude the People's Elbow."
"OK, first of all, he technically started it," Sam rebutted, "Second of all, that's still slightly intoxicated even for you. You are not driving anywhere."
"Ugh, fine," Dean pouted. "I'm gonna go take a shower. But you both better be fully clothed when I get back."
Sam and I both just stared at the floor, avoiding eye contact with both Dean and each other. Dean grabbed some clothes from his bag before heading to the bathroom.
Once I heard the water running, I looked back up at Sam, who was still avoiding eye contact with me.
I lifted his face to look at me, a smile tugging at my lips. "He was right."
"What?"
"You should've kissed me."
He gave me a smirk before saying, "Alright, how 'bout this? I kiss you now while he's not here to interrupt?"
"Deal."
The moment our lips touched, I knew it wouldn't be the last time. All my worries and insecurities from before had vanished. I knew this was right. And I could tell by the way he kissed me, he believed so too.
Suddenly, the bathroom door opened. Sam and I awkwardly pulled away, once again avoiding eye contact.
"I forgot my socks," Dean said, somehow making even that sound sexual. As he headed back to the bathroom, he shouted, "Don't forget to wrap it!" before closing the door.
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Aaahh, yet another requested one!! This one was another anonymous one but, whoever requested this, I hope you enjoyed!! I hope it lived up to your expectations! I really enjoyed writing this one, Sam angst is always fun to write so thanks for your request!
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spilt tea
dark alley help part 10
part 9: care
word count: 2.8k
》 ignored kink, cunnilingus, oral sex in office
- ✿ -
You sat on the desk in your office cabin while Cindy watched you hold the pile of documents. Your eyes scanned over the lengths of the legal sized papers that contained detailed information on the clients and their wishful properties. Flipping through them and resting the reviewed next to you, your heart froze when coming across the name of one particular client.
Facing the paper her way, you asked, "Him? He's our client?"
Cindy squinted her eyes to read the inked name and nodded. "Yes, it's your fiancé. He's been our loyal client for a long time."
You groaned at the unofficial title. "He's not my fiancé. Never was." That made sense as to how your mother found him and why she really liked him. "Doesn't he have a gazillion properties? Why does he need more?"
"He mentioned that this one was for... a reunion, I believe. It's a new property under construction and will be underway for closing soon."
Your head pounded painfully and your fingers went up to relieve it in circles. Raymond was purchasing a property just for a reunion instead of holding the event at one of his currently owned hotels. That guy was just flexing his money through property ownerships. "Whatever," you mumbled and took a quick glance at the company name that was responsible for the construction. Then, your eyes immediately fixed on where it was located.
It was the block where Taeyong mentioned that he was working at. You hadn't seen the structure yet, and now you were overjoyed to.
"Oh my God," you muttered and hopped off the table, your hand flying to your mouth in utter shock before your shoulders shook and a loud sinister laugh escaped from you.
Cindy watched you in concern as you jumped gleefully in your spot. "Um, Y/N, are you okay?"
While you weren't hundred percent positive for what his reaction was going to be, you couldn't wait to rub it in Raymond's face that he had purchased something where Taeyong had contributed to building. You waved Cindy off with an ecstatic smile. "Yeah, don't worry. I was just thinking about something."
She stared at you for a moment longer before letting it go.
Shortly, a knock on the door was heard, followed by a head popping in. "Can I come in? I have your tea," Chris smiled, shaking an acrylic tumbler with iced tea. "This should help with your headache and slight nausea."
"Thanks a lot. Of course, come in," you waved him in.
He nodded and strode over to you. You retrieved the drink and took a long sip of the tea, humming happily. "Perfect."
"Hope it helps. Also, there's someone waiting for you outside."
"Really? Who?" Your lips connected with the straw and sucked in another long sip.
His brows furrowed as he tried to recall the name. "I think his name is... Taeyong?"
You spurted out your tea in surprise that he came to your workplace in the middle of the day and set the tumbler down on the desk. "It's Taeyong? Bring him in!"
Chris nodded and went to fetch for your man while Cindy eyed you curiously.
Chris stepped into the main area where Taeyong stood by the desks, more specifically by Shannon's desk who wordlessly stared at him. "Hey man, come on in!"
Taeyong straightened his back and cleared his throat, avoiding the gaze of the young woman drilling a hole in his head. Her gaze remained on his retreating figure with a slight frown creasing her forehead.
Your colleague reappeared with the man that you were looking forward to trailing behind. Taeyong smiled subtly as you jogged over to him with a bright smile.
"Baby," you chirped and wrapped your arms around him. He faintly chuckled and held you close, pecking your forehead. You turned around in his arms and found Cindy's jaw hanging low and Chris whistling in amusement. "He's Taeyong, my fiancé-to-be," you introduced him, mainly for Cindy. Taeyong was stunned by the unexpected title but happily accepted it, wanting nothing more than to be bonded with you in the utmost ways possible.
Chris quirked an intrigued brow. "Now that's some real tea right there. Have fun now," he said and with a salute, he walked out the cabin.
Cindy closed her mouth and reminded you of an important task. "Mr. Riley is expecting a call in..." She glanced at her watch. "... about a few minutes. Should I stay here to help you?"
You shook your head. "It's pretty straight forward so I'll be fine. Thanks though."
She nodded and headed to exit the cabin, closing the door behind her to give you privacy.
You pulled away from Taeyong and asked, "I love seeing you here, but how? Don't you have work?"
He pointed to the window in your office. As if on cue, the light droplets shifted to pouring rain outside. "It started onsite, so we had to stop working. Thought I'd come here and see how you're doing."
You hummed. "Good thinking. But I have work to do, so no funny business," you warned with narrowed eyes.
He exhaled out of his nose and nodded, seeming disinterested by your words as he shuffled his feet towards your desk and hopped on. His eyes landed on your tea and picked it up, taking a huge sip and frowned at the bitter taste before setting it back down. Taeyong then scanned his eyes around the cabin, making observations of how clean and polished the walls were with modern design.
You arched an eyebrow at him to which he didn't catch. Was he really going to sit there and not do anything? Good for you. You strolled over to pick up your client's portfolio and cell phone from the desk. "I have an important call to make. Do not make a sound, and no distractions. Understood?"
Taeyong merely shrugged in response, and you began dialing your client's number. While you waited for the call to be answered, you glanced at Taeyong and noticed that he wasn't doing anything except for swinging his leg.
"Hello, this is Riley speaking."
Startled, you fumbled with your greeting. "Oh hi! Good afternoon, Mr. Riley. I'm Y/N L/N and am calling on behalf of my father regarding your interested properties. I'll be taking his place so it will be a pleasure to work with you," you spoke with politeness.
Taeyong huffed and mumbled, "Only I give you pleasure." You smacked his arm.
"I'm sorry? I didn't hear the last part well."
Your eyes widened. "Nothing!" You gave Taeyong a glare and moved away from him, balancing the folder on one hand. "So, I see your investments and interests..."
Taeyong watched you as the call droned on, getting immensely bored without your attention on him, and so he decided to make himself comfortable.
You took a sneak peak to see what Taeyong was up to and did a double take. "I'm sorry but could you please hold on for a moment, sir?" Pressing the mute button, you gritted your teeth. "Taeyong, why are you unbuttoning your shirt?"
He kept moving his fingers downward, undoing the buttons slowly and pushed the flaps to the side for his handsome torso to be on full display. "I'm feeling hot," he said with his voice laced in pure boredom.
You gave him a pointed look. The air conditioner was blasting in your cabin, therefore having no reason for him to feel uncomfortable. You ignored him, turning your back on him and resumed your call, but now you were partly distracted by replaying his beautiful skin in your head.
Taeyong sighed when seeing you ignore him again and hopped off. He rounded the desk and plopped down into the massive leather chair, putting his feet up on the table and rummaged through the drawers to look for anything that could entertain him.
Your ears picked up on the soft sounds of drawers sliding open and shut. There was a brief moment of silence followed by a container lid clicking open. The faint chewing sounds made you turn around and your heartbeat stilled before kicking into full racing mode. You were paying almost zero attention to your client as you watched Taeyong bite into a cherry, the juice spilling out of its flesh and past his lips, traveling down his chin. He made no efforts to wipe it off as he finished the fruit off, spitting out the seed and discarding the stem onto the lid. Picking up another one, he repeated the action, making more of the sweet red juice coat his chin.
You wanted nothing more than to lick his skin clean, and then straddle yourself on his lap to have a heated make out session with him. But you held yourself back and blinked a few times, shaking your head and focused on the reason why you were doing all of this.
When the cherries were all done, Taeyong huffed out in frustration from having nothing else to do, your phone call seeming to run way longer than anticipated.
Just then, his lips curled into a smirk as an idea hit him.
He stalked over to you with a mischievous glint in his eyes and you didn't notice his approaching presence from behind until he swiftly bent down to grab your waist from the front and hoisted you over his shoulder, holding you effortlessly by your legs. Your hand lost balance of the folder and it crashed to the floor, and your eyes bulged out as he carried you over to the desk.
He put you down on the table and shoved everything aside with his arm, not giving a glance as to what was being knocked over. Taeyong positioned you until you were laid flat on the sturdy desk and crawled on top of you, bringing his gaze to meet yours. With your mouth agape, you stared at his dark eyes as you were no longer processing a single word that your client spoke.
"Ignore me," he mouthed without a single sound and then he began.
He unbuttoned your shirt enough to expose your bra. Your heart crashed in your chest, fearing for what he had in mind when being in the office with a client on the phone and the door to your cabin left unlocked. But you were thrilled to see what Taeyong was going to do while you 'ignored' him.
His tongue poke out to coat saliva over his cherry-dried lips and dipped his head in between the valley of your breasts, sucking on the skin there with his soft lips sending excitement down to your core as you began producing your own sweet juice. Your hand came up to cover your mouth, stopping your sighs from reaching the speaker. You could have muted your voice and took full advantage of the situation, but this was 'ignore Taeyong' game and you were going through with it to see its end.
"Miss Y/N, are you still there?" Your client's voice snapped you back to your main responsibility.
"Oh sorry. Yes, I am." And with that, he resumed talking.
Taeyong pulled back and observed the faint colour of the fruit transferred onto your skin, and you nearly sighed aloud when he took long strides of his hot wet tongue to lick it clean, your grip on the phone tightening. When done, he pulled back with a smirk, and your eyes blew up when one of the most insane things happened next. Taeyong leveled his face with the zipper of your pants and grasped onto the small sliding piece with his teeth, pulling it down undone with such ease that you thought was not possible with the difficult task.
His hands yanked your pants down along with panties to midway. To prevent the hassle of taking your shoes and pants off completely, he crossed your legs, keeping enough space to dive his head into the opening from underneath. His hands firmly held your legs in place to stop you from squeezing around his head. His face leveled with your glistened core till you felt his hot breath fanning over it. Taeyong was amused to see you turned on and took a deep breath in with his nose touching your sweet flesh. "Smells nice, doll," he whispered ever so softly that you wouldn't have heard it if you weren't completely focused on him. Your legs quivered around his head as you spilled more juice out.
At last, his tongue strode over the length of your heat and your jaw hung open without a single sound parting from your lips. He repeated the action and after dipped his wet muscle in between your slick folds. You used every muscle in you to keep your hips grounded to the smooth surface of the table while your free hand clenched into a tight fist beside you. It would have been at his head gripping his hair, but you weren't sure if that counted as ignoring him.
Your walls hugged him as he began rolling his tongue. A small hum was felt against your flesh, causing your belly to tighten and spill more of your delicious juice onto his tongue. He hungrily lapped up every drop, his moist muscle flicking against your clit that resulted you to slip a mixture of moan and whine past your deep breathings.
"Is everything all right?"
Your blood ran cold when you had momentarily forgotten all about the phone call. Your ears had completely droned out your client's voice to focus on the squelching sounds that your man made in your cunt. Your brain quickly tried to come up with a sound excuse. "Oh um, I spilled something on my desk. I'm sorry about that. Please continue."
Taeyong snickered, sending sinful vibrations throughout your body and further tightened your belly for the incoming orgasm. Unfortunately, another desperate whine escaped from your mouth. Mr. Riley was silent for a moment before speaking up. "I do have another matter to attend. We can end our discussion here for now. I look forward to working with you, Y/N."
Finally! "I see. I will too. Have a great day-" and you quickly ended the call before a pathetic moan could travel through the speaker as Taeyong began having a make out session with your cunt, sucking your throbbing clit in between his lips. Chucking your phone aside, your hands lightly played with the wisps of his dark hair. "Oh Tae," you choked out a quiet sob. Your legs ached and trembled the longer it was forcefully kept open.
"Look at me, doll," he whispered.
You looked down at the sinful view of his head in between your legs. His gaze heavily burned into yours and gave a few harsh sucks, resulting in the final snap of the coil in your stomach. Your vision blurred as your back arched off the surface to generously cum into his mouth. He hummed as he sucked up every drop of your essence, still lapping over your heat even after it was over, and the sensitivity caused you to push his head away. "No more," you weakly whispered.
He kissed your cunt two times before completely pulling his head out, helping you put your pants back on. "You taste so good, doll," he drawled seductively he licked his lips clean.
You smacked his chest, feigning anger as you buttoned up your top. "We would have lost one of our biggest clients if he figured out what I was up to."
"But he didn't. You did a good job ignoring me... for the most part anyways," he snickered.
A series of knocks was heard and the door flew open, revealing an unsuspecting Cindy. Her eyes went on a tour as it scanned over the dropped portfolio on the floor, your shocked eyes on her, Taeyong's disheveled state and open shirt, and the mess on the desk.
She huffed out at the sight of drenched documents. "If you were going to have fun, couldn't you have done it without getting anything spilt on the documents?"
Your brows scrunched, confused with what she meant until you spotted the acrylic tumbler tipped onto its side with the tea no longer in its container as the papers soaked the liquid up. "Oh shit," you muttered and shot a look at Taeyong who simply shrugged and feigned innocence as if not his fault.
Cindy sighed. "We'll just have to prepare all those again."
"I'll prepare them myself. It's my fault anyway."
She shook her head. "It's fine. I'll help too. You owe me a drink for overtime," she cracked a smile and winked.
You breathed out in relief that she wasn't too mad at you. "Of course."
Taeyong turned to you with bright eyes. "I'll help too." Not only would he be able to spend more time with you, but also receive a free drink, your drink, while at it.
Your jaw slacked, aware of his underlying intention, and pushed him out the cabin with all your strength. "No! You're leaving, mister!"
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#nct smut#nct 127 smut#taeyong smut#lee taeyong#taeyong x reader#taeyong imagines#taeyong scenarios#nct imagines#nct scenarios
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Soutaicho’s Secret Admirer (Shunsui x Reader) — Part 4/6
Author’s Note:
As planned, here is the 4th installment of how the reader romances the Soutaicho...which I have to admit I have so much fun writing and feel so grateful that you guys showed this fic so much love! Thank you!
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Read Part 1, Part 2 and Part 3 first!
She was quite hungover and tired from Yadomaru Taicho’s Valentine’s Day party. It didn’t seem fair that everyone had to go to work the day after, but it was what it was. She should have known better than to go to a party that was renowned to go on late into the night.
But then again, there was no way she would have let herself miss it for any reason.
Of all the years Yadomaru Taicho has held the infamous Valentine’s Day party at the 8th Division, Shunsui had never failed to show up. Before he became the Soutaicho, every occasion was an occasion to hold some elaborate event despite Ise-san’s adamant objections. It was a chance for every shinigami to mingle regardless of rank or division. Yadomaru Taicho carried on with most of those traditions holding celebrations and what not, but as the Soutaicho, Shunsui didn’t attend them all. She supposed he couldn’t attend them all. Not with all the responsibilities he got going on. Besides he had a reputation to maintain. The Shunsui she used to know -- from afar of course, but observation combined with longing can reveal much -- didn’t care about inconsequential things like reputation but as the Soutaicho, it was all so different.
Still the Valentine’s Day party at the 8th was an exception. Even Ise-san attended without fail.
And it was that one opportunity, she would get to see Shunsui outside of his role in the Gotei 13. All she usually gets would be sneak peeks into his office whenever she went to the 1st to pick up and deliver paperwork, or seeing him in passing in the seireitei. It was a treat to see him lighthearted, smiling easier, and simply just enjoying himself. She never would have missed it. Not for anything in the world
Of course, one cup of sake had turned into two, which turned into much more. The 6th Division’s Kuchki Taicho had provided the sake from his manor and it was simply just too good to resist. She had thought she was watching over Kiyone and Sentaro, making sure they didn’t fight over something creating a drunken mess, but she had ended up getting drunk with them instead. And now she was regretting it. The persistent headache was making an appearance this morning.
Still...she remembered the moment he had walked into the room, looking as handsome as ever in his pink haori. She had sighed involuntarily, making Kiyone giggle.
“You’ve got it bad,” she had teased. Pretending not to know what that meant was the easiest way to deal with Kiyone’s teasing remarks.
Except it was not a secret amongst the higher ranks of the 13th. Apparently everyone knew about her little -- more like massive -- crush on the Soutaicho. She suspected even her Taicho knew, though nothing was explicitly mentioned.
After the customary greetings with the other Taichos present, Shunsui had gone to tease Yadomaru Taicho and Ise fuktaicho who seemed to be in an argument over how the latter was failing to experiment in her dating life.
The way his throat bobbed with every sip of sake had her mouth going a bit dry. The way he bit into the handmade chocolate made by her for the party made her think of those lips on her...and the chocolate she had snuck into his office to leave behind as a special gift. She hoped he liked them. She longed to feel him smile at her the way he smiled at everyone else, but it also terrified her that if he actually did, she might swoon.
Saying she got it bad might actually be an understatement, honestly!
All the pining and sighing had her parched, so she sidled up to the refreshment table for some lemonade which had also been provided by the 13th, made carefully under her own watchful eyes. She was just reaching for a glass when a familiar voice called out her name over the din of the music.
“_____-san.”
It was Shunsui himself, and she was shocked to realize he actually remembered her name! Startled, the glass almost slipped from her hands. He probably thought she was the clumsiest shinigami in existence and she bit back a groan.
“Sh...Soutaicho!”
“I’m always startling you aren’t I?” he said chuckling. “Bad habit of being too quiet. I end up unintentionally sneaking up on people.” Then as if they were friends or something, he reached out to take the glass from her shaking hands. “I was going to ask you to pour me a glass as well, but considering how I have frightened you, maybe I should do the pouring for the both of us.”
He was smiling at her, and pouring lemonade for her. She wasn’t going to read too much into it but her heart was beating so fast, she feared she might faint.
“Thank you,” she whispered with a soft smile when he handed her a glass. She couldn’t drink it without fearing she might choke on it so she watched him sip his own lemonade instead.
“Ah…” he said. “As delicious as I remember it. You all at the 13th sure know how to make lemonade!”
“Thank you,” you repeated. He might think those were the only words she knew at the rate this was going. If she continued to be tongue-tied in his presence, however would anything become of this silly infatuation in her head?!
Fortunately, Ise fuktaicho took pity on her. “Taicho! Are you harassing poor _____-san?” she demanded.
The statement had her sputtering. Shunsui had such a wounded look on his face. She hastened to deny. “No! Absolutely not!” she declared, and he offered her a sweet smile of appreciation. “Soutaicho was just telling me how much he liked the lemonade from the 13th, Ise-san.”
“Ah,” Ise-san said, a bit of a twinkle in her eye. “Did you know, Taicho? _____-san makes the lemonade herself. That’s probably why you smell like lemonade all the time too when you deliver paperwork in the evening,” she teased. “She also made these delicious chocolates!” she continued. “Did you try one, Taicho?”
Before Shunsui could reply to any of it, Yadomaru Taicho came to drag them both for a dance, and Ise-san went protesting the entire way.
She didn’t know whether to be relieved or feel sad that their time together was cut short. It was the most time she had gotten to spend with Shunsui like that. And she couldn’t believe he remembered her name!
It just might have been the best night she’s ever had. Even if walking into the office in the 13th Division this morning with a pounding headache was not ideal, she walked with a spring in her step and a smile on her face that she just couldn’t seem to get rid of.
She collected the approved paperwork sent in from the 1st Division that needed to be filed in the appropriate places, as well as the pile that she had to fill out and send out soon. With the mindset she was in today, doing any serious form filling would be ill-advised, so she left it for the end of the day. She imagined she would feel much better after lunch if she continued to hydrate and take it slow.
So she started sorting through the paperwork that needed to be filed. She’d done it so often she could do it effortlessly and mindlessly. Which was why she held the lavender paper in her hands for five full minutes trying to decide where it should go in the filing system before she actually thought to read it.
Dear Secret Admirer,
Had I been anyone but who I was, perhaps you might have flirted with me in person, though I do love your letters showing up at the most random places. With your pretty words and ardent gifts you’ve dared to try and seduce me. If I say that maybe you have indeed succeeded, would you stop hiding from me?
Writing this letter feels futile. Who would I even send it to when I have no idea who you are?
But it feels wrong somehow to be romanced so thoroughly and not be given even the opportunity to return the same.
I wonder, sometimes in my darkest moments, if this is nothing but an elaborate prank but I wish
...and the letter ended there abruptly. It remained unfinished. What did he wish for?
She held the piece of lavender paper to her chest, trying to fathom what had just happened. Unless someone else in seireitei was sending secret love letters to someone in the 1st Division, which seemed highly unlikely, this was clearly written by Shunsui...to her! And somehow it had been “accidentally” left in the pile of paperwork that someone somehow knew would end up in her hands.
Her heart was beating so fast, she feared it might beat right out of her chest.
This could be from Shunsui himself...but the more likely scenario was that someone had found out about what she had done. Someone actually knew she was sending all these salacious and inappropriate love letters to the goddamn Soutaicho of the Gotei 13 himself and...and…
Oh she didn’t know what to do!
She was on the verge of a terrible panic attack, her breathing coming faster and faster. She felt like she couldn’t take enough air in.
But what if it was actually from Shunsui? Could she ignore the words in this scrap of lavender paper?
If I say that maybe you have indeed succeeded, would you stop hiding from me? The words reverberated in her head. What if he actually meant that?
No, no. That couldn’t be true. Shunsui couldn’t know. She had been so freaking careful. And even if he did, he couldn’t know it was her specifically. His letter itself said so. He probably loved the idea of it...the romance of it. It couldn’t be anything more.
All her internalized insecurities raised their ugly heads. If he knew who exactly she was, he wouldn’t spare two glances her way.
So maybe this was just an accident. Or maybe it was a warning.
Whatever it was...all she knew was that she had to stop sending these love letters to him. She had to stop before it all exploded in her face causing trouble for everyone involved.
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Read Part 5 next!
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Honey - part three
Elide Lochan x Lorcan Salvaterre roommates au
A/N: famous last words: I can finish this is in two hours. six hours laters and I feel like I’ve been beaten up by a gang of bigass old faes if you know what I mean.
IT CONTAINS SMUT, not suited for readers under 18
Please be kind I fucking hate my smut, if it’s disgusting just don’t comment on it cause I could hit my head on the wall several times
masterlist
Word count: 7,519
Aelin's scream was like a stab to the brain, "Get up you nasty little bitch!"
"Ace! Why don't you try with sweet Ellie?" retorted Lysandra.
Elide didn't even have the strength to open her eyes or move from the fetal position she was in, curled up with a pillow pushed so hard against her belly that she wouldn't have been surprised if it had somehow damaged her internal organs, "Please leave."
The two didn't seem to hear her.
"Sweet?" Aelin huffed, "But you did see her last night, right?"
Elide opened one eye, seeing that they had both sat down at the end of the bed. She felt the cracks tugging at her eyelid and grunted, pressing her face into the pillow. She wanted to die. And she wanted Manon to come and free her from those two supposed friends who she knew were about to remind her of her misadventures.
"Except for what happened before we left," Aelin winked, placing a hand on her foot. Elide withdrew it, not wanting to feel physical touch of any kind at that moment. "I would have been willing to break up with Rowan so I could get between Kyllian and you, honestly."
Elide grunted again, her voice muffled by the pillow. "I'm begging you girls, you need to get out before I throw up again."
And it was true, she would throw up if they didn't stop talking. Plus, Elide didn't care in the slightest what the drunk her had done. She hated her so much.
Lysandra giggled and she felt it as she climbed between the covers until she was settled next to her on the pillows, "Between her and Lorcan though, no?"
The cry of disgust that erupted from Aelin and the all too loud laugh from the other didn't make Elide register the words right away, but as soon as she realised what they had said, her stomach began to twist and turn, and not like when Lorcan accidentally brushed her hand or when he put his hand on her thigh during movie nights. Oh no.
With a movement she didn't know she had the physical skills to make, she shifted the covers off her body and launched herself into the hallway, slamming her hand against the bathroom door and throwing herself to the floor in front of the toilet before the highly concentrated alcoholic contents in her stomach spilled onto the floor.
As she vomited and Lysandra tied up her hair, massaging her back, Elide felt her heart break slowly. She wanted to turn around, to ask Aelin what had happened, or maybe not. She groaned as another gag shook her body and her eyes filled with tears once more as she puked what could only be alcohol.
"How do you still have stuff in your stomach?" muttered Aelin from outside the bathroom door.
Elide didn't blame her, vomit was disgusting and she was particularly sensitive to the sound of gagging. The only reason Lysandra wasn't the least bit uncomfortable was her younger sister Evangeline, who she had practically raised without anyone's help. Whatever came out of a person's body, their friend had already seen it in all shapes and colours.
Elide cursed herself for thinking such a thing while she was bent over the toilet throwing up, because it pushed her over the edge one more time and a sob wracked her body, "Fuck-" she managed to mutter between spits.
"I thought you weren't going to barf any more after last night," Lys said, continuing to rub her back.
"True," Aelin mumbled a little louder, "did you keep drinking after?"
Elide managed to turn her head towards the door, seeing that her friend was sitting on the floor just outside the bathroom. She grimaced as a gust of air that smelled like vomit reached her nose, "After what?"
"You and Lorcan left after you threw up," Lys explained to her. Elide didn't bother turning towards her, she didn't have the energy, "And you threw up so much Ellie, everywhere. It's weird that you have anything else to reject."
It wasn't weird at all considering the only thing Elide remembered was the amounts of alcohol she had ingested. She'd started just before seven with straight tequila, desperate to see how indifferent people were to the biggest catastrophic problems in human history, and everyone knew she couldn't handle alcohol even in small amounts. But Elide was also known to be the type who could drink for hours without ever feeling sick, if she now found herself bent over the toilet the next morning, it meant she had gone too far.
"I don't remember anything."
"It's okay, don't worry about it," Aelin said and Elide felt a shiver run through her body at the hint of mischief in her voice. She braced herself mentally to hear how much she'd actually whored out the night before, "We're here to fix the memory loss."
Lysandra made a disgusted noise as Elide flushed the toilet and the water stirred underneath them, but she patted her shoulders and pulled herself up, "You need to take a shower first though. Because you smell like death."
"Geez, thanks," Elide murmured as she began to undress.
The grin that appeared on Aelin's face made her hands freeze around the hem of her shirt. The other arched an eyebrow, looking into her eyes, "What? Lorcan is the only one you can flash?"
Elide closed her eyes, bringing her hands to her face and then let go a scream of frustration.
"Exactly."
Oh, god.
"I remember..." Elide scoffed, running her hands through her hair. When her fingers reached the tips, she was horrified to find they were encrusted with what was surely vomit from the night before. "Fuck."
Lysandra snickered beside her, "Why were you so drunk that you didn't realise what you were doing so damn early?"
Elide looked at her, and although she knew the question was only asked to tease her more, there was a note of concern in her tone. Her shoulders sagged a little and she shook her head, starting to undress undisturbed, "I set out to research a few things and the world is a shitty place and there was nothing I could do in the immediate future to save us all so I got drunk."
"Sounds like alcoholism," Aelin joked.
Both Lysandra and Elide laughed, "If you knew what I found out you'd get drunk too," the latter added.
"Send everything my way." the blonde winked at her, and then they went out, leaving her alone to wash away the sins of the night before and letting her mind travel. And Elide's mind travelled far too much as she racked her brains to remember Lorcan's reactions to a naked her.
After her friends had told her everything that had happened the night before. From her taking her clothes off in front of her best friend, to him getting stuck in their bathroom and calling Aelin for help, to her dancing with Kyllian specifically to make her roommate jealous - or so the drunk her seemed to have justified her actions - to Fenrys saving her from what was sure to end up being just casual sex that would only widen the gap between her and Lorcan.
Gap that apparently wasn't as pronounced as she thought.
Aelin and Lysandra had told her about the way he had pushed his way through the crowd and joined Elide on the dance floor. The way they had danced to one of their favourite songs until they had been on the verge of kissing.
Elide had never been so relieved to know that she'd thrown up on someone. And that her plan to attract Lorcan had worked.
She was cooking now, thinking about how bad it would have been for her to find out they'd kissed without having even the slightest recollection of it happening, when the front door opened and the boy who was the object of her dreams walked into the kitchen.
He stopped in the doorway, looking at her with the most emotionless face Elide had ever seen him wear.
"Hello, handsome." she murmured, continuing to cook.
Lorcan stood still in the threshold for a while without saying anything, as if to sort the situation out. Then, without taking his eyes off what she was doing, he took off his jacket and shoes and walked into the kitchen, "How are you feeling?"
Elide had her back to him as she washed some tomatoes, "Just a bit of a headache. I threw up again when I woke up, but other than that I'm fine."
"Did you drink some water? Had breakfast?" he asked her.
Elide shook her head looking at him, "I woke up after noon, Aelin and Lysandra came over." then frowned, "I think it's their fault I threw up."
Lorcan chuckled, "Sure, absolutely." then he gathered his hair into a messy bun and Elide focused on the way the muscles of his biceps tensed every time he pulled on the elastic, "It's not the alcoholic coma from last night at all."
Elide gathered some courage and taking a deep breath, said, "About last night-"
"We don't have to talk about it," Lorcan immediately interrupted her.
She looked up at him, trying not to show any emotion, trying to read his on that sculptural face that remained impassive. Then, seeing the way he was looking at her, she came to a conclusion.
She arched an eyebrow, plastering a grin on her face, "Does this mean you didn't like my tits?"
Lorcan turned red in the face before stuttering, "No. I mean, yes! No, fuck. Shit... I don't know."
Elide chuckled and began to dress their salad, "You've never seen a pair of tits before?" she asked knowing full well how untrue that was.
When she had moved into the flat, both she and he had had their own wild nights out where they brought home a different partner every weekend. On one occasion, Elide had been stunned when she came out of her room and bumped into a girl she had spent the night with a few weeks earlier. The girl had only bid her good morning, winking, before returning to Lorcan's room.
"No, it's not that," he muttered, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose.
"So surely you'll have other samples to compare my boobs to and you'll be able to tell me if they're above average," she continued, prolonging this gentle torture.
He sat down, both elbows resting on the table, and rested his chin on his clasped hands. He looked into her eyes for a few seconds, then whispered, "What are you doing?"
"I'm making our lunch," she replied innocently.
She heard him breathe through his nose, "Why are we talking about your tits, I meant?"
"Uh," she smiled, casting him another quick glance, "I didn't think you were so grossed out that you can't even handle a conversation about them."
The frown on his face went deeper and deeper. He remained silent for so long that Elide thought he would never say anything again, that she would never get his thoughts on her breasts, but when she served the salad, sitting down in front of him, he finally spoke.
"It's not that," he repeated, looking away, "they're very nice. Balanced." he began to eat undisturbed and Elide grimaced in amusement, finding a way to keep the conversation going.
"Balanced? What are they? An economic system?"
Lorcan clenched his jaw, setting his fork down on his plate and looking into her face again. She knew she was playing a dangerous game, that she was risking losing her sanity, but she had to know, had to-
"They're perfect and, maybe they are because they're attached to you, but they're probably the most beautiful tits I've ever seen."
Elide's brain shut down. And he seemed to realise it too because the shadow of a smile began to form on his lips.
Lorcan leaned forward on the table and her eyes snapped to his arms. Fingers flexing, interlocking, caught her attention completely. She returned her gaze to his, feeling her body heat up as he resumed speaking. "If I'm going to be completely honest... If you want the details, Elide," the way he said her name made her most intimate part clench around nothing, "I've never seen such nice, small nipples and that pink?" he shut his eyes, moaning as he brought one of the tomatoes to his mouth and wrapped his lips around the fork.
Elide swallowed the mouthful that had been in her mouth for over a minute and nearly choked when he opened his eyes again and they were darker than normal if that was possible.
She looked away, too many feelings building up inside her, but crossed her legs, trying to relieve some of the tension there.
"Wasn't that enough, Ellie?" he asked in a rough voice, biting into an olive, making sure she saw the way his lips closed around it.
She swallowed again, "No, it was fine..." she cleared her throat when it came out too weak, "Thanks for the feedback."
Lorcan let go a throaty chuckle, "The pleasure is all mine."
***
Like every Sunday evening, the whole group had gathered at the twins' house. And that night everyone was there, although Vaughan and Vesta, along with Aedion and Sorrel, had gone out into the back yard a few hours ago and had not yet returned. Elide suspected they'd taken to smoking.
Those left in the house were playing one of the most popular games, "I feel like."
The game had no real objective, other than to embarrass people or get them to confess to extreme or obscene sexual acts. It was simply a matter of drawing a card, reading what it said and giving it to the person you thought had done the closest thing to what was described on the card. The only real rule was that you had to tell the whole story of what happened if the card you were handed told the truth.
Quite often the game would be interrupted because one of the two sides of the various couples would cheat, change the rules and instead of passing it on to the appropriate person, they would pass it on to their partner as an invitation to lock themselves in the first spare room they could find to experiment with what was asked by the game.
The cards could range from as basic things as "I feel like your first time was in a public restroom." to as a bit more hardcore as "I feel like you got fisted in the woods."
And in that moment, Elide had a strong feeling that Rowan and Aelin would soon be going home.
"Oh my fucking god," Rowan muttered as he read the words on the card, turning red from head to toe. He looked up at Aelin, swallowing and making his adam's apple bob, "Where do you even find these games?"
Elide giggled beside him, "There's a girl on the internet who updates the cards every month and puts them up for sale, we take turns to see who has to buy them each time."
"Oh god," he said shaking his head. When he slid the card in Aelin's direction, the girl leaned towards him to leave a soft kiss on his lips and when they broke away they were both smiling. Aelin read what was written on the card and for a second it seemed like the colour drained from her face, but then she blinked and cleared her throat, looking at Rowan with wide eyes.
"Maybe we should go away. To try it out." she murmured, so quietly that only those on the couch with them heard her.
Elide looked up at the boy next to her, or rather, behind her, to see if he was listening, but he seemed lost in thought. He had been absentmindedly stroking her arm since they had settled there, and Elide didn't think she had ever been so relaxed in her life.
She and Lorcan were sitting at one end of the sofa, opposite to Rowan and Aelin, her between his legs and with her back against his chest. Every time one of them laughed, their bodies moved closer together and now she had her head resting on the part of his chest between his neck and shoulder.
She was home.
Fenrys and Connall, across the living room, sitting on the floor, booed.
"You can't pass them all on to her!" complained Lysandra.
Aelin didn't even look at her as she spoke, her eyes always fixed on Rowan's, as if they were having a telepathic conversation, "Lys, shut up."
Her friend gasped, bringing a hand to her mouth.
"I say we vote to kick them out of the room," Asterin said, in exactly the same position she was in, but between her boyfriend's legs. Half the people in the room raised their hands to the sky, making Aelin roll her eyes.
Fenrys nodded, always ready to back Asterin up in whatever situation they were in, "It's starting to smell like Rowaelin in here."
Lorcan chuckled behind her, knocking her forward. And as the others lost themselves in the chatter, Elide shifted her gaze to Manon, who sat in the armchair next to the couch, one hand in Dorian's hair, who sat with his head resting on the armrest.
Her friend's bright eyes sparkled with malice as she arched an eyebrow and gestured to the boy she was practically sitting on. Elide felt her cheeks blush, but smiled naively at her, pretending not to know what she was alluding to. Manon smiled back.
Elide had never spoken openly to her about Lorcan, not in that way at least, but she knew Manon knew - in fact, now that she thought about it, she had never had to do that with anyone. Everyone had been rather quick to catch on that. Everyone except Lorcan.
The hand on her arm stopped, clinging completely against her skin and Elide had to force herself not to look at him, but then he lowered himself onto her and whispered in her ear, "Ellie."
She turned her head just enough to look at him and his lips brushed her cheek, so briefly that she thought she had imagined it. Lorcan had pulled back and was now looking into her eyes, "Your turn."
She blinked and turned towards the others, only realising at that moment that all eyes were on them. She felt her face burn, but she nodded, putting a hand on Lorcan's knee and pushing herself forward, rubbing her ass on the crotch of his trousers. She'd been doing this all night, all night teasing him, just as he was teasing her, brushing the side of the breasts from time to time.
And each time, Lorcan would burst into a coughing fit and move further back, which only gave Elide a chance to grind even harder against him in an attempt to regain the comfortable position they were in before.
As she settled back into her seat, she met Fenrys' gaze, who had a shit-eating grin on his face. She lowered her eyes to the maroon card in her hands quickly, shimming her hips between his legs. Lorcan's hands ended on her shoulders and she looked up at him, batting her eyelids like a fawn.
"Stop moving around so much," he grumbled.
She smiled gently and then took up reading. She hadn't touched alcohol that night, for obvious reasons, but she still found it hard to understand what was written there when Lorcan's fingers began to draw imaginary lines across her bare skin.
"I feel like..." she whispered, her eyes going wide. She looked across the sofa at Rowan.
The friend gave her a chuckle, "I told you they seemed a bit extreme."
I feel like you performed a titjob on someone while being eaten out.
Before she could realise what she was doing, she said, "Can I give myself the card or...?"
Dorian turned a quizzical look on her, "You know you have to-"
Fenrys shrieked something unintelligible, but that stopped Dorian. Manon above them clenched her hands into fists, her eyes half-closed at the sudden commotion, "I haven't killed you yet just because-"
"Yeah yeah, just because of Asterin, I get it," Fenrys replied moving a hand midair, his gaze never leaving Elide's, who in a moment of clarity realised what Dorian was about to say. What the blond said only served to confirm her fear, "But Elide just confessed to doing whatever is written on it and I want to know every detail."
She felt Lorcan stiffen behind her and then Elide realised something else entirely. He must have read what was written on the card.
"So?" pressed Aelin, leaning over Rowan and snatching the card from Elide's hands. She opened her mouth wide with an amused expression, then put on a pout, looking at her boyfriend, "These are the things I sometimes wish you'd be a little more open about."
Rowan arched an eyebrow, reading the card in turn, "We can do those two things at the same time and without anyone else having to see you naked."
Lysandra, next to them, picked up the card, "Oh, Aedion and I did that too. Although it was a normal blowjob, no titty job." she exclaimed happily.
One thing that pleased Elide greatly was the fact that no one in that room would judge her for what she did in the bedroom and who she did it with. Also because there was a high probability that they had done it too.
And slowly the card was passed among all the members of their group and when it reached Fenrys and Asterin, the girl winked at Elide, murmuring a sensual, "I've never done it, but I'm sure it wouldn't hurt." Fenrys winked behind her, intertwining their hands. Asterin's smile only grew wider, before she added, "You have our numbers."
Elide blushed, but smiled anyway, nodding.
Everyone began to talk about the various possibilities, as they did during every turn, and the card finally passed from Dorian and Manon and the two exchanged only a glance before giving the card to Lorcan.
Lorcan who was taking deep breaths one after the other and had his eyes closed. Elide had never seen him so focused in her life. She noticed the way he contracted and relaxed his jaw repeatedly and frowned.
Was he alright?
She ran a finger over his thigh to get his attention, tracing a line from his knee to where his leg touched her hip and Lorcan let go a shuddering breath, opening his eyes slightly and tightening his grip on her shoulders, "I don't think you should do that." his voice so hoarse and deep that Elide felt her stomach knot. She didn't understand what he was referring to.
And then she felt it.
Hard and... thick against her ass.
She opened her eyes wide, pointing them at him, and held her breath. She had to stop herself from opening her mouth in surprise, but she couldn't stop herself when her hips pushed against Lorcan's now obvious erection.
Elide had never been so happy to hear Fenrys' laughter as she was at that moment, because if it hadn't been for the sudden noise, the moans that escaped them both would have been heard all too well and neither of them would have been able to look at anyone else in the room for the rest of their lives.
Lorcan swallowed, breathing through his nostrils, and his gaze fell to her lips. Her eyes did the same and she didn't care that they were among everyone and would have everyone's eyes on them if they did exactly what Elide was thinking, because his lips parted slightly and he whispered her name and she was lost.
Without thinking about it for another second, Elide turned just enough to have her face directly in front of his and closed her eyes, feeling his lips brush hers. She released a breath she didn't know she was holding, "Lorcan,"
And then she kissed him, and it was exactly as she had always dreamed it would be, as his lips moved with hers and they tasted and breathed from each other. A sound that Elide had never made in her life rose up her throat as Lorcan shifted and with a sharp movement of his hips turned her fully towards him and now she was on her knees in front of him, both of them breathing heavily as they looked into each other's eyes.
Someone coughed in the room and she heard Aelin whisper a weak "fucking finally", but Elide didn't give a shit.
She placed her hands on Lorcan's face, tilting his head back so she could reach him better. The second his hands landed on her hips, their lips collided again in a fierce kiss and his tongue found its way into her mouth.
The first touch of their tongues was like having a thousand fireworks explode in her mouth.
"Okay, it's time to join the others," Manon murmured.
Elide heard Fenrys mutter, "Please not on the couch, there are guest rooms upstairs."
Lorcan pulled away from her just enough to see what was going on around them and her hands slid around his neck, ending in his hair as she admired the line of his cheekbones and the way his lashes caressed his skin every time he closed his eyes.
God, he was beautiful.
"Which one can we use?" asked Lorcan as he looked at Fenrys.
Elide's eyes went wide, causing him to turn towards her. She ran a thumb over his lower lip, smirking, "So sure of yourself."
Without missing a beat, Lorcan mimicked her grin and squeezed her hips, "You don't want to?"
Elide smiled, turning towards her friends, stopping to look at Fenrys, "The second on the left right?"
When the owner of the house winked at her, nodding, she stood up, pulling Lorcan with her, who had a confused look on his face, "Why do you know that?"
She had the decency to blush, grabbing his hand and pulling him towards the stairs, "You don't want to know."
Lysandra burst out laughing as everyone resumed their seats on the floor or the couch, "You really don't."
Elide tugged at him more insistently, not looking at Lorcan's reaction to those words. She just wanted to get to the room and lock herself in with him.
When she felt his hand settle on her hip and slide down to her ass cheek, where he paused to give it a squeeze, she almost turned and slammed him against the wall just so she could continue kissing him how she needed to.
They arrived in front of the door and she stopped with her fingers on the handle, once inside there would be no stopping. There would be no point of return.
His fingers brushed her cheek and she turned to face him, who now wore a ravenous, excited look, but Elide could see the concern and hesitation in taking the next step, "We don't have to do anything, Ellie."
She nodded, because she knew that was the case, but squeezed his hand to emphasize what he said, "But I want to."
"Good thing, cause the thought of you fucking those two gave me some ideas."
She grinned, placing a hand on his chest, "I wasn't the one doing the titty work, but we can always try."
Lorcan groaned softly at the knowledge of Elide licking another girl and then pushed the door open, backing in and taking his-
Whatever Elide was at that moment to him, it wasn't important.
The only thing that was important was his lips on hers.
The difference in height wasn't making it easy for him, and when he leaned down even further, never breaking the kiss, to run his hands under her knees and pull her up, Elide seemed to understand that right away and, pulling away just enough to jump into his arms, they found themselves on each other in seconds.
Lorcan bit her lower lip, making her moan, and when he moved to her jaw, nipping lightly at her skin, Elide threw her head back, pushing her hips against his and drawing a groan from both of them.
He immediately took the opportunity to latch his lips onto the smooth, quivering skin of her neck, feeling the bed behind his knees and sitting up, letting her straddle him. His hands moved up her legs, caressing her inner thighs, but never really getting close to where she needed him most.
Elide began to grope his chest, grazing the skin of his arms, but never staying in one spot, until Lorcan began to suck at the bare skin between her neck and shoulder and she nudged him slightly.
He quickly pulled away, panting, "What?"
There were too many layers. Keeping her eyes fixed on his, Elide lowered her hands to the hem of her shirt and slipped it off in one swift movement. She smiled smugly when she could finally see Lorcan's reaction to her bare tits.
His eyes were slightly wider than usual and his pupils so dilated that Elide realised that she had never noticed that Lorcan's eye colour was not black, but just a very dark brown. When he looked at her, the words died in her throat.
"I love it when you don't wear a bra," he murmured, reaching up to her and brushing her lips with his, "But I love even more the way you shiver every time I do this."
Elide didn't have a chance to dwell on the way he'd said love, because without her noticing, his hands had found their place on her waist and she had to bite her lip to keep from crying out in pleasure when he brushed the sides of her breasts with his thumbs.
He pushed himself further against her, brushing his lips over her ear, "When we're alone and you don't have to hold back, I want you to scream my name." and then he moved quickly, leaving only a light kiss on her shoulder before his lips closed around a sensitive nipple.
With the first sweep of his tongue around the hard bead, Elide whimpered, pushing her hips down against his and making him moan into her chest. She brought her hands into his hair, clenching and pulling each time his teeth bit or scraped the sensitive skin around the nipple.
When he seemed to want to move on to the other breast, Elide shook her head, pulling his hair back to its roots and forcing her mouth against his, making him grunt. She had to feel him.
"Lorcan," she breathed, between kisses, "I need to touch you."
One of her hands slipped between the two of them, palming him through the sweatpants that did little to hide Lorcan's huge boner. He moaned against her chin, "Fuck."
They pulled apart again and when he had stripped off his shirt, Elide didn't waste a moment and pressed her bare chest against his, causing him to fall back onto the mattress.
Lorcan had other ideas though, because in one smooth motion she found herself lying on her back, his gentle weight pressing her against the covers and his bright smile lighting up his face. He left a kiss on her nose, on her lips and then down to the split in the middle of her breasts and her eyes rolled back in her head as a flashback from two nights before appeared in her head, of Lorcan doing the same thing with his eyes as they danced.
"Can I take these off?" he asked her, once he reached her hips where he was leaving kisses light as feathers.
Elide was breathing raggedly, but nodded when she understood he was talking about her leggings. Still keeping her eyes closed, she lifted her hips off the mattress, closing her fists around the covers as her bottoms disappeared along with her socks and the cold air hit her bare skin.
Now only the thin fabric of her black panties separated her from achieving what she wanted.
That and Lorcan's slacks.
"Ellie." she heard him as he came back on top of her, one knee between her legs to keep his balance. She licked her lip, opening her eyes and keeping her gaze fixed on him, on that perfect face.
"Do you have a condom?" she asked in a whisper, as if afraid the answer would be no. She had them, but they were downstairs, in her purse, and she had no desire to leave the room right then.
Lorcan arched an eyebrow, "I'm not having sex with you tonight, Elide."
She frowned, folding her arms under her and propping herself up on her elbows, "What does that mean?"
"That I'm not completely sober," he said, leaning his head towards her chest, keeping his eyes fixed in hers, "And the first time it'll be inside you," he murmured in a rougher voice, placing a light kiss on the nipple he hadn't licked before, "I want it to be at a time when I'm lucid and can remember all the noises and moans you make." and then he gave the same attention to her other breast, pushing her against the mattress one more time, until Elide was a squirming mess under him and deemed his treatment sufficient.
"Now I'm going to slip these off," Lorcan murmured, grazing a finger along the hem of her panties, and Elide shuddered, "and touch you. Here." the same finger slid across her covered folds, starting at her clit and following her slit to her entrance. "Already so wet for me."
Elide thrashed on the bed, moaning softly as he applied a little more pressure, "Stop teasing, we'll have time for that when we get home." she managed to toss out between shaky breaths.
"Understood ma'am." he taunted, grabbing the edges of the thing and pulling it down. The sound that burst from him was completely animalistic and threatened to make Elide come before he even really touched her. "So beautiful." he said, kneeling in front of her.
Lorcan's hands wrapped around her ankles and he pushed her legs up, placing her feet on the edge of the bed, until she was left with her knees bent and her pussy at his full disposal. Elide risked looking down between her legs and her eyes locked into his as he lowered himself onto her and smiled.
The way her chest rose and fell made her tits bounce and Lorcan seemed to appreciate it, but he didn't seem to be planning to do anything. Elide tipped her head back, whispering in a weak voice, "Do something, please."
He laughed and her muscles flexed, clenching around nothing. It was at that moment that she felt him, his breath on the most sensitive part of her body. "I'm going to make you cum so fast you won't have time to count to a hundred."
Lorcan's fingers came off her ankles and went to part her lips, making her feel the warm air of his breathe even more. He parted them until he was satisfied and Elide lowered her gaze just as his tongue made contact with her throbbing core. A rush of pleasure coursed through her body, making her legs tremble, "Lor," she moaned.
"Mh, El," he closed his lips around her clit, pressing his tongue against the pearl over and over, until Elide repeated his name like a prayer, "So good. You taste so good."
Her hands ended up in his hair again, pushing his face against her sex, seeking more. She began to move her hips, following the strokes of his mouth on her, but one of Lorcan's arms slithered around her pelvis and pinned her to the bed, lapping her juices as with his thumb he reached to massage her clit with such precision that Elide knew that whatever she would do on her own in the future, she would never be able to match how he was making her feel.
Elide cried out in pleasure, bringing a hand to her mouth as she felt his tongue thrust into her and an all too familiar warmth build up in the pit of her stomach.
She brought one hand up to massage the nipple he had only kissed and made a choked sound, her hips jerking upwards.
Lorcan moaned against her, a new sound, different from any he'd made so far, and Elide couldn't help herself. She pulled herself up onto her elbows, continuing to touch herself as he kept sending jolts of pleasure with every thrust of his tongue and every caress of his thumb, and the sight of him eating her out would have been enough to push her over the edge, but the hand wrapped around his thick, throbbing cock pumping relentlessly was the thing that made her eyes roll back and explode as the rope inside her snapped. Her legs gave out, falling over the edge of the bed and finding their place on Lorcan's shoulders.
Her mouth gaped open in a silent scream as her whole body trembled in pleasure as wave after wave surged through her and her back arched so wide she broke away from the bed.
Lorcan didn't stop touching her, but he pulled his mouth away from her, still massaging her clit until Elide was too sensitive and with a groan she tightened a hand around his wrist to push him away. She heard him grunt and then moan, but she didn't have the strength to lower her gaze to what she knew very well was a cumming Lorcan.
She was breathing hard, one hand on her stomach to rest and the other still clasped around his.
Every now and then her body was shaken by a spasm, but she managed to calm down after a few minutes and close her aching legs. She rolled onto her side, letting go of his wrist.
Lorcan was also breathless and kept his forehead pressed against the edge of the bed.
Elide felt a tinge of pain tingle through her heart. She pulled herself up just enough to look into his face, "Lor?"
She reached out a hand towards him, placing it on his shoulder, at which he raised his head and looked at her with bright eyes and an open mouth, "Are you alright?"
She nodded, smiling at him and falling back into the now unmade blankets, "Never been better."
He chuckled deeply, moving from his position on the floor and causing at least two joints in his legs to crack.
The moment Elide saw he'd managed to get at least halfway out of his trousers, her throat went dry. And her brain forgot how to talk when she noticed he wasn't wearing boxers. Elide knew Lorcan often went commando, but seeing it with her own eyes was a different story. Seeing him, was a completely different thing from feeling him against her.
She swallowed. She'd intended to scold him for taking all the fun out of both of them by touching himself, but maybe Elide had overestimated her abilities, because the idea of having to give Lorcan a blowjob when his dick was like this-
"If you keep looking at me like that I'm not sure I can keep the promise I made to myself," he murmured in a serious voice.
Elide looked up at his face and sighed as she saw his eyes as dark as before, just moments before he pulled off his clothes completely and lay down beside her on the other side of the bed.
It didn't take her even half a second to wrap herself around him and press her body against Lorcan's side as he draped an arm around her shoulders.
His fingertips began to trace idle lines on her shoulder as he had done only half an hour before on the couch in front of everyone.
A satisfied and surprised laugh came out of her. Lorcan put his hand under her chin and when she looked up at him he had an equally satisfied smile on his lips. He pushed her head towards his, causing their mouths to collide in a brief kiss that was chaste in comparison to what they had just done and when they broke away, Elide frowned, "I didn't like you touching yourself without giving me a chance to enjoy this in turn."
The corner of Lorcan's mouth turned up, "Sorry honey, but seeing you naked like that on the bed for me has been my dream for a little too long and I was sure I would have come in zero time if I had let you touch me. It would have been embarrassing." he whispered, caressing her cheek.
Elide tried to suppress a smile, failing miserably. She decided to tease him a little, "I thought I heard you say you lasted long in bed, didn't you?"
He chuckled, "You know it's hard to rely on stamina when the girl in question is you."
At those words she felt a particularly strong surge of affection for the boy who had given her one of the most intense orgasms she had ever received and she pushed herself closer against him, making her bare breasts feel against his skin.
Lorcan turned slightly towards her, looking into her face.
He looked so relaxed.
She knew he was.
But there was something that didn't allow her to be one hundred percent.
She fixed her eyes on his, placing a hand on his chest, over his heart. The hand Lorcan had held behind his head until now came to rest on hers, squeezing her fingers tight.
Elide took a shuddering breath, "Now what?"
Lorcan suppressed a yawn, "I guess it's not a problem if we stay here and sleep-"
"No, I'm saying," she interrupted him, looking away, "what do we do now? You and I." then, realizing that question couldn't have been more vague, she closed her eyes, mustering courage, "What are we now?"
"Whatever you want us to be, Ellie," he said softly, starting to stroke her hand, "But I want one thing to be clear. And I'd like you to look at me while I say it."
Elide opened her eyes, lifting her chin slightly so she could see him better, and gave him a small smile, which he immediately returned.
"What is it?"
Lorcan's gaze moved to her lips, before returning to her eyes, "I like you, Elide."
She stopped breathing.
"I really like you and whatever you decide to do with me, I'll respect that, but I also want to say that if you don't want anything exclusive, then this will have been a one night stand and won't happen again."
Although she also wanted exactly the same things, hearing him say them made her chest hurt, because the prospect of not being able to have him again so soon after just finally finding him hurt.
She cleared her throat, nodding, "I like you too." she whispered, noticing his eyes widen a little, "And I don't want you going with any other girls besides me if we decide to continue with this." Lorcan nodded, agreeing with her, then continued, "If you don't want a relationship right away, I can understand that, but know that I do." she felt herself blush as she finally admitted the truth out loud, looking away, "And I know our situation isn't the best with being roommates and all-"
"Our situation is perfect," Lorcan corrected her, moving a strand of hair out of her face.
She looked at him again, seeing him smile.
"Ellie, you're my best friend. The person who knows me the most out of all the people I consider important. We already live together, we won't have to fight over who to stay at every night. We won't have to go on any awkward first dates and the sex seems phenomenal to me," a lump formed in her throat as she tried to keep her breathing regular, but found it difficult when he smiled at her more broadly, "I waited months for you to see that the playlists were all declarations and hoped that after Friday night something would change. For once I won."
Elide figured he was talking about what had happened at the club, but if she was going to be completely honest... "I was the one who showed you my tits twice, letting you know I wanted something more. Don't take all the credit."
Lorcan burst out laughing and it sounded more scratchy than usual, "I'm sorry, you're right."
He kissed her again and again, and held her close as he ran his fingers through her hair and murmured the words to a love song, and before long she fell asleep in his arms, making Lorcan the happiest man in the world.
tog tag list (if you wanna be added or removed, just send an ask or dm me)
@maastrash @ireallyshouldsleeprn @sleeping-and-books @ladywitchling @thegoddessofyou @ghostlyrose2 @claralady @anne-reads @sayosdreams @perseusannabeth @letstakethedawn @simping4bookboisngrls @post-it-notes33 @booksstorm @nalgenewhore @queen-of-demons-and-hell @miserablemusings @lanyjoy-13 @vasudharaghavan @cupcakey00 @bri-loves-sunflowers @queen-of-glass @the-regal-warrior
#elorcan#elorcan fic#elorcan smut#elorcan fluff#tog fic#throne of glass#elide lochan#lorcan salvaterre#rowan whitethorn#aelin galathynius#rowaelin#lysandra ennar#fenrys moonbeam#dorian havillard#manon blackbeak#manorian#asterin blackbeak#honey
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nervous // g.w
Hi babes!
I’m finally posting the George fic that I was talking about and I am so excited for you to read it!
please, reblog if you like it, it helps me grow
disclaimer: my knowledge of werewolves is based only on a little internet research and the tv series named teen wolf, the episode named Anchors inspired me to write this
pairing: george weasley x werewolf!fem!reader
word count: 6k
Y/N - your name; L/N - last name; Y/F/N - your friend’s name
warnings: swearing, mentions of sex, (kind of) panicking
summary: y/n is afraid of who she became, thinking that now she’s unlikable, but her new abilities prove her wrong, making her hear the boy’s talking and... the beating of his heart
“Hey, he’s staring again.” Your friend noticed the boy, who was standing across the hall with his brother and their friends.
Who was she talking about? George Weasley, of course, the person whose heart you could hear from miles away.
You met him a while ago, wandering through the halls at night, trying to sort some things out while he and his brother were bringing their another prank to life. Of all people attending Hogwarts, you bumped into them.
You never thought that someone, besides Prefects, would be seen in the corridors so you didn’t pay attention, focusing only on your thoughts. No wonder you got quite overwhelmed when you hit your head with something, and it definitely wasn’t a wall.
“Are you okay?” The redheaded boy asked you, worried about your well-being. “I’m sorry, I just couldn’t take my eyes off that Zonko’s new item. Are you sure you are fine? I can walk you to madam Pomfrey.”
“Oh, don’t worry about me.” You said, looking at the moon. “I’m heading to my dormitory, don’t want to bother you and your brother.” You nodded at him, so he told you his name.
“I’m Fred. The more handsome one. Also, the funnier one, because I’ve just made out an amazing plan. Care to join us? I swear you will not regret it. ” He encouraged you, and you didn’t want to be rude, finally agreeing to go with them. A couple of minutes more outside the dorm can’t hurt you, right?
The thing is, you spent almost the whole night preparing pranks with them and idly talking, joking about Snape and Filch.
The problem is, you haven't talked with them since that accident. Sometimes you exchanged a few words in classes you had together but nothing more.
So then why did George have a crush on you?
You asked yourself that question many times since you first heard him confessing his feelings to Fred. Every time this boy got closer to you or touched you accidentally, his heart was beating so fast like a drum. Your heart has been just as fast as his, but he couldn’t know that. You didn’t even know if it was because you shared his feelings, or did just knowing what he feels towards you, made you that anxious.
“I know. I’m still not able to control these new super senses. I saw him a while ago. Not to mention that his heart makes my ears hurt. ” You admitted, holding your head because all these sounds were giving you a headache.
“Well, maybe if you’d finally talk to him, your senses wouldn’t be a big problem. Perhaps if you can’t manage to control them, you should ask someone who might help you. Go to professor Lupin.”
“But he doesn’t know that I’m a werewolf. I’m still not comfortable when someone mentions that. ” You said, scared of what you’d become. You knew that sooner or later you were supposed to reach for help, but you felt insecure and didn’t want to recall that night when you were bitten.
“He’s coming over here.” Your friend interrupted your thought, reminding you of George.
“No way, we have to run.” You started packing your bag, standing up from sitting on the bench.
“Too late.” She added, making you turn around.
“Hello girls, how’s your day?” He asked nicely, staring at you constantly.
“Bad.” You whispered.
“Getting better.” Your friend interrupted you, because she knew how much you wanted to walk away, and she couldn’t let you, knowing that you have to confront him anyway.
“Great, I wanted to ask you a question.” He pointed at you, smiling widely. “Would you go on a date with me?” He scratched his back, getting stressed. You heard his heart pounding, which made you even angrier. The sound was so loud that you weren’t able to hear anything other than that, feeling like you could pass out at any moment.
“She would love to.” Your friend took the lead, which made the boy wonder why you weren’t responding. “She’s just as stressed as you are. Sorry for speaking in her name, but she talked about you for so long. I hope you understand.”
“Oh, no worries. Meet me after the lessons on Friday. I’ll be waiting near to the great hall. ” He explained, addressing it to you, adding a short “see you later” after his brother called after him.
“You should thank me.” Your friend addressed you, asking you to sit down.
“Gosh, his heart was beating so fast. I couldn’t focus.” You told her, relaxing a bit. “And no, I will not thank you. Can’t you understand why I’m avoiding him? I thought I told you.”
“No, I can. I just think that you’re wrong. ” She told you, winking at you.
“Think about it. If he’ll find out who I am, he won’t talk to me again. I’d rather stare at him, being miles away and aware that he likes me too than admitting who I am and getting rejected, him not being able to look at me again.” You admitted, hearing your voice cracking slowly.
“You idiot. You really think that werewolves are some type of creature that cannot function normally? You’re here for centuries, managing everything somehow, I bet that there were werewolves married to Muggles, to wizards, and many more. Don’t think of yourself as a beast, some kind of unlovable creature. That’s not what you are. You’re perfectly normal. By the way, bold of you to assume that he’s the first one to judge and won’t accept you.” She gave you a speech, trying to cheer you up.
“That’s exactly what I think. Can you blame me? I’m still not used to this, I never really talked with any other werewolves.”
“Then stop! See, you’re also prejudging him. There’s only one way to find out what he’s thinking about you. You’ll tell him the truth. But for now, we have to find Lupin.”
—
You were not ready yesterday, so after your friend spotted Lupin, you decided to hide. You wanted to be prepared for every topic that he will discuss with you, deciding that you’ll ask him to stay for a little talk when the DADA lesson finishes.
“Can I speak with you for a moment, professor?” You asked, trying to sound quiet.
“Yes, you may. What’s the problem, miss L/N?”
“If you’re going to ask questions, then I might stay here for a little longer than ‘ a moment ’.” You joked, secretly being scared of admitting the truth.
“Anyway. As you may know, I am a werewolf. Before you ask, I prefer not to tell you how it happened. I’m still learning, and you’re the only one that came to mind. I thought that you might help me.”
“You should’ve come earlier. Weren’t you curious earlier about your abilities and how to control them?”
“I was. But I was also too afraid to say something. Werewolves aren’t considered as the nicest creatures, I wanted to avoid gossip. I still want to. ” You started a monologue, watching closely if Lupin is paying attention to you. “The main reason for me coming to have a little chat with you is not only to ask about my abilities. I’m invested in hearing. Because I cannot understand why some sounds are clearer and come to my mind often? What makes them so?”
“Do you have something specific in your mind?” He asked, being eager to help you.
“Someone’s heart beating. I mean, I hear a lot of sounds, but this one is haunting me, even if that person is completely in a different place. Am I losing my mind? Or did this happen to you as well?”
“This person is your anchor, then. The one who can calm you down, who can help you control all of your new skills. But it might change through the years, you don’t have one anchor for eternity. Everything is based on your feelings. ” Remus explained calmly.
“Who was your anchor? You don’t have to tell me if you’re not feeling comfortable with it, after all, I’m just another Hogwarts student. ” You asked out of curiosity, wishing that he will open up to you.
“It used to be someone who was my friend. I don’t think I have an anchor anymore. ” He answered, being rather peaceful and not bothered by it, however, you wanted to comfort him, asking for permission to hug him.
“You’ll find another anchor. You said that we can have it more than once, right? I bet that somewhere there is someone special, whose ability is to calm you down. ” You smiled shyly.
“Um, eh, we’re not here to be upset. Let’s focus on your issue.” He said, wanting to change the topic. “What you need to control your abilities is physical contact with that special someone. I can’t assure you that it will work after the first attempt, but it certainly might help.
“But that takes time, I think I was able to control most parts of it after months. Still, some things are not under my control. Anyway, don’t worry about that, everything has its flaws. If you’ll excuse me, I have an important meeting soon, I don't want to be late. If you want, we can meet again after one of my lessons.” Lupin bid you goodbye, making you leave his classroom.
As you were left alone, you started thinking about the conversation that happened seconds ago. It did not make sense to you.
How could George be your anchor?
Sure, you had a crush on him for a while, but nothing ever happened between you two. That one night, which you spent preparing pranks with twins was fun, nothing else. You decided to not make any more friends, because you remembered how Y/F/N reacted when you said that you’re a werewolf. So you drifted away not only for your own good, but also for his.
Why him? Why isn’t it your friend, or even someone from your family who is your anchor? And how are you going to explain it to him? “Hey, I’m a werewolf, and you’re the only one that keeps me sane? You have to stay with me forever, otherwise I might go crazy?”
No way. You couldn’t see it.
At the same time, George was calmly waiting for you next to the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. He noticed that you stayed for a little talk with Remus, but he also was eager to talk to you.
Your date was supposed to happen tomorrow, and he wanted to make sure that you’re comfortable with him, and that you have something to talk about. He was afraid that maybe somehow tomorrow you guys will be stressed, so chatting the day before, no strings attached and just getting to know each other might lighten the mood.
“Hey.” He started the conversation without thinking about it. ‘Hey’? Couldn’t you think about anything better? Something more creative? Now she will think that you were stalking her, you dumbass, he thought, standing in front of you.
Never was he that close to you, or maybe just didn’t pay attention when you were around, but now he noticed the height difference between the both of you. He found it really hard not to kneel down, so he could see your eyes gleaming. Although he considered it cute and funny, he decided not to mock it. Well, not right now, since he had other reasons to talk to you and was so fixated about it.
“Hello George, what could have brought you here?” You asked, not bothering to look at him, because you would have to keep your head up.
“We just had the same lesson. I sit in front of you. ” He explained, thinking that you didn’t notice that detail. If the tall, ginger boy can be considered as a detail.
“Oh, I know. But the lesson ended 20 minutes ago. ” You said, wondering if he will say what he has in mind or will just play pretend.
“Actually, I wanted to talk to you. Nothing deep, only to diffuse the tension before our meeting tomorrow. ” He scratched his head, walking slowly by your side.
“Meeting you say, and what’s that?” You teased him a little, finding it funny and adorable that he was afraid to use the word ‘date’.
“You know, when a group of people, two and above, meets somewhere. God, I was scared that I’m going to be the dumb one. Now I can relax. But I have to admit, I expected more from you. ” He joked, coping with his fear.
“Okay, so what’s the pre-meeting topic that made you come to me?”
“Actually…” He began, but you interfered.
“Shit. My friend is there.” You pointed at the end of the corridor, where she was talking with a Ravenclaw from your year. “We have to hide, I’ll explain.” You pushed him to the next door that appeared in front of you, finding yourself in Filch’s office. Great.
“Can you explain now? I thought that you like her. ” He asked out of curiosity.
“I do, but I don’t want her to interject in our conversation. Shh, I think someone’s coming. We should hide. ” You advised, being pretty sure that it’s Filch. Who else would come to his office? You made George hide behind the huge bookshelf, noticing how little space there was.
“You know, we could also say a spell to make us invisible.” He laughed at you, trying to find a comfortable position.
“Too late. Shut your mouth. ” You both tried to stay silent, hearing the sound of someone opening the door. George was almost sitting, because if he would stand normally, his head could be seen above the bookshelf.
His eyes were focused on you and your face in general, which made you hold your laughs way harder than you thought it would. If either of you made a sound, you’d end up in detention, and Filch would make sure that you get the worst punishment.
Fortunately, he only came to get one thing from his desk, so as soon as you heard the door shut, George suddenly moved, hitting his head on the shelf.
“Shh.” You said, listening closely to the steps that were getting closer.
“Ah, Mr. Norris, I forgot about you! But you didn’t have to hit the door so hard. I hope you forgive me. ” He said to the cat that stayed in his office, but this time he took it with him.
While they were going out of the office, you had to silence the boy, who was struggling because of pain. It was not your intention to show your werewolf abilities, however, he looked as it really hurt him, wanting to scream.
“Show me the back of your head.” You demanded, when the two of you went out of the hideaway. You slowly took his head with one hand, the other one intertwining with his fingers. He had no idea what you were doing. It was clever of you to take his hand, making it look like you were comforting him, while you took some of his pain away. Fortunately, you were wearing your long robes, so your veins were not visible. Otherwise, the boy would’ve seen how you were taking the sore, making the veins look blackish.
If it weren’t for your location and the cause of his headache, both of you would be on the way to the hospital wing. But how could you explain that George hit the bookshelf in Filch’s office? Well, you couldn’t. Good for you that the boy did not question your methods, he probably didn’t even notice the thing that you had done.
“That was weird. But also hilarious.” George admitted, laughing way too loud, when you carefully opened the door to check what’s going on outside the office. After you made sure that no one was staring, you took his hand again, making him go after you.
While wandering through corridors, you noticed it is almost empty.
“Why is no one here?” You asked, not expecting the ginger boy to answer.
“You know, I think everyone is having classes. We’re going to be late.”
“Oh no, we’re not going at all.” You replied quickly. “Not in the mood to get all the attention today, apparently the world is against me. We gotta be smarter, let’s play truant.” You tried to encourage George, but he already seemed to be in.
“That sounds great! Now I really do feel like we’re soulmates.”
“You doubted it? Wait, you never even mentioned that to me. ” You craved for an explanation, while George wasn’t so fond of telling you more.
“Don’t worry, it’s just a silly word. I intended to ask you something. Why didn’t you say anything when I asked for a date? Is it because you didn’t want to, or find me too intimidating?”
“Do you want the answer that will make you look bad, or do I have to take all the blame?”
“Depends which is the correct one.” He replied teasingly.
“I mean, I did think it was a little weird that you asked me, because after the pranks that night we talked only occasionally… how could I possibly be your soulmate? How could you grow to like me when you don’t know me at all? ” Yeah, you might regret that later, but you had to be honest.
“Merlin, I’m going to sound like a weirdo, but I do know you. At least I think so. You showed the real yourself that night, being careless and funny, besides in most of my classes I’m focusing on you, not the topic. I’m definitely sounding like a psycho, but you always sit in front of me or behind me, joking with your friend and I cannot help but hear more than a little and laugh quietly. I’ve liked you since that damn night and got to know you, in an unusual way, but still felt like we’re similar. That’s why I had to shoot my shot. Please don’t leave. ” He said, grabbing my hand, afraid of the vision that I might freak out.
“Can you shut up?” You replied in a harsh way, later realizing what you had done. “Shit, I didn’t mean… I just… you can speak. I’m just… Can you calm down? It sounds like your heart is going to run away from your body.”
“Am I sweating or what?” He asked, curious how did you notice that his heart was fluttering.
“Oh no I actually… I can hear your heart beating. Very, very fast. And that you’re swallowing now the gulp of saliva, because you’re scared. I even hear professor Flitwick explaining the cheering charm to the 3rd years. And that Hagrid is coming, I think he’ll appear in this corridor in two minutes.”
“Your eyes have just changed from their natural color. What is going on? Is something wrong? I am worried, I want to help you darling. ” He tried to comfort you, so you didn’t even notice the nickname. “Are you an Animagus? Metamorphmagus?”
“I’m a werewolf. I’m a werewolf, George. I’m so sorry, I know, I should’ve told you earlier. ” You admitted the truth, now being the one who’s afraid.
“No way! That’s so cool! I’m glad that I know! How many people know? Is this why you talked with Lupin? Can you show me your claws? And your transformation? ” The ginger got way too excited, so your job was to tone him down.
“Shh, remember that we’re in corridors, when we should be in classes. No one can know that we’re here. I’m so sorry for saying this, but I can’t show you. Not only is it irresponsible, but.. I can’t control anything since I was bitten. It might be because I’m that creature for the short term. I haven’t learned to control it yet, no one was kind enough to show me. Oh wait, the only werewolf that I know and trust is Remus and I told him the news just today.”
“But you told me that you hear my heart beating... It’s one of your abilities, right? ” He asked curiously.
“Yeah, it is. See, I either don’t know how to do things or they’re out of my control. I can smell like everything in this corridor right now, and trust me, when it’s mixed, it’s awful. I told you, I hear not only you, but even what’s happening in the charms classroom that is in front of us,” you took a deep breath, trying to gather your wits,
“I also see the flying lessons from that window and I can recall every face of the students that are now attending that lesson. The problem is, that I don’t want to. This information is totally not needed by me, but I can’t control it.”
“I can’t decide yet what I want to smell or hear… it’s really hard. That’s why I couldn’t answer you when you asked me on a date. I heard your heart, and it caused my headache, that’s why my friend took the lead and talked with you that day.”
“Oh, don’t worry about it! Now that I know what was happening, I can relax. Should I say sorry for the sound of my heart? I didn’t want to…”
“It’s okay.” You interjected, comforting him, while it’s you who needed the comfort. “It’s not that bad, since you consider us soulmates, me, remembering how your heart beat sounds, it’s quite romantic.” You smiled shyly, avoiding eye contact.
“Can I?” George started, but took a break, wishing that you know what he has in his mind. You didn’t, so you stared at him with interest. “Can I listen to your heart? I wish I could remember yours too.”
You nodded at him, but the boy was too awkward to start this. You took his hand, leading it slowly to your chest, getting out of your comfort zone.
“You know, maybe you should rest your head on me. It won’t look as weird as you're almost touching my breasts. ” You started laughing, wondering if you’re taking this too far.
“Alright then.” He got a little more confident, doing as you told him so. “And I was hoping that we were going to have sex.”
“And you’re my soulmate?? Man, I would never do it in public. In front of the charms' classroom? What if Flitwick or students… I can’t even say it. You’re something else, Weasley.” You patted him on his head, which was still resting on your arm.
“I was going to tell you something really important. But since you got too cocky, you’re gonna have to wait ‘til our date. ” You started, feeling ready to explain to him about the anchor. You didn’t change your mind, because you will tell him anyway. Since the two of you got way too comfortable around each other, you decided to tease him a little.
“Oh please, don’t leave me hanging on. I can give you… something. ” He tried to convince you, taking some sweets from his pocket.
“No way, I know what you’re giving me. It’s Zonko’s hiccough sweet. Won’t happen. ” You replied, declining his offer. The bell ringing made you realize that the lesson has ended and the two of you should hide or at least make an excuse why didn’t you show up to your classes. Not only for the teachers, but for the friends' curiosity. What were you going to say? It seemed easier to just disappear than explain everything.
“I’m sorry, but Fred is watching us and I think we have something to talk about.” George got up, waving to his brother. “See you tomorrow then? Please, don’t be late” He added, lending you a hand in case you wanted to stand up, but you kindly declined it, deciding to sit for a little longer.
“Where were you? I was freaking out until I noticed that George was also absent. Good for you that it’s the transfiguration you had missed, not potions. Snape would kill you, or make you clean his class. Now, tell me what happened. In detail, please. ” She begged you, making you sigh at that statement, knowing that you two will probably miss another lesson, talking about your new friend, or, more like, soulmate?
—
The date was about to begin in 30 minutes, you were sitting calmly in your dorm, listening to your friend’s rambling.
“What do you mean by saying that you have ‘a lot of time’? Is thirty minutes a lot? You aren’t ready at all! At least change your shirt.”
“Well, I wanted to dress up. Then I started thinking if I should wear something casual, since it’s just Friday night, and we’re staying in school, or should I wear something elegant, to make this date more serious. Next I had a little panic attack for the same reason. Finally, I decided that I’m not gonna dress up. Too much pressure.”
“So you’re going in the same clothes that you were wearing for the whole day?” She asked you, wishing you’ll decide to change.
“Yeah, I don’t want to make it official. We’ll see what is going to happen.”
“At least brush your teeth for Merlin’s sake! I bet this boy is ready for something more than listening to your heart. ” She joked, making you terrified.
“Damn, what if he really does? What If I won’t be able to control myself and change into a werewolf? That would be so humiliating.”
“No! I’m sorry, don’t panic. I think he’ll be excited to see you in that way. You mentioned that he was very cool about that. ” She tried to calm you.
“No, you don’t understand. I can’t control myself. What If I harm him? I don’t want to... If something like that happens, then for sure he won’t keep in touch with me. ” You said, pacing around the dorm to not freak out.
“Oh trust me, this boy is weird. And he likes taking risks. I bet that he will laugh about it and get excited. ” She summed it up, wishing that it might cheer me up.
Because of her, you finally decided to get up and change clothes. You still wanted to be comfortable, hoping that casual clothes would fit in that situation, whatever it may be that George has planned.
After saying goodbye to your friend, you found yourself in the corridors, walking slowly, focusing on breathing slowly. There’s no need to worry, right?
A couple of minutes later you noticed George, standing in front of the Great Hall, just as he said to you earlier, leaning against the wall. He was looking down at the floor, bouncing his head, probably to the song that he couldn’t get rid of. You did not want to interrupt, enjoying the view from afar, but you knew you had no choice.
“Stressed?” You asked him, watching as his eyes slowly looked upon you.
“Not any longer. You came. ” He smirked, asking for permission to take my hand.
“Why wouldn’t I? Yesterday was fun. ” You admitted, being curious where the two of you are heading to.
Before you realized you were outside of Hogwarts, George led you to the location where everything was prepared. You couldn’t help but wonder what he has in his mind. Is he worried that you may not like that? Is he excited to show you? Is it still a date or just a friendly meeting?
Seconds later the view was starting to get familiar the Black Lake was for sure mesmerizing, but what amazed you more was a huge, colorful blanket with so much food on it.
“Did you make it?” You asked, noticing that a flower crown was also laying on the blanket. “Which charm did you use?” The boy flushed at this question, feeling embarrassed.
“Oh, I didn’t use any charm. I got anxious after everything was prepared, so I had to get my hands busy. We were making flower crowns when Ginny was little, so I was worried that I might not do it properly, because it was long ago, but I’m actually proud of that one. ” George explained everything to you, starting to gain his confidence back, seeing that you liked what he had done. He helped you put it on your head, and then you sat down, looking at swans swimming in the lake.
“Do you think that we will eat everything? It looks like a feast for the whole school, or at least for one of the houses. ” The food in front of you was disappearing very, very slowly. Although George was eating all the time, the blanket was still full of all kinds of food. At first, you weren’t eager to try this food, knowing that George might have done something with it, but when he reached for the snacks, you followed his actions.
Talking with him was really pleasant, you felt weirdly comfortable around him, but still the anchor thing was haunting you. Sometimes you couldn’t focus, thinking how are you going to explain it to him. It wasn’t that hard to make words come out of your mouth. What worried you was the commitment. Do you have to be his girlfriend immediately after that confession? Does that strengthen the bond between you two? Or will it mean nothing to him?
You could admit that you liked him. A lot. But those words sounded like you expected him to be more than your friend, and you did not want to rush things. Maybe you’ll consider telling it to him after the date? Depends on if it’s going to be good or end awkwardly?
You decided to brush it off, asking out of nowhere.
“George, what’s like to prank people? Do you feel excited or embarrassed while making them?”
“Don’t tell me you’ve never pranked someone.” He said seriously, but seeing your face made him realize that you weren’t joking as well.
“No way. We have to prank someone together. Get up. Plans are changed.” He ordered, making sure that you do what he told you to, and then throwing the spell that made the blanket disappear.
“Did someone get under your skin lately?” Weasley said, probably having the plan already made in his head.
“Filch is yelling at me every day. Apparently Mr. Norris is not fond of my Kneazle.”
“And you’re letting him treat you like that? We gotta do something.”
Going back to Hogwarts was quick and exciting. You never pranked anyone but you heard a lot of stories about the twins doing it, and having a chance to make it with one of them next to you, made you hope that it’s going to be fun. George decided that you’re gonna make a potion that will make Filch speak nonsense, it is Babbling Beverage.
To do this, you had to sneak into the potions classroom, which wasn’t the easiest task, but definitely the interesting one.
Joking with Weasley was really easy, this boy was a comedian. Spending time with him opened your eyes, that not everything has to be taken seriously in life. He could make fun of anything, yet you felt comfortable with him, because he knew when he should stop.
Collecting all the things needed to brew this potion created a silence between you two, because you focused on the responsibility to make it perfect. Considering the fact that neither of you were good in potions, doing all of this was a challenge. But you knew it was worth it. For all the things Filch said to you, offending you every day, you waited for the sweet, sweet revenge.
Finally, feeling ready, you broke the silence.
“George, I have to say something. Please don’t make fun of me.”
“No worries darling. I literally came to you and asked you out even though we didn’t talk much. If you didn’t make fun of me, then I won’t do it to you.” He admitted, taking the ladle out of your hands.
“How much do you know about werewolves?” You started slowly, not wanting to get to the point so quickly.
“Not much. Just that you and Remus are the ones. And that something happens when there’s a full moon. Do you want to say that I should learn more? Because I could do that for you. ” He replied, like it wasn’t a big thing, but it made you smile wide.
“Oh, you don’t have to.” You said, not wanting to put the pressure on him. “You know, there’s a thing called an Anchor.” You started, taking a deep breath to think what you should say.
“And what’s that?” He asked out of curiosity, wishing that you could explain everything now, because he hated living with the unawareness. “You can trust me.” He added, taking your palm in his and rubbing it slowly with his thumb.
“I don’t know how to say this. I’m nervous. It... it’s a thing, or a person... actually, it is a person, who can calm the werewolf. They don’t have to be next to the creature, just the thought of them makes the werewolf control everything, making them able to not transform into the beast... you know. ” You started messing up the words, feeling incredibly stressed, and the fact that George was staring deep in your eyes, didn’t help you at all.
“Sorry to bother you, but we have to wait one hour for this ingredient to get warmer. We can sit in the storeroom then.” He took off his jacket, putting it on the floor to make the place a bit more cozy.
You sat next to him, staying silent, knowing that when he interrupted you, it could mean that he’s not interested in the werewolf things. “What you said about the anchor... I think it’s pretty romantic. But why did you mention it to me?”
“Don’t make me say it Weasley. I really don’t want to. I don’t even think I can. ” You tried to make it obvious that it’s him, but he clearly wanted you to admit it out loud.
“No way, is it Snape? That’s why we’re sitting here? Or is it Filch? And you want to show him the affection through the pranks? You're a weirdo, Y/N.” He laughed.
“And you clearly don’t know what I have in mind.” You said, getting the confidence you gained lately.
“Do you mean you’re going to change tonight? Should I run? Or try to keep you calm? ” He was asking.
“If someone’s going to be that dumb, I might harm him. Just in case. ” You tried to tease him back, not wanting to say those words.
“Can I kiss you? These threats sound so hot when it comes out of your mouth. ” He asked, so you nodded quietly, watching as he was leaning closer. “Just don’t bite me, or do it. I would be the best werewolf, and the most handsome one. ” He whispered between the kisses.
“Your heart is so freaking loud. Maybe we should stop, we don’t want you to die or have a heart attack. ” You replied, showing that you care.
“We don’t? I didn’t know that. Also, I thought that you can’t hear it anymore. Since I am your anchor, and all you do right now is think of me...” he said confidently, admitting the things you were scared to say.
“Glad you finally understood. But it doesn’t work like that...” You were eager to explain everything once more, yet George had the courage to interrupt you again.
“Shh, we will have the time for talking. I’m now stuck with you forever, to be your Prince Charming and hero when you won’t be able to control yourself. But you are able now, and the night is long…”
“Don’t be so sure.” You interjected, moving closer and deciding to sit on him.
As George said, the night was long. The two of you forgot about the potion you were making, focusing on something else.
The worst thing was how easy the two of you fell asleep.
Snape seeing you that morning, sleeping, covered with your robes, was quite surprised. And furious. He yelled at you, making you wake up, not knowing where you are and what you were doing last night.
It was obvious that he’s going to serve detention for you.
But what could possibly go wrong, now that you have your anchor beside you?
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THE LAND OF GODS AND DEVILS, a sequel.
—part i.
word count: 6k
rating: m for now, rating will change in later chapters as things develop, tags will be updated accordingly.
warnings: naughty language, massively canon-divergent, roman gets his own tag because he's a fucking nutso, canon-typical violence, established relationship that might not be the healthiest, age gap, domestic murder family. for this chapter in specific, roman likes to take things to the Extreme (i.e., "i'm going to fucking kms if you say this word one more time") but if you're here i imagine you know exactly what he's about.
notes: it's here! i know that most of my followers and friends on here are my friends through my far cry 5 content, but my return to the fic-writing world was inspired by my first longfic in a decade after watching birds of prey. you could say, perhaps, that i have a Type(TM), given that roman sionis lives rent free in my head forever and always. this is the sequel to my work carry your throne, though i like to think it's fairy user-friendly, especially once we really get into the thick of it.
special thank you goes to my beta and the loml, @starcrier; the first person to ever truly recognize varya for the wretched little beast that she is and love her anyway. thank you for being my beta and for loving my girl!
and, of course, another special thanks goes to @shallow-gravy, @vasiktomis, @faithchel, @tomexraider, and @belorage for being so supportive of my foray out of the far cry fandom and back into one that, in a way, brought me here in the first place!
summary: —by dread things, compelled.
roman sionis is the closest he has ever been to having everything that he wants; a perfect wife, a perfect family, a perfect international black-market arms dealing business signed over to him in its entirety. unfortunately for him, there are people in the world who would prefer to see him without, and that has never been a thing that roman has accepted for himself: being without.
(or: a fic wherein the devil spends his time rebuking sin.)
“If one more person says the word ‘chandelier’ in my presence,” Roman announced, drawing all eyes to him, “I'm going to blow my fucking brains out. Got it?”
There was a brief moment of silence that lapsed before the murmured acquiescence of the workers marked their return to their work. Blowing hot air from his mouth, Roman raked his fingers through his hair and turned back around to where Zsasz was watching him expectantly.
“What?” He demanded. “It’s my wife’s birthday.” Emphasis on the my, not the wife; it was not a favor Roman was doing for Varya, it was something he was doing for himself.
“V told them she wanted it.” Zsasz gestured to the offensive piece of lighting, which continued to haunt Roman’s waking and dreaming hours with its garish crystalline drippings and expensive bulbs. Ever since Varya had found out his fluctuating approval of the chandelier, it had been in and out of the Black Mask Club more times than he could count. Not that he needed to; he could very well put in or rip out a stupid fucking light fixture as many times as he wanted.
“Well.” Roman pulled a glass out from behind the bar, setting it on the top and dropping an ice cube into it. “She does so love to torture me.”
“It's just a—”
“Do you want my fucking guts on the floor, Zsasz? I mean it. Say the word and I’ll do it.”
The blonde regarded him drily. “No, boss.”
“Blood and guts everywhere.” Roman gestured widely with his free hand. “All over the floor. The bar top. You’ll have to clean it up. Maybe wipe down some of the bottles.”
“I won’t say it.”
“I don’t have to tell you how hard it is to get blood out of the carpet.”
Zsasz’s mouth quirked up in a smile. It said, without saying anything at all, no, you don’t. More agreeably, and with the flash of pearly whites and the capped tooth: “Sure.”
Roman poured well over what would have been considered the polite amount of expensive scotch into his glass, capping the bottle and setting it aside. It had been exactly twenty-four hours of making sure the club was perfectly polished and styled for Varya's birthday; though she was shrewd, she was so preoccupied with the twins and the lawyers and overseas business associates that she barely seemed to notice whatever was coming in and out of the Black Mask Club. He didn’t think she’d had a baby nor a phone out of her hands in over two days, and truthfully, it was starting to become tedious. Now that the twins were a little over a year old, they were supposed to be scheduling their honeymoon.
The delay of it hadn’t been a big deal, at the start. But everyday with you feels like my honeymoon, Varya had demurred months before the twins’ arrival, fluttering her lashes and gliding her fingers along the lapel of his jacket—and not even an hour after she’d curtly informed him that any more chatter, while she was nursing a headache, would be met with a swift and efficient extraction of his vocal cords by her own hands. Motherhood was supposed to have domesticated her, Roman thought, and had done the exact opposite; now, she was more assured of her status and power than ever.
So, yes; Varya had been busy, and he was almost certain she’d forgotten her own birthday. Never mind that everything had to be perfect. Never mind that it had to be immaculate. Never mind that Varya had deigned to order a brand new fucking chandelier from the same place they’d gotten one last time, knowing full well that he had made the executive decision to gut the fucking thing and get it out of his club.
“Tell you what, Zsasz,” Roman muttered, taking a swallow of the amber liquid in his glass, “don’t ever get fucking married. You want someone knowing all the shit that pushes your buttons all the time?”
“Maybe you just got a button pusher for a wife.”
Roman grimaced and took another swallow. It was true. “Fuck off.”
The blonde opened his mouth to say something else—and hadn’t he gotten confident in himself too, since Varya had become such a permanent fixture in their life, constantly goading and coercing him to voice his opinion on things, things that normally he would just defer to Roman on—when the doors to the stairwell and the elevator opened.
Eclipsing the doorway was Armazd, Varya’s hand-picked-from-the-batch-of-Russians-left-over-guard. Armazd had to be easily cresting six-foot-five, his dark beard neatly trimmed and peppered with silver, a scar breaking the color of his top lip. Roman had only ever seen the man swathed in dark clothes, like a fucking mourner on parade. His wife had been the one picked to be the twins' nanny, despite the fact that Roman felt like she barely did anything.
Also hand-picked. Thoroughly vetted. Interrogated for hours. No stone left unturned, when it came to Yuli and Ro.
“What are you doing down here?” Roman barked, coming around the side of the bar to make his way across the room. “You’re supposed to be going up and keeping—”
“She is coming down,” Armazd clarified. “In the elevator. Irina called to tell me.”
“Instead of stopping her?”
“She was—”
The elevator dinged in the hallway, and Roman quickly ducked around Armazd and closed the door into the club behind him. As soon as the doors slid open, he planted a smile on his face and closed the distance between himself and his wife.
Nobody would know, looking at Varya, that she not only barely utilized the nanny that they had furiously vetted and now paid handsomely, but that on top of juggling their twins she was actively in the process of getting a massive, international gun-running business signed over in his name. There was not a single hair out of place, not a single crease or rumple in the sapphire-blue silk of her blouse or skirt; the scent of her preferred jasmine perfume followed her like a cloud. She looked as put-together as the day he’d first seen her standing in his club.
And now, he desperately needed her to stay out of it.
“Kitten,” he greeted warmly, his hands—though gloved—immediately scratching the itch by reaching for her; they captured hers to carefully still her procession to the club’s main room. “What are you doing down here? I thought you’d be busy for hours.”
“Yuliana has been fussing nonstop,” Varya replied, her voice light despite what could only have been an expression of frustration quickly following, “all while I listen to grown men fussing nonstop at me on the phone.”
Roman feigned a sympathetic noise, bringing her hands up to his mouth to kiss them. “We have a nanny, V.”
“You know better than anyone else,” the brunette murmured, brushing her nose against his as their hands dropped, “that she is inconsolable without you.”
He tried not to look too pleased. “I’m sure that’s not true.”
“Don’t be modest, Romy.”
“Well, I’ll come up, of course.” He kissed the corner of her mouth. “And console our princess.” Another kiss, to the other corner. “So that you can continue letting grown men fuss at you.”
She beamed at him prettily, and finally they met in the middle for a real kiss—nothing coy, nothing demure, but lingering warm and just between the two of them.
“I love you,” she purred. “Go on, then.”
And then Varya pulled away, as though to go around him and into the club, and Roman blinked rapidly. He had only just caught her around the waist before she could walk in and pulled her in a full one-eighty until she was facing the elevator again.
“What are you doing?” she asked, a laugh bubbling out of her. “I was just going to make myself a drink.”
“Encouraging productivity,” Roman replied, hitting the button for the elevator doors to open again. “Ready for all this paperwork to be done, aren’t you? It’s been over a year.”
A year of wading through mafia-esque bureaucracy. A year of listening to Varya say, these things take time. A busy year, to be sure, jam-packed full of things—the biggest wedding in Gotham since its founding, the twins.
A funeral.
Roman tried more and more every day not to think about his (now) brother-in-law’s funeral, the double burial of the only man that might have stood a chance at being loved by Varya more than Roman himself and the only man who had ever been anything like a father figure to her. Family is tedious, he’d wanted to say, brothers and fathers and mothers, the whole lot of them, cut them loose why don’t you? Why should anyone matter to you outside of the twins and I?
Varya glanced at him over her shoulder. “These things take time.”
He rolled his eyes. “Mhm.”
“Not to mention, we were a little busy,” she added, eyes narrowing playfully as he nudged her into the elevator, “you know—having children.”
“And what beautiful children they are.” Roman hit the button without looking, the doors sliding shut behind him.
“Well, how am I supposed to suffer through those phone calls without a stiff drink?”
He quirked a brow upward. “I’ll make you a stiff drink, Mrs. Sionis.”
The brunette propped herself up against the back rail of the elevator as it whirred into motion. The corner of her mouth, painted ruby, curved and her head tilted inquisitively. “Oh?”
“Of course,” he demurred, sidling forward and boxing her in against the wall. “I’ll make you a stiff drink—”
He dropped his head to the slope of her jaw to plant a kiss there.
“—you’ll finish up with the lawyers, and put on the dress I bought you—”
Varya hummed and sighed sweetly.
“—we’ll go out to dinner for your birthday—”
He dropped his hands to her hips, planting a kiss on her temple so that he could rumble, “And we can get to work on baby number three, hm?”
A sweet laugh billowed out of her just as the elevator came to a stop and the doors slid open to bring to Roman the oh-so-sweet sounds of a caterwauling infant. Over the distressed crying was Irina’s voice, shushing and cooing dulcet words in Russian; he could see her swaying to and fro with a swathe of fabric bundled in her arms.
“I almost forgot about my birthday,” Varya said thoughtfully, completely unrattled by the sound of their daughter’s distress. She stepped out from between him and the elevator wall; Roman fell into step beside her easily, the sound of her heels clipping against the floor enough to draw Irina’s eyes to them.
Roman said, “I know you did,” and did not bother to hide his smugness as he held out his arms for the shrieking baby in Irina’s arms. The redhead regarded him with a sort of weary amusement before she acquiesced; with Yuliana safely in his arms, he watched Varya cross the room to turn the automatic rocker that held their son back on to a slow, lulling pace. The freckled infant babbled happily—ever the quieter of the twins—and as Varya said something to Irina in Russian that inspired the woman to depart to the kitchen, she absently picked up a baby blanket from the couch and wandered over to him.
“Yuli,” she murmured, waving her finger at the already-content infant, tucking the blanket around her “is that all you wanted, hm? Just for your papa to hold you?”
“What else could she want for?” he replied confidently. Soothing Yuliana’s fury had become old-hat for him at this point. And, certainly, it pleased him to know that sometimes, the only thing that would make his daughter stop screaming was being held by him. Not even Varya—who had taken to motherhood like a fish to water—bothered when she was in a fit.
Still, the brunette sighed dreamily, her finger captured by their daughter’s tiny hand before she said, “What a perfect little gem.”
Roman hummed his agreement. “Finishing that call with the lawyers?”
“Perhaps tomorrow,” Varya replied. “They’re in a mood today.”
“They’re in a mood every day.” Russians, he thought venomously.
“Yes.” She smiled, flashing pearly teeth at him. “But only today is my birthday.”
She had him there. Still, he was itching for the whole thing to be done—Ilarion had dragged his feet through the process of even drawing up the original contract, which had only been a spit in his face (“You are the only person who gets to fuck Varya Astakhova, that is as exclusive as it gets”) and by the time all of that nasty business had been wrapped up, Ilarion was dead.
Ilarion, and Nikita—leaving only a single living soul to be in charge of the Astakhov empire: Varya herself.
Which, she had expressed time and time again, she had no desire for; not in the public way that her father had done it, and Ilarion after them. She much preferred the clerical work of it all. Paperwork and public relations. Let the men do men’s work, she’d demurred one night, tangled up in their sheets, when he’d asked her what she was going to do with it. I don’t mind. They like me better as their madonna, anyway.
“You know,” she continued, breaking him out of his thoughts as she made her way to the bar cart, pouring herself a drink, “they will like you more if it’s you they’re talking to.”
“I don’t give a fuck if they like me or not,” Roman replied, lifting Yuliana with both of his hands so that he could look at her. “Isn’t that right, princess? Mommy gets to do all the paperwork so that your papa can spend all of his time with you, instead of listening to some dumbfucks bitch and moan on the phone.” He glanced at her. “Well, anyway, since it’s your birthday we can let it slide.”
“Very generous of you.”
“Get dressed, won’t you?” he prompted, depositing his now-content daughter in the mobile swing with her brother. “The table’s been ready for us since noon.”
Varya watched him, dark eyes glittering amusedly. “And why, my darling, did you make the reservation for noon? It’s nearly six now.”
“Because,” he replied, “I wanted to make sure they held it, regardless of how long it took us to get there.”
“Ah.” She lifted her chin a little, lashes fluttering with contentment when he reached up and brushed the hair from her face. “Or else?”
Roman flashed her a grin.
“Or else.”
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They held the table.
“Good for them,” Roman said as they followed the server out onto the balcony. The table had clearly been refreshed—a new candle, a new vase, a new bucket of ice and bottle of champagne. He’d heard the waitstaff whispering furiously among themselves as they idled in the lobby to be taken to their table; now, settled across from the birthday girl, Roman was content with the way they had squirmed.
“Quicker than the two-hour wait last time,” Varya noted by way of agreement, smoothing her hand along the edge of the tablecloth.
He scoffed. The only reason they had waited in the lobby for two hours was because Varya had asked him to stay for the table she wanted. If it had been his way, they would have left with a bloody warning and gone somewhere else. “I can’t believe I finally convinced you to leave the twins home for a night and we got stuck sitting in that fucking lobby because they gave our table away.”
“In my defense, they are good babies, Romy. Hardly ever cry. Certainly not too much trouble.”
“But there’s two of them,” he replied, “and toting two babies around is a lot of work. All I’m saying is, what’s the point of paying her that much fucking money if we’re just going to—”
The waiter came by the table, clearly a little stressed; the lines of concern on his face were clear as he cleared his throat and said, “Should I come back?”
Varya, perusing the menu: “No, my darling, you may stay. You were saying, Romy?”
“I just don’t know why we’re shoveling money into her bank account for her to be a glorified accent chair in our house rather than a nanny.” Roman gestured to the champagne bottle expectantly. “Open it.”
The waiter did as he asked, having been standing there uncomfortably for a moment during their exchange. As he worked to carefully open the champagne bottle, Roman turned his attention back to Varya; her eyes remained on the menu, absently twisting the engagement and wedding band on her finger back and forth.
There was no way, he thought, that she was putting off getting the business signed over to him on purpose. Surely, there was no way; even when Ilarion was alive, even when she had anticipated no further problems, it had always been, if you’re going to be my romantic partner, it seems only right you’d be my partner in business too, don’t you think? And yet—
And yet, Roman could not push down the strange, hazy doubt that occasionally flickered through his mind. He had always wanted Varya, had always found himself wanting and wanting and wanting more and more often, and Varya had always seemed content to indulge him. There was, it seemed, nothing she enjoyed more than indulging him. One more kiss, one more minute in bed, one more lingering glance across the room. She was the absolute pinacle of his hedonism, in every sense of the word, and had proven time and time again that she would give him anything that he wanted.
The business had always been for her and Ilarion. He wanted it, and told her he did, and she said, you can have it, if you like, but like in all things, there was a slyness about his wife—a cruelty—that he found endearing and dangerous. Dangerous, because it wouldn’t have been the first time he’d been on the other end of her cruel nature, playfully poking and unwinding and tugging the thread loose until she had pushed him to the limit.
Something echoed in his head, and he realized that the waiter was asking him what he wanted to eat. Varya had handed the menu over and steepled her fingers, watching him with dark, curious eyes and red painted lips, sooty lashes fluttering. A pretty, painted little snake.
“I’ll take whatever she’s having,” Roman said after a moment, setting his menu aside and returning his attention to the brunette across from him. “Something interesting, kitten?”
“Can I not just appreciate my husband?” Varya demurred. “You’re wearing the suit I like best, after all.”
“It is your birthday. What greater gift is there than me?”
She laughed, delighted by him—as she always was—and took a sip of her champagne. “You were away from me, for a moment.”
He watched her, gauging her carefully. Even I know not to drop my pants when a viper opens its mouth, Bianchi had said, just before Varya had unloaded six rounds into his face and chest less than two feet away from him.
“Just thinking,” is what Roman said finally.
“Hm. A dangerous past time.”
His expression flattened, deadpan. “It’s taken a significant chunk of time to secure your father’s business in my name.”
Something flickered across Varya’s expression. at the word father. “To secure my business,” Varya replied, her voice abrupt and cutting, her eyes narrowed, “in your name.” Absently, she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She looked to be composing herself, like she’d spoken on a knee-jerk reaction rather than with thinking.
Then, glossy and silken again: “You know your patience means the world to me, Romy.”
There was nothing that he loved more than watching her pull back her venom for him. Drumming his fingers against the top of the table, Roman bridled his own irritation to say, mildly, “I’d do anything for you. Even wait...” He made a thoughtful noise. “Over a year to finally take on the responsiblities you wanted handed over to me.”
“Of course.” Varya smiled prettily, absently straightening out her silverware. “And we will speak no more of my father on my birthday, or any day after this.”
He knew what that meant. She phrased it pretty, wrapped it up in silk and velvet and presented it to him as unassuming as a doe, but he knew what that meant. There is my button, she was saying, there is my trip wire. Don’t push it, Roman. The name Nikita had all but been banned in their household, even when funeral arrangements were being made; any time he’d heard one of the lawyers mention her father’s name, there had been a sharp rebuke. Not in my presence, she would tell him later, I do not want to hear that fucking name in my presence.
“At any rate, there is nothing that I want more than for this whole process to be done,” she continued lightly, reaching across the table to take his hand. “It was always what I wanted, you know. Ilya was better suited to be a functional piece of the business; he was the face because he had to be, not because he wanted to be, and I am better suited for the nitpicking and the details. Being the overseer is much more in your circle of talents, Romy.”
Her words assauged something unsettled and prickly in him, the sweep of the pad of her thumb across the back of his hand returning that doubtful monster in his mind back to its slumber. He sighed.
“You’re right,” he acquiesced after a moment, “it is more in my circle of talents.”
“Undoubtedly.”
“I always got the impression Ilarion wasn’t happy with it,” he added. “Though you two certainly enjoyed making work of me that first night, didn’t you?”
Varya smiled demurely. “It was never meant to make work of you, only to make a good impression.”
“Hm,” he replied, eyes narrowing playfully, “but you enjoy pushing me, V.”
She looked pleased. She always did, when he remarked on something that felt like he was really seeing her, beneath the glossy veneer. His girl did so love being seen.
“Only,” V demurred, “because you so enjoy reining me in.”
“Guilty as charged.”
Roman brought her hand to his mouth, kissing the back of it before relinquishing it and glancing around. He would just have to exercise patience, of which he had the most; patience, modesty, and humility, all excellent qualities that he could participate in at will, at any given time. Without any restraint.
“Did the men get the chandelier installed?” Varya idled, snapping his attention back to her. He narrowed his eyes.
“I told you I didn’t want a chandelier anymore.”
She looked at him across the table, dark doe eyes wide and innocent. “I thought you liked how polished they make the club.”
“No, you little viper,” Roman replied, clicking his tongue, “Paolo has a chandelier in his club, and there’s no fucking way I’m going to have people comparing it.”
“Ah,” she murmured, “the drama of the chandelier goes on.”
“And while we’re at it, might as well gut that one from the estate, too.”
“There’s more than one chandelier in there.”
“Then the men will be busy, won’t they?” He tsked his tongue. “I know you dream about watching me blow my top, V, but I’m making an executive decision on gaudy light fixtures.”
A smile flashed across her expression, pearly teeth and delighted eyes. She sighed, almost dreamily, like there was nothing more that she liked than to be doing this exact thing, and with him.
“Oh, Romy,” the brunette said sweetly, “you are the only thing I dream about.” And then, almost as an after thought: “Gaudy light fixture terrorism included.” She waved her hand to dismiss any protest or rebuttal he might have given her and said, “Now, since it’s my birthday, tell me all of the things you love the most about me.”
Roman sucked his teeth, eyeing her for a moment as he leaned back in the chair. Wicked little thing, waiting to preen and glow under his attention, a feline seeking him out. Her little bout of cruelty before was already forgiven. He said, “We’re going to be here for a while, if I do that.”
“They held the table for over six hours,” Varya demurred, “I’m sure they’ll hold it for as many more as you need.”
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By the time they got to the club, Varya was acting as though nothing had happened.
Truthfully, Roman preferred it that way. It just also left a lot of room to wonder—his wife was a talented actress, adept at smoothing his ruffled feathers out and not divulging her own feelings on the matter. And he wouldn’t ask, of course. If Varya wanted to express herself, she would, and had, quite openly in the past.
“I am so happy to be home,” she announced, gliding past the door to the club once Roman had opened it for her. “Do you think the babies are asleep, yet? I always miss putting them...”
Her voice trailed off, pausing a little as she seemed to realize that the club was cloaked in inky darkness, freezing just a few steps past the threshold. Roman let the door swing shut behind him, nudging her forward with a hand at the small of her back. He was met with some resistance; she steeled, stiffening against his insistence, before taking a few steps forward.
He said, barely keeping the delight out of his voice, “You’re holding up the line, V.”
“Roman,” Varya said, her voice pitched oddly soft and tight, “why—?”
The lights flashed on to a loud, unified cheer of Happy Birthday!; the club had been packed with vases of flowers, the tables donned with food and drink, and everyone worth their salt within a fifty-mile radius had made their way there. Not a single thing was out of place—everything exactly where he had instructed it be placed, and not a fucking chandelier in sight.
Roman came around in front of the brunette, grinning. “Happy—”
He stopped. Varya’s expression was not happy, or even surprised; it was something else, something that he couldn’t read, the pupils of her hot-whiskey eyes blown wide and the normally Renaissance-soft lines of her face sharpened and hardened into an expression that was more vicious.
“V?” he asked. Her eyes snapped to him, and for a second she looked the same way she had that night in the loft, her hands drenched in blood and the kitchen knife clutched in her fist with bodies at her feet: like she didn’t recognize him.
It took a heartbeat, but her expression smoothed out and she smiled, almost sheepish—like she’d been caught doing something naughty, instead of being caught being somewhere else. Someone else, more the wolf than the girl.
“The lights,” she explained, hands resting on his chest, “they startled me, is all.”
A frown creased his expression. He brought his hands up to hold her wrists, thumb pressed against her pulse point. It fluttered unsteadily. Unconvinced, Roman pressed, “The lights?”
“Just the lights,” Varya assured him. She tilted her head up and kissed him, one hand departing his jacket to go to the back of his neck—and when she kissed him, he could feel that strange little flicker of energy, like she’d been stamping something out before it could catch, but it still vibrated under her skin.
He opened his mouth to say something else, but she disentangled from him and swept around to the crowd of people waiting, beaming prettily and playing at bashfulness, as though she did not enjoy their eyes on her and did not soak their attention up like a flower did sunlight. Whatever had been plaguing her in that moment was now gone, and she was awash with attention and love, thanking people profusely and accepting each hug and cheek-kiss directed her way.
Roman brushed off the odd feeling that she wasn’t being as forthcoming with him as he would have preferred—no secrets anymore, isn’t that what they’d agreed on?—and instead waded into the crowd. Music kicked on overhead; chatter picked up to a warm humming around them; there was nothing else to think about except letting his girl enjoy her birthday celebration.
By the time Varya had made a suitable number of rounds (which tended to verge much higher than one, much to Roman’s chagrin—what tedious work, to share her with everyone else), she had barely sipped the glass of champagne someone had planted in her hand. She circled back to him eventually; like always, there was that pinprick tugging in the cavity of his chest, like they were bound by a single thread that kept them from parting too much and too quickly, and when she drew closer to him again it oozed relief, warm and vibrant, through his ribs.
“Sufficiently loved on?” he asked as she neared, hand reaching up to slide around her waist.
“By them? Certainly.” The brunette’s hand smoothed along his shoulder, the pad of her thumb gliding across the velvet of his jacket. “By you, though, not hardly. Not ever.”
“You are insatiable,” Roman agreed in a rumble. He splayed his fingers against the small of her back, tugging her in closer and brushing their noses together.
“Just for you,” Varya murmured, and the words brushed their lips together just a little—but everything with Varya, like this, felt like almost-kissing, enough to push him to some kind of edge where his stomach twisted and wrenched with want when she added, “And only for you.”
“You know I can’t resist you when you talk like that.”
She laughed, leaning in to set her glass to the side and curl her fingers into his shirt for a kiss; everything for a second felt normal, and good, and right again, the strange way she’d gone-away back in the doorway having disappeared, the dark cloud over her having cleared, her wretchedness from dinner dissipated.
And Roman kissed her, with the sound of the party chatter ringing in his ears, and kissed her with the faint taste of champagne flooding his senses when she parted her lips against his, and kissed her while his hand fisted the fabric of her dress and he managed out in a voice rough with want, “So you’re trying to rile me up.”
“I always,” Varya murmured against his mouth silkily, “want you riled, Romy.”
“Varya?”
A stranger’s voice filtered through the haze—the rose-colored one that usually accompanied Varya saying anything like she wanted him riled up—and Roman felt the irritation spike straight through it. He turned to look at the interruption at the same time that Varya did, only to find a young, handsome blonde standing just a foot away.
Varya said, sounding faint, “Maxim?”
“It has been a while,” the blonde said, and he sounded sheepish. “I called Armazd, asking after you—”
“Sorry,” Roman interjected briskly, fingers still curled—now possessively—into the fabric of Varya’s dress against the dip of her spine, “but who are you?”
His wife started to say, “Romy, this is—” at the same time that the man began, “I am sorry, my name—” and they both stopped at the same time, a strange little silence stretching between them.
“Maxim,” Varya said after a second, turning to look at Roman now. “This is Maxim. He is Artyem’s son.”
Roman stared at her, more to buy himself time than anything; she said the name like he was supposed to know who that was. Artyem, but it didn’t sound familiar. Almost any Russian name sounded like gibberish to him, and if Varya had said it to him, it had been in passing, an afterthought, nothing but a whisper of information passed between them before it was gone again.
Until it did. Until he remembered that the person Varya had thought was her father had actually been Artyem, that she’d poisoned him, let him bleed to death on the carpet while she had mentally checked out of the moment. That she had watched him die, but she had been somewhere else—someplace else, the way Ilarion had described it, very far away where she couldn’t even enjoy what she’d done fully.
And Maxim—golden, and polished, and clean-shaven—looked awfully pleasant for someone whose farther had choked to death on his own blood because of Varya.
“I see,” Roman said, even though he didn’t. His gaze turned to Maxim. “And you’ve—shown up without calling ahead?”
“I have been in Turkey,” Maxim explained, “finishing up some business, and I did not know how to get in touch—”
“Well, you spoke with Armazd, didn’t you?” Roman’s head tilted. “The man practically sleeps in our bed, I imagine he would have been happy to get you in contact with us.”
“Admittedly,” Maxim said, “I wanted it to be a surprise—”
No, Roman thought absently, venomously, that won’t do at all.
“—Varya’s birthday—”
“So you slunk in,” Roman elaborated tartly, “like a little street dog, hm?”
“Maxi,” Varya interjected, fingers absently tracing the stitching on Roman’s jacket, “why don’t you go get a drink and acquaint yourself with our friends? Armazd is just there—you see?”
Maxim’s eyes darted between her and Roman for a minute. He shifted on his feet, tilting and giving a little smile that might have liked abashed if Roman didn’t think he saw a little squirm of self-satisfaction in his gaze. Fucker.
“Of course,” the blonde replied after a moment. “C dnyom razhdyenyem, Varushka.” He took a step forward, pressing a kiss to her cheek.
Varya’s thumbnail dug into the lapel of Roman’s jacket. “Thank you, Maxi.”
Once the blonde had departed, linking up with Armazd in the crowd to get introduced, Roman straightened up from the bar. It was impossible not to stare at this newcomer—he glowed with an easy charisma, flashed bright smiles that were all teeth. Roman hated him already.
“Maxi?” he asked her, eyes narrowed, and Varya sighed. He waited for her to elaborate. Perhaps she’d say they had dated once, perhaps they were literally nothing. That would be ideal, after all. Ships passing in the night.
She said, “We grew up together.”
Even worse. Roman twisted a loose, dark curl of hers around his finger. “And you killed his father.”
“Well—” She paused, mouth pressing into a thin line. “He does not know.”
“He doesn’t—” The notion that she was keeping secrets, and not from him, coiled high and happy in his throat. He tried not to sound too delighted when he said, “V, surely he knows.”
“Surely he does not, that I did it. Only that it happened. And I will keep it that way,” she added firmly, picking up her champagne glass from the bar top. “Maxim was incredibly loyal to my father because Artyem was, but more than that—he was mine and Ilya’s friend. I’m sure he is missing Ilya almost as much as I am.”
“As we all are,” Roman agreed sagely, planting a kiss on her temple in spite of the dry look she gave him. It was hard to tell, to get a read on this Maxim. What was it he’d dragged himself out of the trenches for? Just to fly halfway across the world to wish Varya a happy birthday? Above all things, Roman understood that his wife was a desirable thing, and knowing that he kept her out of the reach of others was part of her appeal—but that much? Could someone who was just a friend want that much?
He continued, “So what is it that Maxim offers to the business, hm?”
“I wouldn’t know,” Varya demurred, which didn’t sound at all like the truth. “Artyem was the one who sent him out on jobs. My father kept things tight around the top, you know. If anyone would know what it was Maxim was up to in Turkey who wasn’t my father or Artyem, it would have been Ilarion.”
“I find it hard to believe you have no idea what your father was using someone for.”
The sound of delighted commentary drew both of their eyes away; Irina had come down, both dark-haired infants in her arms, and was walking them toward Varya and Roman. Murmured remarks on what could only be their cuteness passed throughout the crowd of party-goers.
“I am putting them down for bed,” Irina announced as she approached, “and I know you like to say goodnight.”
“Oh, you are an angel,” Varya murmured, glass set aside once again. She leaned in, pressing a kiss to baby Ro’s cheek. Yuliana babbled, and she sighed dreamily, “Have you ever seen more perfect babies, Roman?”
Perfect babies, a perfect wife; soon, he would even have the perfect grip on Gotham’s neck, throttling it until it was nothing but dust and ash. Soon, but not soon enough; he’d be content when it was just done and settled, when there was nothing else standing between him and everything that he wanted. Varya, and the guns—what an odd thing, to know that a year ago he’d set out for this and it was just falling into his lap.
“Romy?”
“Never,” Roman replied, smiling and glancing back at his wife, reaching and cradling the back of Yuli’s head. “I’ve never seen more perfect babies, V.”
Across the room, Maxim watched them. There was something about it that Roman didn’t like—the way his eyes flickered, the way he looked between the children and Varya, the way their eyes met and he didn’t deflect away. Like he didn’t mind getting caught. Where had he come from? What little shithole had he crawled out of, over a year after Nikita’s death and Ilarion’s death—longer, still, since his father’s death? Hadn’t he wondered what had happened to his father?
What are you doing here, he thought venomously, that you think you can just come in here like nothing? Like I won’t root you out like the little rat you are?
Maxim smiled. It was a polite smile, unassuming kind of smile.
Roman picked up his drink from the counter, taking a heavy swallow. Suddenly, the evening seemed to stretch out endlessly in front of him, no finish line in sight.
Nothing else standing between me and everything I want.
And he was going to keep it that way.
#birds of prey#birds of prey fic#roman sionis x original female character#ch: varya astakhova#ch: roman sionis#ch: victor zsasz#roman sionis/original female character#my writing#fic: the land of gods & devils#me sweating profusely posting this#i am really excited about this though and i want to really really thank everyone who has been supportive of me pursuing this!!!!#creeping up on varya's birthday and also the one year anniversary of CYT making me super emo#<3 <3 <3
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My Latinenatural contributions
Sam and Dean have loving and mildly insulting nicknames for their loved ones
Dean calls Cas “mi viejo” (my old man) (it takes Cas a minute to realize it’s a term of affection) and (jokingly, whenever he manages to make Cas dress differently in some way) “Papi chulo”. Dean can never call him that without bursting out laughing because even he finds it stupid. Maybe “Guapo” (handsome) and “Querido” (beloved) when feeling very soft and affectionate. Sam is “Calaca” (skeleton, someone who needs to eat more), “Gordo/Gordito/Gordi” (Fatty/Little Fatty, because even though Sam is very muscular and fit as an adult, he was a chubby child and even when you get skinny later in life your family will always call you that. BTW this is often used as a term of affection not an insult among Hispanic-Latine families), “Pendejo” (dumbass. Every Hispanic-Latine parent has called their child this at least ten times and Dean is essentially Sam’s father and mother) and “malcriado” (spoiled). Sam and Cas, as chaotic besties who always do crazy shit and gossip whenever Dean isn’t around, together are “las chismosas” (gossipers) and “hijos de la gran puta”
Look in my version Dean gets to live to the point where he’s old enough he admits that he needs to start wearing glasses more often
So Sam, with petty sibling energy, calls Dean “Cuatro Ojos” (Four eyes), “Payaso” (clown/buffoon bc Gatekeep!Sam is back at it again but also sometimes Dean just says stupid shit), and in the mornings when Dean is moving extremely slowly bc he hasn’t had his first cup of coffee “Tortuga”. Maybe sometimes “pendejo” but it feels more like something someone older calls someone younger. When judging Dean’s eating habits, maybe “vaca” (cow). I’m not sure Sam would have a nickname for Cas. I don’t know why. I feel like nicknames for Cas are something specific to him and Dean because nicknames are part of how Dean shows affection and care, which isn’t how Sam does. I do think Sam probably refers to Cas as “Angelito” (little angel) around Dean in this affectionate teasing manner you do when you know your sibling or best friend is in love. I think Sam has nicknames for others though. In my head, he calls Eileen “mi leon” (my lion) bc she’s strong and confidant and amazing and and they trust each other and he feels safe with her in a way he hasn’t felt in some time
Look I’m Puerto Rican and Dominican so Jack is gonna get all the non-feminine nicknames I got basically. To Sam and Dean he is “el niño” (the boy), “nene” (specific term for “boy” Puerto Ricans use), “jefe” (Boss, specifically when its Jack’s turn to decide on things like movie night or dinner or something), “flaco”, “Chiquito” (small boy). I hate that basically any time a tv show wants to establish how Hispanic and Latine a family is they always have the parents call their kids “mijo/mija” but yes Jack is also “mijo” but not often
Dean’s favorite coffee brand is Cafe Bustelo because it was almost always around so it was practical and it tasted good. Sam likes it well enough. He prefers Pilon and Pico Rico but they’re much less popular and harder to find.
Dean is the only one who cooks bc Sam is horrible at it, Cas can’t taste test anything to know if it’s fine, and he doesn’t trust Jack in the kitchen yet to do more than make himself cereal. Dean buys a cookbook of Hispanic dishes bc he can barely recall anything his mom made from his childhood, especially dishes from her culture so he tries to learn. He makes a flan and the caramel is a little bitter but everyone enjoys it. He experiments and makes his own family recipe.
Dean knows Spanish decently enough bc it was what Mary (in my version Maria) would speak to him in while John spoke English because despite the glares she got when she spoke it she wants to make sure her children know. He mostly keeps up with it and improves through listening to music (Selena definitely, and probably also Mana, Menudo, and Aventuras). Sam pre-Stanford doesn’t know a lot of Spanish because Dean didn’t have a lot of time to teach him and by the time Dean realizes he probably should Sam is at the age where it’s harder to absorb and learn a new language and Dean doesn’t quite know how to teach him i that way that if you go to a native speaker of a language and ask them specific questions about the why’s of their languages grammar rules they probably won’t know how to explain. But Sam connects hearing it with feeling peaceful and closer to Dean and Mary and a culture he never really got to learn. He learns a lot through reading Spanish poetry like Pablo Neruda and probably reading the Bible in Spanish and English. He prefers Spanish version of church songs because even though he gets clammy and feels sick and gets a headache anytime he’s in a church, he remembers Dean and stories about their mom.
Sam likes praying with Virgin Mary candles because they make him think of his mom and the peaceful life they could’ve had if she lived but also how he thinks she would’ve wanted him and Dean to find peace even as he gets another headache and his nose bleeds the longer he prays. Dean has no faith in God or angels (at least until Cas), but he sees the image of the Virgin and feels love and pain and safety because who he actually sees is the fictional version of his mom he’s built in his head.
Mary taught Dean the “Angelito de mi guardia”/“my guardian angel” prayer and even put a little plaque with a picture of a child praying to an angel with the words (I had one of these ok) on his bedside. After she dies, he keeps saying it, to an angel at first, and then on behalf of Sam, and then for himself as his faith dwindles and he just can’t keep pretending like he has any left anymore.
Sam and Dean both got these little red, thread, bracelets with a cross after their baptisms. Dean used to wear his until he stopped caring about his faith and just keeps it tucked inside his pockets because it’s one of the last things he has left of his mom. Sam stays wearing his even when for some reason his skin itches so badly he has rashes no matter where he moves the bracelet. He keeps it in a small plastic case in his coat so it doesn’t get anymore threadbare, but whenever he would touch it it still gave him rashes.
I feel like Mary would’ve made Dean and, had she lived longer, Sam do bendiciones with her. But I am basing this off of my family and we never say the full thing even when we’re adults so for Mary it’s just “‘cion Mamí” “Dios me la bendiga. Good night Dean. I love you”.
#supernatural#Supernatural#SPN#spn#dean winchester#sam winchester#Dean Winchester#Sam Winchester#Castiel#castiel#Cas#cas#Jack Kline#jack kline#destiel#Destiel#Deancas#deancas#casdean#Dean x Cas#dean x cas#cas x dean#Saileen#saileen#Sam x Eileen#sam x eileen#sam winchester x eileen leahy#Sam Winchester x Eileen Leahy#latinenatural#Latinenatural
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peacefall - the adjustment | Sam Taylor
Title: peacefall – the adjustment
Pairing: AU Ghost!Sam Taylor x OC
Summary: Y/n is a writer and her books are pretty popular. She moves into a house in the country to get away from the craziness of the city. She wants to put all her focus on her next book. Weird things begin happening in the house. She discovers she has a ghost and he has quite a past. They begin to bond, but he begins to see that she is hiding something big from him. Something that will impact her life.
Word Count: 2.1k
Y/n/n = Your Nickname
MASTERLIST
********
PART ONE <<
“I wasn’t sure what to expect, but a helpless, miniature person was not it. When my older sister came to tell me, we were expecting a new sibling she reminded me that I was once that new person coming into life and that now, I share the responsibility in protecting them. That my life was going to change for the better, with this new addition to the family, as was theirs.”
Today you decided to make this ghost show itself one way or another, because you were getting sick of its games. It had been responsible for hiding the book notes. It was keeping you up half the night with the noises it would make. No matter how much noise it made, it would never show itself.
This made you realize the history of the house needed to be found and then maybe you would be able to figure out who was haunting the place. A big part of you knew the ghost was the man that was seen in that dream. Sam. But you needed to make sure that there was a Sam who did indeed live in the house. Maybe then he can settle down and let you reside with him in peace.
Waking up this morning, you felt a slight pressure in your head. This was your sign you were going to get a headache sometime during the day. So, you needed to make the trip out of the house quick, before the headache set in. Because once the headache hit, it took a full day to recover. There was no remedy for them.
Quickly getting dressed, you called a cab to take you to the library, where you knew to find information on the house you were living in. There had to be something in the books about it.
When you arrived at the library, you spotted an older lady sitting at the desk reading. You really hoped she could help.
She looked up as you approached her, “Hello, can you help me?” You questioned with a smile.
She smiled, “Of course I can. What did you need?”
Hoping you didn’t sound crazy when you told her this, you just dove right in, “I moved into town a few months ago, into a little house on Monroe Street. The house is incredibly old, I can’t really tell you how old though because I’m not good with that kind of stuff. Anyway, there have been some odd things happening in the house. I need to find out the history of the house.”
She had listened intently to you and the smile never left her face, “Oh dear, you’re the author who moved into the Taylor house.”
You tilted your head, “Oh yes, I am. Now why is it called the Taylor house?”
The woman stood up, “Why don’t we go have a seat at that table and I will tell you the history of the house.” Nodding, you followed her to the table. Settling in the chair across from her.
“In 1854, a man by the name Sam Taylor bought the house. No one knew much about the man, just that he was a very handsome fellow that had all the women wanting to become his wife. All we know is that he was an extraordinarily rich man. Oh, and he was extremely sweet. He used a lot of his money to help the town prosper.” Sam Taylor sounded like the perfect man.
“What happened to him?” As if you didn’t already know. You’d already put together that the dream was not just a dream. It was something that took place in that house, which means Sam must be the one haunting the house.
The lady frowned, “It’s not good darling. He was involved with a woman named Annabelle Porter. He was in love with her, even though she was betrothed to another man. He loved her with all his heart. People were positive she was going to leave her betrothed to marry Sam, but it didn’t play out that way. Sam disappeared without a trace.”
“Did they find him?”
She shook her head, “No dear, they didn’t. There was talk that he just simply left town because Annabelle wouldn’t marry him. But the authorities think differently. They had investigated his home to discover it had been broken into, or it seemed that way. They didn’t find anything else. But about a month after he disappeared, all his money went missing from the bank. They know that he wasn’t the one to take it.” Poor Sam.
“Oh my, that’s so sad…. Ugh.” A searing pain in your head cut you off. It was intense. You quickly gripped your head in pain.
“Are you alright dear?” The lady asked sounding afraid.
“Ugh….. no.” You were willing the pain to go away but knew it would not. “Could you…. uh…..call me a cab?” You had managed to ask this through the bursts of pain.
“Darling, don’t you think you should go to the hospital?” She was genuinely concerned at this point.
“No…..ah…. I just need to get home and……oh gosh……take my medicine.” The pain was so intense it made you want to cry. At this point, you knew that not even the medicine could help to suppress the intense throbbing. Nothing ever helped. The lady must have agreed because she rushed off to call a cab. You just stayed there, laying your head on your arms while trying to forget the pain.
Ten minutes later the lady showed up beside you, “Come on honey, your cabs here. Let me help you.” She helped you to stand up and walk outside. You were doing the best to breathe through the pain. Finally in the cab, you were on your way home. The librarian had even paid for the cab ride, how sweet of her.
When arriving home, you made your way to the kitchen and located the pain medication. Then you quickly took two before retreating off to the living room, where you passed out on the couch.
****
You guess you’d slept for a few hours, because when you were waking up you noticed that it must have been late afternoon. Also, you felt as though you were being watched. Turning your head, you saw a tall man, with Carmel eyes and dark hair. It was Sam.
Sam was looking at you with concern. It was easy tell he had been watching you for a while and it surprisingly didn’t bother you. Sitting up, you smoothed out your clothes.
“Sam?” You asked hoping to god he wouldn’t disappear because you really wanted to talk to him today.
“Yes, I am Sam.” He finally spoke.
“Are you not scared of me?” He questioned while looking you over, almost like he was trying figure out why you weren’t scared of him.
You shook your head, “No, should I be?”
He shrugged, “I don’t know. Everyone else who has lived in this house has been afraid of me. They all moved out with the first month. You are the first one who has stayed this long.”
“Well I don’t think there is anything to be scared of with you. You’re harmless.”
He chuckled, “Well that’s a first.”
Hearing him laugh, made you smile. It was completely crazy that you were actually conversing with a ghost right now. Add that to the list of things you would have never thought could happen. That list was getting quite long at this point.
“Yes, I suppose it is. I’m Y/n/n by the way.” You introduced yourself. You would think he would want to know the name of the woman inhabiting his house.
“Well you know that I am Sam. Sam Taylor.”
“Yes, I do.” You paused for a second, “Can I ask you some questions?” Suddenly you felt the need to know what it was like being a ghost. You needed to know how he was still here and how he was able to talk to you like this.
“Go ahead, I have eternity.” He chuckled a bit at that, you cracked a smile at his little joke.
“Hmmm okay. How long have you been trapped in this house?”
“Well I died in 1858 and its 2019 now, so I have been stuck here for 161 years.”
161 years. That was a long time to be stuck in a house like this.
“Oh wow, that’s a very long time.” You commented.
He shook his head, “It does not feel that long to be honest. Time passes a lot differently once you are dead.”
“Really? That’s cool. Umm, is it lonely?” That was a question you were afraid to ask.
He shrugged and started to walk around the room, “Sometimes it can be. It all depends on who’s occupying the house and the time of year. I don’t know why, but in the winter, it feels a lot lonelier than in any other seasons.”
“Oh.”
“Is it lonely living alone?” He suddenly asked. You hadn’t expected him to ask questions, but you welcomed it.
“I haven’t always lived alone. Right now, I need to be alone. I’m working on a particularly important book that needs to be finished and the only way I can do that is if I’m completely alone.” You couldn’t go into specifics about the book. Not yet.
“Oh okay.”
“How are you even communicating with me right now?” That was your biggest question right now.
Sam stopped pacing the room and faced you again, “I do not know how we are communicating. You are the first person to be able to see me. Other tenants were just able to hear me messing around the house. But they never actually saw me or heard me speak. No matter how hard I tried to get them to see me.” You could detect a hint of sadness in his voice. That was something you could understand.
There was an idea as to why You were able to see him right now, but you decided not to tell him.
“Well I guess I am different than them. More willing to see you maybe?”
He shrugged while looking closely at you. It felt like he could see right through you and it was a weird feeling.
“Well I am sorry for scaring you since you have been here. I was really only messing around.”
You smiled, “You didn’t scare me Sam. I knew you were only playing games and I think it’s fine.”
“You are quite different Y/n/n. No one else has been as open minded as you have been. Is there a reason you are like this?”
Suddenly you found interest in the wood floorboards, “Umm no, I don’t think so. I guess I’m just willing to experience this.”
You finally looked up to meet his eyes. Now you knew he was staring into your soul.
“Well I enjoy talking to you. I have not talked to a soul in all the time I have been dead.” He admitted.
“Wow that is an awfully long time not to talk to anyone. Please feel free to talk to me whenever because I like talking to you too.” It was the truth. Talking with Sam eased your mind of all troubles. He had a very calming personality.
“Good because I think we are going to be talking a lot.” He had the most amazing smile upon his face.
“Yes, I would like that.”
“I’m afraid I need to take a break. I don’t have much energy to talk to you for too long.”
This had you frowning because you had momentarily forgotten that Sam was a ghost. Ghosts needed energy to be able to manifest.
“Okay. I should probably go get some writing done. Please feel free to come to me whenever.” Honestly, you enjoyed being around Sam and he felt very human to you. It made you want to learn more about his life. You wanted to be able to talk to him about my life too.
“Yes, I will. Now please don’t overwork yourself Y/n Y/l/n.” He spoke before disappearing from sight.
That was weird. You don’t remember telling him your full name. You introduced yourself as Y/n/n. How did he know?
You were happy that you had slept off the headache. Now, you would be able to get some more of the book done. It needed to get done soon. You didn’t know when the deadline would be.
PART THREE >>
#dylan o'brien#dylan o'brien fanfic#dylan o'brien fanfiction#dylan o'brien fic#dylan o'brien smut#sam taylor#sam taylor fanfiction#sam taylor fanfic#sam taylor fic#sam taylor smut#sam taylor x reader#reader x sam taylor#sam x reader#reader x sam#sam taylor x y/n#y/n x sam taylor#sam x y/n#y/n x sam#dylan o'brien x reader#dylan o'brien x y/n#amazing stories sam taylor#dob#sam
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I?? I searched Chicken Choice Judy on google out of curiosity because it sounds oddly familiar like there’s a similar-sounding name and I found 4 websites selling the shirt design. But the descriptions on these pages are BUCK WILD??
Written version of the descriptions under the cut (very long).
[Begin ID
First image states: Long ago, when I had hair, I was an undergrad living in a house with nine other men. Near as I can tell, three of them (not sure which three) never bought food, just lived off what they stole from the Chicken Choice Judy shirt But I will love this other seven. We had several house meetings about it, but nothing changed. One day, I came in from grocery shopping. By coincidence, all 10 of us were in the kitchen. I started putting my stuff away. 1st thing I pulled out of the bag was my half-gallon of milk. I opened the carton, took a couple of drinks from the carton, then gargled some of it, and spit it back in. I opened my tub of margarine and licked the whole surface. By now, the room chatter had stopped because the other nine jaws had dropped open.) To your original question, those specific topics would take several years to build, as they depend on several layers of pre-requisites, which would require either that more advanced topics such as algebraic topology to be taught in elementary school, or that the buildup process happened blazingly fast during high school – both of which probably stretch the biological limits of what pre-teens and teenagers can reasonably be expected to accomplish. I spit on all my veggies, took the bread out of the package, and licked and spit on it, then carefully put it all back in the plastic bag. Remind teenage daughters to look through them before going on date with the boyfriend, in case they want to use one. I labeled it all and put it away. None of it was stolen. I never said a word, but I made it a point to repeat the performance anytime anyone was around to see it. Others began to emulate my approach and food theft stopped. Even I found it revolting, but it solved the problem. Works even better if you are sick or can at least make your thieving roommates think you are. While some cities are starting to reopen in the wake of the COVID-19 pandemic, people around the country are continuing to wear masks in public and practice social distancing. Vogue is committed to staying safe, and offering hopeful, optimistic content that highlights moments of camaraderie and exceptional acts of heroism from around the world. We are all looking for a little comfort too—be it a soothing Instagram account or a stylish creator on TikTok. It reminds us of the power of little things.
Second image states: A couple of guests informed me my office was too minimalist and that they expected more things to be hanging on my wall the Chicken Choice Judy shirt besides I will buy this next time they visited my wife’s and my home. I kinda hope they held their breath while they were waiting for our next invitation. They both went on to backstab me and my wife pretty bad a few years later. Another set of guests tried to squat. I had driven them all the way from Florida to Massachusetts under the impression that they had jobs and a place to live lined up. They offered no money for gas, hotels on the three-day trip, or compensation for the inconvenience and effort. He even tried to weasel out of the dinner he offered as a thank you by forgetting his wallet. The dude got me off the streets years ago and I wanted to pay him back in some way, but my wife and I were in no position to have extra residents in our home. We just don’t have the room or money. I made all of this VERY clear and told my old buddy that we could only house them for a couple of days max. There are MANY other details, but the disrespectful thing my former friend said was wordless. As I was kicking them out and they were angrily loading stuff into my car to bring them anywhere but here, my buddy left his gigantic knife right in the center of my wife’s desk. Like that was supposed to make us change our minds and let them stay? In the days of dial-up, I had a family call and not be able to get through because we were online. They decided to show up unannounced. They literally caught me in my underwear as they were let into the apartment before I could even react to being rudely surprised. Some of my family members have a history of abuse, violence, and stalking, something at least one of the visitors, my mother, was quite aware of since she lived through it with me. Her tagalong friend decided to put in her two cents and tell me I should get a call waiting or a second line because they were trying to call me. That did it! I suddenly forgot I was just wearing underwear and angrily asked my mother’s friend if she was paying my phone bill. My mother-in-law, stepfather and mom’s friend beat a hasty retreat and NEVER did the pop-in ever again.
Third image states: That was why when we did get to reality shows, Etro and then Dolce & Gabbana plus Jacquemus later in France, it was wonderful. Clothes are all about contact: As a wearer, you feel them on your skin, and as a watcher, you process them with your eye. The watching part can be done secondhand, but the Chicken Choice Judy shirt in contrast I will get this impact will always be second to the real thing. I read some commentators in the U.S. saying, “Too soon” or “Wear a damn mask!” which I always did, but these opinions while valid enough lack perspective. Milan and its surrounding region Lombardy went through what New York did but earlier. Through sagacious governmental management much more effective than that of the U.S., Italy has managed dramatically to flatten the curve across the rest of its territory. These shows just like the reopening of flights, stores, factories, and restaurants were symptomatic of recovery that, far from being taken for granted, is being tended to with vigilance and cherished with gratitude. The digital Fashion Weeks were better than no Fashion Weeks at all, but as an upgrade on the real thing? Nah. Like everyone, I missed the shows in the experiential sense this season. But for the first time since I began covering the collections several years ago, I didn’t miss a single brand or designer’s contribution to Paris Fashion Week. Which is to say, thanks to the Fédération’s online platform, I was able to watch every name on the haute couture and men’s calendars. This brand on-demand convenience not to mention being spared the logistical headaches of zigzagging across the city was pretty great. Also, everything was on time, from the films to the manner in which we filed our reviews. While efficiency can be satisfying, it’s not necessarily exciting. Ultimately, we had to accept that the focus this season wasn’t going to be the clothes but rather the brands conveying some combination of identity, process, and values. And in the absence of standardized criteria as in, showing a minimum number of looks, specifying a time range, it was interesting to observe how heterogeneous these experiments proved to be quasi–ad campaigns versus short films, conceptual or fantastical visions versus raw and documentary style. A proper kimono takes nearly an hour to put on – I’m sure most Japanese girls would much rather spend a few seconds and slip on a dress. Get survey responses from targeted consumers today.
Fourth image states: Around a decade ago, not long after he started his own label, Massimo Alba made a great mistake. A batch of shirts and T-shirts he was working on that had already been garment-dyed one color were mistakenly exposed to another. Speaking at his showroom presentation this weekend, Alba said: “It’s very interesting to me that so many good things start out as mistakes like this.” That accident was to Alba what the Chicken Choice Judy shirt moreover I will buy this mold-infected petri dish was to Alexander Fleming: a stumbled-upon eureka that led to a career-defining course of the investigation. This collection featured a series of softly tailored jackets, corduroy pants, and shorts, plus light cashmere sweaters that were hand-overdyed two, and sometimes three colors. It’s a process that led to variations in tone that included acid-trip floods of purple on purple to subtle bleeding of magenta across mustard yellow. Like most of Alba’s garments, these dyed pieces appeared at first glance conventionally prosaic. The more attention you gave them, however, the more their exceptional qualities became evident. Take a pale blue jacket, for instance, which at that first glance seemed passingly related to a surgeon’s scrubs. To the hand it was light and almost textureless in its softness: The fabric was a cotton mousseline developed for Alba by Albini. Long-sleeved, in a delicately mottled finish of washed-out sky blue, it made for an ideal mid-summer shake in pink, sleeveless, it was an impactful shirting second skin. Other interesting developments this season included a cotton pant named the Myles with acutely kinking stitched gather at knee-level on both legs and another handsome pant, baggy in white poplin, with patch pockets. A blue tropical weight jacket named the Lenny, after Bernstein, was Alba’s interpretation of a bohemian creative’s ideal piece of workwear. Collarless shirts in ripstop linen and button-up short-sleeves in terry were further finely effective coups de théâtre. Alba is a self-deprecating yet dangerous designer: Try just one carefully chosen piece and that’s it, you’re spoiled for good because nobody else quite compares. The museum in Prague where this portrait is held describes the ring on her first finger as the ring given to her at her wedding. It’s not comfortable. Maybe a lot of girls think that a see-through blouse can attract the attention of boys or they think that it will make her look much smarter. Meghan has no dress sense: no knowledge of fabrics, fit, styles that flatter, proper tailoring, Her father raised her in L.A. Enough said. Her idea of dressing for an event is “dress up” like a little girl dressing up as a princess. Shiny! Tight! Celebrity “fashion” not elegant, just flashy.
/end ID]
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Harry x Reader- New Girl
Hey could you do a Harry Potter x reader fic, where reader doesn’t know anything about Harry Potter like the scar or anything but she is still a witch and Harry falls for her because she doesn’t know how famous he is
Your father had been given a promotion, one that had forced you and your family to leave America and buy some sleepy cottage in England that your mother demanded to have. You couldn’t deny that it was beautiful and exciting, yet you were lonely. To all of your fellow students you were an oddity. You spoke strangely, you listened to bizarre music, you ate strange candies and disliked their favorites. You just simply didn’t fit in.
It was easiest to fly under the radar, keep your head down and do well in your studies but even that was hard to do. You often found yourself traveling around the grounds of the school alone, admiring the beautiful castle that you had come to adore in an objective sort of way. There was no doubting that Hogwarts was a magical place.
You just wished you could make a friend.
You kept to the back as people chattered excitedly around you, Dumbledore at the head of the great hall, eyes scanning over his students with pride and amusement at the antics. The first trial of the Triwizard Tournament had just been completed and Hogwarts’ students were full of pride, the contestants being the only source of topic.
“Did you see how Cedric-” One hufflepuff chittered to her friend in excitement as she passed your table, her voice fading into the crowd as she vanished. You took a long sip of pumpkin juice and looked around, taking in the students you still hadn’t gotten to know yet.
Kids in your house weren’t cruel, in fact they were quite helpful, but nobody seemed to want to know you on a more personal level. They had nothing to relate to you with and once that barrier was up, they wouldn’t let it come down.
Even the festivities going on hadn’t been enough of a motive to befriend you and so you watched the tournament from the back of the stands, half paying attention to the two Hogwarts contestants that everyone seemed to go wild over. There was Cedric Diggory, a handsome Hufflepuff you had heard too much about to invest any interest in, and then there was another boy that seemed to be spoken about often. Henry Pots? Harley Peter?
“Harry’s brilliant on a broom!” You caught a Gryffindor exclaim from the seat, shoving a pumpkin pastie in their mouth.
“Potter just got lucky this time around,” A slytherin sneered, their voice floating up from the crowd, jealousy souring their voice.
Harry Potter! That was the boy that nobody got enough of. It seemed he could do no wrong, yet was always in trouble. A fan favorite of the students but a magnet for danger. You had yet to see what curse this boy seemed to drag along with him and you were grateful for it. Your mother had heard of the safety issues involving Hogwarts and it had taken your father a great deal to calm her down. Somehow, you doubted that a single teenager could cause so much strife. You were sure it was all rumors.
You weren’t interested in knowing the top dogs of the school. You didn’t want to be an outcast either, but you simply didn’t care about who you were friends with so long as you had someone. It had been a lonely few months and you grew more exhausted every day with sending cheerful letters to your mother about how great everything was going when in fact you were feeling miserable.
You didn’t need a Harry Potter or a Cedric Diggory. You just wanted to not be alone.
--
Harry peered into the darkness of his bedroom, fumbling for his glasses as he stepped out of his bed, drawing the curtains closed and tiptoeing to the door after grabbing the invisibility cloak from his chest. His mind was reeling and he needed some fresh air. The first challenge was still fresh in his thoughts and he couldn’t help but smile.
He had been chased by the horntail and come out on top! It was a rush of adrenaline that kept him wide awake during the late hours of the night. Harry was feeling quite proud of himself but he also wondered what the golden egg could possibly mean next for him. Admittedly, he still had a bit of a headache after releasing the clasp at the top. The shrieking from within had rattled his eardrums.
Maybe a walk would help him understand what to do next.
He easily waded through the halls, cloak secured around him, eyes and ears sharp in case someone was patrolling for kids out past curfew. Luckily, he had done this enough times that he could easily come and go without being caught.
Stepping onto the grounds, Harry let the breeze settle over him. The tension left his shoulders and let his feet carry him wherever they wished to go. He stalled however when he saw a figure in the distance, a lighter shadow against the inky sky that had swallowed the moon. It was hard to make out anything specific of this person and Harry felt his stomach twist, his heart thumping painfully.
However, his scar remained unresponsive and he took comfort in that. Nowadays, he felt like he had to look over his shoulder and keep his eyes peeled for any sign of danger. His name being in the goblet had been odd enough and he wasn’t looking forward to any more upsets.
Harry froze as the figure moved, rounding the curve of the black lake and coming nearer to him. He was tempted to keep his cloak on but then he caught sight of a friendly face, a face that he had been meaning to know.
Pulling the cloak from his head, he bunched it in his hands and began walking with a purpose. You, however, didn’t hear him. When he suddenly seemed to materialize out of nowhere, you jumped; a short scream getting stuck in your throat as you recognized him. He was a gryffindor in your year but that was as much as you knew about him. There was something familiar about him but you couldn’t quite put your name on it.
“Jesus Christ!” You hollered, hand flying to your chest as you stared at the teen with unruly hair and crooked glasses. “When did you- How did you-?”
“Been here for ten minutes, invisibility cloak,” The boy explained with an easy smile, holding the patterned cloak in his hand.
“You’re kidding me,” You gasped softly, taking two steps forward as your hands bunched in the material, pulling away quickly as you accidentally squeezed his hand. “Hogwarts makes me feel like I’m new to magic, Ilvermorny never had stuff like this,”
Harry smiled with pride, he had managed to impress you. It was rare that he wasn’t stumbling over his own two feet and wondering how to get someone’s attention. He had been wondering how to befriend you since he’d seen you on the train, whispers of your previous school spreading between students. Harry liked odd, he seemed to attract it, and to everyone else you were the definition of the word.
“Gift from my dad. Sort of.” Harry found himself explaining, eyeing the cloak.
“Sort of?” You asked, head tilted to the side. “So, what? You stole it?” Your voice was teasing and low and you had a mischievous glint to your eye that sparkled in the night.
Harry flushed and shrugged, surprised you didn’t know. “Erm, no. H-he was killed by Voldemort-” You didn’t even flinch, yet he could see your expression start to morph to something full of pity and embarrassment. “-Dumbledore held on to it and gave it to me,”
“I’m so sorry-” You began, eyes sad and bottom lip stuck out in a guilt-ridden pout.
“You didn’t know?” Harry had to ask, scratching the back of his head as you two stood still in the grass, the water of the lake pushed up against the sides of the earth it resided within.
“We haven’t met have we?” You questioned, eyes narrowed. You found this boy to be odd, his surprise at you not knowing his father’s fate was all around surprising. How were you supposed to know of such a tragedy? You were far from friends.
“No, we haven’t,” Harry said easily but understanding dawned on him in the form of a smirk. “You don’t know who I am do I?”
“Is that supposed to make you sound important” You shot back, eyebrow raised.
Harry fought with himself. He got the impression that you wouldn’t take kindly to him saying, “Im sort of a big deal seeing as I defeated the dark lord before i could even speak”. Instead he opted for, “N-No, I just know a lot of people and a lot of people know me. They probably know too much but I thought since you’d been here since the beginning of the year, you’d know too,”
“I don’t get around much,” You explained, shrugging your shoulders as if the weight of loneliness didn’t make it feel as if you were trying to raise cinder blocks up to your ears.
“Well then,” Harry said, fumbling to get his hand from his jean pocket. “I’m Harry, Harry Potter,”
You stuck out your hand, but paused halfway, mouth dropping in recognition. “The triwizard kid!”
Harry laughed. “I’ve been known as worse,”
You shook his hand, a smile on your face that he had never seen before. It was genuine and warm, yet a lot of perpetual surprise lingered- like you couldn’t quite believe you were having a conversation with someone. “It’s nice to meet you,”
“It’s nice to meet you too, Ilvermorny,” Harry teased and you groaned, rolling your eyes.
“I don’t think there is anything worse you could call me,” You grimaced. “Nobody cares to learn my name around here,”
“You didn’t offer it, I didn’t ask,” Harry shrugged and you were finding him quite strange, but no less pleasant. You were starting to understand why others so quickly believed he brought trouble. Yet, you didn’t mind it. He was refreshing and new.
“Y/N, you can call me Y/N,” You supplied. “Can I ask why you’re out here?”
Harry thought for a moment, taking a step forward. You followed his lead, the both of you falling into a comfortable pace as you walked around the grounds- having grown bored standing in place. Harry wanted to be moving and tiring himself out so that he could finally rest. “Mind if I ask first?”
Deciding you didn’t want to chance scaring off the only person you had gotten the chance to speak to thus far, you spoke first. “It’s nice out here. Helps me think when I cant sleep. And to be honest, it’s a bit odd sleeping in a room full of strangers,”
Harry’s eyebrows scrunched to the space between his eyes, his large glasses wiggling around on his nose. “You’ve had the same room since arriving, haven’t you?”
“Yes,” You meant to speak simply but it seemed he was confused. “I-I don’t get along well with the other girls. Well, with anyone if I’m being honest. I’m just the weird Ilvermorny girl, no one wants to know Y/N,”
“I come here to think too,” Harry offered after a moments silence. “And, for what it’s worth, I think Y/N is pretty cool,”
Your cheeks flushed and you couldn’t help the airy giggle that left you. You were certain that that was the first real laugh that anyone had been able to draw from you since the year began. Harry Potter was turning out to be much different than you had believed.
“Maybe next time I’m out here, I’ll run into you again,” You chanced, hoping that you would.
“Chances are good,” Harry smiled at your subtle proposition. “I don’t usually talk to friends when I come out here, but maybe I need to change that,”
Friend. The word rang loud and clear in your head and you couldn’t fight the grin that was present. Not much longer after, Harry said farewell and you returned to your dorm but it would be much longer until you were able to sleep. You were feeling optimistic, and you were quite certain that you had just made your first friend since arriving to Hogwarts.
Harry watched the sun rise from his spot leaning against a tree and even if hours had passed since you had gone to sleep he found that you were still on his mind. He sincerely hoped that you two would happen upon each other again. You were a rare treat in this school. Everyone knew him before he had a chance to know them. If he played his cards right, he’d be able to get to know you without anyone else planting stories in your head.
For the first time since arriving at Hogwarts, you weren’t just the new girl. And for the first time in his life Harry Potter wasn’t just the chosen one. Maybe, just maybe, you two could build a friendship that surpassed judgement and preconceptions. Maybe, you two could have something beautiful.
Tag List: @angelinathebook @thehumanistsdiary
#harry potter x reader#harry potter#harry x reader#ask#request#anon ask#harry x ilvermorny!reader#harry potter x ilvermorny!reader#fluff#the title comes from the fact that my sis started watching new girl again
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