#I bought two other series too and all the quality's the same. So low quality | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

chocominnie · 3 years

Text

One Last Time 04 — Pjm. (M)

⇢ pairing: Jimin X Reader

⇢ Genre: Idol!Jimin, Exbf!Jimin, model!reader, sad au, fluff, tons of smut, angst

⇢ Synopsis: Your idol ex boyfriend Jimin cheated on you. You two have been broken up for a while now and the media has been keeping track of you and him. You’re trying to get over him, but the things that happen inbetween makes you re-think the entire breakup, and so does Jimin…

⇢ Song : xxxxx

⇢ Previous : 00 01 02 03

⇢ Word Count : 4.7k

⇢ Warnings: dominant jimin, makeout sessions, this is honestly a sad angsty au, cheating, pregnancy, unprotected and protected sex, a bunch of sex, no really a LOT of sexual themes too, I know I’m forgetting some but sorry in advance!

⇢ Copyright: please do NOT repost, translate, or modify my works in any way, shape or form, on any platform. If found doing so , it is considered as plagiarism and appropriate LEGAL action will be taken

⇢ Authors note: This is my mini series for the summer! Get your tissues, things to take your anger out on, and sit back and watch the drama unfold. Shall we begin?

Last night can’t get out of your mind. It’s not like you to do such a dumb thing. Kissing Jimin... you didn’t know what had gotten into you last night. The last thing you’d ever want to do is have someone go through the same thing you did with Jimin when he had cheated on you. Your mind raced all night thinking if that kiss, that one sole kiss, would make you the bad guy? Make this whole situation worse?

Wrong.

Both of you were vulnerable and just not the same. Of course you’re still tender to the subject of and about him, and forever will have have a soft spot for Jimin. You didn’t expect that to happen though.

‘‘ Yes.. Yes.. Okay.. I understand.”

You drone on for the millionth time today. Only 9 am and calls are making their way to you. You’ve been caught. Someone spotted you and Jimin last night walking to your apartment. Luckily the pictures were only garage scenes of you and him. Jimin’s head hanging low trailing a distance behind you while you hold your sore arm. Thankfully, by the looks of the new articles every damn hour, they think that you had hurt yourself and Jimin was supposedly there for you for comofort.

The fanpages are going to have a field day with that.

Your manager continues to lecture you about how this could start a scandal, how you should of been more careful, and finally that those words everyone has told you before. He wasn’t good to you, move on.

‘‘ Listen im just going to be with Ryan today and she’s bringing Jungkook. We are heading over to Ryan’s office to discuss things and what not.’‘ You sigh into the phone, wanting to hang up already.

Your manager on the other line is hesitant for you to go, but gives in once you say you’ll only be an hour in and out. That’s the only way you’ll get to go out today. Whenever small scandals like this brew up, the management company would make you stay low for the next three days.

You both say your goodbyes and then hang up. Finally. Somewhere in the room Clara lets out one of her tiny meows making you smile to yourself. The day planned ahead is way more exciting than you worrying to yourself

‘‘ Baby please. I have to go’‘

Isabel smirks lowly while shaking her head. Jimin watches her intensively as her hands roam all around his now bare chest, that was covered with a shirt two minutes ago.

‘‘ Jimin, you and I both know that we haven’t had much time to ourselves lately.’‘

Her dainty fingertips trace over his forming abs one by one staring him straight in the eyes. He bites his lip hard just before letting out a useless groan with his head thrown back in the chair. It’s true. With all the celebrity show appearances they’ve had, the quality time together has been cut short.

He ries to pry her hands away from his jeans but it’s no use. “ I have to leave, Jungook wants me at Ryan’s office in twenty minutes.”

Her face turns into a pout, lifting her hands from his jeans. ‘’ So he’s more important than your girlfriend?’’

‘‘ Well I mean he is my blood broth- Fuck!’’

It’ was quick enough to where he didn’t feel it coming. Before he knew it, his jeans were unbuttoned and her mouth glides across the imprint of his shaft hiding behind his boxers. “ We can stop and you can leave.. if you want..” She knows exactly what shes doing by making sure her voice is low and those round eyes meeting his.

His groans only become louder when she takes a long, slow lick from the base to the tip. There’s no way on hell he’ll miss this opportunity to get some head. Jimin’s craving for sex has been high lately and with no time to recieve pleasure, he damn sure wasn’t gonna let up this offer. “ Fuck that. Keep going my love.”

Grabbing a fistful of Isabel’s hair, he yanks his boxers down revealing his thick, hard member hat springs up to his belly button. Isabel smirks at him just before taking the whole thing down her throat making Jimin moan out louder in pleasure. The sound of sucking, wet noises fill the studio’s ambiance.

Jimin watches her intensely while letting out low groans and growls as her bobbing head becomes quicker. This isn’t what he wants truly. What he wants is you. You is who he wishes who’d be pleasuring him right now. The way you’d sometimes gag on him when his dick filled your mouth completely was something he’d always enjoyed seeing. The way your eyes water with him stuffed in your mouth but determined to go on was a major turn on for him. He wants you and only you. Right now in this moment Isabel doesn’t mean shit to him but you do.

He can’t help but to lean back in his chair and close his eyes waiting to chase his high, all with the thoughts of you and your guises past sexual encounters turning him on even more with the lost track of time in the back of his mind.

You on the other hand, wait with Jungkook and Ryan who are getting a bit anxious waiting for the boy’s arrival. You of course didn’t want him to come. It’ll only make things more complicated than it is right now. Essentially you were going to leave when Jungkook said he’d be inviting Jimin.. yet again.

Seeing as though when you were on your way to the office, you had glanced at the clouds and could see a big thunderstorm brewing. You’d rather not take your chances of being rained on while walking back to your apartment.

‘‘ Geez where is this guy? He’s always late ever since he’s been with Isa-”

A shove by Ryan shuts him right up before finishing his sentence. Ryan gives him a glare and a few utters of words to him before turning back to the giant window that gazes over the bright nightlife of Seoul.

One part of you wishes for Jimin not to actually show up but the other does. Just to see his face and reaction too you ever since yesterday. But just for the sake of it, you won’t bring it up. Play it off like it never happened.

‘‘ Was it really necessary for us to come at night? We couldn’t of just come during the day?’’ Jungkook says, walking over to her.

He snakes his arms around his waist placing gentle butterfly kisses around her neck. The reflection off the mirror shows her facial expression, a slight smile as they sway from side to side. A ping of happiness shoots through you at the sight of them. It reminds you of you and Jimin. That happiness quickly shuts down.

You smile to yourself, “Well i’m a model, Jungkook and his brother are idols, and you’re an upcoming fashion designer dating said Idol. ”

Jungkook clears his throat before placing his arm gently around Ryan, “ Yeah she’s MY girlfriend.’’ He says proudly. Ryan shakes her head while playfully rolling her eyes.

You giggle along with her. It’s only been a short while since he’s asked her and he seems so happy and proud with her. Something you wish that Jimin wouldn’t have ruined for you two.

‘‘ Nobody knows we are dating and If paparazzi catches you coming to my office it’s going to stir up something rather it be little or not.’‘ Ryan sighs, sitting down next to you on the white couch.

Jungkook pauses to be silent for a second but continues on, “ That would happen regardless because paparazzi comes out at any time of day. We just so happen not to get caught.’’

Your frail hands begin to play with the sleeve of your shirt at the wrists. Something you do when anxious but trying to keep calm. You’re starting to get annoyed with this couple talk. You’re happy for them but rubbing it in is starting to hurt a bit. Where is he at?

‘‘ You know what im tired of waiting. If he comes he comes. If he doesn’t oh well we already knew he’s an asshole because of that girl now.” Ryan scoffs.

She folds her arms as she leans onto Jungkook who’s now sitting on the arm of the couch. He chuckles at her pouting and sudden anger just before giving her a kiss on the forehead.

You take in the sight of them. Two love birds that mean the world to each other. You wouldn’t dare want nor try to break them up. You knew Jungkook has been waiting for that moment to ask her. When he did on that day Ryan couldn’t of been even more happier.

And if as on cue, that familiar face comes in quietly with two large brown bags in his hands. You choose not to make eye contact with him when he stops infront of the couch, glancing at you.

‘‘ Im sorry im late. I bought food for us..” He pleads for forgiveness. If it was up to you then you wouldn’t have forgiven him. Hell, you still don’t want to forgive him for that act last night. Yet you can’t be a hypocrite because you’re just as guilty.

Jungkook takes the bags from him due to the way to familiar scent coming from them. Jajangmyeon. His favorite noodles of all time. A quick way to earn his forgiveness of anything.

‘‘ You are forgiven don’t let it happen again,” He says, smiling ear to ear as he pulls out his serving of noodles.

Ryan hands you a pair of chopsticks and your serving of noodles. You thank her and look down at the bowl. If you did eat it that means you forgave him, if you didn’t that means you wont. Your mind doesn’t know which one to pick.

While everyone sits there talking amongst themselves you sit there with chopsticks in hand zoned out. You seen the hickies when he had came in. When he had tilted his head announcing his arrival, thats when you saw it peeking from under his scarf. that The dark bruises peaked up and back into hiding whenever he moved.

‘‘ You don’t like the noodles?” Jungkook says, taking a big bite of noodles then slurping them up.

Ryan gives you one of your guises code looks but you give one back to say you are fine. ‘’ Im sorry I was just zoned out.’’

You don’t engage on any of the conversation instead you sit there eating your noodles quietly until they’re gone. That is until the real reason why you are here is brought up.

‘‘ We are here because me and Jungkook have thought about you guys.” Ryan glances at the boy who’s now wiping his face free of sauce.

Great. When are people going to stop doing that though?

‘‘ Ryan come on now, I honestly don’t care. He’s happy with her and I am with myself. Im serious. Please stop thinking about things like this. Im happy can’t you see that! ‘‘ By this point you know you’re all worked up.

It isn’t the truth, but you just want everyone to stop worrying so you could move on. Bringing the whole situation up all the time is draining for you and you’d rather not be reminded of Jimin and what he does and how he’s doing.

Jimin keeps quite with a stare that’s intense on you. You stare right back at him with an emotionless expression. The both of your eyes never leave each-other but you knew it had hurt him. Saying that you’re fine but he knows you’re bothered a lot.

Jungkook sighs heavily, “Baby-Cheeks don’t get all upset now. We are just worried solely on you. Even Jimin is and we all came to an agreement to have this civil conversation right here and now because all of it needs to be addressed.”

You cock your head slightly to the side not leaving Jimin’s eyes. You knew for a fact that this entire conversation is his doing just by Jungkook saying that last sentence.

“ I told you to stop worrying about me. I really meant it. I’m fine. I am F I N E .’’ You spell out the words, then shake your head clearly pissed off.

‘‘ But you aren’t. You constantly lose focus and don’t talk as much. Im worried for you so much that it pains me to even see you like this.” Jimin bites his lips to prevent from breaking down. You know that expression all to well.

That still doesn’t mean he should be worrying about you. You two are no longer together and no matter how many times you scream it to the top of your lungs each time, nobody listens to you.

‘‘ I am fine. I promise you guys. I’ve just had a comeback and they set me on a strict diet for the next few months and I go to the gym more than I used to because that’s what us models do. Since I have been absent for a year now my break time is over. The reason I zone out is because I have a busy schedule and sleep is whenever I can get it so that makes me tired often. I am fine.”

Your explanation is partially true and you do feel bad for lying on some of the parts but knowing them they will keep doing whatever to make things right. It’s time for you and them to stop worrying about Jimin and your relationship with each other.

The group doesn’t say anything after that. You tried to keep the best serious tone you had to explain that to them. Luckily they fell through and believed it. All except Jimin.

‘‘ Now can we move on? Is everything okay now?” You ask, looking at both Ryan and Jungkook. They both shake their head slowly still unsure of what to think.

‘‘ Well since that is over with, lets all take our leave yeah?” Ryan sighs, collecting everybody’s trash from the food. You nod your head and begin to help her while the boys go somewhere in the room to talk privately together.

You don’t care enough to want to know about what they’re saying. As long as they don’t bring anything of worriedness about you again then it’s okay. Soon after the room is all cleaned up you grab your coat and scarf. Jungkook grabs Ryan’s and helps her into hers, zipping it all the way up.

‘‘ My baby can’t catch a cold.” He giggles before placing a kiss on her forehead. Ryan turns a deep red in her cheeks as he continues to dress her properly for the snow outside.

‘‘ Can we talk privately again?’‘ A quite voice says behind you. You knew it all to well. But you don’t turn around at all while slipping your coat on.

‘‘ I’ve thought I made myself clear. I don’t need to say it again. Please just accept it.” The maroon colored scarf is gently placed around you from behind.

You grab his hands to stop him but he’s quick enough to come in-front of you and begin to wrap it for you. “ You lied. You can fool them but not me.’’

You break his hands away from the scarf, making sure to glare at him before you storm out of the office. All of the pressure and just concern in general is getting to you. It’s not like you to get worked up to this point. You hate making scenes and you knew that when you left like that it’s going to spark more curiousness.

The heel of your black suede thigh high boots click down the hallway fast as tears feel the brim of your eyes. Why wont they just leave it be?

After taking the long way out and going down three flights of stairs from the emergency exit, you make it down to the lobby and out the rotating doors.

When you do you almost choke out a whimper at the sight at Jimin greeting Isabel with a hug in which she pulls him down to a deep passionate kiss while waiting in-front of his car.

He was just upstairs dressing you properly, but kissing on her a few minutes later. Typical Jimin.

You bite your lip hard enough for the taste of blood to fill your mouth to prevent from crying right then and there. You can’t show her any sign of weakness. This is what she wants you to do. Cry and breakdown in-front of her to gain victory. She can’t have it. She wont have it.

You slip your hands into the coat pockets and begin your journey down the street. Catching a taxi would be no use. The cold harsh wind mixing with the hard drops of rain feel euphoric but numb to you.

‘‘ What are you doing? You’ll catch a cold for walking in this type of weather!” A voice yells far from behind you.

You don’t bother to look back at him. You up your pace just by a little to get that voice far away from you as possible. He kissed you last night, but kissed her right infront of you. The lump in your throat is sore and your heart hurts with each step you take. Is this how the game goes? It hurts. It hurts a lot.

The wind blows harsh and the rain blows on your face making your makeup wet but not smeared. The mascara running down your face doesn’t matter from your wet tears.

The stop lights turn yellow, red, and then green a couple of times. You count the number of changes before walking past it. Three times total.

Yellow

Red

Green

then back again.

The thunder roars causing you to jump a bit, but you’re numb to any noise around you anyways. You sniffle repeatedly to stop your nose from running but why not just let it run? Why not just let everything go. Let yourself go. Yeah that sounds about right. Let yourself g-

The blackness of your vision is sudden. No chance to react when the sound disappears from it. To the ground your body goes, laying there in a puddle of water. Your eyes blink slowly when you wince in pain upon bringing your hand up to your head. Vision goes in and out, in and out. You can’t hear the disorted person above you screaming and shaking you just before blacking out again.

The look of horror on his face and adrenaline runs through his body as soon as your eyes close. He thinks it’s his fault. His fault for wanting to keep talking to you. His fault for kissing you last night. His fault for stressing you out to your limits for you to walk home instead of asking him for a ride.

Running his hand through his hair, he slowly picks up your limp body. He saw that fall, and that fall was hard. You slipped on a decent sized amount of a dirt and mud mixture from not paying attention. Tears roll down his eyes when he places you in the passenger seat to buckle your seatbelt where your chest rises up and down. A sign of life.

The ride to your house is hell for him. Constantly hitting the steering wheel out of anger from himself and crying loudly wishing for you to be fine and okay. The hospital wasn’t an option right now. If paparazzi saw him taking you in unconcious right after the small scandal, he’d be sure that he’d be on the news for the next two weeks for supposedly abusing you, which isn’t the case.

It doesn’t take him long to arrive, considering he was tokyo drifting through the streets of Seoul. Laying your body on your bed, he sees the bottom of your outfit is dirty with mud. At first he hesitates but keeping muddy clothes on you wouldn’t be right of him.

After picking out some sweatpants, he moves on to your hoodie collection and spots one in the back of the drawer folded into a ball. Jimin lets out a small laugh when he realizes its one of his. It must of ended up here in transit when packing from the old apartment.

Nevertheless, he decides it’s that one you’ll be wearing and not anyone of the others. When it comes time to undress you, he looks away when taking off your clothes and putting the new clothes on. He tucks you in when done, planting a small kiss on your forehead just before going to get an icepack for you to place it on your head.

The sound of cartoons playing in a distance wakes you up. Your eyes stir open until full view. The throbbing of your head makes you wince a little. You’re just as more confused as to when you made it into your apartment let alone your room.

‘‘ You’re awake?’‘

He places the icepack on the back of your head but when he goes to grab your hand to make you secure it, your heart skips a beat when his soft hand touches yours. It’s been a while since you last had his warm touch against yours.

The thoughts in your head stops when he lets go of your now cold hand. ‘‘ Why are you here?” You say, finally looking at him.

‘‘ You fell. You fell on a puddle of mud while crossing over to the next sidewalk.” He sighs, eyes staring at you with anger yet relief. Instead of fighting back for the sake of your throbbing head, you just look down.

Thats when you notice the new set of clothes on your body. You certainly weren’t wearing this hoodie before. In fact you knew for a fact that this particular hoodie was balled up in the back of your dresser drawer. It’s his.

“ You undressed me?” You yell, furrowing your eyebrows at him. You pull the cover closer up to your body out of embarassment but Jimin doesn’t care. He’s more worried about the fall than the undressing.

“ Do you fucking know how got damn worried I was?” Jimin walks over to you with his arms crossed and jaw clenching. You want to hide right about now. “You’re more worried about if I was a pervert or not but news flash, I didn’t even look at you while undressing you. I’m not the asshole you think I am.”

Silence is golden.

‘‘ We all shouldn’t have been out there with a storm coming, but we came to the office for your sake. You keep putting yourself at risk, just stop!‘‘ He semi-yells at you.

You know he’s correct but that doesn’t stop you from forming the lecture into an arguement.

‘‘ Risk? I don’t take risks unless necessary. I was just minding my business and walking home. I guess I wasn’t mindful for that the weather wasn’t suitable for walking. Thank you for tending to me.’’

The boy scoffs with a sarcastic smile on his face backing away from your bed. You close your eyes knowing you shouldn’t of said that. ‘‘ Wasn’t mindful? Really? Why can’t you just listen to me whenever I need you to?”

‘‘ You were with Isabel. I don’t have anything to do with your guys relationship at all. I didn’t want to seem like a threat to her. ‘‘

Jimin sighs and rubs his temples, ‘’ You know you’re hard headed right? Do you think I give a flying fuck if she was there or not? You health and you yourself are important to me. ‘’

Here we go again.

‘‘ I said don’t worr-’‘

Jimin raises up quickly with anger and sadness written all over his face, ‘’ I don’t care what you say. Fucking listen to me when I say so! I’m going to worry about you until the day I die and cannot breathe anymore! Accept it okay?’’ He semi- yells, chest heaving up and down fast.

You keep your eyes away from his. You knew it would happen. You knew he would blow up somehow today.

‘‘ Im not going to accept it. Want to know why? I’m not your girlfriend anymore. I have to accept the fact that you no longer are in a relationship with me Jimin. You need to too.’‘

Jimin sighs, pacing back in forth across the wooden floor while running his fingers through his hair repeatedly, “ I was hoping it wouldn’t have to be like this. I’m not letting it happen anymore. From now on I will be checking on you everyday. Understand?’’

‘‘ No I don-”

‘‘ Understand?’‘ He growls, head whipping towards your direction.

There it goes. Pissed off Jimin. The side of his dominance that he dares anyone to overpower.

‘‘ Jimin you cannot come he-”

He shoots you a glare wanting his question answered now. You bite your lip making sure to shut the fuck up at this point. Anything you say after you know would do damage. ‘‘ Do you. Fucking. Understand?’‘

You nod your head. When he becomes like this there isn’t any way to stop him or change his mind.

‘‘ Good. Im not leaving for the night.”

You furrow your eyebrows, “Woah Jimin. Okay that’s too far. That’s considered cheating on Isabel.”

‘‘ It’s not. Not if im not with her anymore.’‘

Your heart jumps at those words. Not with her anymore?

‘‘ You honestly didn’t have to break up with her for me.”

You know you’d honestly feel very bad, but not as bad because she honestly deserves it for being a homewrecker. Then again, what does that make you?

‘‘ We technically are on a break. Im planning to break up with her in a couple of days.” He says, turning the blaring hot heater that was turned on prior to you waking up, onto it’s low settings.

You decide that’s enough of questions and to just enjoy his company there while it lasts. Putting the cover back down, you pick up your phone from the nightstand. A few texts from your manager, a missed call from Ryan. By the looks of it they both don’t know what happened and that somehow relieves you.

Looking back up at him, you notice him turned around about to take off his shirt. His back muscles are evident and flex whenever he moves. You miss those. The way they’d feel under your hands and nails when he used to be ontop of you giving you the best nights of your life.

You hadn’t known he had turned around because you’re too deep in thought recalling those nights. “ Im assuming you like what you see?”

So you’ve been caught. “ No. Put your shirt back on.” Its a lie but you can’t admit to daydreaming about him.

‘‘ Hush im just changing into new clothes.’‘

You watch him go to your bottom left dresser and it all clicks to you. Back when you both shared an apartment Jimin kept extra clothing for emergencies always in the left bottom drawer.

You don’t know why, but you felt that it was tradition to put his extra clothing inside the bottom left drawer when you moved into here. Jimin had left the box of emergency clothing, on accident, with you as the both of you moved out.

When things had arrived here and you started unpacking you had seen what was inside the box. Instead of calling him to retrieve it, you just placed them in the bottom left drawer of your dresser in case something had ever happened where he was in need.

And that scenario just so happened to play out today.

You close your eyes as he casually slips his pants off in front of you. You want to peak but choose not to. ‘‘ Why are you covering your eyes? You’ve seen all of me before.”

And you want to see it all again.

‘‘ Yeah whatever. Im sleepy.’‘

You rub your eyes and let out a quite yawn. You can feel his eyes staring into you so you turn to face him while getting comfortable under the covers.

Jimin turns out the lights first and then the t.v. Pitch black just how you like it.

‘‘ I forgot how cute you can be.’‘ He shakes his head, pulling you closer to him to where you’re laying on his chest with his arms wrapped around you.

His heartbeat is relaxing to you. So relaxing that soon enough, the both of you are fast asleep tangled in each-others love.

Once again, you fell for his sweet-talking and little white lies. All because you want another chance, one last time.

255 notes · View notes

mageofseven · 4 years

Note

Hi I just recently discovered your blog and I’m in love with your writing! I have a little request if you don’t mind. The brothers (and undateables I’d you want to) finding MC bruised and beaten and later discovering they got into a fight with another demon. Thank you in advance if you decide to write this!

Awww thank you so much! I might end up doing the Undateables in another post, but I'll just stick to the Brothers for this one.

And thanks for requesting 😊

TWs: violence, vague s*xual assault

Spoiler warning: 1st year spoilers in Lucifer's and vaguely in Belphie's section

Lucifer:

Was checking out the area under Diavolo's orders.

Apparently there have been some people sneaking around in the old Colosseum and normal methods to keep other demons away from the historical landmark have been futile.

That and word has made it's way that some criminals have been using the place to secretly make dealings

So when he got there, he had expected to find some such people lurking around

Instead he found MC on the ground in the center, bruised and bleeding with their arm bent in a very concerning way.

He rushed up to them, calling their name and checking them for signs of life.

Honestly, the man was having major flashbacks to the day he lost his sister.

This was exactly where Lilith fell and Lucifer had to watch his sister, all broken and in pain until Diavolo came and he had to make the deal that changed everything

The deal that eventually led to MC's existence

Yet here they were now, in exactly the same place and state and the demon couldn't help but break down for a minute with panic he tried so hard to conceal.

The human let out a groan and the man could only sigh in relief.

"MC, oh thank the Devil..."

"Luce...?"

"You'll be alright." He promised. "I'll take you over to have Simeon heal you."

Despite the internal panic and flashbacks of such a traumatic event, he still handled the situation well.

Once MC was all healed up, he asked them what happened.

Apparently, they found a note that someone had stuffed in their school bag, asking for them to meet at the Colosseum.

They thought it was weird, but curiosity had gotten the better of them so they went and were attacked while exploring the ancient building.

The demon had meant to kill her, but sensed Lucifer approaching so they dropped the human and ran for it.

Ends up getting as much info from them about the attacker as he can.

Even if MC doesn't want the demon to die for what they did, they get no say in the matter.

Because of their status as exchange student, this attack is a political issue and the consequences Lord Diavolo warned his people about originally must be put into play.

Politics aside though, Lucifer would never let any being who hurt MC get away with it.

Becomes a lot stricter with what they can and cannot do

Like, they're not even allowed to go for a walk around the block without either him or his brothers accompanying them.

Even changes up their class schedule to make sure they have at least one of his brothers with them per class and they even have to walk MC to their next one.

Any arguments about this from MC or the brothers fall on deaf ears.

He will never let anyone lay a hand on them again.

Mammon:

School day had ended and he was on his way to pick MC up from their class.

Since Lucifer decided the day they came that he was responsible for their safety, he always had to do stuff like this.

He was late today though since his teacher held him back after class.

Blah blah F on the test, blahh blah summer school, blaah blahh blaaaah. Whatever man; he wasn't listening

And because of them, he was late. So much so that when he arrived at the human's classroom, they weren't there.

Lowkey panicked.

Shit. Shit shit shit, where'd they go???

Practically runs in the halls trying to find them

Knows Lucifer will have his head for this if he can't track 'em down.

Ends up hearing some kind of ruckus in the courtyard

And finds a big group of students forming a circle and chanting "Fight!"

"Oh yell!" Is momentarily distracted from his problem and joins the group. "Fight! Fight! Fight--."

Oh shit. That's his human in the circle!

Mammon's brain just started buffering as he watched MC dodge and weave, even getting some good hits in. The second brother was actually pretty impressed.

The lower demon in the fight eventually lost his footing and fell to the ground, giving an opening for MC to give a big kick between his legs and the demon let out a shrill scream. His green skin started smoking and changed to grey as it hardened and suddenly seemed more like stone than a person.

The circle of students started cheering and Mammon's jaw practically hit the floor.

Holy shit, the human did it!

MC fell the ground, panting heavily and bruised from head to toe.

Mammon finally rushed up to them.

"Damn, MC! You're gonna give me a heart attack!"

All of a sudden, some students started running and others just quickly jumped back, revealing Lucifer and Diavolo.

....yep, he's dead.

The two older demons started asking MC questions as they caught their breath and Mammon tried to sneak away.

Lucifer grabbed his brother by his jacket, but otherwise paid him no mind as MC told their tale.

Apparently this demon that sits behind them in their Devildom History class had been giving them crap for a while; calling them names and pushing them around. Today they even started touching them in places that made them wanna break the demon's hand.

MC snapped and told them such. The demon only grinned. Honestly, he was probably waiting for them to say that.

From there, he dragged them out by their hair and the rest is rather obvious.

Diavolo had some of his men carry the demon away. Apparently, the stone-like skin is defense mechanism, essentially the equivalent of a turtle hiding in their shells for that sub-race of demon.

The prince assured MC that the demon will be dealt with and tasked Lucifer with getting them healed up.

Mammon was hung upside down from the roof for a few hours for letting this happen, but MC was patched up and okay in the end.

Leviathan:

He usually buys all of his otaku stuff off of Akuzon

But occasionally, he likes to go out and by manga at this store downtown.

It's a once in a blue moon sort of thing, but he still does it

MC felt like taking a walk so they joined him

The two explored the shop as Levi fanboyed about seemingly every other series he passed.

The otaku had already started a pile of manga he planned to buy.

He didn't even notice when MC left his side until he approached the counter to pay

Boy just assumes you bailed on him at first and sinks into self-loathing mode

Until he heard a scream from outside.

He abandoned his manga and raced out, just in time to see another demon run for it and MC leaning against the building.

Their right arm was bleeding from the holes and claw marks made into it.

The third brother started freaking out and rushed them home, even leaving his books there.

When they get back, Lucifer patches them up with a first aid kit and a little bit of a potion.

MC explains how they were shopping with Levi when all of a sudden they saw Beel outside the store waving at them

She went out to talk to him, but then suddenly, it wasn't Beel anymore.

Apparently, it was a shapeshifting demon and, since they specifically choose Beel's form to take, Lucifer assumed that they must have been watching them for a while and planning this attack. They likely chose Beel because they knew he was someone MC would let their guard around.

Levi felt like crap for letting them get hurt, but MC said it was their fault for being tricked.

Lucifer decided it was both their faults and gave them both a long lecture

Satan:

The fourth brother invited MC out for coffee

The blonde actually really likes the atmosphere of coffee shops and wanted to share it with them

The two ordered their coffee and sat at their table while talking about books. He recently read a book on artic fauna from the human world and was comparing the information he read with their own knowledge

It was a very relaxing experience like most of MC's quality with Satan.

Before the two of left, MC had to stop in the restroom.

That demon waited patiently for the human at their table, but when almost ten minutes went by, he became a bit annoyed and puzzled.

Not wanting to be rude, but also ready to leave, Satan approached the bathroom door

He paused mid knock when her heard a low growl followed by a cry from MC

Now in his demon form, the blonde kicked the door off its hinges. It wasn't locked or anything, but the man was super pissed.

Found a demon pressing MC, who had a gash in their head, against the opposite wall

'An eye for an eye' is more or less the philosophy he followed here, or rather, a head for a head.

He took the demon and slammed his head into another wall over and over again.

MC had to run up and tell him to stop after the other demon passed out.

They left the demon on the floor of the bathroom and Satan, with his arms around MC to keep them close, headed back to House of Lamentation

The human didn't want the other brothers to see them like this and worry so Satan snuck them into his room and went to get the first aid kit.

It was quiet between the two as he patched them up.

"I'm sorry for scaring you." He said as he finished with their stitches. "Seeing you hurt like that just made my blood boil. They deserved it, but you shouldn't have had to watch."

"It's okay... thank you for saving me."

The two spent the rest of the night huddled together in his room, reading and just settling down from the incident.

Asmodeus:

Shopping trip!

Asmo was a bit too enthusiastic about it, but that's part of why MC was all too willing to go

He mainly just wanted to see MC in cute outfits, but also bought a few for himself

Any self-consciousness MC might feel on her own is long gone when they spend time with him. He's always hyping them up and complimenting them and overall making them feel beautiful.

Time spent with Asmo is always a good time and well spent.

The fifth brother does actually leave their side for a bit after they found someone hot to flirt with

MC didn't mind and just let the Avatar of Lust do his thing as they continued to look through the racks.

At some point a very good looking demon approached them and started flirting with them

It became obvious that this dude was one of Asmo's demons, another demon of lust

Even with this in mind though, their attention really did make the human feel special, even if they probably said such sweet words to everyone

MC underestimated the demon, thinking that just because Asmo wasn't the aggressive sort that the demons under him wouldn't be either

Ends up following him out of the store and makes out with him against the wall of the building

They didn't understand why they were doing this, but the human's mind had been feeling foggy for a while now.

Suddenly, MC's whole body started to feel heavy and they were so dizzy that their vision was just a blur

Ends up passing out and waking up a few minutes later to Asmo crying as he stood over them and begging them to wake up

"Azzy?"

The man threw his arms around them.

Finds out that the fifth brother went looking for them when he saw that they weren't in the store anymore. He came outside just in time to see one of his underlings try to suck their soul out of their body.

As soon as they heard their superior's voice though, they dropped the human and ran.

The two went straight home and Asmo was extra clingy with them for the rest of the day.

Beelzebub:

The two of them went together to Madam Screams since they were both craving sweets.

Beel was really hungering for a cherry pit pie (though of course he planned on order other things as well) while MC was really hankering for some chocodevil cake.

The two happily got in line to pick out their treats, but MC stepped out to get a clearer view of the case with all of the treats to see if they wanted anything different instead.

Ends up getting attacked by a famished, minor demon of gluttony and slammed down on the glass case containing the sweets.

Beel jumped into gear; he changed into his demon form and threw the other demon off of them.

During the skirmish, the two ended up breaking down a wall and crushing three tables.

When the fight ended, the big guy rushed up to MC to make sure they're okay.

The human was bleeding and had a lot of glass shards embedded in their back and arms.

Though worried, the sweet boy keeps himself together and carefully takes out the bigger shards.

Rushes them home, treats forgotten.

Once home, Lucifer is the one who gets the rest of the glass out of their back and cleans up their wounds.

Beel stays by their side and lets them squeeze their hand when Luce's clean up hurts too much.

Luce gives his younger brother a lecture for all the stuff he had broken back at Madam Screams, but is surprisingly lenient with him.

The older brother didn't say it (and honestly, he should have), but he was proud of his brother for stepping up and protecting MC, but at the same time, expected nothing less from him.

Yeah, Lucifer will likely get sent the bill, but MC's safety is more important.

Belphegor:

Belphie had fallen asleep during class; no surprise there.

The rest of the students left the room when class ended, but the seventh brother continued to sleep at his desk.

MC found his sleeping face cute and didn't want to wake the demon

So instead, they hung around the classroom, waiting for the Avatar of Sloth to awake; the school day was over and the classroom wasn't going to be used for anything else so they thought there'd be no harm in hanging around.

Sadly, they were wrong.

Another student, a jerk from their Seductive Speechcraft class had waited for them to leave the classroom in order to harass them, but when they didn't come out, he came in.

Eventually had them backed up against the wall and forcing their hand up their shirt, causing the human to yelp.

He tried covering their mouth with his other hand, but MC bit them, angering the demon and leading them to putting their hands around their throat as he yelled at them.

The entire time, the minor demon never saw the Avatar of Sloth sleeping at his desk.

Big mistake.

Belphie woke up and saw the scene before him, turning into his demon form real quick.

Didn't hesitate to grab a hold of the bastard and make him let go of MC, who was now gasping for much needed air.

The seventh brother used his miasma aura to weaken the demon as he was now the one doing the choking with the lower demon.

MC covered their face and cried in their corner on the floor.

It was too similar to That Night™️ and the human was bordering on panic attack because of it.

Once the minor demon passed out, Belphie turned and saw MC crying on the floor.

He rushed up to them, but stopped once MC started screaming and begging for him to stay back.

That look in their eyes... it was the same fearful look he remembered from That Night™️

And it killed Belphie inside because he never wanted them to be scared of him ever again.

He waited for the human to calm down and, with their permission, slowly approached them.

He wanted to hug them, but was afraid that they'd just be reminded of it even more so he held back.

Surprising him, the human hugged him instead.

He held them tight for as long as they needed and started to notice the bruises forming on their neck

The two went home after that and reported the incident to Lucifer before Belphie dragged MC with him for a nap.

He chose Beel and his' room since he knew the attic would probably be too much for them right now.

Cuddled close to them and apologized for all of it. For falling asleep and leaving them defenseless. For the other demon's attack. For scarying them. Above all, that he was sorry for That Night™️

Masterlist

#obey me #obey me otome #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me mc

667 notes · View notes

squeeneyart · 3 years

Text

Breathe in the Salt - Chapter 25

AO3

Beta reader as always is @thesnadger

Nothing to do but talk.

Martin and Jon settle in for a movie night.

The documentary, if it could be called that, was absolute bunk.

Littered throughout were vague interviews and wild assumptions on the part of the very on-screen director, all tied together with a final push for people to purchase a very specific brand of smoke detector. And the low quality of the video couldn’t be blamed solely on Martin’s internet.

They watched the thing from start to finish, though, and by the end of its 70-minute runtime (“I should’ve guessed by how short it was,” Jon had grumbled partway through) their viewing had turned primarily to Jon taking the piss out of it. Academically, of course.

On Martin’s end the film itself was bad in an enjoyable way, and while he didn’t have the context for all of Jon’s complaints it was easy for him to listen. He’d even made some jokes that got Jon to snort.

He did have to sit uncomfortably straight to keep from leaning against each other. Jon had turned it a bit so they could both see, but when viewed from too hard an angle the picture looked even worse. So, Martin did his best to give Jon space and not let the effort distract him from the screen.

All of this being true, Martin was grateful for the horrible film. Nothing filled silence better than movies and television, so the nights following they settled into a routine. Someone would make dinner (with no further… outbursts) and then they would find something to watch. Afterwards they would say goodnight and Martin would escape upstairs to decompress with his little notebook.

Jon’s original idea had been to find something related to their goals. However, after another let down on night two involving a very old retrospective on the mid-century fishing industry (“Wrong century,” Martin had said about five minutes in), Jon dropped the idea, thus opening up a whole new world of cable television and old vhs tapes on night three.

“You bought yourself a laptop but never had a dvd player?” Jon yawned, getting comfortable on his side of the couch.

“We sort of… skipped it?” Martin dug through a box of tapes for something worth watching, sifting through sappier options and 80s action flicks alike. “Dunno how, but we never got one. The laptop ended up being the first thing I ever had to play dvds, but the telly is too old to be hooked up to it. S’fine, though. I like tapes.”

“And you never get bored of it? Flipping between tapes and whatever’s on at a given time?”

Martin rolled his eyes. “I have a phone for other stuff, obviously. To be honest I don’t watch a lot to begin with, nothing new anyway.”

“Hmph. Same for me,” Jon conceded, sinking further into the couch. “Feels like there are other things I could be doing.”

“Except for now?”

A wry smile. “Special case.”

Martin’s stomach did a flip. He didn’t feel guilty, per se, but he wished he had something for Jon to work on to stave off the boredom. Everything had been so quiet with Peter gone and Simon’s waiting that no new leads had popped up. It wasn’t fair that Jon had to sit around doing nothing after wandering about in the sea for weeks. The least he could do was provide some entertainment.

“Hm. Right, how about this one?” Martin looked back and waved a vhs set. It was some old fantasy series with a group of children on the cover standing in a hallway. “Haven’t watched it since I was a kid, but I remember liking it.”

“Two tapes’ worth?” Jon glanced up at the ceiling. “It’s in episodes, right?”

“Yeah, though if you’d rather find something else…?”

Jon waved his hand. "No, I can’t spend the whole evening making up my mind. If we don’t like it, then we can find something else.”

With that settled Martin popped the tape in and took up his seat. On the other end, Jon sat with the blanket pulled to his chest. He wore a new set of pyjamas Martin had picked up at the shop along with a few other things to save Jon from having to wear the same clothes day and night.

The show was a simple series meant for children, easy enough to follow in plot that some side chatter didn’t interrupt things too much. Honestly, Martin was glad they weren’t paying a whole lot of attention. He hadn’t watched it in years and wasn’t looking to be embarrassed.

A few minutes in, the children from the cover were running up the stairs to explore a large house. “Safe to assume you don’t have siblings?” Jon asked.

“Hm? Oh, no, it’s just me. You?”

He snorted. “Even if my grandmother wanted another child running around, I was enough to deal with.”

Martin raised an eyebrow. “What, were you a terror?”

“I’d use the word ‘adventurous’, but she would’ve agreed with that description. If we’d been in that house,” Jon gestured toward the screen, “she would’ve been in trouble. Until it ate me or something.”

“I don’t think that’s how it goes?”

Jon frowned. “That’s- No, I mean if it were real it would probably mean harm. Supernatural houses aren’t trustworthy entities outside of fiction. In fiction they’re mischievous at the least.”

“Can’t imagine that, a building that likes to mess with you,” Martin said, grimacing. He really didn’t remember much about this story. Maybe that was how it went? “I’m sure they’ll be fine. I wasn’t into spooky things back then.”

“I’ll take your word for it, but I’m not letting my guard down,” Jon said. He watched as the children walked up a spiral staircase. “Would you have wanted siblings?”

Martin considered this. “I can’t imagine having them? But an older sibling would’ve been nice. Someone to know better and help me with things.”

“I think any other child would’ve found me irritating, older or younger. Best to keep to myself,” Jon said dryly. “Anyway, what was I saying? Oh, yes, you can imagine the additional worry of raising a child who could explore the ocean like it was the woods. It’s not like she could follow me in.”

“I bet… She wasn’t like you, then?”

Turning back to the television, Jon said, “No. She was from my father’s side.”

“Oh.” He couldn’t tell if the question was wrong to ask, so looked back to the show. It was luck of the draw, then, whether someone was born with a selkie skin. Perhaps there was nothing to do with genetics in circumstances like this.

Back on the screen, one of the children had chosen to wander outside into the beginnings of a snowstorm with no thought to the cold. Outside the real world window it had begun to hail, and Martin realized how frigid it had become both outdoors and in.

“Well, at least this story is right for the season,” Martin said, standing up. “I’m gonna grab another blanket.”

With a start, Jon looked at him and held up the one he was under. “Do you want this one? I don’t-”

“N-no, that’s fine!” He walked briskly out of the room, feeling rude and stupid. All Jon had offered was for him to use the damned thing, not share it. And it wouldn’t have fit both of them even if he had meant it that way!

Opening the hall closet, he tried to calm down. He peered at the pile of folded sheets and blankets, lifting each layer to search for one he liked. There was a flannel one somewhere, deceptively warm for how thin it was-

Oh.

Tucked far down into the pile, far back enough so it was hidden if the one above wasn’t lifted, Martin saw something dappled and grey and out of place amongst the linen. Jon had left it to dry completely beforehand, so the surrounding fabric was unwrinkled. Considerate. And in a decent hiding place all things considered. It was a shame Martin had gone and ruined it.

He sighed, grabbing one of the blankets at the top that he’d initially passed on. Once he reached the doorway to the living room, he stopped and stared at Jon who was doing his best to seem unperturbed.

“So, I saw it,” he started, squeezing the blanket in his arms into his chest. “I use that closet a lot, if you want to put it somewhere else.”

Jon winced and stood. As Martin let him pass, he mumbled, “Right. I’ll just-”

And then Martin was left to sit back on the couch and wait, pausing the tape out of courtesy.

When the skin had disappeared from the shower that first morning he hadn’t considered anything but Jon hiding it, and there was an awful satisfaction in knowing he was right. He rubbed his arm and stared at the blanket in his lap, still neat and folded.

After a couple of minutes, Jon returned empty handed and resumed his seat. Pulling his blanket back up, he said, “It’s nothing… personal.”

“I know.” He took a deep breath and pressed play on the old remote, letting the child continue their new solo adventure. “I figured you hid it.”

“I appreciate that you told me.” His voice was stilted and unsure. “That you found it.”

“Sure, whatever helps.” Unfolding the blanket, he pulled it up to his shoulders and leaned on the arm rest. He could feel Jon fidgeting in place, turning the blanket so it faced the right way and making it tuck under him in the right places. Martin kept his eyes ahead.

Finally giving up on any further adjustments, Jon slouched into place. “It does help. I know my caution can come off as distrust, but genuinely I just… I need to keep it hidden. I need to know where it is and to be the only one who does. For now.”

“You… don’t need to justify anything.” Martin sighed and had to fight back a yawn. “It’s your coat.”

A grunt of frustration. “No, you don’t- It’s not a rational thing. I trusted you enough to tell you the truth, and yet I was barely into my first night here before I panicked and stowed it away.” He sat upright and let the blanket fall to his lap, quiet distress written across the lines of his forehead.

Grasping for words, Martin said, “You still haven’t known me that long. It’s not wrong to be careful.”

“That’s not the point,” Jon replied quietly, resting elbows on knees. “It hasn’t been all that long in the grand scheme of things, but a lot has happened. I consider you a friend. And yet I can’t stop feeling like everything is about to go wrong if I’m not careful.”

The hail continued to slam against the window, almost overpowering the sound of the television and the faun describing the witch’s plans. On the far side of the couch, Jon remained hunched over his own knees with his face bent in irritation.

A wave of shame broke against him, but there wasn’t time to dwell on it. Carefully, Martin scooted over just enough to reach out a hand. His trembling fingers hovered just an inch away, brushing against the fabric of Jon’s shirt before coming to rest on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” Jon whispered, massaging around his eyes with his fingers. He reached his free hand up to tentatively cover Martin’s, giving it a tiny squeeze. “Thank you for understanding.”

“Do you… want to keep watching?”

Jon nodded, shaking himself out a little. Martin released the gentle grip on his shoulder, though he didn’t move away. They both settled into the back of the couch and watched.

The child had gone back inside with the shivers, but no one was to be found. Around the halls she wandered, calling her siblings’ names with indignation that slowly turned to concern and then to fear. Eventually she was running, and it wasn’t until she was on the upper floor that one of her brothers popped out to scare the living daylights out of her.

Deep down he remembered this part making him cry. Perhaps siblings weren’t worth it with how cruel children could be.

Martin coughed. “You explored the sea as a kid, then?”

Jumping slightly, Jon said, “O-only a couple of times. And not far from the land. And it’s not as fun when you can only grab one thing at a time, with your mouth. I sorely missed my pockets and picking up sticks.” As he spoke, he resumed the more casual tone from before with modest success.

“You thought checking out the sea with no real limits was too much of a hassle?”

With a roll of his eyes, Jon said, “It wasn’t entirely that. Eventually my grandmother warned me away from it. Told me about dangerous animals that absolutely weren’t native to the coast where we lived.”

“Great white sharks?”

“Surrounding our seaside village on every watery side, ready to eat hapless little seal boys who didn’t listen to their nans.”

Martin chuckled, relaxing further into his seat and listening to Jon go on about all the ways his grandmother had tried and failed to reign him in. He could see it, a younger, scrappier version of the man next to him stomping around the woods and climbing fences.

The instinct wasn’t all that relatable to someone like Martin who’d kept to the front porch on nice days, but it sounded like an adventure. Maybe it meant he was less likely to get eaten by an evil wardrobe out of the two of them. In his position he could only hope that was the case.

They called it for the night when, out of nowhere, a man suddenly appeared at half opacity screen and let out a screeching noise to close out an episode, making Jon laugh in a way that only could’ve been from exhaustion.

Martin lingered downstairs for a while after they shut the television off. It was Friday, after all. For many reasons they couldn’t go out to a pub, but without the need to get up early he could afford to stay up a little longer and listen to a sleepy Jon talk over the tapping on the window panes.

Tim: not next weekend, but the one after i think. finally time to call it on preparation and get down to business, if this is something we can be prepared for

Martin: encouraging

Tim: look its been rough over here, alright?

Martin: i know, sorry. itll be easier to talk once we’re all in one place

Tim: yeah

Tim: things are ok over there, then? youre sounding better

Martin: ?

Tim: it was starting to get scary if im honest, how quiet you were

Martin: oh, sorry. things are fine, just didnt have a lot to say

Tim: yeah, i get it. its hard to fill the space. dont be a stranger though. in a few weeks we’ll be there to get you out of this mess

Martin: looking forward to it

Sighing, Martin looked from the private chat to Jon, who was ignoring his breakfast to type away at the laptop. “Sounds like the others are making plans to get here.”

Jon looked up briefly. “Good. It will be… nice to see them.”

“And show them you’re not dead?”

Ignoring this, Jon said, “How is Tim doing?”

He glanced back at his phone. “Worried. About a lot of things, I think.”

“Thinking of how he’s going to break my disappearance to you, no doubt,” he said, taking a sip of his tea. He avoided Martin’s eyes. “That’ll be resolved soon enough.”

Martin poked at the eggs on his plate. “He… lost someone, didn’t he?”

It was only for a moment, but Jon froze in the middle of setting his mug down. He seemed to struggle with an answer.

“It’s fine if you can’t say, but he implied as much,” Martin said gently.

With a frown, Jon shut the laptop. “Sasha knows more than I do, but yes. His brother, a few years ago.”

“Oh. That’s… really sad.” He leaned back in his chair. “He seems like he’d be a good brother.”

“I’m sure he was. He certainly looks out for us.” Jon took a bite of his toast.

“As best as he can,” Martin added sheepishly.

“Once this is all finished he’s earned a vacation.”

Yes, they’d all given poor Tim their share of heart attacks. Martin had managed to several times in the last month. But at least when the time came Tim would see that both of them were alive and themselves and able to apologize for making his and Sasha’s lives just a bit harder than they needed to be.

Once it was all finished.

#tma #the magnus archives #breathe in the salt #martin blackwood #jonathan sims #sasha james #timothy stoker #peter lukas #jonmartin #selkie au

42 notes · View notes

athingthatwantsvirginia · 4 years

Text

How Kurt Cobain

PART TWENTY-SEVEN OF THE DO YOU SEE HER FACE? SERIES

Pairing: Jess Mariano x Original Character (Ella Stevens)

Warnings: drinking, anxiety about future, plentiful pop culture references, this is the product of intense writer’s block so who knows its quality honestly

Word Count: 4.3K

Summary: Ella takes a morning walk through Philly. Then, she takes Jess to Lane’s wedding.

Tangled beneath the sheets, Ella awoke with the sunlight streaming through Jess’s window and into her closed eyes. She squinted as she cleared her throat and shifted to find Jess’s side of the bed empty. Furrowing her brows, she raked a hand through her messy hair and sat up against the green wall, Nietzche’s eyes looking over her almost comically. Still, she found no Jess in the room, though the door was slightly ajar. The smell of coffee drifted in from the kitchen. She worried frantically if she had missed her interview with the Dean.

“Jess?” she called.

After only a moment, he waltzed in with the paper in one hand and a mug in the other. He smirked when he saw the scowl on her face. Yet another thing he could count on never changing. Ella Stevens was not a morning person. “Yeah?”

“What the hell? Why didn’t you wake me?” she demanded, rubbing at her eyes with both hands.

Jess snickered. “Like it’s so easy. I tried. You told me to fuck off.”

“I did not.”

“Oh, but you did. Twice.”

Groaning slightly, she shook her head at herself. “Sorry.”

“No problem. I’m used to the colorful vocabulary by now,” he shrugged, taking a long sip of his black coffee.

She rushed over to her bag, convinced of her tardiness.

“Woah, where’s the fire?” Jess asked.

“What time is it?”

“Relax. It’s only nine. Your interview isn’t until eleven, right?’ he asked, smug smirk ever-present.

Blowing out a small breath, she nodded. “Yeah. Jesus. I thought it was noon.”

“Why?”

“That’s usually how late I sleep when I forget to set an alarm,” she said, running her fingers through her hair again.

He chuckled. “Well, you’ve got a while. I had to get up to let the poet guy in. There’s donuts in the kitchen. Campus is only a few blocks away. I can walk you there later, if you want.”

Biting the inside of her cheek, she tried to fight the smile which threatened to cross her face. “I don’t need an escort, Mariano.”

“Oh, right. I forgot you know exactly how to get there from here,” he said, feigning understanding.

She rolled her eyes. “I brought a map.”

“That’s cute,” he teased.

“Fuck you.”

“It’s not the twentieth century anymore. Just let me walk you, Stevens.”

“Okay, fine,” she conceded, finally letting herself break into a little grin.

. . .

Cloudy light shone through the overcast sky in gray tones, but the air was light. Philadelphia was not due for rain. Ella breathed in the city as they strolled down the sidewalk. It was a little grimy, but so alive. The pulse of the noise and the people made her feel excited, inspired. She would have to draw something of it as soon as she got a moment. Jess had his hands shoved in his pockets, stealing occasional glances at Ella. He saw the same wonder in her eyes that he had when she’d come to visit him in New York all those years ago. A pleasant warmth radiated throughout him, and for just a little while he stopped wondering where they stood with each other, what would happen, about the words they still needed to speak.

She fiddled with the thin strap of her watch as she walked along. “Do you like Philly better than New York?”

He perked his head up as she suddenly broke the silence between them. “Oh yeah. Less people. Better art scene.”

“Really?”

“Definitely. And it also helps that my mom doesn’t live here.”

“Ah,” Ella replied knowingly, nodding slightly. “So, you guys haven’t talked much since the wedding, I take it?”

“Every now and again,” he shrugged.

They turned down a road lined with coffee shops and bookstores. Ella could tell it was a backwards way of getting to campus, but expected nothing less of Jess. It made her want to smile. The more she saw of the city, the more she could tell he belonged. Finally, he had a place where he fit.

“She did call me when April showed up, though,” Jess continued casually.

Ella uttered a small laugh. “Yeah. That was...straight outta left field. She’s a good kid, though. Can recite the whole periodic table in like sixty seconds. She kinda reminds me of my brother.”

“Adam?” Jess asked.

Ella nodded, the warm breeze blowing her bangs back from her face. Her hair was in a low bun, and she was dressed in the same clothes as the day before. Most of her wardrobe wasn’t the most professional. And straight-laced clothes, she thought, were an important balance for her visible tattoos.

“How’s he doin’?”

She shrugged, smiling lightly. “He’s good. Almost done with his junior year. He’s applying to all those big schools. MIT is his top choice, I think.”

“Jeez. Another valedictorian in the family?”

“Maybe. He might get a full ride, especially since…” she paused, biting at the inside of her cheek. Looking over at Jess, she saw his curious expression. He seemed more open than he ever had, comfortable in his own skin. When she continued, her tone was firmer, more direct. “Well, my dad left to live with my uncle in Baltimore a few months ago. It’s just Adam and Fiona back in the house. He’ll get lots of financial aid points for having a single step-parent.”

“Oh, that’s…”

“Yeah. But, I think everyone’s better off,” she said, averting her gaze from him. Again, Jess thought he saw her try and grab for a necklace, but instead she reached up to tug gently at one of her small earrings. “Once the baby thing didn’t work out with Fiona, my dad started drinking more and...I think he realized he’d never...losing my mom. He’s never gonna be the same. Adam’s doing well, though. And Fiona’s doing better. It’s better.”

He hummed in acknowledgement, appraising her with a careful eye. “I’m glad, then.”

“Me too.” She cast him a tiny, reassured smile. “Sorry. That’s heavy stuff and it’s not even afternoon.”

“Nothing for you to be sorry over,” he replied.

Rushing over a crowded crosswalk as the seconds blinked off the timer, Jess took her hand to lead her. She wouldn’t be late, but he could tell she was anxious to get where she needed to be. “We’re almost there.”

He thought for a moment about disentangling their fingers, but she gave his hand a squeeze instead. His heart glowed with nostalgia and hope. The noise around them seemed like music. Cherry trees, which dotted campus, were blooming and they stepped over the petals beneath their feet. Hardly thinking, Jess ran a thumb over the smooth skin of the back of her hand. Her smile grew.

They were approaching the brick building which held the dean of the art school’s office. Students whizzed past them with backpacks and frantic looks. A sense of surrealism dawned on Ella. She was going to end up at an Ivy League, after all. Just a little later than she had once hoped she would. The air smelled clean and damp with spring.

“So,” Jess began, coming to a stop a few feet from the walkway which led to the double doors, “after this, you’re all set?”

“Guess so,” she said, slightly breathless with the moment.

He hummed, looking around him. “Y’know, this morning, I was thinking-”

“That’s a bad sign,” Ella interjected.

Jess rolled his eyes. “Age has not helped your stand-up material, Stevens.”

“I disagree,” she said shortly. “Please, continue.”

He sighed heavily, separating their fingers and running a hand over his mouth. “Well, you don’t have a place to live here yet, right?”

“Not yet.”

“I was thinking maybe you’d want to come live with us. Above Truncheon,” he said, spitting out the words as fast as he could.

Ella’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Really?”

Jess nodded shyly. “My bed’s big enough. And I don’t have that much stuff; there’s room for you. Chris already loves you. I’m sure Matthew wouldn’t mind either. And your sketches are down in the main room anyway. We could put a price on them and...only if you want to. I know it’s a lot to process, so you don’t need to answer right now or anything.”

Her eyes were calculating as she gathered her thoughts. “Just so I’m clear...you want us to get back together. And you want us to live together in your apartment. With Matthew and Chris. Above Truncheon.”

“Yes,” Jess confirmed, tone growing more confident, though his heart was beating painfully against his ribs.

“Are you sure? I mean...we haven’t seen each other in two years. Maybe time has corrupted me,” she said, voice serious despite her weak joke.

Again, he sighed. “I think we were both pretty corrupted to begin with-”

“How Kurt Cobain of you.”

“And I don’t care how long it’s been. We’ve got a lot to make up for. I feel like I’ve been waiting for you forever. And I’m tired of waiting. I’m ready to try again. Really try, this time. But only if you are. Only if you want this too,” he said.

A familiar nausea rose in his throat, and his hands began to shake. The only other time he’d taken such a leap of faith, it hadn’t gone over well. But everything was different. He was settled, with a steady income. She had graduated, and was finally embracing her dreams. His foolish hope persisted, even still. When he’d woken up next to her again, in a bed which he’d bought himself, and eaten breakfast with her, read morning papers with her, he could think of nothing he wanted more. Communication, he reminded himself. Open and honest communication. Even if he still wanted to roll his eyes at just the thought of Luke’s self-help nonsense.

“And,” he continued, when she hadn’t said a word, was only turning thoughts over in her head silently, “you don’t have to say anything now. I...dammit. I should’ve done this after your interview. I just got caught up after yesterday and this morning. I wasn’t sure if I’d see you later and...I didn’t mean to freak you out. I’m sorry. Really, you don’t have to say anything-”

“Jess,” she interrupted, finally locking eyes with him again. “Just shut up for a second.”

“Okay.”

After chewing on her thumb nail for a moment, she blew a breath out through her nose with finality. “Can I get cactuses again? There was no place for them at Lane’s. And, Jesus, you guys have got to organize your living room. I mean, the kitchen and your bedroom are okay. But I have no idea how you guys even find anything. The piles of paperwork on the table are, like, seven feet high.”

A slow grin formed on Jess’s face, and the worry began to clear from his brown eyes. “You can do whatever you want, Stevens.”

“Truer words never spoken,” she agreed earnestly. “You better make room for my fucking records then, too. They’ve been living in my car for way too long.”

Jess chuckled, nodding slightly. His eyes lingered on her lips. “I was thinking about kissing you, just now. Is that okay?”

Ella thought her heart would melt at his words. “Go for it, Mariano.”

Jess brought his hands to her waist and kissed her. For the first time in years. Ella smiled into it, pressed against him. It tasted sugary-sweet, from the donuts they’d eaten. Her fingers tangled into his hair, longer and less greasy than she remembered. But it felt much the same. A tingly joy began in her stomach and then spread throughout her body, new and old and welcome and perfect.

. . .

Of all the people not to be at Lane’s wedding, Ella did not expect Luke to miss it. For some reason, he was still out of town for April’s field trip. Not that it was any of her business, but she couldn’t help be slightly irritated at his absence. However, she wasn’t entirely alone. Though Lane and the other people in her life weren’t exactly sold on him, Ella had taken a shot in the dark and invited Jess. At Mrs. Kim’s millionth reference to her loneliness, her lack of a date, Ella had finally let it slip to Lane. She had seen Jess again. They were talking on the phone every single night. She was set to move in with him in a week. And, soon, she was calling him up. Hearing the surprised tone of his voice, his apprehension to come back to town. But, honestly, he’d caved a little quicker than she thought he would. All it had taken was her offering to try Hemingway again. And Kerouac. She knew she was going to absolutely loathe the latter, but it would be worth it.

As the ceremony ended, most of Lane’s family, including her mother, left the gathering in town square. None of them were eager to party with the townies. Kirk revealed the white food truck parked on the street opposite the gazebo to actually be the bar. He was exploring business ownership, and Yummy Bartenders was his most recent endeavor. Lorelai, without Luke and somehow having ended up with Rory’s father, Christopher, as her date, flocked straight to the alcohol. It made Ella snort a laugh, but inside, it made her heart ache. Luke and Lorelai had taken so long to get together. And now, things were headed nowhere good. A hot, dry sunlight shone down on them in yellow tones, and soon the sky would darken. Everyone’s mood had changed as soon as they left the church. Lorelai ripped off the bottom half of Lane’s dress, revealing her calves joyfully. Standing beside Ella, Rory let out a hoot of excitement and rushed over to the new bride. Snickering, Ella took the long pin from her low bun and let her blonde waves loose down her back.

Jess tucked her hair behind her ear gently as they both took a moment to breathe. The church had been stuffy and hot, filled to the brim with people. The air was no cooler, but at least there was a wide open space to mingle in. Grabbing his hand, Ella ventured a glance at Jess. As soon as his rusty Ambassador had rolled into town three hours earlier, she could sense how anxious he was. Maybe just being in Stars Hollow made him uncomfortable, or maybe it gave him too many flashbacks to his own mother’s wedding.

“You okay? I have the key to the diner, if you wanna go. I called Luke earlier and he said we could stay in the apartment. I’ll be up there later,” she said, tone apologetic.

Jess shook his head. “No. I’m fine. Just don’t know where we should sit.”

“Next to Miss Patty?” she asked. The dance teacher had noticed her across the way, and Ella waved back at her.

“She’ll eat me alive,” Jess sighed. “What about with Rory and Lorelai?”

Narrowing her eyes, Ella considered it. Then, she bit the inside of her cheek for a moment. “I don’t know. I haven’t been so close with them recently. And I don’t know if I wanna get in the middle of the happy family back together.”

“Fair enough,” Jess agreed. “Alright. Miss Patty and Babette, then. But I’m counting on your protection.”

Her grin grew wicked. “Don’t worry, honey. I’m your knight in shining polyester.”

. . .

Hep Alien was on fire, despite the wasted state of every single band member. Balmy breezes blew and Ella’s flushed skin was finally beginning to cool down. The night was dark and the sky clear. Every so often, her eyes flicked to Rory, Lorelai, and Christopher’s table. Sookie and Jackson had been sitting with them, but they had long since left. Without Ella to babysit the kids, they’d had to hire a new girl. Jackson could barely handle the nerves at a random high-schooler watching his babies. Ella twirled her rings nervously on her fingers, while Patty, Babette, and Maury chain-smoked across the centerpiece floral arrangement. Jess, at her side, had his arm around her shoulder. He stroked her upper arm absently.

He raised an eyebrow and followed her gaze to Rory. “What’s with you?”

“Hm?” she asked, blinking the reverie from her eyes. Facing him again, Ella was struck by how much more mature he looked. Back in Stars Hollow, but as a man with a publishing business and a decently neat bedroom of his own. Despite the uneasiness brewing in her stomach, she also felt pride appear. It didn’t shock her where he ended up. But it still made her feel such joy to see him successful and content.

Jess nodded in the direction of the Gilmores, three tables over. “Did something happen between you guys? Is it why you weren’t a bridesmaid?”

Ella shook her head. “No. I wasn’t a bridesmaid because Mrs. Kim hates me with the fire of a thousand suns. I mean, my outfit alone is probably enough for her to condemn me.”

Giving Ella a once-over, Jess smirked wider. Her camisole dress was black, with small pink flowers embroidered on it. It had thin spaghetti straps and fell above her knees. Of course, there were no heels on her shoes, black leather ballet flats. The ensemble was so very Ella, along with her dark eye makeup. And, it was true, Mrs. Kim was not a fan of anything which could be described as ‘so very Ella.’

“It does give off a certain Beetlejuice vibe,” Jess agreed.

“The best compliment you’ve ever given me,” she said lightly, then turned back to the crowd of wedding-goers. “But...I don’t know. Rory slept with Dean when he was married and then took a year off from Yale and stole a boat.”

“What?” Jess chirped, almost choking on the watery soda he sipped. He’d debated going to the bar, but decided against it. Best not to get drunk in the town where everyone hated you. Especially when your long lost girlfriend didn’t drink anyway.

A certain sadness came to Ella’s smile, shrinking slightly. She tugged at her earring. “Yeah. And she was fighting with Lorelai forever. They weren’t talking. I’m also pretty sure the guy Rory’s dating now is some trust fund kid from Yale with a porsche.”

“Ugh,” Jess grimaced, unable to hold back his distaste.

“We’re just...different. We grew up. Went in different directions. I mean...Lane and Rory are still best friends. I was friendly with her at a bachelorette party last night. But it’s weird now. I can’t...I don’t really know her anymore, I guess.”

Jess nodded.

She shrugged again, deflective. “I still love Lorelai. But I haven’t seen her much lately, since Luke didn’t want her to meet April, which is a whole different beast. Things...changed. But, hey, maybe I changed too.”

“You did,” Jess said. “But not in a bad way.”

She scoffed, gently plucking at the collar of his white button-up. He wore with it black pants, completing their gothic look when they stood together. Ella knew, though, that both of their outfits came cheap and basic. That’s why they had them. Of course, he still refused to wear a tie of any kind. “You too. Still a jackass, though.”

“Glad you see me in such a positive light.”

“But, in an arguing-with-me-about-Kerouac kind of way. Not in a gnome-stealing, running-off-to-California kind of way,” she explained, feeling goosebumps rise on her pale skin where his fingertips still brushed against her arm.

As much as Jess lived in his words, touch had always been such a major form of communication with him. Older and able to judge it more easily, Ella could see it. It calmed him down, made him feel safe. She could understand that. It was what happened when someone grew up in a place where they were often touched in anger.

“Well, the Kerouac defense will never change. He’s a genius,” Jess insisted mockingly.

Ella rolled her eyes, leaning back against him. “You’re impossible.”

“Right back at ya.”

The band began one of their familiar White Stripes covers. Ella couldn’t count how many times she’d heard it over the years, during nightly practice. It was so odd to see Lane in a wedding dress, all grown up. A nostalgic smile ghosted over her lips and she sighed. Neither she nor Jess said a word for a long while, comfortable in each other’s grasp. June crickets and cicadas sung, mixing with the sound of Zach’s vocals. Patty and Babette laughed heartily at something across the table. The air smelled of cigarettes and beer and summer-cut grass. Soon, the song faded away and Zach played the opening chords to something different, something Ella hadn’t heard him play in a long time. “Sweet Thing” by Van Morrison, a cover they’d attempted after Ella moved in, when she’d let Lane hear one of her Jeff Buckley live albums, on which he did his own cover of the song. She broke into a full grin. It was the perfect song for a late-night wedding reception, romantic and long and calm.

Jess seemed to notice her brightening up at the tune, as he sat up and faced her with a mysterious smile. “You wanna dance?”

She snorted a disbelieving chuckle. “Excuse me?”

“Do you wanna dance? I know you like this song.”

Ella raised her eyebrows. “Liking the song is one thing. Subjecting everyone to the horrifying visual of my dance moves is another.”

He rolled his eyes, standing up and extending a hand to her. “So dramatic. It’s a slow song. And we didn’t dance at Liz and TJ’s wedding. Making up for lost time.”

“Fine,” she sighed, taking his hand, and letting him pull her up. “But it’s your funeral.”

“I like to live dangerously,” Jess said, leading her to the dance floor.

“Whatever, James Dean.”

Before they were out of range, Miss Patty blew a stream of bluish smoke in their direction and gave a bark of haughty laughter. “I’d watch out for her, young man. Have you heard about the domino incident of 1992? Ella made the Gazette. Her talents run more towards the musical.”

His smirk grew. “I’ve been warned.”

They passed Lorelai on the way, lingering by the bar and sipping her Manhattan. Tumbler filled with cherries, sugar on the rim. The sight almost made Ella want to chuckle, almost grimace. The drink looked as sweet as cotton candy, but she would expect nothing less of a Gilmore woman. More than half of the sleepovers she’d had with Rory involved a midnight raid of the kitchen. S’mores pop tarts were one of Ella’s personal favorites. Lorelai reached out an arm to stop them, wavering drunkenly on her feet.

“Ugh, I can’t believe Sid Vicious is back,” she slurred to Ella, pointing at Jess angrily.

With Lorelai so close to her face, Ella could smell the tequila on her breath. “I told you before. He’s got more of a Richard Hell vibe, in my opinion.”

Jess blushed, but said nothing. He only tightened his grip on Ella’s hand.

“Your uncle is out of town,” Lorelai continued, facing Jess.

“That he is,” Jess said shortly. Time had passed, but it was clear Lorelai still wasn’t quite over her contempt for him. Though, he could definitely recognize what an asshole he’d been as a teenager.

Lorelai laughed bitterly. “He’s with his daughter. Who Ella’s met and you’ve met and Rory’s met. And I haven’t met!”

Searching her head for a careful response, Ella was utterly relieved when Rory came up from behind her mother.

“Hey, mom, let’s get some coffee for you, why don’t we?” Rory asked, voice bouncy and nervous.

“You got her?” Ella raised her eyebrows at Rory as she took her mother by the shoulders and began steering her away.

“Oh, I guess we’re going over here now,” Lorelai muttered in drunken surprise.

“Yeah, go have fun,” Rory answered with a little wink, disappearing into the crowd with her mother, headed for the table where her father and some steaming coffee sat.

Blowing out a long breath, Jess shook his head. “I take it that she and Luke aren’t seeing eye to eye.”

“Understatement of the year,” Ella scoffed. “No matter where she and Luke are though, I think you’ll always be a portrait of Sid Vicious to her.”

“Not even with the haircut?” he asked as they made it to the edge of the wooden dance floor.

“Not even with the haircut,” she replied with a smug smirk.

With a heavy breath, Ella placed her hands on the back of Jess’s neck as he brought his hands to her waist. She felt glad Hep Alien’s version of the song was nearly ten minutes long; it would have nearly been over after Patty’s warning and Lorelai’s ramblings if not.

“Don’t worry, Elle. Just follow my lead,” Jess said quietly, beginning to sway side to side, taking small steps.

“Shut up, I’m focusing,” she hissed, watching her feet.

He chuckled slightly. “Relax. Just look at me.”

Sighing again, Ella managed to drag her gaze away from her shoes and up to Jess’s big brown eyes.

“Hi,” he whispered, smiling fondly.

“Hi,” she replied, feeling the anxiety in her stomach lessen slightly. “Deja-vu, huh?”

“Maybe a little,” he said, shrugging. “But I’d say things are looking a little sunnier now.”

“Still finding those silver linings.” Ella gave him an affectionate peck on the lips.

Why was she nervous?, she asked herself. She didn’t need to be. Maybe it was the future creeping up on her, or her exit from the only place she had ever lived only a week away. But, as she looked at Jess, she felt her heartbeat slow. And her lips even turned up a touch at the corners. Where she was going, he’d be.

#jess mariano fanfiction #jess mariano imagines #jess mariano imagine #jess mariano #jess #mariano #gilmore girls fanfiction #gilmore girls imagines #gilmore girls imagine #gilmore girls au #jess mariano au #lane kim #lorelai gilmore #rory gilmore #jess mariano x oc #jess mariano x original character #original character #original character stories #fanfiction

73 notes · View notes

irwintry · 5 years

Text

Black Leather

Warnings: swearing, alcohol, drugs

Summary: Calum is in a small band in the mid-90s, and Y/N stumbles into his show one weekend in October.

Word Count: 7k

Among the sea of eyes, his were the ones that stood out.

The bus had stopped by too soon. In the four minutes it took to walk to the stop, you were running instead, lungs heavy while hot coffee sloshed onto your jeans. After twenty minutes passed, you were headed down Broadway on the 68 bus, your fingers twitching against your knees to the sounds of morning commuters. You were late. You were so fucking late.

The sprint to Sever Hall hadn’t been worth the energy. It hadn’t been worth the splattered burn, red splayed in dripped shapes against your thigh. It hadn’t been worth the asthma induced, cross-country sprint, one that left you wheezing in the hallway outside of your classroom. When you stumbled into the room, it was a hundred-eyed gaze, and you soon realized you had been better off skipping altogether.

“Sorry,” you breathed out, holding your chest high as you met each pair of eyes staring you down.

He had been looking at you. His lips were tugged into an unfamiliar smile while his dark brows rose in surprise. It wasn’t an appearance he wore often, and it kept you frozen in place. You were used to the frown and the rigid stare.

You managed a small smile in his direction before finding a seat toward the back.

You knew his name. You knew his face. You knew that he had come from outside of the states. But that was the gross extent of your knowledge of Calum, other than the dingy attire and the fact that he was more brilliant than you would ever know. He spoke in class on the rare occasion, and the words that flowed from his lips were dripping in pure gold.

And on the back page of your notebook, you kept his quotes in black ink. You wrote what you could hear through his soft mumbles, and you wondered why he kept so quiet with a mind as beautiful as his.

He kept his nose in a book. You spent the last month and a half studying him when you could, mentally tracing over the creases in his skin when an unsettling opinion was spoken in class. You thought about how bright his smile was despite having never seen it. You thought about how his deep brown eyes would look in the sun. You thought about his taste in music, and you wondered if you would ever know him the way you longed to.

You were caught up in your daydream when his eyes flickered over. His stare pulled you out from the swirling headspace, and you were quick to regain your involvement in the professor’s voice. Yet, despite the collected exchange, you could still feel his gaze. It was a heavy and mysterious gaze, the kind that elicited unwarranted shivers. But you didn’t mind it. The sensation sparked desirable nerves.

The next fifty minutes were spent in a distracted haze. Even the tragedy of Oedipus could not compare to the hope of delving into Calum’s personality. He was well reserved, and you ached to crack his code. You ached to be the source of his rare smiles.

That had been the reason behind your abstracted mind. He had smiled when you walked in.

You wondered about it for the next few hours, your brain preoccupied as you absentmindedly stepped around leaves on the pathway. You kept your head low on your way to Sage’s while the crisp wind nipped at any exposed skin. Scuffed shoes met shallow puddles along the pavement, and you were careful to avoid muddy spots against the lawn. The pole of posters beside Hollis Hall suddenly tore you out of the moment.

You looked beyond the anti-gentrification and political agenda signs. You looked beyond club meetings and tutor session invitations. The one poster that caught your eye was crumpled and torn, and it read:

Knight Knuckles. Slip Tit. Mudslide. Killed for Casualty.

8pm, Oct. 13th. $2 Coverage.

87 Linden St, Allston, Mass.

You reached around for your backpack, pulled out your notebook, and wrote down the address. You weren’t going to go, you told yourself. It wasn’t your scene–– it would never be. You shut the notebook and stuffed it back into your bag, mind returning to thoughts of Calum and the sandwich you were about to indulge in. To finish your day, you made small rounds through Harvard Square and stopped by the poetry shop to further indulge in unlikely necessities. All thoughts of Calum ceased.

The back door was cracked open. A few guys sat on the steps before it, each with a cigarette in hand and a beer in the other, and they were laughing at some offensive joke while you stepped around them. They weren’t worth the hassle of arguing against–– they would simply make their opinions overshadow yours with the use of their superiority complexes. So, you stepped inside, and the hot air swelled around you.

About a dozen strangers crowded into the small kitchen, and another few were cramped into the living room. The home was void of any furniture, but you weren’t shocked. The squalid interior with its spray-painted walls and missing floorboards was proof that hardly a soul lived here. At least, you hoped.

You slipped two dollar bills into a jar, and a man with an eyebrow piercing grabbed your hand and stamped a bright red mark onto it without saying a word.

“Watcha want there, Maggie May?” asked another man. He was leaned up against the fridge, and he had a few piercings as well.

You rolled your eyes. “Eat my ass.”

The girl beside him snorted. “He wants to know what you want to drink,” she said. “Also, I love you. I’m Tori.”

“Hey, yeah, you too,” you sighed out, slipping your jacket from off of your shoulders. The discomfort was evident. “Y/N. Not Maggie May. And, what do you have?”

“Mostly just Pabst,” she replied and tilted her own beer your way. “Beer and stuff.”

You nodded. “I’ll take that.”

Tori lightly shoved the man away from the fridge to retrieve a beer for you. When your fingers brushed, she smiled. “What brings you here, then, Y/N? It’s usually the same crowd ‘round here.”

“Dunno,” you mumbled. “Don’t usually come to a lot of stuff like this, so I figured I’d give it a shot. It was kind of a last-minute decision.” You popped the drink open and took a sip. The taste was foul and cheap, yet you kept the sweating can close to your chest.

“Makes sense,” replied Tori. Her eyes narrowed, and it felt as though she was reading you like an open book. “Do you even know anybody here?”

You shook your head. “Not a soul.”

“Cool.” She grinned. A few people made their way downstairs. “See you down there, Maggie May. I’ll dedicate the first song to your poor, lost soul.”

You had begun to retaliate when she left your company, and you soon followed the pack down the narrow steps into the basement. The first level was Barbie’s Dream House in comparison. Down below, you were met with concrete floors and a harsh smell of piss and weed. A make-shift space was filled with boxes and trash bags, plus a stained futon over in the corner. Christmas lights were hung around pillars beside the performance space, and wires were scattered like snakes over empty boxes of Marlboro. You could only imagine how much turmoil the oriental rugs below the drum kit had been through. You pushed through bodies and stood below a mural, meanwhile admiring the glossy eyes of handsome strangers beside you. A cute man offered you a joint, and you politely refused.

The first band was ear blood, but you recognized the need for courtesy. You nodded along to the screeching noises, wishing you had bought earplugs specifically for the occasion. The second band’s sound had little representation, yet the tunes were simple, and the lyrics were crude. The can of Pabst was warm against your skin. A half-hour later, the third band had finished their set. Tori fulfilled her promise of dedicating her song to you, and you greeted the feeling of eyes like an old friend.

You leaned against the cinderblock wall and ran your fingernails along the rim of your beer. The night had been going on for longer than expected. You needed to use the bathroom as well, but you wouldn’t be caught dead using it here. A stinging dissonance filled the tight space, and you returned your gaze onto the final band.

And then your eyes met a familiar figure. A tall, mysterious figure with an infamous leather jacket stretched across broad shoulders. Small, dark hand tattoos stood out against his brown skin.

“Yeah, uh, we are Killed for Casualty,” spoke the lead singer. His voice was soft, just like the golden curls that framed his face. You had a feeling you would like this band. “Let’s fucking rock, then.”

A series of blaring chord progressions filled the small space, and the crowd came back to life. The crash cymbals drowned out the lead singer’s voice, but you hardly cared about the quality of the music. You hardly had the energy to enjoy the melody when all you could focus on was the man behind the bass. All you could see were his furrowed brows and his deep frown. His eyes shut tight as his body swayed with the beat.

You hid behind shoulders. You hid behind the thought of his smile and sweet voice melting against your skin. His lips touched the mic every time he sang, and you couldn’t look away. Calum had a light aura–– it didn’t matter what clothes or expression he wore. You saw another part of him, yet you didn’t even know him.

You nestled rim of your beer beneath your front teeth while you moved with the crowd, head bobbing along to songs you had heard on the radio before. There were songs you didn’t recognize, too, and those were the ones Calum lost himself in. So, you lost yourself in them as well.

“Holy shit, you guys are awesome,” said the other guitarist. His light fringe was surely a sight, but you admired his adrenaline. He had a bubbly, boisterous attitude that you longed to have in your life.

Calum’s face lit up as his eyes scanned the crowd. You hadn’t assumed he would ever see you, but the world froze when he did. Your blood ran cold as his smile fell, and you were seconds away from slipping into a fit of self-doubt before his smile grew again. And then he winked.

He had winked at you and resumed with the set as if it never happened.

You hugged your jacket against your body, heart stuttering at the thought of his flirtatious nature directed toward you. You had finally seen his genuine smile, and you had been the reason behind it, too. The music was drowned out by the thoughts in your head.

“Thanks, guys,” said the lead singer, his eyes bright as he spoke. “I’ve been Luke. That’s Calum on bass. Ryan on drums. Michael on guitar. We’ve been Killed for Casualty. Thanks for comin’ out.”

You took a deep breath, meanwhile, the crowd thinned out as the band packed up their things. You made your way along with the strangers, yet your plans to duck out were torn to shreds by a tap on your shoulder. The tap was quick–– almost as if it had been a mistake, but when you turned to face the culprit, Calum stood before you. And he was grinning from ear to ear.

“Hey,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. “Didn’t expect t’see you here.”

You shrugged. “Figured there was no better way to spend a Saturday night other than listening to music I’ve never heard before in my life.”

Calum laughed. “Oh, c’mon. I’m sure you’ve heard of Radiohead.”

“Oh, duh.”

His smile never died. He was looking at you, truly looking at you with crinkly eyes that you wanted to get lost in. “We–– uh, we have another show next weekend. It’d be sick if you came.”

“Yeah?” you asked, raising a brow, to which he reciprocated your gesture. “You really want me to come? Do you even know my name?” Your teasing tone hardly fazed him.

“Course,” he said. “You’re Y/N, and you’re almost always late to our Tragedy in Literature class. Like, always late.”

You pouted. “Don’t blame me. Blame the MBTA,” you replied, and he laughed.

“I always blame the MBTA.”

“It’s really the worst, isn’t it?” you asked him, and you felt yourself softening into the comfort of the conversation. In a matter of hours, you would be convincing yourself that the encounter never happened.

Calum’s smile was contagious. “Fucking awful. A man farted on me once on the red line.”

“You’re–– you’re kidding,” you said, but you soon fell into a small fit of laughter once he shook his head. “Jesus. I’m so sorry.”

“Speaking of awful––“ Calum pointed down to the empty Pabst in your hands. “Is that what they’re handing out? Christ–– Kev’s gotta get a raise. That shit sucks.”

“It was kind of disgusting,” you said, yet you shrugged it off.

“So, I gotta finish packing stuff up,” said Calum, “but listen–– it was really cool to see you. Hope you can make it out next time.”

Your lips twitched into a smile. “Only if you promise to dedicate that last song to me,” you replied. “It was my favorite.”

Calum grinned. “You’ve got yourself a promise, babe.”

The bus had been early again that following Monday. So, for the second class in a row, you were stumbling in late. Only a few heads turn in your direction, and immediately, you looked for the pair of deep brown eyes that made your heart flutter. You had only spoken to him once, but it had been enough to haunt you throughout the next day. It had been enough to spark something you hadn’t felt for anyone in years.

You found Calum in a heartbeat, and he had already been looking at you. He had already been smiling at you. You smiled in return and took your seat.

He spoke up once during class, and you placed the delicate words at the back of your notebook. After the class ended, you were quick to stand, heart racing at the thought of his smile so cute and goofy. You were too preoccupied to notice the man falling in step beside you.

“Like I said––” he began, voice so golden and smooth that you believed it belonged on the radio. The idea of Calum as a newscaster was a vision to behold. “––always late.”

You playfully hit his arm, and his laughter echoed around the halls. You were certain it was the kind of laugh that birthed fairies. “The bus system sucks,” you replied. “It’s the earliest one I can get, and it’s never on time.”

“Jus’ messing with you, love,” he said. His presence intimidated you, but it was the kind of intimidation that you never wanted to leave. It created the desire to hold him by the waist and carry him with you wherever you went. “Where ya off to?”

“I was gonna pop in Widener for a small study break,” you said, tugging your sleeves down so you could hold onto them with your fingers. “Then I usually get lunch before my last two classes of the day.

Calum huffed. “Mid-terms got you tickin’, too?”

“Something like that.”

“Harvard wants us all dead,” mumbled Calum as he held the front doors of the hall open for you. “That’s what I think.”

You had been expecting a chill from the morning, but the bright sun kept the air warm. You pushed the sleeves of your sweater back up your arms, and you stared at Calum in amazement. “You want yourself dead,” you said. “Do you ever get hot in that damn thing?”

“What, my jacket?” he asked, tilting up the leather as a smile grew. “It’s not about sweat, baby, it’s about fashion.”

Baby. You laughed the pet name off.

“’sides,” he continued. “It’s not about how hot I feel either. It’s about how hot I look.”

“I mean, yeah, it looks good.”

Calum raised a brow. You enjoyed watching his reactions out of the corner of your eye.

“But I always say that comfort comes before fashion,” you said as you kicked a few fallen leaves on the path before you.

He let out a chuckle. “Is that why you’re rollin’ in late with some big ass sweater on every day? Hell, you’re already late, so you could at least have the decency to show up with a coffee.”

“Honestly, I’ve thought about that,” you said. “And what do you have against big ass sweaters, huh?”

Calum shook his head. “Absolutely nothing at all.”

“Maybe next time I’ll wear a black one,” you replied. “Maybe then you’ll appreciate my fashion.”

“Can’t believe I’m being attacked at eleven o’clock in the morning.”

“You had it coming.”

He laughed again. “You don’t need t’wear black for me to appreciate you, love.”

The words warmed your chest. You smiled. “Well, I said my fashion, but it’s nice to know you appreciate me, Cal. Is–– is that okay? If I call you Cal?”

“Yeah,” he said. His smile hadn’t faltered throughout the entire conversation. “Reserved that nickname just for you.”

“Do you have any other classes today?” you asked him and placed yourself onto the steps of the library. You were still a few inches shorter at best. “Because you can join me if ya want.”

“I appreciate that,” he said, “but unfortunately, I’m already running late.”

Your jaw dropped as you laughed at his words. “And you make fun of me for being late. We’re gonna get kicked outta this fuckin’ school.”

Calum laughed along with you, and the sound was music. Everything about him was music. “I make fun of you because it’s cute to see you flustered.”

“Oh, fuck you,” you muttered, but your smile only grew. And so did your heart, too.

His eyes were golden in the sunlight, and they shimmered when he smiled. Sometimes, when he grinned so wide, his eyes squinted shut, and the sight left you woozy. You wondered if he knew how beautiful he was.

“See you ‘round, love,” he said to you, meanwhile taking a few steps back.

“Don’t forget about my dedication,” you replied. “I’m only coming this weekend because of you.”

Calum winked. “I won’t, darlin’. Study hard.” He turned down the path with a final wave, and you let out a sigh. And your smile carried on.

“You weren’t in class on Wednesday.”

That next weekend, you stepped off of the bus in Allston, your jean jacket hugged tight to keep warm down the tired streets behind music halls. The home was familiar, and it was packed full again. The bodies no longer stared at you like a stranger, but they still avoided you like one. Yet, Tori was there to keep you company as the night carried on.

You kept an eye out for Calum. The basement rocked with sound, air heavy as it filled with heat and smoke. The Christmas lights made you feel at home, yet none of it mattered when the one person you wanted to see wasn’t even there. So, you swayed to music from new bands you didn’t care about, wishing you hadn’t been stupid enough to fool yourself over a guy.

But, like always, he arrived when you least expected.

Tori gave you a wink and stepped away.

“Oh, yeah,” you said, chuckling. Meanwhile, his band had begun preparing their instruments. “I forgot I wasn’t.”

“You okay?” Calum asked you. “I can get ya the notes if you want.”

“I’m—oh wow, that’d be nice, thank you.” You grinned. “Yeah, um, I’m good. Turns out my alarm clock is a goner, so...”

Calum smiled. He was wearing a flannel tonight, and you decided that he could make trash bags look good. “Damn alarm clocks can’t be trusted.”

“They really can’t.” You eyed the rest of his band and furrowed your brows. “No drummer tonight?”

He glanced over at his friends before looking back at you. “Nah. We’re looking for a new one right now.”

You tilted your head.

“Ryan broke his wrist.”

“Oh, that sucks,” you said. “He was pretty good.”

Calum shrugged, but you could tell he was upset. Tonight, he had become the backbone of rhythm. “Yeah, well. Mike thinks he has a friend who knows some other drummer. He might be able to help out.”

“He just has to do my song justice,” you replied with a smirk. You hardly remembered the song, yet you knew it was your favorite of theirs no matter what. It was your favorite because Calum had winked at you before it, and it was all you could think about.

He nodded. “I’ll make fuckin’ sure of that.” He looked back over to his friend. “I should probably join them, then. Last song is yours,” he said, a grin spreading as he sent a wink your way.

He didn’t allow you to get a word in before he was jogging off and picking up his bass effortlessly. You weren’t sure how an instrument could make someone look so handsome, yet there he was, looking like the best damn man in the room.

“He’s fucking in love with you,” said Tori from behind. Her voice crept up your spine, and you yelped.

“Jesus,” you breathed out.

She laughed. “Cool your tits, Maggie May.”

“They’re ice-cold,” you replied. “And he’s not. We only just met last week.”

Tori shrugged. “You can totally fall in love in a week. He’s done it before.”

“He’s done it before?” you asked. The music blasted, and the bodies around you jumped and pushed. You hardly budged. Soon, you were shouting over Luke’s voice just to talk. “You know him?”

“Old friend,” she said over the music. “I’ve known him since like–– how many years ago was ’88?”

“Uh, seven.”

“I’ve known him for about seven years,” Tori continued. “He was a cute teen. Moved from Australia and played a shit ton of soccer. We started a band together in our last year of high school, but then he kinda disappeared for a year afterward. Came back and said he was going to Harvard–– said he had been with this girl. So, I assumed they broke up.”

You nodded along as she spoke.

“Anytime he’s with someone,” she carried on loudly, “it’s like he’s head over heels. He tries to act all shy and cool until you really get t’know him. And it’s pretty fuckin’ clear he really wants to know you.”

You tried to smile, but something about her words made it hard. Because you had never wanted to think about him loving someone else.

“You seem spooked.”

You shook your head. “Not spooked. Just a little in disbelief.”

Tori let out a laugh. “Why? Because I think he likes you? So hard to believe that?”

You shrugged.

“He is pretty damn cute,” she said. “So, if you hurt him, I’ll hunt you down.”

“You can hold me to that,” you replied. “I don’t wanna hurt him.”

“But you do want him?”

You nodded.

“Oh, hell fucking yeah.”

You laughed as she nudged you, and you soon returned your focus to Calum. His eyes met yours right away, and he smiled. This time, the fluttering in your stomach had become a heavy swarm, and you allowed it. You welcomed it.

The stress of the evening slipped off of your shoulders the more you danced. You no longer worried about what you would say to him or the words you had said in the past. You no longer worried about the feelings you wanted to repress. It was new, it was natural, and you wanted to deserve his company. You wanted to earn him.

When the final song approached, Calum kept his gaze on you, eyes brightening every time they met yours. His shy smile had etched itself into your brain. All he had to do was look your way, and you were his–– there was no one else. No one else in the room but you and him.

This stuff didn’t happen in a week. It never worked like this. But you blocked out the harsh noise of your pessimistic thoughts. You weren’t bound to doom what could be good because of your insecurities.

“This next one is dedicated to the person who thinks that 9:15 is the new 8:45. Or the one who just doesn’t bother showing up to class at all.”

You rolled your eyes, lips twitching while his face broke out into a grin. The song began after the silent exchange, and he kept looking at you. He looked at you until the crowd had dwindled and the music faded with their heads. He looked at you as if he had been waiting to have every ounce of your attention.

“Kicked ass,” you said, “as usual. You were a little flat at the end there, though.” Your teasing tone lightened while you crossed the floor toward him.

“Oh, really?” he asked you. He zipped the case of his bass closed and lifted it over his shoulder. “I didn’t realize you were a music critic. I’ll do better next time.”

You chuckled. “You better.”

Calum adjusted the strap on his shoulder, and you admired the comfort in his appearance. You wondered how he would react seeing you in the gray flannel he wore currently. He no longer intimidated you, not like he used to; you lost yourself in the strength of his gaze.

“You live around here?”

You shook your head. “I live down past Central.”

Calum raised his brows in surprise. “Shit, you live that far?” He folded his arms over his chest. “That’s why you’re rollin’ up late every damn day then, huh?”

“Yeah,” you said with a laugh. “It’s not that bad, though.”

His frown deepened. “I can keep ya company if you want.”

“Well, where do you live?”

“Like, a ten-minute walk from here,” he replied. “I’m a night-owl, so it’d be no problem. Only i-if you’re–– if you’re comfortable with that.”

You smiled once he stammered, and he blinked rapidly to cover up the fault in his words. Your heart was swelling. “Really nice of you to offer,” you said, “but you don’t need to go out of your way. The ride goes fast.”

Calum nodded, lips tugging into a small smile. “You sure?”

“Positive,” you mumbled. “But you can walk me to the bus stop if ya want.”

His face lit up in an instant.

The next show was at a new location.

Calum came to you that Monday with a torn flyer, hands shaking as he reached over your shoulder while you walked down damp pathways. You were going to arrive on time that day, and you were eager to rub it in his face until he stumbled up behind you. He appeared nervous to talk to you, yet the words he spoke were calm and collected.

“New place,” you observed, eyeing the messy letters. Meanwhile, Calum caught up in step beside you. “Looking forward to it.”

His eyes widened slightly. “You’ll come?”

“You think I wouldn’t?”

A grin spread on his face. Later on, he sat next to you in class.

That following weekend, you arrived at the house alone, bones shivering while the cold air crept under your skin. Calum stood at the base of the driveway with a cigarette in hand, and he was smiling like he always did when he saw you. Like he always did.

“Hey, Maggie May,” he said.

You groaned as you nearly fell into him, and he grabbed your arm to hold you steady. He smelled of cigarette smoke and earthy cologne. “Not you, too. Isn’t the song about a cougar?”

Calum shrugged and loosened his grip. But it was slow, almost as if he didn’t want to let go. “Who knows?” The cigarette slipped from his fingers, and he stomped it into the pavement. “Come on in. I wanna introduce you to the guys.”

“Oh, the guys?” you asked, chuckling. “Did know we were there yet. I’m honored.”

He looked back at you while he led you in through the back door. “You should be. They’ll like you, though. You’re cool, I guess.”

“That’s convincing.”

Calum laughed. He walked you beyond the men asking for coverage fees at the front, giving them subtle nods while you avoided eye contact. You continued to keep your head down low as he led you down to the basement. The house layout was similar, yet the room was larger, and the lights around the posts were purple bats instead. A few familiar faces were passing around a joint beside the drumkit.

“Hey, idiots,” said Calum. He placed a hand between your shoulder blades. “This is Y/N. Y/N, this is Luke, Mike, and Ashton.”

“The new guy,” you spoke softly, eyeing the strong arms of the stranger across from you. You could tell that, just by his build, he was going to rock the house. “Why are you all so fuckin’ tall?”

The new drummer, Ashton, laughed. His smile was the type to light up the entire room. “Maybe you’re just fuckin’ short,” he retaliated.

Michael chuckled along. “Ya probably need a step ladder jus’ to hug Cal.”

“She can’t even do that,” said Luke. “Her arms aren’t long enough.”

You narrowed your gaze. “Touché.”

Calum’s hand slid down to the small of your back. His touch burned through your clothes. “Okay, that’s it. Y’all can find a new band.”

“Are you leaving us, or are you kicking us out?” asked Michael. He placed the joint between his lips.

“Kicking all of you out,” said Calum, and he tugged the joint away from his friend. “It’s just me now.” He turned to you. “You wanna join my band?”

“Are you kidding?” You leaned into him, and he pulled your closer, hand finding your waist while he gazed down at you. His eyes were warm, and there was something new. Something hidden behind the crinkles that seemed to never cease when around you. Like you could finally feel everything Tori was telling you about. “Can I take Luke’s place?”

“Oh, hell yeah.”

“Hey!” Luke exclaimed, snagging the burning joint from Calum’s fingers before taking a hit. “No more for you.”

A handful of people made their way down the steps, their voices carrying through laughter and drunken screams. Calum’s grip on your waist loosened and dropped.

“Ready to fuckin’ rock?” he whispered to you.

The timber in his voice rattled through your spine, but the shiver only lasted so long before he was guiding you back into the crowd. He hardly spoke after that. The music did enough, and instead, he talked through gazes— warm, heartfelt eyes filled with something you hadn’t seen in a while, if at all. For the night, you felt like he admired you the way you had always wanted him to.

“—just annoying as shit. Screaming and bouncing like a fucking slut, man. She was so loud. But who gives a shit, you know? Like, she’s a goddamn whore when she’s—“

Calum tensed at the sound of the men behind you. You could picture the scowl on his features, yet you didn’t dare to glance over. You wanted to pretend nothing had happened, that nothing had been said.

But you couldn’t.

Calum whipped around, and you were quick to grab his arm. “Do you guys mind not fucking disrespecting women like that?” he asked, the pitch of his voice lowering as the words slipped out with ease.

One of the men—you guessed the one who had spoken originally—laughed. Anger coursed through your veins as well, but Calum’s radiated off of him. You moved your hand up to his bicep.

“What? You really gonna do something?” asked the man. He looked down at you and smirk. “I’ll totally take it back if you give me a spin on your little bi—“

Calum lunged, fist flying toward the face of the man with a devilish grin. Immediately, someone tugged you back— you assumed Michael, but you didn’t bother to check. Instead, you were forced to scream over shouts and cheers while the boy you liked fought for you. He fought for you.

The other man had gotten in his fair share of punches, his frightening, rigid knuckles crunching and colliding against Calum’s jaw. Every crack echoed. Every grunt, every groan sent sparks through your nerves, and you felt tears pricking beneath your eyes. Limbs flew and bodies slammed against one another, but you stood there helpless. You stood there wishing you could blink away the fear and adrenaline.

Everyone was shoving each other as the fight spread throughout the crowd. Petty brawls broke out, and you were barely shielded by Ashton’s interference in front of you. But beyond the noise, you still heard Calum, and he was shouting for you.

Shoulders knocked against yours while you fought your way beyond the mayhem. The air was hot, thick with the scent of sweat and alcohol and everything in between, and all you wanted was to find Calum and get out in one piece. You just wanted to be alone with him, to make sure he was okay and to tell him how much he meant to you. To tell him how much his actions meant to you.

A hand reached out for yours. A bloodied and bruised hand with a familiar tattoo stretched across the thumb.

“C’mon,” he muttered once he got close enough, and he pulled you through the chaos to reach the base of the stairs. You were hot on his tail as he walked up, but you chose to remain quiet.

And you stayed quiet the entire walk back to his place.

He was angry, fingers tightly locked between yours while the breeze picked up around you. His pace was heavy, and yours was, too. The door to his apartment slammed shut behind the two of you. You fought the urge to pull him back and calm the frustration, but he was stomping up two flights of steps with you on his heels. You hardly had a chance to glimpse at his small space before you were being pulled into an old bathroom down the hall.

“Cal— Calum.” You pried his fingers away from yours as he paced the tiled floor. “Calum.”

“I’m sorry,” he said as he ran his hands through his hair. He turned to face you, and you were finally able to look at the damage that had been done. You finally saw what he had put himself through just to defend you. Or, maybe it was much more than that. “I’m sorry,” he repeated. “They just— I wasn’t just gonna let them say that shit to you.”

You nodded. “Thank you.”

But you wished you did to have to feel any gratitude. You wished you hadn’t been forced to watch him break his bones in order to keep harmful words at bay. He suffered a bloody nose, swollen lip, and bruised cheek, and you felt responsible for every single scratch that tore through his skin.

“Do you— do you have an ice pack?” you sputtered, hand reaching up to grab the air. Because you weren’t sure if you had the right to touch him.

Calum nodded, and you didn’t wait for a verbal answer. You hurried into his kitchen, and despite the cramped size, you lost yourself in the details. It was his kitchen— it was Calum through and through. You searched the drawers for a dish towel, trembling hands picking out a dark cloth before soaking it under the dripping faucet. Next, you retrieved an ice pack from the freezer before rushing back into the bathroom. Calum was leaned up against the porcelain sink, and he had taken off his jacket to reveal a thin white tank.

You kept quiet and approached him slowly, heart heavy at the sight of him so bloodied and broken. You thought about his touch and how it felt earlier on in the night. You thought about protective he was despite barely knowing you for two weeks. And lastly, you thought about how, even when provoked into unattractive behavior, he still managed to look so damn hot.

So, you didn’t speak as you pressed the damp cloth against his blood-soaked skin. He stayed still, watching you as you scrubbed lightly until all that was left was a pinkish residue. You felt the weight of his gaze, and it burned deep in your gut. You had said he no longer intimidated you, but tonight, that wasn’t the case. Ir was the kind of intimidation that drew warmth and left you wanting more.

He was close, so close you could hear your hearts beating as one. The heat of his breath touched your skin, and you were forced to steady yourself with one hand against his bare shoulder. You hadn’t noticed his chest tattoos before, but maybe you hadn’t been this observant. Maybe you hadn’t felt as much as you were feeling right now.

You set the ice pack against his cheek and sighed. “Why did you do that?” you asked him, chest heavy while you yearned to reconstruct your words. You hadn’t wanted to plant the blame on him.

Calum swallowed. “The words he was saying, I—“ His eyes watered as he peered down at you, and he winced once you adjusted the frozen pack onto his blossoming bruise. “Couldn’t stand for that shit. Couldn’t bear to hear him say it. And I— I didn’t wanna hear him say it about you.”

You frowned. The hand that had been on his arm moved down to his chest.

“You don’t have t’take care of me,” he mumbled, lips tugging into a soft smile.

“But I want to,” you said to him. Your fingers traced the edge of his tank.

Calum’s smile quickly fell, and the room was quiet. You wondered if he could feel what you were feeling, too.

“Put down the fuckin’ ice pack,” he whispered, words tight and intricate as his hands slipped around your waist.

And then he was leaning in, lips hot as they pressed against yours in a captivating, lustful kiss. The ice pack slipped from your hands, and you felt frozen in his grip. Desperate hands clutched your waist while the kept you pressed against the sink behind you. You tossed your arms around his neck once you got a feel for his smooth, plump lips aching to taste yours. His fingers maneuvered beneath the thick layer of your sweater in order to feel your skin; you just hadn’t been aware of how truly sensational his touch would feel against your back. His lips melted against yours.

You reached a hand around to hold his face, and he seethed.

“Jesus, fuck,” he spat, and your eyes fell to the fresh bruise you had just touched.

“I’m— I’m so sorry,” you breathed out, expecting him to pull away, yet he pulled you close and reattached your lips with as much passion as the first time. Your teeth clashed, tongues slipping against one another while the heat of the moment made your insides churn. Calum’s large hand splayed across your jaw to keep you close.

His lip was still swollen from the fistful impacts, yet he seemed unfazed; in fact, it only spurred him on. But the heat of the moment overwhelmed you. You wanted him, but you wanted to know you had him.

You brushed your top lip against the corner of his mouth, hands gripping the loose material of his tank while you leaned into him. He held you with strong arms, ones you never wanted to let go.

“You’re really fuckin’ something else, babe,” he mumbled into your hair, and you could feel his smirk. “You know that?”

You chuckled. “I think the name is Maggie May.”

The warmth of his laughter spread through you. His fingers danced along the ridges of your spine, and you leaned back to look at him. His smile was small, yet it was soft, and it held every confession you had wanted to hear.

The black leather jacket on the floor caught your eye. A moment later, you pulled your sweater over your head, and Calum stood across from you in awe. His gaze was intense as you reached down for the jacket and tugged it over your arms. The leather creaked, but the loved material had softened through wear-and-tear. It slipped on with ease, and you stuffed your hands in the pockets with confidence.

Calum was silent as he took your appearance in. His jacket sat draped across your torso with only a bra underneath; you could only imagine how the sight made him feel.

He smiled and told hold of your waist. “Well, then, Maggie May,” he breathed out, lips pressing against your cheek and down your neck. The sensation made your chest ache. “I got something to say to you.”

You tangled your fingers through his dark curls as his voice vibrated through you.

“You stole fuckin’ heart, babe,” he said. “I couldn’t leave you if I tried.”

646 notes · View notes

marueonmain · 4 years

Text

WINDFLOWER

part four ~ it was them like that ~

(part one) (part two) (part three) (part four)

A/N: I rewrote this part twice wanting it to be perfect readable. I am grateful for every like/retweet: to quote our boy himself “I wish I could shake all your little hands.” Messages/asks are always highly appreciated. Strive to have a good quarantine, and take care of yourself!

Summary: Alex goes to find Sammy at his apartment and is met with an odd reception from Y/N.

Pairing: imallexx x reader

Warning: Language. Minor (Non-Graphic) Injury.

Word Count: 2.6k

Alex woke to the feeling of incessant buzzing in his hand. It was not a bright morning. With a groan, he opened his eyes – feeling the crust in the corners of them – and looked to his phone in his right hand. It buzzed with silenced notifications, and the screen lit up with banners and alerts. He tried to fight through his exhaustion. There was an odd taste in his mouth; he swirled his tongue around, attempting to produce saliva to little avail.

Propping himself on his elbows, he pulled his phone to his chest and read the lock screen. Nothing it said made sense. When he activated the touch ID, his phone opened to instagram and the last thing he watched before passing out (in his street clothes on top of his bedding). He had been watching an instagram story he was tagged in – even worse – it was George's instagram story.

To his horror, George had posted a solid three minutes of him dancing. Despite the overall low quality of the videos and darkness of the club, it was clear that it was indeed Alex who was throwing his limbs and jumping around erratically.

George had also managed, even in his inebriated state, to post the worst of the videos on twitter. And his followers were going mad. Three hundred retweets, five hundred comments, and at least a thousand laughing-crying emojis in all.

Alex groaned and tossed his phone to the end of the bed.

Getting up was a slow process. He had to stop to ground himself every few steps. While grasping a weak hand on his side table, he picked a pair of black joggers off the floor and replaced his white jeans with them. He moved steadily, grazing his fingertips along the wall as he went to his cupboard, and ripped a shirt from its hanger in an almost aggressive manner. He changed into it.

Eventually, he made it to his bathroom. After splashing water on his face and sticking his head under the faucet for a good minute, slurping the water like he would if he were drinking from a garden hose, he felt better. Alex tossed his hair around with his hand, pulling it forward and down, smoothing the cowlicks. Its slight greasiness was not too noticeable. He huffed, gathered his essentials (wallet, keys, phone) from his desk/bed, and left.

"You up already?" George called from where he sat on the sofa eating cereal. "It's before noon."

"Shut up. I saw your instagram story." Alex stood in the kitchen with a blank gaze debating whether to eat then or later. "You made me look like a complete bellend; I don't appreciate it."

"You wanted to dance! Who am I to deny the imallexx stans their behind-the-scenes exclusive?"

Rolling his eyes, Alex left the kitchen. At the front door, he slipped on the most available shoes there: which happened to be George's crocs (he swears he bought as a laugh but wore all the time).

"I'm going to go pick-up Sammy.”

George snorted and said, "You mean pick-up off the floor, probably."

"Just be ready to film when we get back."

Standing out in the hall, breathing in the fixed smell of wet dog in the carpet, Alex thanked himself for being young enough to be able to near blackout and be just a touch ill in the morning.

It was not a full two minutes between Alex leaving George and him stepping out of the lift onto the floor above. Coming up on Sammy and Y/N's apartment, there was a fleeting regret that he wished he had thought in his morning haze to brush his teeth before showing up unannounced. But it was too late as his hand was raised and rapping on their door.

KNOCK. KNOCK.

Alex watched the door handle jump as it was twisted and pulled on the tiniest amount possible. Just enough for the latch bolt to disengage and reengage so that it rested – holding the door open – against the doorframe. There was no proper greeting. He felt like an intruder having to push on the almost closed door and let himself into the apartment: though invited not necessarily welcome.

Inside it was bright with all available light fixtures on including a scattering of floor and table lamps. There was the sound of a running shower.

To his left was Y/N ducked into her refrigerator. She pushed things around on the top shelf before landing her hand on a carton of eggs. Taking them out, she sat them on the counter next to a mixing bowl. She turned her back to Alex but not before flashing him a tense near straight-line smile.

"Hi." Y/N counted out three eggs from the carton. "Sam's in the shower."

Alex grabbed a bar seat. He rested slouched against the backrest but kept his shoulders square and arms open. Hair fell from his fringe, and he jerked his head out of instinct, flipping the hair out of his face. A bit bedraggled. The chain still around his neck from his night-out. Lithe arms stuck out from armholes three times their size as he drowned in the large yellow crewneck.

It was the same yellow as the one Y/N complimented him on earlier. Not that he recognized it when he was throwing on clothes. Not that he would admit he recognized it.

Y/N cracked three eggs into the mixing bowl with one hand and tossed the shells into the kitchen bin. She stood, her feet set like an arrow, with her toes touching. Next to the mixing bowl was a waffle iron with a red light on top and a baking mix box. She held it up; her mouth moved as she read off the ingredients on the recipe on the back of the box to herself.

Alex forced a light chuckle. "I'm surprised he's up. He was out of it when we dropped him off."

"You all were," mumbled Y/N into her collar. She placed the box down and stirred the contents of the mixing bowl with a fork and a quick hand. Her head was down focused on what she was doing; a little wrinkle formed between her eyebrows.

"You got me there." Alex shifted in his seat, scooching up so he might rest his forearms on the counter. He proceeded to crack his knuckles to occupy his nervous hands. "How is Sammy?"

"Fine."

"He's helping me film a video." Like a smiling dog promised and expecting a treat, Alex straightened up in his seat. He searched Y/N's side profile for a read on her but came up blank.

"Hmm," hummed Y/N letting up on her battering of the waffle batter.

It was evident in how his spine slumped and how he returned to resting on his arms that it was not the reaction Alex expected. The reaction he hoped for was a reaction at all but no such luck.

"I guess he would have told you. I'm a youtuber." Alex added in a stronger voice (as if her not hearing him was the issue), "So is George."

"Uh-huh." Polite in tone but nonetheless dismissive.

"I was hoping you'd text me, then I'd have your number as well."

Y/N gave no response. Her eyes were clouded and distant. Leaving the batter to sit, she crossed the kitchen and pulled open a drawer of miscellaneous utensils. While she searched for what she wanted, the fingers of her non-dominate hand drummed a rhythm against her hip.

"Did I do something wrong?" asked Alex.

"What?"

"Was it last night? Did I do something to offend you? I was trashed." He spoke plain, hiding the hint of hurt in his voice. His open palm-up hands moved in a series of give and take type gestures.

His bit of babbling grabbed Y/N's full attention. She pulled her focus up, from her search in the utensil drawer to Alex's face. Her hesitant gaze stopped at his mouth and nose before going further up.

Their eyes met. Alex felt a surge of warmth rushing upon him: a warmth he could lie in forever. Die in. So even his bones might one afternoon be exposed to it. It was clear at that moment (as if it was not before) that being around Y/N was not something Alex knew how to handle or react to.

There was an undeniable switch in her gaze – a moment of real recognition – and if eyes could talk, hers would have sighed and happily said, oh, it's you.

Alex reiterated, "I promise I don't remember a thing."

"Sorry, Al." (a pause like she did intend the nickname but then thought it inappropriate) "Sorry, Alex. It's not you. I just have a lot I'm thinking about."

"You don’t have to apologize; I was just a little worried is all." He relaxed, dropping his hands, letting them fall to his lap.

"You're sweet. Thank you." Her hand settled in the utensil drawer; she pulled out an ice cream scoop and held it at an odd angle. Fiddling with the lever as if checking it worked. It did. Y/N turned her back to him once more to place the ice cream scoop on the counter with the mixing bowl. She picked out the fork from the bowl and continued stirring the batter.

Sore from slouching and general aching muscles, Alex stood from the bar seat and stretched.

"You make a lot of breakfast foods, huh?" he asked as he stood with solid feet and twisted at the middle as far to his left as he could; he twisted to the other side as his spine screamed at him. "Is that your favourite then?"

"Why? Got something against breakfast?"

"I like buttered toast as much as the next—" Alex was distracted mid-thought when he lifted his foot and put it down again to the sound of a quiet crunch. Light speckles of paint dotted the floor, and when he lifted his foot, under it was a small chip of plasterboard.

"Toast, you said? How extravagant!"

A framed picture was stuck on the wall nearest Alex: one he did not recognize as being there before, but half the apartment was not yet unpacked when he last was there. How bad could you screw up your wall hanging something? He pulled on a bottom corner of the frame and peered behind it.

It was a fine hanging job. There was just a fist-sized hole in the plasterboard wall. And the framed picture was covering it.

Y/N glanced over to him. "That's nothing – just a little accident from last night. Could thank George for that if you like."

"George did that?" He exclaimed, reeling as if he were about to faint. Alex made a fist and compared it to the hole. George and him about matched in height – matched hand sizes. While the hole in the plasterboard could eat Alex's hand.

Y/N's face dropped as she rushed to correct herself, "No! Not at all."

"You scared me," the words rode out on his bated breath. He put the framed picture back in place, moving to retake the bar seat.

"Sorry, I shouldn't have said it like that." Y/N gave a shallow shake of the head.

"What did happen?"

"Oh," she sounded exhausted, "Sam got angry because George was teasing him about something."

"What was it about?"

"I couldn't understand it. None of you lot were making sense," she said unconvincingly

"Come on, Red."

And there at his words or in reaction to the strange atmosphere Y/N rolled her left shoulder back and, when it returned to its natural resting position, she twitched. Her head turned forty-five degrees to the left, and her chin lifted so that her cheek was parallel to the ground for about half a second until her muscles relaxed, and she stood regular. Y/N spoke soft, "I don't know."

"Well, Sammy must have said something. Or George."

"Stop." Y/N spoke clear and stern, throwing her voice despite not facing him. "You were all giggling like idiots and piss drunk. Ok? It was bound to happen."

Atop the waffle iron, the red light switched to green. Y/N tilted the mixing bowl toward herself and grabbed the ice cream scoop. She stirred it around the bowl. Her elbow lifted from her side in the motion. It was shaking. She was shaking. Trembling – even if just a small amount.

"Ok," Alex said without thinking.

The ice cream scoop gathered the golden batter. It would have looked delicious if his stomach was not so knotted.

Lifting the waffle iron lid, Y/N poured the batter in a circle from the outside-in, when the lid dropped, snapping shut on two of her fingers. "Ow! Shit."

She raced to the sink: turning it on to its coldest setting: she kept her hurt hand at a distance. Her free hand grasped her inner elbow supporting the extended arm. As the water bathed her burnt fingers, Y/N stood bent over with her head tucked under her arms and muttered a string of curses.

"Fuck. Are you alright?" Alex rushed around the counter. "Did you break them?"

"N-no. No." She was stuttering through distressed gasps.

"Red, it's not great." Alex laid a hand on her shoulder and another over her free hand on her arm. He felt her continuing to struggle for breath and start a self-soothing type rocking on her feet – not about to give in to the panic. "It’s not great, but you got to calm down. Follow me."

He pulled his lips in and inhaled a slow breath as if through a straw, exhaling it just the same. It took ten seconds of him doing the exercise on his own before Y/N began to follow. And it was them like that. And it was nice – given the circumstances.

Both their shirts were damp from the splashback of the running sink.

Half a minute passed. Y/N had not gained her complete composure, but her breathing evened out, and her muscles relaxed enough that Alex had to reposition himself to support her as she leaned into him slightly.

"Thank you." It was audible though her chin was still tucked to her chest.

"It's alright...I can't cook either."

She laughed a short laugh. "You were lying earlier?"

"I know, pretty believable."

Sammy walked in from the master bedroom: shirtless with his wet hair dripping water onto the floor: and his eyebrows knit together in immediate confusion and concern. Set in action, he rushed over to the kitchen and pulled Alex off Y/N (sending him stumbling over himself to regain balance). At Y/N's side, he turned off the sink and took hold of her hands, avoiding the burned fingers.

"Red. What did you do?" he asked.

"It's alright," she assured, and it was, as most minor burns are after a few seconds under cold water.

Alex was frozen in place – watching them – reconciling his protective instincts with his disorientation. And despite where his eyes landed in physical space, he was far off in another place in his mind.

Staring at him with a skewed frown, Sammy asked, "What are you doing here?"

"I'm– I was going to pick you up to film."

"Right." He straightened Y/N and himself up to be standing. "I'll be up in a bit."

It took a moment for the command from Alex's brain (move) to reach his legs. In that time, he stole a glance at Y/N whose face canvased a flustered blush. She smiled. A metaphorical dart whizzed around his head, striking a metaphorical bullseye, and producing a singular thought.™

He wished he could go back to about twenty-three lines ago. To when she was leaning on him.

Alex smiled a reassuring smile in return and shuffled out of the apartment. Two steps from the closed door, he heard Sammy say to Y/N in a hushed voice, "I’m here for you, Red, but you should have known better."

#imallexx #imallexx imagine #imallexx x reader #alex elmslie #alex elmslie imagine #alex elmslie x reader #internet sensation #memeulous #eboys #commentary crew

61 notes · View notes

rinnysega · 4 years

Text

Quite Night At Home - An Irene/Jaap fic

Here is my half of an AT with the wonderful @purplepolarbear about her Simpsons OCs Irene and Jaap. A short, little slice-of-life fic about the two of them spending a quiet night at home together. I hope you like it, and I hope I did your OCs justice!!

Two months had passed since Irene last saw Jaap, and those several weeks that kept them apart were full of busy change as the seasons began to turn. Irene wore denim shorts and a light T-shirt on their last day together when she dropped him off at the airport for another series of long, International flights. She herself would be busy with travel in the weeks to come, and their schedules wouldn’t have them home at the same time until well into December. Those shorts and T-shirt were now swapped out with long pants and her wintertime sweaters she pulled out of storage.

Irene was the first to arrive home about two days before Jaap was set to come back from the states. Amalia helped her get the house cleaned up in exchange for letting her go on a weekend trip with her friends out to a campsite before the snowfall set in. It was fine with her. The two of them spent quite a bit of quality time together in Jaap’s absence, and while there were some short bouts of tension here and there, the experience had been mostly positive. And this would give her and Jaap some time alone before he had to go back to work.

Late that afternoon, Irene waved Amalia off as the 17-year old piled into the car with her friends, and she disappeared into the horizon. Irene checked the clock and figured it would be the best time to start dinner. Jaap called her the previous day to let her know he had a ride home once his flight landed, so she didn’t need to bother with traffic to come pick him up. The two decided she’d have a hot meal waiting for him by the time he made it back, and considering how tired he’d probably be, a quiet night at home sounded like a perfect way to spend their only night together. The next day, it would be right back to the airport for him.

The housework was exhausting, and she didn’t realize how much energy it zapped out of her until she was sitting at the kitchen table about an hour later, rubbing her feet while the food was baking in the oven and simmering on the stove. Between the deep clean of the place with Amalia and pulling out all the blankets and wool garb, getting the house cozy for him to return to was taking it out of her. Perhaps he was rubbing off on her and she was aging rapidly. It would certainly explain the pain in her shoulders and lower back, not to mention her fatigue after simple tasks like skinning and chopping potatoes and whipping up the veggie dip from scratch.

The timing was nearly perfect as the front door opened just as Irene finished transferring the last bits of cooked food into their dishes. She looked up with a smile to see her favorite person stumble in from the cold, dark night. He immediately dropped his bag and rolled his luggage against the wall. He greeted her smile with one of his own.

“Smells good.”

“Thanks. Can’t say the same for you, probably.”

“Yeah, probably.” Jaap removed his hat and coat at the door and made a beeline straight for her to give her a kiss on the neck with his arms wrapped around her waist.

“How was the flight?” she asked, returning his hug. His body was freezing from the weather outside.

“The Usual.” He gave her one more kiss on her neck before stepping away to remove his shoes and loosen the tie of his uniform. “Had an American complain to my stewards the whole damn way about sitting in the back of the aircraft when he missed his first flight and had to get rebooked.”

“Don’t miss dealing with that,” Irene responded, and she walked over to the fridge to pour themselves something to drink with their dinner. “How about the car ride?”

“Traffic wasn’t too bad getting here, but my feet are killing me.” He finished taking off the rest of his uniform, dressing down into his undershirt and boxers, his socks still held up on his legs by their garters. “I think it’s my shoes.”

“When’s the last time you got new insoles?”

His silence to the question spoke volumes, and it was all she needed to know. A quick glance at the old, worn out insoles in his work shoes was another indicator he hadn’t bought a new pair in...God knew how long.

Irene saighed to herself as she started placing the cups and hot food onto a serving tray with two empty dishes for each of them. “I’m not letting you go back tomorrow until you switch those out.”

“I’ll pick some up before I head to the airport tomorrow night.”

“No, I’ll get them for you to make sure you actually have them.” She made her way past him to the living room, and he followed close behind. “I’ll go out first thing tomorrow before I make breakfast. That’ll give you some time to sleep in.”

Irene placed the tray on the table in front of the couch, and when she bent back up, he turned her around to face him, and he held her cheeks between his hands. He gave her two small kisses on the corners of her mouth, and said sincerely, “You’re too good to me.” He finished his thought with one more kiss right in the middle on her lips.

She didn’t hesitate to kiss him back, and Irene wrapped her arms around his neck to pull him in tight for a hug on top of that. She broke that kiss only to ask him, “Can you pull tighter on my waist and crack my back please? It hurts-!” He did it without warning, and she laughed through her gasping as his strength aided her of her back problems with a crack. “Ouch, I wasn’t ready yet!” She continued to laugh.

“Well I’m ready for food,” he kidded with her, and squeezed her with a kiss one last time before they broke apart and fell down on either side of the couch - the cushions bouncing a bit with their weight.

“Oh that’s nice,” Jaap said, finally glad he could relax for a bit. He reached over for a plate and scooped out small portions of each dish to hand to Irene who accepted it as she got comfortable against the plush back of the sofa. Once again, she was the smartest person she knew to make all finger foods and dips, so she wouldn’t have to worry about silverware. Jaap got his own plate, piled high with several helpings of each thing, and he sat back close to her, leaning sideways at just the right angle to kick his feet up onto the end of the low table. Irene reached over and pulled the food tray from the middle to the far end of the table close to her, just to get it as far away from his socks as possible. Jaap seemed to get the social cue and put his feet back down on the floor.

“Sorry.”

All the commotion seemed to awaken the cats who were sound asleep upstairs, and while they turned the TV on to flip around for something to watch, the two came trotting down the stairs, yawning and shaking off the sleep. One jumped up and curled up by Irene’s side while the other attempted to sit in Jaap’s lap, but the man held up his plate of food and gently nudged it away. Defeated, the cat simply hopped down and went to loiter in the window as Jaap placed his food back down on his lap and continued eating.

Settling on a movie, the two leaned in close together and spent most of that time in silence. With the chaos of their lives caught up to them like it had been the last few weeks, it was a godsend to be able to just sit in peace, eat and share snacks, knowing a comfortable silence was good enough for each of them. Eventually when the cats had dispersed again and the food was nothing but crumbs on the dishes, they found themselves getting quite comfortable there on that couch, and they could very easily fall asleep in each others’ arms without the energy to make it upstairs to bed.

They didn’t mind. They were just happy to see each other again and simply exist together in their quiet, little home before the outside world called them back for work.

#simpsons fic #irene oc #jaap oc #purplepolarbear

9 notes · View notes

kickingitwithkirk · 4 years

Text

Beyond Seduction

Summary: Isobella Tennant wants her independence but society dictates she must conform to their ways. Sam Winchester is the most sought after artist in London and one of its most notorious rakes. He also has a secret he’s kept hidden. They come together with their own agendas and find something more than either expected.

Pairing: Artist!Sam Winchester x Isobella Tennant

Word Count: 3137

Warnings: Cursing, appearance shaming, low self esteem, dominating mother, attempted abduction and assault

A/N: for #OC Apprecation Day 2020 #OC’s are People Too

A/N II: Few months ago I came across a stash of old romance novels I’ve had for umpteen years when I had this idea for a series with Sam Winchester. I had been playing with for a while, getting nowhere, and one evening I was watching Thomas Kinkade’s Christmas Cottage with Jared Padalecki and viola Artist!Sam. Not an original title but I liked the sound of it.

Part II Masterlist

*no beta, all mistakes are mine

London 1875

December 21

“Your daughter will marry my son by lent.” Arthur Ketch forcefully stated as he stood in front of the drawing room window.

“Of course Isobella will marry Ernest, but it’s impossible to do it that soon,” Lavinia Tennant, the Duchess of Monmouth huffed out, running her hand down the over skirt of her terre D'Egypte dress trying to hide nervousness running through her, “but she is the only daughter of the Duke of Monmouth, it will take at least a year to plan once the bannes have been read.”

“I have given you too much leeway already Lavi and will not have my son wait any longer,” Ketch said calmly, calling her the beloved nickname her husband gave her on their wedding night. Walking over and reaching out to stroke her cheek, watching with satisfaction as she trembled when he grabbed her arm instead, “or I will go to your husband about us.”

It wasn’t the first time he had inferred he would do it but there was something more in his tone this time.

Ketch’s roughness had been exciting, eliciting intense pleasures she had never felt and had come to crave. He was a far cry from her husband, who possessed a loving countenance and even temperament.

She couldn’t initially understand why Ketch hadn’t been accepted by their society. He was intelligent, charming and a Baron after all, even if the title had been bought by his father, who had been in the coal trade.

It was when she tried to end their affair his true intentions surfaced. Ketch had pursued her for the political advancement of his only son Ernest, who worked for Lavinia’s husband in Parliament.

Ketch planned to make his son Prime Minister of England and the Duke of Monmouth’s connections were his ticket. Blackmailing the duchess into forcing her only daughter Isobella to marry Ernest would solidify his position in society.

“I’ve instructed Ernest to propose again at your party in two weeks and she better not refuse him this time, you’ll make sure of that I have no doubt.” Ketch’s menacing tone said it all, he would follow through on his threat this time.

New Years Eve

“I hear he is indeed very talented,” Alexandra Pembrook informs her companion as they strolled into the library, stopping in front of the newly unveiled portrait of David Tennant, the Duke of Monmouth, “and not just as a painter according to Lady Vance.”

Isobella Tennant looked at her friend raising an eyebrow, “Since when do you listen to the idol gossip of Beatrice Vance? I thought you two weren’t speaking.”

“That juicy tidbit came by way of her ladies maid. Apparently, she overheard Beatrice telling Lady Lucas how her husband came home unexpectedly and almost caught them In flagrante delicto.”

“This is why I’m happy that I got Katie, she would never gossip about any goings on in this household.” Isobella firmly stated.

Katie had been her mother’s governess before becoming hers and then ladies maid after she was presented in society. Katie moved slower with age and hard of hearing so if anything scandalous was said in her presence, she’d never hear it anyways.

“I also heard he spent three months pursuing Lady De Burgh,” Isobella squinted slightly, trying to place the woman, “you know, Queen Victoria’s newest lady-in-waiting. Palace gossip is that he likes to savor his quarry like delicate morsels, bit by bit.” She licked her lips in emphasis, “Too bad he didn’t see you when he was here, I’d bet my new phaeton he would’ve been more than up for the challenge of obtaining you.”

“Lexi!” Isobella gasped, using her best friend since they were both in pram’s nickname, trying to sound scandalized at the implication but grinned at her knowing the notorious Sam Winchester, who she only saw briefly once while her father was sitting for him, wouldn’t have noticed her even if he sat on her.

She did not possess the in favor looks like Lexi; golden blond hair, cornflower blue eyes and envious curves that were enhanced by the fashions of the day, that seemed to tempt him judging by his preferred quarry.

Isobella or Izzy, as everyone but her mother called her, had inherited her grandmother Tennant’s shock of long, thick, unruly copper gold hair, as did her four brothers, who at least had the fortune of being able to keep theirs shorn short, and pale skin covered in cinnamon freckles for days. What couldn’t be overlooked by anyone was, like her brothers, she was tall.

So tall in fact, she stood at least half a head and, in some cases, a full head taller than most of the men in their acquaintance. Her only redeeming qualities, according to her mother, was her title of Lady Tennant and the inheritance that came with it.

Despite being the plainest deb to enter society in years when she was eighteen, Isobella had a line of suitors and was greatly admired for her kindness, quick wit, and intelligence, especially in debate, having learned the skill at her father’s knee.

Now her admirers had drastically fallen away. It seemed what was admired in the girl wouldn’t be tolerated in the woman.

Isabella’s options were dwindling as she was no longer a blossoming flower in society, being just a few months away from turning twenty three.

“Lexi, what kind of scandal could I get into, it’s not like I’ve got suitors beating down my door anymore.”

Lexi looked fondly at her best friend. She didn’t understand what had happened to all of Izzy’s admirers either. Her place in society and her illustrious title as the only daughter of the Duke of Monmouth had drawn a lot of the lesser ranking gentleman showing interest but she knew her friend well enough that their status wouldn’t matter to her if they actually loved her.

“You know Ernest is planning on asking again tonight.”

“You know I will decline again.”

“I can’t understand why you keep turning him down Izzy. He is dependable, would give you everything…”

“You know I love Ernest like a brother but there is no way we could make a go of it. He is too placid and I’m…”

“A damn handful, especially when that hard head of yours gets an idea. I didn’t love Pembrook when I agreed to marry him but now…I can’t imagine my life without him.”

“What I want is a man who will love me as is, let me be myself, not expect me to change for the sake of their ego.”

January 10

“Isobella Tennant, tell me that what I heard is not true!” Lavinia yelled as she swept into the breakfast nook.

Izzy and her father both looked up at the overwrought duchess. “Heard what mother?”

“That you were seen racing Ambrose Murdoch on the commons in a pair of breeches!”

“He said Boudicia couldn’t be as quick as his hunter being a mare…”

“And you were riding astride like some common…”

“… I wasn’t gonna let him get away with insulting my horse!”

“Horses, horses, horses! That’s all you think about! It’s time you stop messing with those animals and start breeding my next grandchild!”

“Lavinia! Don’t speak to our daughter that way.”

“David, I need to speak to you privately.” The duchess replied through her clenched teeth.

***

“Our daughter has turned down Ernest again, he is her last chance of getting married and it’s time you put your foot down and insist on her accepting him.” The Duke opened his mouth to say something, “No David, no more excuses. I know she is your favorite for some unfathomable reason and you’ve coddled her for far to long. She is not a fresh candidate anymore and with her plain looks and stubbornness finding another man to marry her…”

The Duke sighed as she droned on about Izzy turning out to be such a disappointment, too strong willed and independent for a woman, saddened that his wife had such a low opinion of their only daughter.

Isobella had always marched to her own beat, which was completely out of tune with her mother’s, long ago learning how to appease her vanity when it became apparent Izzy would not be the beauty her mother had been in her day.

Lavinia Emerson had been the most sought after debutante of her day, possessing luxurious blond locks, chocolate brown eyes and acres of creamy skin encasing a figure that, even after bearing five children, still turned heads.

When she accepted his proposal, David Tennant was under no illusion it was for anything other than for his title as the future Duke of Monmouth. But over the years she had come to love him and they had a good marriage, raising four fine son’s, all married with families of their own except Richard, the youngest at nineteen.

And yes, Izzy was his favorite, not because she was the only girl but she reminded him of his mother, she had that same free spirit but hadn’t above changing her ways for the sake of her family, as he was sure Izzy would once she was married.

“We’ve discussed this before and it’s time to tell her.”

As much as he hated to admit it, she was right, if she didn’t accept Ernest, who was an upstanding gentleman despite who his father was; Isobella would end up either alone, being exiled to the edge of good society and tainting her brother’s families or forced to marry anyone who would be willing to take her at her age.

Two nights later

Izzy stared out the large window still unable to comprehend the ultimatum her parents had given her.

Marry Ernest or loose Katie, her horses, and her freedom.

Her father knew what it would do to her under this virtual house arrest, to be at her mother’s by your leave and constant verbal assaults.

It would’ve been kinder to send her to a nunnery.

She thought about her visit to Lexi earlier that day.

“What choice do you have Izzy, you have to marry Ernest, you’d lose your sanity if your mother takes over complete control of your life.”

“If I’m gonna consider giving up my life, there’s one last thing I want to do and you’re going with me.”

Lexi sat up, “One last prank?”

Changing into the god awful orange servants dress she had wriggled from Lexi, Izzy ran down the servants staircase and out their entrance at the back of the house and hailed a hack to take her to Lexi’s and then the music hall.

Izzy walked hurriedly along the quiet streets after the variety shows had let out. She had been unable to find another hack after Lexi left for home so she was forced to start walking. It wasn’t the safest thing for anyone to do at night, especially an unaccompanied woman.

She was almost to the back gate of the grounds when she was grabbed by a man hiding in the shadows.

~~~

Sam Winchester pushed his hands deeper into his coat pockets, not actually cold from the night air turning chilly but disconsolate; it was his periodic companion. This last eighteen months all he had produced was portraits of London’s elite citizens, nothing inspiring him to create anything original, which gave him his fame in the first place.

He had decided to walk for a bit after leaving the Duke of Monmouth’s having repaired the loose corner of the frame around the portrait of said man. He liked the Duke, he possessed a sarcastic humor and was personable.

For a Tory.

Sam was halfway along the high wall surrounding the vast estate when he heard a rough voice hissing in the shadows, “Stop struggling bitch or I’ll give it to you far worse.”

He ran to the end of the wall remembering there was an alleyway leading to a back entrance. Pausing at the opening he was thankful a gas light was nearby illuminating a burly man struggling to hang onto a woman in a hideous orange dress who was putting up one hell of a fight to get away.

“Hey, let her go!” Sam shouted, rushing towards them.

“Fuck off, this ones mine!” He yelled, shoving her to the ground.

Sam swung his large fist smashing into the stranger’s face. He grabbed his bloody nose for a monument and then threw a surprise right hook making contact with Sam’s left temple briefly stunning him and making his getaway.

“Bastard,” Sam spit out, rubbing his head knowing he’d probably have a headache later. He turned to the woman on the ground. She had drawn her legs up, arms wrapped around her legs shaking.

“Are you alright?” He asked as he stepped towards her causing her to start crawling backwards away from him till she bumped into the wall.

Sam squatted down in front of her, holding his hands out in a peaceful gesture and spoke softly to her, “ I’m not gonna hurt you Miss, I want to make sure you’re not hurt, can you nod if you understand me.”

She nodded once, finally looking up from the ground at him.

Sam’s breath caught.

Even under the dim gas light he could make out her unique features and felt that particular skittering under his skin urging him to grab a brush and create like he hadn’t in a very long time.

“I’m Sam Winchester,” standing up he holds out his right hand to her.

“Is..Izzy Morgan.” She replies, taking his outstretched hand. A sensation rippled throughout her in a way she never had with any man, not even with Lord Greyson.

He was the only man Izzy had freely offered herself to and had rejected her in a not so polite manner, publicly gossiping about her attempted seduction of him. It was quickly quashed by her brothers paying him a brief visit.

Sam released her hand, staring intently as he lightly ran his long fingers along her jaw, tracing the contours of; her forehead, curved cheekbones, full lips and nondescript nose, fascinated with the freckles he could just make out in the dim, scattered on her soft skin.

If only it wasn’t so dark to make out the color of her eyes but that hair, absolutely wondrous! He dropped his hand and picked up the tendrils that had come loose running them between his fingers fascinated that it was silky, not wiry, with its kinkiness as he assumed.

She was plain and exquisite at the same time.

“I would love to paint you if you’ll allow me,” she scrunched her forehead confused, “could you ask your employer for time off?”

“You want to paint me, why?”

Sam dropped the hand still playing with her hair and pulled from his coat pocket his card to show he was serious.

“I will pay you generously for your time. If you like I can speak..”

“No! I’m sorry but it’s impossible,” Izzy hurried to the gate and opened it, “thank you for helping me, I am grateful..”

“Then repay it by posing for me.” Sam deepens his whiskey-honeyed voice and watches as she shivered, reacting to it as he hoped.

“I’m sorry but I can’t.”

~~~

Izzy awoke late the next morning exhausted from her previous night’s adventures. She shuddered feeling the bruises acquired during the struggle with her would be rapist.

The door to her bedroom opened and a younger woman she didn’t recognize entered carrying a tray of tea and a light breakfast.

“Good morning my lady, I wasn’t sure what you would like so I bought a few things. Please let me know what you prefer.”

“Who are you and where is Katie?”

“I’m Margaret, your mother engaged me to be your ladies maid. I was informed that Katie decided to leave and be with her sister in Brighton, my lady.”

“Please take the tray, I only have tea in the mornings and pull out my dark brown riding habit. I’ll dress myself today and will be gone till dinner, thank you.” Isobella instructed, heading into her bath and waited for the maid to leave. After she departed Izzy threw on her outfit and hurried to the stable, saddling the first horse there and took off to Lexi’s for a confab about what to do next.

January 19

Her fingers shook nervously as she buttoned up the servants dress she had borrowed from Lexi again. From the trunk she pulled out the big overcoat and long scarf that used to belong to Phillip, her oldest brother. He had given them to her years ago when the family was in Scotland and hers had proven inadequate for riding in the climate there. Opening a small drawer she removed her old, worn riding gloves and slipped them on. She closed the trunk and locked it.

Making her way up the exterior stairs to the street Isobella locked the door leading to the cellar of Lexi’s home and walked to the hired hack waiting for her, instructing the driver to her final destination.

As the carriage travels over the cobblestone streets Isobella goes over the plan one more time to make sure nothing was missed.

Lexi had suggested she should come with her to Wales while her husband sorted out the details from his father’s sudden passing making him the new Lord of Whitmore. That sparked an idea in Izzy’s mind and they set about laying out the details to pull it off.

Isobella knew her parents, or rather her father, wouldn’t object to her traveling with her best friend to give her some time to consider Ernest’s proposal; with a slight hint that she was inclined to accept upon returning.

What none of them knew was she had her own plan in place and it was to be the scandal of the decade.

The hack dropped her off at the end of the quiet street and she walked briskly towards the address on the card.

~~~

Sam came downstairs in no better mood than he had been when his butler Crowley had awoken him late in the afternoon. At least he was dressed. Well, as dressed as he was willing to get in a clean shirt, trousers and no shoes. He had an odd exchange with the new boy Crowley had engaged to help since he was, according to Crowley, seriously understaffed with the size of his household. Sam laughed considering it was only him, Crowley, Mrs. Mills the cook and a maid.

The new boy had scurried off the fetch more coal as the door knocker sounded. Sam opened it and was stunned to see who was standing there.

“Are you still interested in painting me?”

tbc

If your interested in a tag shoot me an ask

tagging: @atc74 @alleiradayne

#OC Appreciation Day 2020 #OC's Are People Too #sam winchester fanfiction #Sam Winchester x OFC

12 notes · View notes

benisasoftboi · 4 years

Text

Gushing time.

Rune Factory 4 Special arrived a day early, so my entire day has been consumed in nostalgia. The original Rune Factory 4 was the first video game I ever bought on release day - I remember saving up all my money and making my mum drive me to like three different shops trying to find one that had it. I was already a fan of the franchise - before then, Rune Factory 3 had been my favourite video game, across the board. Aside from a playthrough of the first game last year, I haven’t played a Rune Factory game in a long time, certainly not RF4. But just starting up the game and hearing the music again, it was like it was suddenly seven years ago. Running around Selphia and seeing all the characters again - I love JRPGs, have played a lot of them, and I can think of very few that have characters that have stuck with me this long. And the aesthetics - the best thing about the Rune Factory franchise has always been the aesthetics, the music, the scenic and character design, just the general world. It’s a beautifully whimsical balance of urban and fantasy, and it’s the only JRPG world I think I’ve ever come across that I would genuinely want to live in. Rune Factory may no longer be my favourite game franchise - but I don’t think there has ever been another series that has felt so much like home to me.

Here’s a very long selection of personal highlights from the art book (by which I mean photos of the art followed by my rambling opinions):

Yeah, see, here’s the thing - Rune Factory 1 is not a good game. I could write an entire essay on why it’s bad (I actually started and got pretty damn far before realising no one’s interested in my two thousand word review of a game that came out over a decade ago - the short version is ‘Misty Bloom-fucking-Cave’. Anyone who’s played RF1 knows exactly what I mean). Don’t get me wrong, it has good qualities - excellent boss fights, for one, and also, as with the rest of the franchise, it is aesthetically wonderful. But ultimately, it feels less like playing a video game, and more like playing a proof of concept for a game. Which I guess it kind of was - and I can’t hate it because we wouldn’t have the rest of the series without it.

But it literally ends with a dragon spewing plant breath on a tank to make a turnip grow out of the gun. ‘Profound’, my arse.

It’s Raguna! The “master sowrdsman!” (that is not a typo on my part that is a direct quote from the ending of Rune Factory 1 this game’s script had so many issues-). And Mist! My favourite of the ‘canon’ love interests!

Best girl! When I was a kid, my favourite love interest in RF1 was Rosetta. As an adult, it is Tabatha. I don’t know what it is about her that I find so likeable (she’s as lacking in personality as any other RF1 character), but... idk, I just like her a lot.

Camus’s big ambition is to leave town like even once. He will never achieve it

Fun fact about Melody is that she’s extremely depressed, a fact that comes up once in an optional side quest and is never addressed again. It’s incredibly dark for an RF game

Fun fact about Lukas is that he sucks (he’s one of those ‘obsessed with talking about how hot all the girls are’ characters, an archetype that thankfully doesn’t show up again in these games). But also, interestingly enough, thanks to one of RF1′s many, many script errors, if you marry Rosetta (the girl Lukas is the most obsessed with), he’s supposed to express disappointment that he lost her to Raguna - but instead, he implies that he’s disappointed to have lost Raguna to her. The translators typoed their way into giving him a sexuality change. Which is honestly kind of amazing.

LOOK AT THIS SLIME THIS IS SUCH A COOL SLIME LITERALLY EVERY OTHER JPRG SLIME GO HOME DRAGON QUEST GET FUCKED (jk I like Dragon Quest a lot and its slimes are cool too). Wish you could see in-game that this is what they’re meant to be like.

I just generally love the monster designs, they’re really charming

Rune Factory 2! The RF game with the most weirdly mundane protagonist name (Kyle. In the main four games of this franchise we’ve got Raguna, Micah, Lest, Frey... and Kyle). The two generations thing was actually very cool, but when they say ‘each chapter captures a different lifestyle’, what they really mean is ‘the first half is a weak Harvest Moon I’m sorry, STORY OF SEASONS game, and the second half is a pretty good Rune Factory game’

lookit this little fuck

Yue Yue Yue! I love Yue so much, she’s great. She’s kind of like a much chiller version of Anna from Fire Emblem.

It’s really cool that we got to see grown up Cecilia (she was in RF1). I have this silly headcanon that if Kyle doesn’t marry Mana, Nicholas (her friend in 1) comes to visit Cecilia one day in the hazy-post game future, and meets Mana, and they get together. While Yue is my favourite, I do genuinely like Mana a lot, and I just want her to find love, I guess.

Here’s original Barrett! There’s a reason he was popular enough to make a reappearance (well, aside from the whole grumpy pretty boy thing he’s got going on) - he was a great character in this game. His and Dorothy’s relationship is also definitely the most compelling of the rival romances. Bonus Max, who also has a little shout-out in RF4 (check the diary in what will become Dylas’s bedroom at the start of the game)

Ray is male, but apparently he was originally going to be a female character, as he has an unused portrait in a wedding dress. My friend and I agree that this makes him a Trans Icon

Monster designs remain excellent. Especially the goblins

Skipping over Frontier (and also Oceans later), as I never got to play it growing up due to not having a console, and still haven’t got around to it - might try this summer. Except I do need to point out that these guys should be memes. I don’t know in what way. But they should.

Rune Factory 3! My first RF game. The transformation thing was very cool, even if it was basically useless outside the main story. My friend and I spent hours mucking about in the WiFi dungeon. I loved the desert settlement and all of the dungeon designs in general, and man, RF3 is just great. I hope it gets a remake one day.

Raven Raven Raven! I LOVE Raven (as do most). Her story with Micah is the first time I can remember getting genuinely invested in a video game romance. I’m so glad she cameos in RF4. I love her. She’s wonderful.

I have an odd fondness for Marian. When I was about twelve, I decided to do a playthrough where I deliberately romanced the least popular bachelorette. After poking around on forums, I determined that character to be Marian, and did a run with her. And... I actually came to really like her. I find her endearing. I get that people find her annoying and don’t like her... unethical medical practices, but doing that run has still made me a pretty protective of her. It’s been a long time since I played RF3, so maybe I’d change my mind if I replayed now, but currently, as far as I’m concerned, Marian’s a good’un.

I think I also used to low key ship her with Collette lol

Pia’s official art has always been super weird to me because it’s so not what her character is like in-game. She’s a ditzy airhead. This makes her look so serious

RAINBOW! Another character whose art makes them look way more serious than they actually are. Daria is great and would be a meme if this game was more popular. I think she’s also implied to be a relative of Margaret.

I’ve always been super confused about what Kuruna’s skirt is meant to be. Is it fur? Is it part of her shirt? Is it even a skirt at all?

Check it out, it’s the guy everyone would ship Micah with if this game was more popular

I want Zaid to make a reappearance and interact with Doug. Pretty sure it’s canon that they’re from the same clan? Think it would be very interesting.

RF3 definitely had the coolest farm. Also, still love the desert settlement.

This is from Oceans, so I have no context, but it’s just so cool that I had to share

Rune Factory 4. Culmination of the series is right - when I was playing it for the first time, I remember being blown away by just how much it is a true love letter to the franchise. I have never come across another game series that so consistently grew and improved from entry to entry. RF4 was a perfect ending.

Not that I’m complaining about getting RF5. Quite the opposite.

But if it had been the end (as we all thought it was until about a year ago), well, like I say. Perfect.

Well. Aside from soda can nipples. Can’t believe they didn’t fix those. Though in some ways, that would have made me sad too

Dolce has such a cool design, in both human and monster form. I’ve always kind of crack-shipped her with Margaret, for no real reason at all

Vishnal! I love Vishnal. Vishnal is pure as heck. Marrying him this time around.

Doug! My choice from last time around. Another character who looks more serious in his official art than he is in-game (well... most of the time)

And then there’s Dylas, who looks much happier here than he does most of the time. Kind of looks like he and Doug swapped bodies, actually. There’s a fanfic prompt for you.

Their ship name is Dyldo. I love them

Leon is nostalgic for me mostly because my friend and I used to get into a lot of arguments about whether or not he’s the hottest character in the game. She maintains that he is, because muscles. I maintain that muscles aren’t actually that attractive. It is a rift that divides us to this day

(He looks oddly... younger in this art though? Weird)

Sechs Empire is such an unfortunate name. Seriously. How rushed was RF1′s localisation team? All those script errors, and then this (the Sechs were the antagonists in the first game, and were only referenced in passing in the rest until RF4 - so it was a bit of a ‘sins of the father’ situation by then).

Seriously, try saying ‘Sechs Emperor’ out loud and tell me you can take this man seriously

I??? Love??? Them???

I??? LOVE??? THEM???

Still confused as to why Kiel, Xiao Pai, Arthur and Margaret are on the cover now. Don’t get me wrong, I like them, but... Amber, Dylas, Dolce and Leon made way more sense? Even the Archival Cover makes more sense (Vishnal, Clorica, Forte), as those three are all kind of Lest/Frey’s servants (well, Forte for the whole town, but still). Of those first four, all but Arthur basically lift right out of the game with little-to-no impact on the story

NO HAT TABATHA NO HAT TABATHA

I’ve always really loved this Raven picture

And I am thankful for you <3

#rune factory #rune factory 4 #rune factory 4 special #rf4 #rf4s #rf4srelease #i love these games <3

32 notes · View notes

morgannalefey · 3 years

Text

Homes, relationships, realtors

These are a series of anonymous questions I was asked and I'm endeavoring to answer them. I am not a concise writer. I apologize in advance for the length of this post.

Step 1: Start Your Research Early. Step 2: Determine How Much House You Can Afford. Step 3: Get Prequalified and Preapproved for credit for Your Mortgage. Step 4: Find the Right Real Estate Agent. Step 5: Shop for Your Home and Make an Offer. Step 6: Get a Home Inspection. Step 7: Work on home loan with bank lender Step 8: Get home appraised Step 9: Complete paperwork and close the deal ?

How were you able to learn what the homeownership steps entailed and how did you vet the realtor, home inspector, home appraiser, and lender, if you used them? How did you ensure the people whose help you enlisted were legit and were going to do right by you?

How did you find out what the paperwork/legal aspect of marriage was going to entail (research so far has given me a few different answers)? There was a lot I either didn’t know or didn’t understand - you need to get your ring appraised and added to your insurance (what kind of insurance), for example? You need to change how your tax filings and paperwork in general, especially if you choose to change your last name, etc. I’m scared of missing an item and running into some obstacle😫

How do you also ensure that your name and/or your spouse’s name is on the deed and stays there? I’ve come across TOO many stories about one party thinking their name was on the deed only to find out it either wasn’t or it was removed. Or one party dying and the remaining party finding out the place wasn’t on their name or was removed. Or, one party kicking the other out and not being able to advocate for themselves because their name, come to find out, isn’t on the deed😳😞 How do you avoid all that (besides vetting your potential SO properly lol)

------------------------

The first thing I want to say is I am NOT a financial advisor or a counselor/therapist. I am not a lawyer. I am a 55 year old database developer (in 2020) and have bought several houses and been with/married to the same person for 32 years. Prior to this person, I played a very large field of folks, and was in a lot of short-term relationships. The longest relationship I'd been in by the time we met was 10 months and it ended very badly. I'm not an expert, I'm just old and experienced. Another thing I am is frugal. While I'm being detailed, I'm also bi, cis, childless-by-choice, mostly-abled, and white. I can't speak directly to the experiences that marginalized folks (especially those with multiple marginalizations) have had.

I'll talk about the relationship stuff first 'cos that'll be the shorter answer. I met my spouse in an online space for roleplaying gamers back in 1988 (before the internet existed there were dialup networks, I was on those basically from 1983 on). The beginning of our relationship was a shared interest in roleplaying games. We also found similar tastes in books. Over time we discovered other shared interests, or got each other interested in the things we cared about. We both love being in the woods, and the natural world. We care deeply about the environment. We have always been in agreement politically. At first we were on opposite ends of religious matters, and neither of us tried to change the other in that regard. Eventually we grew together on that. We both knew from the outset that we wanted to travel the world together.

There have been stumbles. Bad ones. We are able to hurt each other more than any other human on the planet, and we're aware of that. We try not to, but sometimes we just, do. Then we talk about it. We've been in therapy to work things out several times, and have learned techniques for working through our problems. The thread running through all of this is we were committed to making it work, to working through, to not giving up.

We have woven our lives together into a fabric that works for us. This takes trial and error. It takes being willing to make mistakes and, more importantly, forgive those mistakes. It requires you to learn from your mistakes and to do personal work. You have to be willing to change the things about yourself that need changing. Certainly some things are deeply embedded. Those things you need to learn work arounds for. It's especially difficult to figure out which things are too deeply embedded to be changed, and which are mostly habits you can retrain. Ideally they'll be supporting you through this work, and doing their own work along similar lines. If things work out, you're both growing as more emotionally mature individuals who bring things to the relationship that help sustain it through the hard times.

It helps that I am good at things he's not, and vice versa. We have a decent division of labor (both emotional and household). We give each other space to enjoy our different interests, too. I love movies of all sorts, but he's mostly fond of SF and action movies. We will watch those things together, and I watch my romcoms and historical dramas on my own while he's doing his stuff.

Sometimes it's a choice you have to make every day, to stay together. Sometimes it is effortless. Still, it always takes time to build shared experiences. To build traditions. To figure out how you fit together. This is time well-spent, even if you discover that you just don't fit together and you can't make it work. This prepares you for your next opportunity to explore with another person.

Now on to home ownership.

tl;dr is we did research into mortgages and closing costs and everything to do with buying a house before we bought one using various resources (mostly at libraries, this was in the dark ages when we bought our first house)

We were living in Juneau, AK when we got to the point that we had enough stable income to start talking about owning a home. This got us talking about the future, and our plans. Specifically we talked about what it would be like when we were finally able to travel like we wanted. We realized that if we were still in Juneau, all of our travel plans would be doubled in cost because just getting out of Juneau is a trip in itself. We decided (not just for that reason, but a lot of other ones, as well) that we wanted to move and we would buy a house somewhere else.

For a lot of people the answer of "where" is obvious but it wasn't for us. We made a list of qualities for where we wanted to live.

Inside the US

Low population growth

Not on the west coast

Not in the south

Within a day's easy drive to the ocean

At least four distinct seasons

There were other criteria we had on the list, but those were the ones that narrowed our search down to Maine, New Hampshire, and Vermont. Then we spoke with work friends who had lived in all three states. They heartily recommended Vermont over the other two for a few good reasons. We both wanted to work for the state so we researched where most of the state jobs were located. That placed us in central Vermont.

Deciding where you want to own a home isn't just about what you can afford, but where you want to live. There's a lot you can change about a home once you buy it, but you can't change the location. When you buy a home you're putting yourself into a place that it's not going to be a simple matter to leave if you decide you want to later. It's not impossible, but depending on where you buy, it can be very difficult to sell again. Deciding where you are going to focus your home search is part of the research you want to do.

Figuring out how much house you can afford is a complicated thing. The financial institutions will encourage you to buy the maximum amount of house you can afford based on your income, a snapshot of your debt load, and your credit rating. That's all well and good, but you also need to take into account your actual lifestyle. If you never were interested in cooking, then it's a waste of money to buy a home with a big ole "professional" kitchen because it's all shiney and cool. You could buy a less expensive home with a smaller, more functional kitchen suitable for the lunchables you "prepare" on the daily, and put that extra money into something else.

Figure out what things you must have, that if a house doesn't have it, you're not going to buy it. For some people that's X bathrooms. For others it's lots of inside storage. Make actual lists of these things that you keep handy so you can just check for them when you're doing your search. Divide the list up into "must have" vs "nice to have" vs "I wouldn't pay more for this but if it's there it could be a tie breaker". The list may change as you start looking over listings, and that's fine. It helps you figure out what is really important to you.

Financial institutions. I... hate... banks. I haven't done my financial transactions with a bank (generally speaking) for over thirty years. Credit unions are the financial institution to work with. Of course, that is something to take with a grain of salt because there are some horrific credit unions with shitty customer service and nasty fees all over, too. If you can get into a state credit union (in Vermont anyone who lives in Vermont or works for the state can join the Vermont State Employees Credit Union) do it. There's typically a minimum deposit required in one account (for my credit union I have to keep $25 in a savings account). When you're looking at financial institutions to finance through, do your research of course, but include credit unions in your research. Look for first time home buyer programs (there are federal programs for this, as well). Look for low interest rates. The blog you should be looking into is Bitches Get Riches for more specifics on this. Their information is way more up to date and helpful regarding interest and mortgages and stuff.

You're going to need money to pay the closing costs. That is money that you pay over and above the mortgage. You will need money to put a deposit down on whatever house you want to buy. The deposit tells the seller you're really interested. If they decide to accept the offer from someone else, you will get the desposit back. If they accept your offer, the deposit goes towards purchase/closing costs. You will need money for the appraisal, an inspection (do not buy a home without an inspection, if they won't let you do an inspection, run), and a title search. These are all over and above closing costs. How much you can expect to pay is variable and something else to research. You will also need a down payment. If you can't put 20% of the purchase price in as a down payment, you will also need to buy private mortgage insurance. That cost typically gets rolled into your monthly mortgage payment. You will also need homeowners insurance.

Once you've worked these things out, you're ready to really dig into the listings. This used to be a whole lot more complicated than it is now. The MLS used to only be available to realtors, but that has changed. Most realtors will list houses online in a searchable place (the best places to do searches varies by region, in New England, I would look on the NNEREN website (Northern New England Real Estate Network). In other areas Zillow might be the best place to look. It really depends on what the standard for local realtors is where you want to buy.

The great thing about online searching is you can plug things in, make notes, save favorites, and build lists of features, or things you care about. There's typically photos of the property that get you started, as well. Because of these online tools, you don't really need a realtor to represent you in the sale. You can contact the realtor representing the seller if you want to see a property.

It can be tiring, looking at houses. Doing research. It takes time. If you can't, or don't want to do this, then you can get yourself a buyer's realtor. Their job will be to take the criteria for what you're looking for and find houses that might work for you. They present you with the options, and will arrange for a viewing if you like any that you're seeing. This has the benefit of reducing how much research you have to do personally, but it does mean that they get a cut of the final sale (but it also means you have a realtor on -your- side in the negotiations, though they're not allowed to influence you on certain things like what price to offer). Because they get a cut, some sellers won't work with buyer realtors.

The snarky answer about how you find a realtor you can trust is "you really don't". Realtors are all about closing house sales with the least amount of effort on their part possible. That is their job. That is how they earn their money. Every time they have to do something for you, it reduces the value of the commission they make off the sale. Some realtors resent this, others don't care and just see it as part of doing business. Some of them are really friendly, and love their job and love helping people find homes. Others are snotty nozzles. But they are all trying to sell you the most expensive house they can get you to fall in love with. They will regularly try to go $10-20K over your stated "highest cost" on the assumption that you won't really mind having to pay "just a LITTLE bit more" on your mortgage payment to have whatever feature they're trying to convince you that you really want.

Don't fall for this. Stand fast on your financial limits. Remember that increased purchase price means increased closing costs. Find a realtor that doesn't make you want to shower after you talk to them, and who will take your calls or answer your emails. If they won't communicate the way that works best for you, find another one. There is always another one who has a different style. It's OK to shop for realtors.

Different regions have different rules about real estate. Spend some time looking into your state's rules. Like in Vermont, you have to get a radon test. Some things are national, but a lot are regional. There are SO many guides online these days it should be possible for you to find one fairly local to help you be sure you're doing everything you need to. Your state might even have an agency for helping first time buyers.

Ensuring folks are legit: Find out what licensing requirements there are in your state. Realtors have to take tests and get licensed to sell within their area. This is something they should be proud to display in their office because it's not a simple test they have to take. Appraisers typically need a license, too. To get a title search done you need an attorney, they also have professional oversight. An attorney might ask for an initial low deposit (they have to pay for copies in town offices) but most of these professionals won't ask for payment in advance. If they do, be wary. Ask around to see if that's usual in your area. They usually bill for their services after they've provided their report here. Try talking to a variety of people about what realtor they have used, or what appraiser. Ask for referrals from folks you know (coworkers, friends, family of coworkers, etc). You can also search online for reviews of services and see the bad experiences folks have had (most folks only complain about bad service, so take those with a grain of salt).

In the end, you're buying a service, and the person performing the service should be doing their job. If you find out that they didn't, because they are licensed (and possibly insured), you will probably have recourse. Obviously it's better to avoid that because it's a painful thing. But sometimes that's just how things shake out.

I have to say that I've never considered a situation where my name might have been removed from my deed without my knowledge. I suppose if I were worried, I'd set up a reminder to check on it occasionally, like checking on my credit rating from time to time. I mean, to remove you without your knowledge requires forging documents. I know that this sort of thing happens, but... there's only so much you can do to protect yourself if someone is intent on breaking the law in some way. So, I guess, really pay attention to red flags when you're starting a relationship. Don't assume they will change if they're engaging in concerning behaviors.

Phew, the tax stuff is a whole other thing. It's usually worth working with a tax preparer the first year you're filing after buying a house. They can go over all the paperwork with you, so you understand it. Property taxes are so local that you really need to research it based on where you’re buying.

We have a specific amount on our homeowner's insurance that covers "household item loss" up to a certain amount of money, and we specify how much. We have a LOT of computer equipment, so ours is fairly high. If I were to lose a ring, it'd be covered under that. My engagement ring was a $50 cubic zirconia. Our wedding rings were a few hundred. Our computer stuff is way more valuable monetarily.

About all the things relating to marriage and how it entwines lives legally: that's like a dissertation for another day. :) There are huge articles out there talking about all the things that getting married means from a legal stand point. It varies by state and even city. It matters if it's a same-sex marriage or not, as well (it shouldn't but some places have "civil unions" which aren't always the same legal thing as hetero marriages).

If you're still here, wow. I'm impressed. I'm happy to answer questions. Maybe consider me like an elderly queer aunt who doesn't mind talking a lot. I hope this helps you.

1 note · View note

sebseyesandbuckysthighs · 5 years

Text

Three Soldiers and a Baby | Part Ten

summary: Three handsome bachelors find their day to day operations disrupted when an unexpected new roommate (who comes complete with a diaper and a pacifier) shows up at their doorstep. How will they deal with this new and baffling responsibility without losing their minds or killing each other in the process?

pairings: Bucky x Reader (eventual) featuring Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson

warnings: none, just make-believe goodness and cute boys with a baby

a/n: We’ve made it to part 10, hurray! Series is almost done, darlings! Just 5 more parts (including the epilogue) and we’re all done with this cute little series! Hopefully you’ve been enjoying the journey so far and are looking forward to the rest! I’ve already finished editing the remaining parts and now I’m itching to get back to more writing. What ever shall I write next????

*warning to mobile users, the “keep reading” tab may not work so apologies in advance*

| previously |

He needed to cherish every moment he had with her, so for the next half hour, Bucky spent his time walking around the apartment with his little girl in his arms. Talking to her was quickly becoming his new favorite thing to do as she seemed to cling to every word he said. Completely enraptured in the way his lips moved and the sounds she couldn’t comprehend. The times when she would smile or giggle were the best and Bucky was sure his heart stopped each time.

The next morning Steve and Sam woke up earlier than usual, practically jumping with anxiety about Bucky’s first night spent at home with the baby. Upon reaching the living room, though, they learned that all their fears had been completely unfounded. There on the large living room couch was Bucky with his hands protectively cradling Ellie, both sound asleep.

Bucky couldn’t get enough of Ellie. Every little thing she did was magical to him. He was completely enraptured by her. When she slept, he would watch her with a lovestruck gaze and keep a protective watch over her. When she was awake, he would be doting on her and caring for her every need. His favourite thing to do was making her laugh and kissing her soft skin. Despite his earlier apprehensions about being a father, Bucky seemed to be taking it all in stride and falling into the role almost seamlessly. By mid afternoon, he started going on and on about how they needed to go out to the shops and pick up more things for Ellie. He even went so far as to be upset with Steve and Sam for not already going out to buy her a crib and highchair at least.

“Buck, we can’t just go out and shop for baby stuff.” Steve tried reasoning with him as he held Ellie in his lap while Bucky fed her her afternoon meal of peas and carrots. “What if someone recognized us?”

“I don’t care,” Bucky said as he scooped up the little bit of puree that dribbled down Ellie’s lips. She kept wiggling around in Steve’s arms and humming happily like she usually did when they fed her. “You like this stuff huh, baby girl?” Bucky said as he gave her another spoonful. Proud that his little girl was such a good eater.

Sam was standing nearby in the kitchen, preparing lunch for the three men. He was the self-proclaimed chef of the apartment and rarely allowed Steve or Bucky to even get near his stove. He had been listening to Bucky go on and on all day about Ellie and all the things he had planned for her. As much as the little squirt had grown on him, he was starting to get fed up with her annoying as hell father. “Listen, we can see that you’re getting all excited to provide for your little girl. That’s awesome, man, but we have to think about the big picture here. If the public sees one of the Avengers, let alone all three of us, shopping for baby stuff, that’s gonna be huge news. It might even attract unwanted attention to who the mystery baby is.” Sam acknowledged the realistic argument and hoped Bucky would see the reason in it.

Only Ellie’s little baby sounds could be heard as nothing was said while Bucky quietly thought over Sam’s words. He always thought Steve was the more spontaneous one in the group, but now that he thought about it he may have been getting ahead of himself. “Yeah you’re right. Ellie’s safety is my first priority.” He finally conceded. “But guys, I don’t want her sleeping in that tiny ass basket anymore. I want...I don’t know. Dammit, I just want more for her.”

“You want to spoil your little girl, Bucky. There’s nothing wrong with that.” Steve smiled at the brunette man currently looking a little red in the cheeks as he motioned for Steve to hand over Ellie now that she was done her food. Bucky kissed her messy chubby cheeks and smiled when she gave him a cute little giggle. “We’ll just have to order everything online and have it delivered. Like everything else in this day and age.” Steve assured.

“I’m sorry, but did he just say I’m right?” Sam cut in, holding a whisk and pointing it at Bucky. “Can I have that repeated and recorded please? I need a new text tone.”

A couple of hours and a few thousand dollars later, Bucky was finally somewhat satisfied with their haul for Ellie. Each of their credit cards were used to help the cause, but that didn’t seem to bother any of them. Well, not too much at least. There were a few comments about how expensive baby shit was, but when Bucky insisted he needed the best for his daughter, the others couldn’t come up with a convincing counter-argument to that. Not that they really wanted to. They even paid extra for same day delivery.

It was when everything arrived later that afternoon that they realized they may have bitten off more than they could chew. The highchair, stroller, and baby jumper were all simple enough. It was the big ticket items, like the crib and changing table, that took every ounce of patience and sanity the trio had left for each other. Bucky even bought one of those video monitors so he could keep an even better eye on Ellie while she slept. As though he would ever leave her alone.

All of her new clothes and toys were put away and the apartment was nearly done being baby proofed when they finally decided to call it a day on the baby things. Well, except Bucky of course. Sam was waiting patiently at the door for Steve to finish getting ready so they could leave together on their first night out of the house in a week. As much as he and Steve needed to get out of this apartment, and as much as they hated to admit, they were a bit apprehensive about leaving Bucky on his own for the first time with the baby. Aside from Steve being on his own for those few minutes during that first day while Sam ran out to get those supplies, there were always at least two people watching Ellie at one time. This was going to be another solo mission for Bucky and this time one could argue that the stakes were much larger.

“You sure you got this, Bucky?” Steve asked, trying to mask the hesitancy in his voice. Thankfully, Bucky was too distracted by Ellie to even notice.

“Of course I’m sure. Nothing sounds better than spending the night in with my little girl. Isn’t that right, sweetheart?” He smothered Ellie’s face in kisses causing her to erupt into loud peals of laughter and rub her little hands all over Bucky’s beard.

Steve smiled happily at the adorable pair. “Alright, but you’ll call us if you need anything, right? We’ll call during intermission.” He and Sam were finally going to go out and see that show with a few of the other Avengers, but they were less than excited about it this time.

“Yeah, man. Just go. We’re going to be fine, Steve. Stop worrying so much about everything and just go out and have some fun, man.” Bucky cradled Ellie in one arm and pushed Steve toward the door with the other. With one final goodbye and another few pushes, the other two soldiers were out the door and Bucky was finally going to spend some quality time with his firstborn.

“Did you try his cell?” Sam asked, an edge seeping into his tone.

“Three times!” Steve exclaimed worriedly, gripping his phone a little too tightly that he was sure to break it. “He’s not answering.”

It was intermission at the show and as Nat, Wanda and a very human looking Vision were out at the concessions, Steve and Sam were off in an alcove trying to call home.

“What the hell is he doing?” Sam’s irritation was starting to compete with his concern.

Steve’s face paled as his lips pulled into a tight line. “What if something happened to them?”

“What’s going on, fellas? Show’s about to start.” Natasha’s voice came from behind Sam, nearly causing him to shriek in surprise, but he thankfully kept his cool. Almost.

“Nothing!” Both men shouted in unison and completely unconvincingly, which was evident by Natasha’s raised brow.

“Uh-huh. Okay guys, spit it out. What’s been going on with you two?” She confronted them. “We haven’t heard much from either of you all this week. Then the one day you do come out, you’re both acting all sketchy and itching to get back home. And before you decide to come up with some bullshit excuse I just want to remind you of who I am.”

They told her everything.

Steve swung the door open with such force he was surprised it didn’t come off its hinges as he entered the apartment. Not far behind him were Sam and the others, desperate to see what was going on. Just as Steve was about to yell out for Bucky, none other than the man himself waltzed into the living room and he was doing something none of them were expecting. Bucky Barnes was singing.

“I've got sunshine on a cloudy day. When it's cold outside, I've got the month of May. Well I guess you'd say. What can make me feel this way. My girl.” He was swaying back and forth in front of the large window looking out onto the city. Ellie was wearing one of the pajama onesies they bought for her and he was in a pair of dark sweatpants and a tight tank top. The lights were set to low and there were even a few candles lit, but other than that, everything was as it was before the guys left.

“Bucky?” Steve called out, sounding a little like a frog was trapped in his throat.

“Hm?” Bucky turned around towards the group at the door, only slightly confused. “What’s going on guys?”

“What’s going on?” Sam repeated, starting to fume. “What the hell do you mean what’s going on?! What are you doing, man? Why didn’t you answer your damn phone?!”

“Don’t yell, Sam. I’m trying to get her to sleep.” Bucky looked down to Ellie, kissing her head softly as she rested her head on his exposed chest. Neither of them seemed to sense the turmoil going on on the other side of the room as his friends stood there gawking at the scene before them. It was almost too much to process as Natasha, Wanda, and Vision looked back and forth between Bucky and the baby in his arms. They stood there seeing, just not quite believing it yet.

“Bucky, we called you.” Steve breathed out, finally getting his heart rate to return to normal. “Why didn’t you answer?”

“Oh right, sorry about that, pal. I meant to text back, but me and Ellie were a little busy. Huh, baby girl?” He spoke down to her as they started to sway again. “We had a nice warm shower together, didn’t we? Then we played with some toys and I told her about some of the adventures I’ve had.” Bucky looked back up to the others. “Only the good ones, of course. Not the nightmares.”

No one at the door had bothered to make a move yet. Unconsciously deciding to stay rooted in place as the surrealness of the situation washed over them. Bucky started to pick up on their apprehension and instead decided to take action, addressing his curious friends. “Stop standing around like a buncha idiots and come meet my daughter, would ya?”

Feedback is always appreciated, leave it here!

part nine << part ten >> part eleven

Series Masterlist

Full Masterlist

tags:

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #steve rogers #sam wilson #bucky barnes fanfiction #avengers fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #three soldiers and a baby #my writing

221 notes · View notes