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pomegranateandblood · 4 months

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The Jacket (part 1/2)

Summary: Alive!reader gets assigned a new locker, finds Wally‘s letterman jacket and decides to keep it

Includes: Wally Clark x reader, smut

A/N: I just love Wally & Rhonda‘s friendship

"This is not what I meant when I asked for a new locker." You said, scrunching your nose in disgust.

„Yeah, it's like they haven't cleaned it in decades" Your friend dusted her hands off.

A comical cloud of dust came out of the locker, when you finally managed to open the jammed metal door. Coughing, you stepped back.

Meanwhile, unbeknown to you, two students were watching. Dead Students to be exact.

„Hey, isn't that your locker, hot stuff?" Rhonda pointed her lollipop towards the situation.

The footballer turned and nearly tripped, running over to you.

„Stop panicking, it's not like you could do anything about it anyway." The brunette rolled her eyes and started following him.

„They promised my my mum they wouldn't give my locker away and now I see some-„ Wally tried to find the right words, holding onto Rhondas arm.

She raised a brow at him „Hot cheerleaders taking over your locker ?"

„I'm serious! All the stuff I have on me is in there, what if they throw it away?" He said, watching you hold up his letterman jacket.

„You're right, they really havent cleaned this in ages." You looked at your friend.

She reached inside, pulling out a blue and white jacket. You took it from her and held it up. „It's cute don't you think? Kinda vintage."

„Oh my god. look." She pointed at the stitching at the right top. ‚Wally' it read in white italic letters. You looked at her. „You think it belonged to the stadium guy?"

„Possible? I mean there's other stuff in there. Maybe he wants it back." Your friend crossed her arms. „We could go to the library at lunch and look into the yearbooks to find out."

The bell rang, interrupting your little locker investigation.

„Sounds like a plan." You said, before walking to class.

—

Wally anticipated lunch break and already waited in the yearbook section, when Rhonda suddenly appeared next to him.

„What are you doing here? Aren't you busy catching gossip in the teachers lounge ?" he asked, cocking a brow at her in question.

She smirked. „I love gossip, but seeing your big star student slash jock ego getting crushed by two human girls is even more entertaining to me"

Wally mocked her smirk and rolled his eyes. He was about to reply when he heard you and your friend entering the aisle.

„1981, 1982- ah here Yearbook of 1983. The trophy cabinet has a table with all, the state champion teams and his name was listed in that year."

Rhonda leaned her head on Wally‘s shoulder, or at least as far as she could with their height difference. „Oh superstar, even state champion? Aww, if I wasn't dead I'd feel sorry."

„Fuck you, Rhonda." Wally scoffed, trying to concentrate on you skipping through the yearbook pages.

„Sorry I'm not into footballers, sweetheart." She sucked on her lollipop again, leaning against the shelf.

Wally took a deep breath. He was a nice guy, really and he liked Rhonda, but sometimes her attitude just got to him.

„Maybe, footballer dick is just what you need to get over your brooding and depressed mood."

Rhonda laughed. „ Ew." She pushed his shoulder.

„Turn to the exceptional students pages." Your friend said and flipped through the book.

There it was, a full double page.

In loving memory of Wally Clark stood under his picture. Fluffy black hair, chocolate brown eyes and charming smile, wearing the exact same jacket you found in your locker today.

„He's dead?" It sounded more like a questioin than a statement coming out of your mouth.

„Sad, he's sexy." You friend stated.

Rhonda nearly choked on her lollipop and Wally swallowed, before a smirk crept upon his lips.

„She did not just say that?" The shorter ghost crossed her arms.

„He is." You agreed before nudging your friend.

„You think he was a fuckboy ?" She laughed and you joined in. Taking the book from you she read the different things written about him.

„Look, this cheerleader wrote ‚He loved eating jelly filled donuts' Oh I'm sure he did" She wiggled her eyebrows.

„Well if I was born back then, I wouldn't mind him tasting my jelly filled donut." you said giggling.

After chattinf some more, the two of you put the book back and left, still giggling about the handsome footballer.

Wally's face burnt bright red and he felt like his cheeks were on fire. He knew that girls had found him cute back when he was alive, but he never heard girls talk about him like that.

„Congratulations stud, now you're a teenage girls' wet dream in two centuries." Rhonda joked and patted his shoulder.

„What do you mean ?" Wally asked nervously.

Of course he had sex before and he did like it rough, but he was in a relationship before he died and even now he only had one partner to relief his teenage hormones. Wally never wanted to use someone for their body, but this ‚trapped in the school as a ghost’ situation didn't really allow any relationships.

„What I mean is, that girls are or were obsessed with you. When you came to this school I couldn't go anywhere without the female students talk about ‚tall and sexy' you are and how hot you look during football practice." She made a disgusted face and Wally looked at her in shock.

„Oh and don't we forgot about your girlfriend back then. She was very descriptive to her friends about your dick and how exactly you used it to bring her to the edge."

Wally now leaned against the shelves, trying not to freak out.

„But that was long ago, most of the ghosts here died after me." He said, trying to make himself feel better.

„I don't know why you're freaking out so much? I should be freaking out. Of disgust." She tried to calm him.

„You're right. I just thought- I can't believe I was so naiive." he said, looking down.

„Hey Wally, you're a nice guy." she said, making him smile. „Still entitled tho."

He laughed and rolled his eyes.

—

A few days later you were able togive Wally's mother the stuff you found in his locker. She seemed like a nice woman and you felt a little emotional at how grateful she was.

Especially because you decided to keep the letterman jacket. You gave it to the dry cleaners and basically lived in it ever since picking it up. It was slightly oversized on you but extremly comfortable.

But there was also something different since you wore it. You felt... watched. Just like today, when you got dressed after swimming club.

After leaving the shower, you put a towel over the bench to sit down. You took little longer than usual and had the changing room to yourself.

Suddenly, it's like something tickled over your back, down to your hips. A pleasant sensation. You shivered, reaching for the jacket to cover yourself.

You called out for someone. But you really were alone. Your friend had joked earlier that Wally Clarks ghost would come for you, because you didn't give back his jacket. Luckily you didn't believe in ghosts and when you sat down on the bench, yet another thought invaded your mind.

You leaned back and opened your legs slightly. Wouldn't be the first time someone touched themselves in the locker rooms. The boys did it all the time after practice.

Your fingers travelled from your navel down to your already wet heat. Exploring your folds, before finding your clit, you closed your eyes. Wally Clark appeared behind your lids. He kneeled between your legs, strong hands holding your hips.

He kissed the creamy skin of your thighs upwards, the dreamiest of chocolate brown bedroom eyes looking up at you. He licked his plump lips before speaking against your folds, the vibration making you hiss out.

„Quite the unusual offer. Letting me eat you out so I'd forgive you for stealing." his tongue lapped up the wetness of your folds and one of his hands found your breasts, kneading them softly before pinching the nipple. One after one.

„Wally, please." You moaned and circled your clit faster. The feeling of being watched heightened your pleasure from the fantasy.

He sucked on your clit and his other hand also left your hip. Two of his fingers pushed inside you, pumping. „Mmmh" he moaned against your sensitive spot. You shivered and moaned his name again and again.

Goosebumps spread over your skin and you were sure his fingers would feel even better than your own. Shifting slightly on the bench, you were sure the towel underneath you was already soaked. The tight coil in your lower abdomen let you know you were close.

„If you weren't already late I'd edge you. Looking so pretty spread out for me on the bench." His fingers curled up and he switched between sucking and licking at your centre.

You came, biting down on your lower lip, so you wouldn't be heard in the nearby hallway. Opening your eyes, you adjusted to reality again and pulled his jacket together in front of your chest. You felt sick, pleasuring yourself to a dead boy. You decided to sit for a bit before redressing and drying your hair.

Wally still kneeled in between your legs. His lips glistened with your juices and he laughed „So much better than a jelly donut"

Licking his fingers clean, he tried to calm his nerves. His hard cock strained against the grey sweatpants, so he sat up and adjusted himself. He really tried holding back, knowing what he did was technically a grey zone of consent, but seeing you spread out on the bench, naked and wearing his jacket, he just couldn't not help you out. Also, you did say you wouldn't mind a few days ago.

He just wished you could see him. It made him dream on his own, about you two. Maybe on the bleachers or in the teachers lounge. Wally really liked the couch in the teachers lounge.

He watched you get dressed and waited for you to leave so he could take care of himself.

—

The thoughts of Wally haunted you throughout the next few weeks. Maybe his ghost did haunt you. So you decided to help the homecoming committee decorate the school with posters and decoration up until the late night to take your mind off it.

You fell asleep in the Gym. Waking up in the middle of the night on the hard floor you sighed. You were about to collect your stuff and leave when you heard a moan. Looking up, your jaw nearly dropped to the Floor.

Wally sat upon a gym mat, the ghost of a cheerleader who died in the 90s after dropping from a pyramid sat in his lap.

There was an obvious tent in his grey sweatpants. Her cheer skirt was tucked into the seam revealing her bare pussy with two of Wally's fingers knuckle deep inside. There was a wet spot on his crotch and the squishy noise of his fingers pumping at a fast pace hollowed in the gym.

Her moans were swallowed by his lips, hungrily devouring her mouth.

You squeezed your thighs together at the sight. Envious of the girl. Wally pushed a third finger inside, keeping the rough pace. The blonde girl reached down to rub her clit, but Wally slapped her hand away.

He pulled away from her, biting her bottom lip.

„You only get to do that when my cock has been inside of you."

Your head fell back against the wall. God, you must be really going crazy. Hallucinating or dreaming, but you couldn't tear your eyes away.

The blonde pouted. „M'sorry Wally."

He helped her climb off his lap before he stood up on the mat. She was already getting on all fours with spread knees. Meanwhile Wally pulled his sweatpants down, revealing his impressive girth. Getting on one knee behind her, he pumped himself with his head thrown back, before guiding himself inside her.

He started with slow thrusts, obviously not doing this for the first time. The blonde under him closed her eyes, mouth agape in pleasure.

Wally picked up the speed while kneading her asscheeks. Your eyes widened when he spread them, letting a string of his spit drip onto her other hole. He massaged it with his thumb and the blonde responded with screaming his name „Please, Wally. Please Please Please." she writhted under his touch as he pressed down with his thumb.

Your -or more his jacket felt too hot all of a sudden and you felt your hardened nipples against the fabric of your bra. Pressing your thighs together you tried to get some relief.

The blonde bit her lip to silence her pleas buz Wally slapped her cheek „No. No. No. Baby. I wanna hear you. Let them hear you." His hand went back to her ass.

„You can pleasure yourself now." he instructed and her fingers immediately found her clit, circling roughly.

After her first orgasm, he pulled out. His dick dripping with her juices, the head angry and red. Wally helped her turn on her back, legs draped over his shoulders, guiding just the tip inside.

She whimpered. „Please come on my tits, Wally. I want to taste you."

You bit your lip at her voice, full of need and desire.

He smirked and started jerking above her chest. Her hand joined him as he put his abover hers, guiding her how he liked it.

He groaned her name as he came. Thick spurts of his glassy cum decorating her rosy nipples, up to her chin, which she greedily licked up.

She started licking him clean. „Thank you, Wally. Mmmh." He pushed her head down further, and looked up.

You stared at him wide eyed as you made eye contact with him. At first his gaze looked dazed from pleasure, but then he thought you could see him.

But that wouldn't be possible would it? Humans can't see ghosts.

Wally tucked himself away and helped his companion fix herself, but when he turned around you were gone.

He was definitely going to seek you out tomorrow.

A/N: I hope you enjoyed, let me know in the comments & leave me some love 💕

#milo manheim #wally clark #milo manheim fanfiction #school spirits #wally clark smut #wally clark x reader #wally clark fanfiction

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hellfirenacht · 6 months

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Plus One Chapter 2

Summary: Once upon a time, you made a deal with the school freak that if he ever got famous then he'd invite you to be his plus one at a red carpet event. Now a decade later an invite shows up at your house asking you to be the +1 to Eddie Munson, front man of Corroded Coffin. (1)

Tags: modern!au, Eddie and Reader are in their late 20's/early 30's after the deal is made. Rockstar!Eddie. Friends to strangers to friends to lovers, references to Flight of Icarus characters. Eventual smut. No use of y/n, reader description is as vague as possible

No beta, we die like Jason Carver.

Eddie Munson

The name echoed in your mind for the rest of the day, bouncing around and trying to connect a name with a face the whole time you were at work. Of course this was the one day that you had forgotten to charge your phone, and were stuck in an endless loop of trying to figure out who it was.

Without your phone you were stuck listening to the radio on the way home. You flipped through the different stations, trying to find any channel that was playing music and not on a commercial break. The screech of an electric guitar gave you pause, giving the song a good five seconds to impress you before you continued your channel surfing.

The sting of the guitar rocked through your car and penetrated your brain in a way that felt electric. In five seconds you had removed your hand from the radio dial and were focused on driving again. The roads were empty this late at night, allowing you some extra room in your mind to enjoy the song. Vocals came in, scratching your brain in a pleasant way as you caught the final chorus before it faded out and the DJ came back on.

“And that was Corroded Coffin with their latest single Storm.” Announced the DJ, and you nearly slammed on the breaks from shock.

Corroded Coffin. The invitation. Okay, so it had to be a joke, right? There was no way that the letter that had appeared in your mailbox was really addressed to you from them.

It was only by pure luck that you were able to speed home without any cops pulling you over. You rushed into your apartment and grabbed the invitation that had been left on your counter before shoving your charge cable into your phone.

When it didn’t turn on right away you hurried over to your laptop and opened it, thankful that there was no delay. You made quick work of typing in ‘Eddie Munson’ and ‘Corroded Coffin’ into the search bar.

The results were instantaneous as pictures of a band popped up, as well as a flood of articles about the band’s latest goings on. You scanned the results and pulled up the latest one about how the band had been nominated for Best Metal Album at this year's Hellfire Awards. You quickly learned that the Hellfire Awards were a pretty big deal in the alternative music scene as everything was decided by the fans rather than a panel of industry judges.

You pulled up another article focused on Eddie himself and you stared at the picture as you started to remember who this man was. You got up and went to your closet, haphazardly pulling out boxes and bags until you found an old stash of high school memorabilia that you never looked at but never could bring yourself to toss.

At the bottom of the box was the thick yearbook from your graduating year. You flipped through it quickly to the Senior photos, singing the alphabet song in your mind as you made your way to the M’s for-

Eddie Munson. (insert funny senior quote here)

You stared at the picture for a good long while as you tried to comprehend what was actually happening. You brought the book to your laptop again, comparing the pictures of the Rock God on your screen to the awkwardly smiling kid in the photo. Yes, that was definitely him. He hadn’t changed much physically, his hair was still long and wavy and he still had bright and expressive brown eyes.

Memories began seeping in, as you thought back to the few weeks before high school ended. You flipped to the front cover of the book now, scanning the many signatures of long forgotten friends and the few of those you still talked to. There in the corner of the page was a message in scratchy handwriting, as if the pen had been refusing to work.

See you when I’m famous! Eddie Munson

You grabbed the invitation again.

A deal’s a deal.

His handwriting was somehow worse. Didn’t he have to write his autograph a million times a day? How was it worse? But it was still the same, and you found yourself laughing. Actually, you were in damn near hysterics as you pressed your face against your hands. This had to be a joke, right? One of your friends realized that someone that you both went to school with was famous, and had made this elaborate invitation to...

A deal’s a deal.

And if you forget to come back for Madame Zeroni, you and your family will be cursed for always and eternity.

You set the yearbook aside, sliding the invitation safely inside. Turning back to the computer, you started looking through Corroded Coffin’s past accomplishments; they'd been on the scene for a few years now, but had exploded in popularity in the past year and a half. They’d even played in Indianapolis just a few months ago and you were none the wiser.

That night was spent in a spiral of reading over articles, and (admittedly) stalking social media. Each of the band members had their own socials combined with the main Corroded Coffin page. You also skimmed the socials for WR Records, but didn’t find much interesting other than tour dates and updates on the other artists under the label. Oh, and you now knew that Eddie was about two years older than you. Huh.

The band was... chaotic. They posted a lot of videos behind the scenes, of them playing pranks on each other, lip syncing to other songs, and there seemed to be a running joke of everyone hiding Gareth’s drumsticks in weird places.

Magazines also seemed to love getting Eddie shirtless, especially tattoo magazines. They also liked him not wearing pants. They liked him in as little clothing as they could legally get away with.

It’s research. You told yourself, attempting to justify it. He has nice tattoos and I just want a good look.

Managing to tear your eyes away from the photos, (and ignoring any warmth you felt in your stomach from them) you found yourself smiling as you turned on their music as you watched years of curated material unfold in front of you in a few hours. Their music was good, really good, and you wondered why you hadn’t heard them until recently.

Oh right, you were stuck on listening to the same couple hundred songs since high school. You really should branch out.

It was really late when you finally forced yourself to close the laptop and go to bed. You laid down and stared at the ceiling, holding the heavy yearbook on your chest thinking back to those last few weeks of school. Some memories were sharper than others. You closed your eyes trying to remember as much as you could. Eddie. An old notebook. A stupid worksheet. His smile. Some were less clear. Prom night. Graduation, forgotten small talk in the hallways.

Your crush.

Your heart jumped in your chest as you remembered that. Oh, right. You had a crush on him for those last few weeks, hadn’t you? You pressed your face to your pillow and let out a groan. Actually, this was no longer today’s problem. This could be tomorrow's problem. You put the yearbook aside and turned off your lamp and went to bed.

---

So as it turns out, tomorrow’s problems do, in fact, become today’s problems. You weren’t very thrilled about this as you read the invitation for the hundredth time over breakfast. How the hell were you even supposed to respond to this invitation? There was no RSVP or return address or phone number!

Maybe it was a prank? But the only other person who would know about that deal you two had made was Eddie right? Or maybe you’d told one of your friends back then? But then why would they just now try a prank?

Your phone buzzed and lit up next to you and you looked it over. A notification from WR RECORDS was blaring at you from your screen. You turned the brightness down on your phone hoping that it would help lessen the shock. It did not.

With shaking hands you fumbled to open the message. It was clearly addressed to you.

“Hello! This is Paige Warner from WR Records reaching out on behalf of Corroded Coffin to confirm that you received the invitation that we sent out for this year's Hellfire Awards.”

You stared at this for a long time. You closed the message and checked the account that it was sent from. It had the official small check that meant it was a verified account. You felt like you were going to be sick.

You re-opened the message, read it again, closed it, checked the account again to make sure that your eyes weren’t playing tricks on you, panicked again, set the phone down, did a lap around your house and opened the message again.

This cycle would repeat at least two more times before you finally forced yourself to type a reply.

Which you instantly deleted and opened the message on your laptop instead, as if changing the technology you were viewing it on would somehow make this any different.

Read receipts were on. FUCK.

You googled how to turn them off for this platform. You could not. Double FUCK.

You’d left WR RECORDS on read for going on 45 minutes. Triple FUCK.

“Got it!!”

You sent the message before you could stall any longer. You cringe at the two words. Why did you double up on the exclamation points? Anxiety was spiraling through you at a million miles per hour before another messaged popped up.

“Great! Would you have a moment to talk to me about making arrangements? I have a few moments free right now.”

You hadn’t felt this nervous since you interviewed for your current job.

“Yes, I have time!”

Your answer looked so robotic and generic on the screen, but there was no time to think about that as your laptop screen lit up and started ringing. A video call. WR RECORDS was trying to video call you. This had to be illegal. It had to! You were in your fucking pajamas and WR RECORDS was trying to video call you.

You spent ten seconds trying desperately to make yourself look presentable and threw on your robe over your pjs. At least the robe was clean and didn’t have any holes in it. You tightened it around you as much as you could. Took a deep breath and answered the call.

A woman a few years older than you appeared on screen. She had short dark hair and a face full of freckles. “I’m so sorry for the last minute call.” she said. “I’m Paige Warner, I’m the manager for Corroded Coffin.”

Your throat felt dry as you choked out your name with a nervous smile. Of course you’d left your drink in the kitchen and there was no graceful way to grab it now.

Paige wasn’t here to waste time or make small talk, she jumped right into it. She didn’t even blink at your outfit. “The annual Hellfire Awards will be held a month from now. We are willing to offer you travel expenses and hotel to come down, and the band has also agreed to pay for any hair and make-up as well as an outfit to wear onto the red carpet.”

“Red carpet.” You said dumbly. Wait you were going to- they wanted you to what.

“Yes, Eddie specifically requested that you join him on the red carpet.” Paige said, furrowing her brows. “He said that you would remember your deal.”

“I, uh...”

Paige looked at her watch and you could tell that she was starting to get antsy. “I can have plane tickets and a hotel booked for you by tonight. All I need is for you to sign this agreement and have it sent back to me before 5 pm PST. I’ll have it sent to your email. Now, about your involvement with-”

She didn’t get a chance to finish her sentence as there was suddenly a lot of background noise as it sounded like people were filing into her office.

“Paige, can you hide the drumsticks this time?” came a voice off screen. “We’re running out of ideas.”

“Jeff, I can’t right now I’m currently talking to-”

“OH! Is that her? Let me see!” Jeff suddenly ran on screen and your eyes nearly popped out of your head at the site of the bass player appearing behind her.

“Hi! You’re Eddie’s friend right?” He smiled wide at you, and all you could do was nod.

Friends? That seemed generous for the situation but it would have been rude to say otherwise.

“Oh shit, I should go get Eddie to say hi!” Jeff said, tossing the drumsticks down onto Paige’s lap and running off.

“Jeff, no!” she called after him but you had a feeling that her protests weren’t going to mean anything. You froze up as the idea of seeing Eddie again started to sink in.

“I’m so sorry for him, they all get excited too easily.” Paige said. “Jeff, I said no I need to finish this call and then I have other work to do! Work on this computer!”

Jeff just appeared again, grabbed the back of her chair and rolled her away with the biggest grin. “You can pretend to be us and post boring updates on our account later. The internet isn’t going anywhere.”

The absurdity of this was not lost on you and you covered your mouth with your hand to stifle a giggle. This was playing out as if it had happened a hundred times before, and off screen you heard Paige’s exasperated sigh. “Five minutes.” she said firmly.

“Thank you, five” Came the sound of not just Jeff’s voice but another voice.

The sound of another rolling chair echoed through your crappy computer speakers and at first all you could see was the lower torso of a t shirt as someone moved into frame before they sat down in front of the camera.

Eddie Munson. Eddie ‘the Freak’ Munson.

Eddie Munson of Corroded Coffin.

“Uh, hi.” he said with a wide grin, and a wave and you desperately tried to reconnect the wires in your brain to say hi back.

Last night you’d seen carefully curated pictures of him, making him look untouchable. You’d seen him on stage holding his guitar, looking like a Rock God. You’d seen him spread out over pages of magazines, wearing clothing that was specifically tailored to make him look like, well, like he was better than any normal person. You’d even seen him wearing damn near nothing, covered in tattoos making him damn near look like a porn star.

Now he was sitting across from you (virtually) with his hair pulled back in a sloppy bun, and a faded t shirt with a questionable stain on it. There was unshaven stubble that looked like it didn’t know if it was growing out or if he’d forgotten to shave for the past few days. For five seconds, you felt like you were in high school again, as you finally managed to talk.

“Hey.” you said back. Nailed it.

“So you’re coming right?” Eddie said eagerly, and even with the lower quality of the video call (which was because of your internet, and not Paige’s webcam, you were sure of), you could see the way his large brown eyes showed excitement.

“You really want me to?” you blurted out. You couldn’t help it, none of this seemed real. Hell, you hardly believed that someone from Hawkins High School had managed to get out of the sad town and become famous. This was a lot to learn in two days.

“We had a deal, remember?” Eddie said. “And I’m not gonna risk you cursing me because I forgot to invite you the last four and a half years.”

“Well... I guess I should go then.” you replied. “I mean, if I don’t then I’m going to have to learn how to curse-”

“You’re allowed to say ‘fuck’, we do it all the time!” yelled out Jeff from behind Eddie.

“Shut up, Jeff!” Eddie grabbed a piece of paper off of Paige’s desk, crumpled it up and threw it at his bandmate. He was laughing through and when it made contact with Jeff, he fell down dramatically. “Ignore him, we’re all idiots.” Eddie turned back to you.

There had been a time in high school where Eddie Munson was regarded as a freak, a delinquent, a druggie, someone dangerous. When you had been paired together for a worksheet, you found yourself at ease with him, talking to him as naturally as you would any other friend. And now, nearly a decade later, he was a celebrity, a legend, constantly being swarmed by fans and groupies and paparazzi. Yet here you were, laughing at his antics the same way you had all those years ago.

Freak. Rock Star. Eddie Munson.

You found your shoulders relaxing and you were smiling at him. “It’s fine, I guess I’ll start with cursing Jeff and working my way through the band until I get to you.” you told him.

“You can’t!” protested Eddie. “I’m holding up my end of the deal! We said five years and if you don’t come to this one you’ll have to come to the Accolades and I think you’d curse me for that one anyway because it’s so boring.”

“Boring? The Accolades? You mean the biggest event of the year for all the tabloids?” you asked. It was hard imagining any of Eddie’s life being boring.

“Worse than Higgins’ speech for our graduating class.” Eddie said seriously. “You thought he was long winded? The Accolades are just a bunch of old farts who like to pat themselves on the back and insult anyone who doesn’t meet their standards.”

You nodded. “Alright, yeah, I guess I would have to take up witchcraft for that.”

“Wait, is she actually a witch?” Jeff said, finally getting up and walking back over.

“If she comes to Hellfire we won’t have to find out.” Eddie laughed and looked directly into the camera. It was unnerving, because that meant that he was getting as close to direct eye contact with you as he could in this current situation. Your heart jumped as his expression shifted. “You are coming, right?”

Maybe it was his big brown doe eyes, or the sincerity in his voice. Maybe it was the small ember of a crush that you had long thought was snuffed out. Maybe it was the way you had already exhausted yourself from your earlier anxiety. Hell, maybe it was the fact that you’d seen him nearly naked for a magazine spread just hours before.

You couldn’t say no, even if you wanted to. And you really did not want to.

“Yeah.” you said quickly. You’d figure out getting time off somehow. “Yeah, I’ll be there. Just tell me where to go.”

Eddie’s chair was pushed away and Paige returned to the camera with a small protest. The five minutes were up.

“I’ve sent you an email with an NDA. Sign it, and we’ll get everything taken care of.” she said.

You wasted no time pulling up the email on your phone, giving it your electronic signature, and sending it back. Though, maybe you should have wasted a little time reading a legal document. Well, it was too late now.

“Alright, you two need to leave now.” Paige said to Eddie and Jeff. “I have to finish up with her here.”

“Wait, what about the drumsticks?” Jeff asked.

“I already hid them.” There was a light in her eyes that you liked. She wasn’t all business, it seemed.

Eddie stuck his head back into view, giving you a full smile with teeth. “I’ll see you when you get here!” he said before Paige shooed them both away again.

The last words you caught from Jeff were a muffled ‘day off’ and ‘campaign’, followed by the clicking of a door.

The next few minutes was Paige gathering your information and giving you a brief rundown of the papers you had just signed. She said that she’d be in touch with you within the next week to send you all of the travel information and to email her with any questions or concerns.

When the call finally ended, you were left staring at the last message sent by WR RECORDS with Paige’s personal email address. It wasn’t even noon and you’d already talked to a former-classmate-turned-rock-star, dodged allegations on being a witch, spoke to the manager of a metal band that you had only just started listening to the night before, and RSVP’d yes to walk the red carpet for one of the biggest alt music awards shows.

You closed the laptop, called out of work, and went back to bed.

---

Please comment and reblog 💜

Tag list: @hellfiredarling @crocwork-clockodile @hitoshislut @kurdtbean @kennedy-brooke @daisyridleyyyy @akira1803

#nacht fic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #Plus One

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chronos-advice · 2 years

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Advice Column 1 -

Things I wish I did in high school (for the kids who want to go to college)

Spent my time. I rushed through high school to finish when I was 16 because I hated school and just wanted to start my career. I ended up getting a horrible GPA, worse SAT scores, changed majors 3 times before settling for a two year degree, did absolutely nothing with it, couldn’t get hired anywhere, and I missed out on all the memories that are only made once in anyones life; in high school.

Got at least a 3.0 GPA. I still got into two different universities with a 2.5 GPA, but my options were very limited. If you want to go to a university with specifics (staying close to family, has certain degree programs, certain activities, etc.), aim for at least a 3.0 GPA. Or, at least have schools in mind & know their requirements.

Taught myself. High school doesn’t teach you what you need to know, it teaches you what they think you need to know. I didn’t know the difference between a bachelors & a masters or undergrad vs graduate until my first semester of being an undergraduate.. know everything about how the university system works or else you might go wild with anxiety when the time comes. Besides that, teach yourself things you want to learn that you can’t learn at school. Explore all kinds of different subjects and know what your interests are. It will make choosing a major a whole lot easier.

Volunteered. Start your resume. Having a job is okay, but honestly, it’s not required (resume speaking, not actual life speaking). Having experience in customer service and sales roles is awesome to put on a resume, but don’t get trapped in that industry if you don’t want to be in it forever. There are tons of volunteer opportunities for many different realms of things, remotely and locally. Find some that you might be interested in and go for it. Most don’t require many hours of your time per week/month and some can even turn into an internship or apprenticeship if you’re lucky. When you are in college or newly graduated, it will be hard finding a career-type role if you don’t have a lot of spicy things to put on your resume or if you only have experience listed in an industry other than the one you’re applying to.

Sports & extracurriculars. This could’ve made college a whole lot cheaper for me. Not only will schools lower or completely remove your tuition if you’re good at sports or arts, tons of sports & art scholarships are available. Some scholarships are even made for clubs; ex chess club scholarship. Play a sport, an instrument, make some art, photography, be on yearbook, student council (maybe?), theater, even… plus it adds to the experience points.

Networked. Start a LinkedIn or something. Add your classmates, teachers, bosses, people you volunteer with.. whoever. Ask for recommendation letters from respected people; teachers, religious leaders, bosses… Just keep some people in your professional circle.

Didn’t fall in love. I had big plans to go to UNLV & become a big time financial advisor for a casino. I never got to go. I fell in love with an abvser & gave up my dreams for it. And now I’m an adult, going back to college for sociology so I can help other abvse victims. If both people in a relationship aren’t mature enough, the relationship or the college dream will surely parish. Maybe it’s pessimism, but I watched it happen to many people I went to school with besides myself. Have fun & love people, but don’t fall -in- love, in high school.

The bare minimum. I wish I did the bare minimum. I took 7 classes, 2 online and no lunch to finish early. I still got a 2.5 GPA, I didn’t walk the stage either, because I didn’t know anybody, nobody would’ve known my name when it was called anyways. It’s high school, it’s not that serious, trust me. It seems serious, but it’s not. Do the bare minimum and h a v e f u n. Keep your GPA at 3.0, listen in class and cheat when you need to, listen to podcasts when you’re doing other things, volunteer, have an extracurricular if you can & want to….. and that’s really it. That’s the show. Besides SAT & ACT, you don’t have to take much of high school so seriously to get into a decent college.

#college #university #college advice #advice #teenage years #high school #college applications #college aesthetic #college admissions #advice column #anthropology #school #school tips #college tips #SAT #ACT #study motivation #study tips

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dru-reblogs-stuff · 2 years

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Last Book I...

Yoinked from @literary-illuminati because it looked fun.

‣ Bought:

Random Sh*t Flying Through The Air by Jackson Ford. I picked it up last time I was in Waterstones because the title was funny, and the blurb sounded good. (I have started it, and the POV flip-flop is a bit wierd so it's been shelved for now)

‣ Borrowed:

The Potion Master by Liz Williams. My uncle lent me this one before Lockdown... and I still haven't finished it ^.^'

‣ Was Gifted:

Dragons of Autumn Twilight by Margaret Weis & Tracy Hickman. The Danish Gent gave this to me as part of my Xmas present after I told him I'd never read the Dragonlance books.

‣ Gave/lent to someone else:

N/A: I haven't really seen anyone to lend anything to.

‣ Started:

The Cabinet of Linguistic Curiosities: A yearbook of Forgotten Words by Paul Anthony Jones. I'm really enjoying this. It's a word per page, related to something that happened that day with a bit of explanatory blurb about the event and the world's meaning. It's been fun learning some of these archaic words.

‣ Finished:

The Pirates! In An Adventure with Napoleon by Gideon Defoe. The Pirates! series is always good for a nice quick, silly-fun read <3

‣ Gave 5 Stars:

Watch How I Soar, a Firefly Graphic Anthology. Written by Jeff Jensen, Ethan Young, Jared Cullum, Jorge Corona, and Giannis Milonogiannis; Art by Jorge Monlongo, Ethan Young, Jared Cullum, Jorge Corona, Giannis Milonogiannis, and Jorgi Perez; Colored by Jorge Monlongo, Ethan Young, Jared Cullum, Fabiana Mascolo, Giada Marchisio, and Maxflan Araujo; Lettered by Fabio Amelia.

I really enjoyed the dive into Hoban “Wash” Washburne's backstory, and alternate future. The art is fantastic, the stories were wonderful - just an all-round wonderful read.

‣ Gave 2 Stars:

Sea Journal by Lisa Woollett. The blurb for this is:

This beautifully illustrated book brings together a year’s wanderings along Britain’s shores with stories of their natural history, geology and evolution — from ancient myth to current science.

Which was what drew me in - I get to read and see photographs about all the types of shore on the Isles! Amazing! Only, it doesn't. There's mention of a beach in Norfolk, one on the Scottish coast, and all the rest take place in Cornwall, where the author lives. Sure the pictures were nice, and some of the text interesting, but I just really felt it had too narrow a scope for the broad claims in the burb and so it was a bit of a let down.

‣ Didn’t Finish:

The Company of Trees: A Year in a Lifetime's Quest by Thomas Pakenham. The detail about the trees is interesting; Pakenham's casual racism and sense of entitlement is not. I got maybe 1/4 into the book before I bailed because the narration style was just so difficult to read. I came here to learn cool things about trees and arboretums, not to feel like I'm listening to my 80yo uncle bitch about the natives.

Tagging: Anyone who fancies it

#tag game #last book i tag

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ronaldmcdonaldfucker · 2 years

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Love Letters- Klitz Pt.1

Pairing: Klitz (The Girl Next Door) x GN!Reader

W.C: 1.4k

Warnings: None, just cursing and a very brief mention of injuries (not graphic)

“I mean, I just don’t get it, man!” Eli was going on one of his rants again, one that no one particularly cared to listen to. “Why aren’t hot chicks into us?” He waved his arms around almost cartoonishly. “Why aren’t girls into us in general-” Klitz said, really only half-listening to the conversation at hand. “I just think you guys should look a bit closer, I’m sure there’s at least someone into you.” finally you spoke up, after about 15 minutes of silence on your part. Albeit, you weren't the most enthusiastic with your tone; anyone could tell at least that much. The guys had this conversation at least twice a week, and it was starting to seriously piss you off. You closed the book you were reading and packed it in your back securely, truth be told you had read it at least a dozen times. ‘Everyone has their books they come back to, just maybe not as much as you do…’ Your mind flashed back to a conversation you had a while back with Eli, he certainly isn’t the best at comforting people, but it suffices. Truth be told, Klitz was your best friend; he always has been. But there was no way in hell you were going to him to talk about your love problems, especially when he was the one at the center of them.

You awoke from your trance when you felt the soft tap of someone's hand on your shoulder, along with the soft-spoken voice of the one and only, Klitz. “You okay? You seem out of it today” He was always there to check up on you, and you valued that. Unfortunately, you couldn’t tell him truthfully what was on your mind. “Oh, I’m fine, I guess..” You said with little to no thought, it was so much easier than the truth. You hated to lie to him, you really did, but never in a million years would you tell him what was actually on your mind. You knew that he knew something was up, I mean there was no way he didn't! Klitz is a genius, you of all people knew that, but he didn’t press further. The encounter was cut short by the obnoxious ringing of the bell, signifying the passing period.

Yearbook was your next period, which you, unfortunately, had with Eli. The hallways were hectic, as always, but after four years you get used to it. Making your way into the small classroom, you set your things down and placed your head on the desk, just wanting some space. Your pity party was interrupted by someone crashing into the chair next to you. You didn’t even have to look up to know who it was, you’ve spent your entire 12 years of school with Eli, unfortunately. “Not even a hi, wow. How cold, dude. Truly unacceptable.” God, he was insufferable. You simply shook your head, too tired to speak. He caught on, offering a supporting hand on your shoulder. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to say ‘Hey, I’m here for you. I see you.’ and you couldn’t ask for anything more. Eli and you were close-knit, but in a completely different way from Klitz and you. Eli was like your brother, you two surely bickered like siblings, but at the end of the day; there was an unspoken agreement that you would always be there for each other. No matter what that entails. You loved each other in a strictly platonic manner, and you understood each other's emotions perfectly. Back in fourth grade, you got into a fight with a group of middle school kids because they insulted Eli and made him cry. You ended up with a bloody nose and a broken arm, but you didn’t care. No one hurt your technically-not brother. He joked afterward that he would forever be in your debt, but he lived up to that. He’s always been there, through everything in your life. He listened to every rant about Klitz and how oblivious he was, and quite frankly he LIVED for the drama. He was totally team Klitz & Y/N for the win, and has been since day one. “Klitz really likes you, all of us can tell. You should let him know how you feel!” He gave you a slightly aggressive pat on the back and went back to what he was doing. Leaving you alone with yourself and your thoughts, once again. You bit down on your nail, a nervous habit you seriously needed to break, but that was the least of your worries at the moment. ‘Is Eli right, should I tell him? What else do I have to lose, right?’ But then it hit you. Your best friend, that’s what you have to lose. Risking an entire multi-year friendship over a silly high school crush? How irresponsible. Except it was just a silly high school crush. No, it was so much more than that. That awkward, lanky, nerdy guy with a stupid name was exactly who you fell completely head over heels with. You had a problem with psychoanalyzing everyone around you, sure, but you picked up on all of his mannerisms. You can tell what he’s feeling with just a quick glance, you were helplessly in love with him. He was a lake, and you were drowning in him. He swallowed you whole, occupied every corner of your brain, and he didn't even know. He had no idea the effect he has on you, he was too oblivious to your feelings to even consider that you might be in love with him. It hurt, oh god it hurt, but you became accustomed to the pain. It became just another part of your daily schedule, listening to him talk about all these girls, ones who don’t give a shit about him. But you supported him through everything, that’s what you do when you love someone. You’d give up your life in a heartbeat if that meant he’d be happy. Suddenly, it came to you. What if you left something for him in his locker? It would be completely anonymous, and there’s no way he’d suspect you! It was a perfect idea, one that Eli found humorous. He and Matt would place bets on when you and Klitz would get together, whether it would be a day from now, or a year from now.

You headed down to the library with your bag, hopping on one of the slow and beatdown computers, ‘it’ll work for now’, you told yourself. You began writing a poem, one that expressed all of your feelings towards him, and after a good 20 minutes, it was done. You signed it off at the bottom as “Lover”, and printed it out on the copy paper. You folded it in half and put one of your trusty cat stickers on it, along with a little heart by your pen name. The bell would be ringing soon, so you had to move fast. You rushed through the hall, quickly finding his locker and slipping the note inside, school was almost over so there was no doubt he’d find it. A wave of anxiety rushed over you, suddenly realizing what your impulsiveness made you do, but there was no going back now.

The bell rang, and you found Eli and Matt, explaining your dilemma whilst walking through the busy hall, searching for Klitz. He was standing by his locker, the door hanging wide open as he faced the inside. You hid behind Eli while Matt went over first to make sure the coast was clear. Once he reached Klitz, he waved you two over, signaling that it was fine to walk over. “‘The Rose’? Wow dude, looks like you got yourself a secret admirer!” Matt teased him playfully, but Klitz didn’t seem to be playing along. He looked blank, emotionless to an outsider, but you knew differently. He was in deep thought, unfortunately, you hadn’t figured out quite how to read his mind yet, so you were lost. Eli waved a hand in front of his face, “Earth to Klitzy, anyone in there?”, but no response. “Whatever, it’s probably just someone trying to mess with me. Who cares?” He tucked the letter in his pocket and began walking away. “Hey, we still on for Shark Week tonight? I’ll bring snacks” You looked up at him while walking, to which he just responded, “Yeah sure.” with his head down. You’d bring that up to him later, for now, you just needed to give him space. ‘God, what mess have you gotten yourself into now?’

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comehomeducklings · 3 years

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Past [Part 2] (Obsession)

A/N: Some chapters will be named with either “Past,” “Present,” or “Future,” then their numbered part coming right after it. This is to confuse you less when flashbacks or anything happens. As you have probably noticed, it says “Past” for Part 2. This is going back near when Tom and her just met. Thank you for reading! <3

Tom Riddle's Moodboard

Main Character's Moodboard

~////////////////𓆙////////////////~

1940 - 3rd year

“Potions is not that bad, I swear. You just have to be good at measuring.”

At the table, my friends and I are discussing our classes this year. Potions being one of my favorite topics. Devyn absolutely loathes that certain class. We have to drag her there to make sure she doesn’t skip. Poor girl tries her best to not mess up but the cauldron always ends up blowing up. I even watched her do every step once, never missing a beat. The potion still ended up failing, even though she did everything correctly. She gave up after a while, who wouldn’t. I help her do extra assignments for extra credit to keep her grade up. She also studies with me to make sure she can memorize everything and pass her tests. Amelia is pretty good at the class, she’s luckily paired with Devyn most of the time. Carrying the potion to success, with a little bit of my secret help. It’s not cheating, it’s using your resources.

I’m resources.

“Potions is not that bad,” Devyn mocks me. “If it weren’t for you two I would have gone insane in that stupid class.”

Amelia just laughs at her while eating her hash browns on the plate. She reaches her hand out to take some more eggs.

“You were able to do it before. Not the way you were supposed to, but it worked,” Amelia says.

“Exactly, just start doing it your way at this point. I don’t think Slughorn will care how it’s done, just how it comes out.”

Devyn nods her head and points at me with a fork. Her mouth full of food so she settles for that response. My plate doesn’t have much other than some bacon and fruit. I’m not usually a breakfast eater. I get my appetite at lunch and dinner time. It’s just too early for a bunch of food smells, the smells make me kind of nauseous. I’ll eat though, enough to hold me off till lunch.

The chatter in the lunchroom rises by the minute. Everyone refilling themselves before their busy day. All energy levels rising while everyone wakes up from their groggy morning mood. While my friends finish eating we continue to talk about our classes and share the schedules for this year. Most classes we had were the same except for our electives. I tried taking as many electives as possible. My family back home never really did magic. I actually came a year and a half late since my family wanted me to have a normal school experience. I learned to do everything without the use of magic, the only thing my mom taught me was the floo network, creatures, and plants. I would often accompany her to Diagon Alley when she shops. I got an Owl for my 10th birthday. A cat would have been amazing if I wasn’t allergic to it. My owl is a brown and white-furred barn owl. Don’t ask me why I named it Bartholomew. I was ten okay, give me a break. Speaking of the floo network, my mom had to chase me through it quite often because I kept teleporting everywhere. I once ran into the Ministry of Magic’s building and got lost. They had to take me home to my parents. Their faces told me everything I needed to know about the punishment waiting for me.

Halfway through the second year is when I came to Hogwarts, a second letter coming that year asking my parents to let me learn more there. So when they finally let me attend, everything was pretty new to me. My mother was the magic one in the family. Her grandmother, my great-grandmother, before her had the magic gene. Going to school was the same experience as going from a muggle-borns perspective. The difference is, I knew more about its existence. I would look at yearbooks my mom had from when she went here. She earned a lot of titles, all the achievements being recorded down. I always wondered why she never wanted me to come here. Did something happen to me, to her? I’m guessing she just wanted a normal life with dad. He has always supported her through everything. A love, a bond like that is hard to come by. He would also learn about magic right next to me. At least, the stuff my mom allowed to let us know.

That’s why I want to learn as much as I can, of what’s available. Why learn math in the muggle world when I could be learning divination. Spells of all types, potions for everything of inconvenience. My chores could be completed with just a flick of my wand. I’ve lately been learning wandless magic, on my own. Albus has helped by providing me with material to study that type of magic. The only thing I’ve managed so far is a spark coming from the tips of my fingertips. Sparking hope that I could actually, maybe, achieve that level. Now I won't get my hopes up, but that can lead me to a certain advantage in dueling. That being one of my weakest skills. Always panicking, saying any spells that pop up in my mind, and making random movements coming from my wand. Often confusing who I’m up against, although they recover from that confusion fairly quickly.

Riddle, met him once. One too many if you would ask me. I dissuade ever wanting to speak to him. Arrogance and pride flow through his tongue like second nature. I do take pride in succeeding above him in 3 classes. He is 2 classes above me but, that’s not the point. I do admit, he’s attractive. Only a little though, how else would he charm his way through the professors and students.

“Alright, I’m ready to go. You guys done?”

“Yeah,” I say. Devyn and I start leaving our seats and heading towards the huge doors.

Amelia hurried from her seat, a few steps behind since she took some fruit with her to eat on the way. More and more students also started making their way towards the first period. Not wanting to be blamed for the loss of house points. This system causes so many fights, everyone’s competitive side getting the best of their common sense. I would be lying if I said it didn’t get the best of me before. Amelia being her usual bubbly self skips backward while chatting with us. Before we could warn her to stop, she pushes someone ahead of her. Both falling down, hitting the floor. She spins her head extremely quickly, her hair sticking in her mouth from the force of the wind.

“I’m so sorry, I wasn’t paying attention,” she explains. Quickly trying to digest her situation. I make my way towards her and pull her up. I fix her robe and dust off any dirt on the cloth from the floor.

“Clearly idiot, can you not use those bug eyes of yours to see?”

Devyn and I make eye contact. We understand that there are witnesses here, and one of them is bound to snitch on us if we fight. A huge scene would probably make Amelia feel even more embarrassed as well. Instead, I guided Amelia by her back. We continue on to class while I comfort her. Devyn is staying back to “talk” to the guy. Lestrange is in for it now, any poor soul would be when in the fiery path of her anger.

Devyn’s loud yells could still be slightly heard when entering the potions classroom. First class of the year, and day. On Slughorn’s table, I can see a vial with the wideye potion contained inside. I set Devyn’s textbook on her station, turning to the page that contains information on the potion. Hoping to save her confusion and time.

“Welcome, welcome! Nice to see some old faces, and new ones,” he says with the biggest grin on his face. “Today we’ll be learning about the Wideye potion. Can anyone tell me what this potion does?”

I quickly raise my hand, rather eager. I did some reading about a lot of potions during the summer. Trying to get a headstart on my studies. This potion being one of them. Only 3 students raised their hand, one of them being me. The other, well, Riddle.

“Yes, go ahead and answer,” the professor looks my way.

I smile, “The wideye potion prevents the person consuming the liquid the ability to fall asleep. Which is often used in the medical field to wake someone from a sleep caused by a blunt force or drug.”

“Precisely! 10 points.”

I look back rather smugly at Riddle, rather happy I got chosen instead of him. I know, he could have easily answered that too. I’ll let myself bask in the small achievement for now. 30 minutes of class is just spent writing down notes, preparing us for the potion we will make. Note-taking is my favorite, especially the little doodles I get to make. We use a feather instead of the regular pen. I found it rather amusing and liked the certain feeling of writing with it. The dipping noise that the point of the feather makes when hitting the liquid ink is a very profound sound. No real writer’s bump forming on my fingers.

“That’s enough writing, I need you all to prepare your cauldron, gather the materials you need, and start your potion. If done correctly, tomorrow when we add the finishing touches and check on it the potion should be a blue/green color,” Slughorn comments. “You have 10 minutes to study your notes, then the rest of the class to make your potion. No looking back at your notes after those ten minutes.”

After scanning my notes, I stand up and walk towards the ingredients on the shelves. If I remember correctly my potion requires snake fangs, standard ingredient, and wolfsbane. I gather all that in my hand and set it down near my cauldron. Before I start, I take a moment. I’m missing something, I’m sure there was another ingredient.

Wolfsbane, check.

Snake fangs, six of them.

I have the measures of Standard ingredient.

There’s one more, I try to look around the room. Then I remember that we get an automatic failing grade if caught cheating. There’s no way I’ll let my grade drop like that. Over something so small and inconvenient too. Making my way to the shelves, I scan over the ingredients over and over again. Trying to see if any of the names pop out to me.

No.

Definitely not.

That’s an ingredient?

I don’t even want to know how that one was obtained.

This one, of course it’s this one. I even remember putting a star next to the name in my notebook. Dried Billwig stings, I believe six of them were needed. All that time wasted. Hurrying to my seat I get to work. The time goes by quickly, all that could be heard was the sizzling and whooshing of our potions. I almost knocked down my vials a couple of times. Someone actually did, their time spent on cleaning the glass off the floor. After heating the first three ingredients, I crush them together in the mortar. Then stir clockwise from what I recall, three times specifically. Finally, I wave my wand over then leave it to brew.

Just in time from the looks of it. I glance at Devyn to see how it went for her, and she looks pretty proud of herself. I take that as a blessing that it didn’t blow up this time of round. I’m guessing she took our advice and did it her own way.

A student raises his hand, “May we leave?”

“Oh yes yes, go ahead. No assignments for the first day, only the potion you made in class.”

Before I leave the classroom I examine Riddle’s station. He already left the room. His potion looks similar to how mine turned out, his workspace thoroughly cleaned. Everything used properly placed back to where it should be. Perfectly spotless, not a single speck of dust in sight. All done without magic too, surprising for someone born into the wizarding world. When I mentioned that I met him once, it wasn’t much of anything. The only way I know how he really acts is through other people. Much admire his intelligence and strong will. Others are jealous of the potential he holds for the future.

Girls are already trying to slip love potions into his drinks. I would feel bad if he wasn’t so rude to them. Only just before touching the disrespectful line. He almost drank one of their attempts before. Wouldn’t want to imagine how that turned out. Tom riddle, in love. That man probably doesn’t know the feeling of happiness, let alone love. I feel bad for his future girlfriend, she’s going to have to deal with a handful of baggage.

~////////////////𓆙////////////////~

“How much do you want to bet Nott will demolish him?” A Gryffindor girl to my left whispers.

Nott, part of Riddle’s group from what I’ve seen. They all eat lunch together and talk to one another so it’s a reasonable guess. Very talented duellist, one of the bests here.

“I hate to admit it, but he’ll definitely win this. I’ll still have hope for the other guy though,” I whisper back trying not to sound mean.

Nott and the other Slytherin boy are up right now. It’s a courtesy for the audience to stay quiet until someone casts the first attack or defense. From then on all you will hear is shouting of encouragement and the opposite. Nott’s eyes are focused, zoning in on the opponent before him. His wand is steady, mouth slightly parted to breathe through better. Whole-body alert and tense waiting for something. From what I'm getting, I believe he’s waiting for the Slytherin boy to go first. Nott casts spells quickly and thinks them through decently. Sometimes you're not able to create a counter-spell quick enough to defend yourself against him.

Riddle’s group and himself are near the corner of the platform. All seemingly analyzing every breath he inhales and exhales. I finally hear the whoosh of a wand and a whiz of light fly past the platform. The glow from the spell lighting our faces for a millisecond. Nott quickly counters that spell and moves to cast his own. Magic flies across the platform, all of our eyes going back and forth like a ping-pong match. The Slytherin boy starts breaking a sweat. He’s only been able to get a couple of offensive spells in there, most of his plays spent throwing off Nott’s. If he doesn’t turn the battle soon, the outcome will become very clear.

It is a little less exciting since we only know a handful of spells. So whatever you know from your own studies you use in these duels. When we move up the years the class will become more serious and dangerous. Right now it’s just to teach us how to counter and cast quickly. The proper etiquette and movement. You use spells that you know, they aren’t supposed to harm someone. Either stun them, make them fly back, or disarm. Most of those spells require a little of a higher level, most of us not even knowing of its existence yet. So what’s mostly cast between competitors is a basic spell to exert force. That force should be aimed for the legs, or the wand to disarm that way. The way someone can win here is to make their knees or hands touch the floor, or disarm their wand. As I mentioned, it will get more intense as time goes by. We're only just starting 3rd year right now, a lot more charms will be learned later on.

I shake my head to get rid of any lingering thoughts. My attention goes right back to the duel taking place in front of me. Nott quickly aims a spell at the knees and manages to bring the other boy to his knees.

“Mr. Nott wins this duel! Please step off the platform, we will evaluate your performance.”

During the practice duels today, you watch it, think of ways to help the person improve, and point out things they might have done wrong. At the end, the professor picks people raising their hands to allow them to give their feedback. Participating is part of the grade you get in here. I personally prefer giving feedback then dueling. I’m not the best at casting, I do give out good defense spells though. That should mean something, I hope.

“Let’s start with Nott, does anyone have feedback for him?”

A couple of people spread apart raised their hands. One by one they all ask questions and give feedback. They mention his feet and posture when he stands. Arms fully stretched out where it would have been more flexible to bend it slightly. When he casts he shouldn’t be walking backward. They shortly switch to the other boy’s questions and feedback. The way he never gave himself the opening to cast an offensive spell often. He would move around his area a lot. Almost slipping off the stage during one of those movements. Tom and his group privately discussed with one another. They’re probably giving Nott their own feedback and suggestions privately.

“Now, Riddle I want you to come up and…,” he scans the room for another student. After some time he points his finger at me. “You.”

I could have had a smooth sailing class. I was so close to not having to go up there. My hands start sweating a bit, my anxiety jumbling my thoughts together. Riddle’s already up there and soon to be on his side of the platform. Taking his wand out and wandering his fingers over the design. I gulp, a big toad stuck in my throat. I wipe my hands on my robe and start up the stairs. Riddle seems as unbothered as ever. We bow, turn, then walk ten paces back. During this time I try predicting who will cast first. I don’t know him very well, I’ve also never seen him duel.

I take my dueling stance and wait for the signal to start. Hoping, praying, that I don’t embarrass myself. Slipping up is not allowed, not when going against him.

~////////////////𓆙////////////////~

Taglist:

@empath-bunny

#tom riddle x oc #tom riddle imagine #tom riddle x reader #lord voldemort #death eaters #voldemort #horcrux #hogwarts #harry potter #wizard #post wizarding war #enemies to allies #enemies to lovers #angst #oc #poc #Oc is any race #moldy voldy

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johnnys-coors · 3 years

Note

Could you do one we’re tommy has a crush on the reader and so Johnny helps tommy by giving the reader 10 leaders (1 a day) and he like saying in the letter like how much they like the reader and some stuff abt them so facts etc. so when the last lettter came he tells the reader to meet him at the beach and soooo he standing there and stuff soooo then tommy asks the read out to like a diner and they end up going to a diner just of them and then they end up dating

Letters Made of Hand

Castles Made of Sand -Jimi Hendrix

Characters: Tommy, Johnny, and Y/N

Contains: fluff, kissing, and feelings

Y/N speeds up her walking, she is going to be late to Geometry. Passing by a row of lockers, she narrows her eyes to see '047D'. She rushes to her gray locker, hurriedly calculating her combination. “Ah, shit!” The lock has stopped moving, it's jammed. A few passerby's stares are felt on Y/N's back. The frustrated teenager’s cheeks grow red from the sudden attention. She glances at the clock right above a classroom next to her. Y/N has two minutes.

A raspy voice asks, "Do you need help?" Y/N whips her head to the right in surprise. Fluffy platinum hair reflects the fluorescent school lights hanging from above. The corners of his light blue eyes crinkle in a laugh, as Johnny finds Y/N’s distress hilarious. “Oh, shut up.” Y/N scoffs, frustrated with combination of her lock and the clock quickly running her out of time.

“Say less.” Johnny ushers Y/N out of the way and pulls down on the stuck lock. The shiny metal unlatches with a snap. The boy grins, proud of his accomplishment. “Wow, you’re better than any janitor!” Y/N faux swoons, receiving a snort from her friend. She faces the locker and swings open its thin metal door. A white piece of paper floats down onto the beige tiling. Muttering a ‘What the..’, Y/N leans down to grab the note. Johnny notices this occurrence, becoming intrigued. “Is it a secret admirer?”

Opening the folded material, the letter is a page long. Y/N wouldn’t have enough time to read it now. She folds up the paper while grabbing her math supplies. Shoving two Anatomy books into her unorganized shelf, she slams her locker shut. “I gotta get to class, I’ll let you know what it’s about,” Johnny goes to protest, stating she has plenty of time. “See ya!” Y/N shouts over her shoulder, running to her Geometry class, leaving the tall boy behind.

As soon as Y/N is inside the math class’ doorway, the bell rings. Sighing in relief, Y/N made it! The teacher looks over in disapproval, always expecting her students to be early and ready to learn. Ignoring the glare, Y/N bounces over to her seat, getting a few laughs from her classmates. Elated, and also flattered from a potential love interest, she giggles. Dutch, an aggressive blonde, elbows his desk neighbor. His bushy eyebrows furrow as he tries to keep his voice down. “Don’t tell me Johnny gave you my stash.”

Jimmy grabs a hold of the broken lock at Y/N’s locker. “What’s this?” His tanned hands cradle the metal as he's kneeled on the ground. “Let’s just say I saved the day, Jim,” Johnny gloats, puffing out his chest. A familiar cocky smirk plays on the boy’s face while everyone rolls their eyes. Y/N lightly shoves the teenager, barely budging from his heroic stance. Bobby and Tommy smile playfully at their group of friends. “Let’s get some lunch.”

Cobra Kai saunters into the loud cafeteria. The typical cliques are in their usual spots. The Cheerleaders and Jocks in the center, the Goths in a corner near a large bulletin, the Nerds by the lunch line, and Cobra Kai next to the water fountains. Now don’t get the group wrong, they’re still studs even if they don’t mingle with the Jocks. Tommy just had to get one swing at the football team’s quarterback.

Johnny leads them to the lunch line, reaching forward to snatch a plastic tray for himself. Y/N grabs one along with a shiny spoon and fork. The smell of pizza meets Y/N’s nose. Her stomach grumbles, a hunger rippling through her. “Pizza or salad?” The lunch man grumbles, he'd rather be doing anything else than serving food to rude high schoolers. “Uh, pizza, please.” Y/N requests, waiting for the oven-hot rectangular flatbread to slide onto her tray. And it does, nearly staining the fabric of her white shirt.

Moving her tray to the end of the line, Y/N takes a cup of mandarin oranges and sets it down on her tray. She starts to walk to her seat while her friends pass by her on both sides. The white and gray tiles stick to her shoes as God knows what's been on the floor. Placing down her food, she opens her water bottle she snagged from her locker. The Cobras talk among themselves, laughing about a prank they pulled. Y/N twists her left wrist to open the blue bottle cap. She leans back and begins to take a sip. Cool water hits her parched mouth.

"Y/N, why don't you show us what you found in your locker today?" Johnny questions, more demanding than suggestive. She nearly chokes on her water in excitement. Placing the plastic cap back on, she sets the bottle back down onto the red table. "Sure thing." Y/N reaches her index and middle fingers into her front jean pocket. Her eyes flick up to watch her friend's reactions.

Johnny's eyes glow in anticipation, seemingly more blue then before. Bobby nods her on, his long wispy hair framing his olive complexion. Jimmy leans on Dutch, who could care less, while a small smile is in the making. Tommy fixates on his food, sawing off his pizza with a metal knife. The utensil shines as it reflects the school’s overhead lights. He seems off, really off. Squinting, Y/N makes out a slight hue of pink on the loudmouth's cheeks. He's blushing?

"Are you gonna let us see?" Dutch quips, impatient as ever. Finally pulling out the folded paper, it crinkles as Y/N smoothes it out with her palm. Clearing her throat, she begins to read the letter aloud. "'Dear Y/N, I hope I don't come across as a stalker when I write this. Here goes nothing: You may be surprised when you figure out the person behind this handwriting, maybe even shocked. But let me just say that you are the only person that makes me feel like doing a roundhouse kick to the moon and back'," Tommy laughs, saying how bad ass the scenario sounds. This earns a shove from Bobby to quiet him down.

Y/N continues, "'Yes, I'm that thrilled about you. I guess your smile adds to the feeling. No, I think it's your laugh. I remember when we were at the same showing for a movie and hearing your giggle. What I would do to hear it again! Signing off, Hendrix.'" Silence carries through the group, letting the love letter sink into their minds. Bobby breaks the quietness. "What do they mean by 'Hendrix'?" His forehead creases in thought. "I think it's code." Jimmy pipes, the only Cobra with a decent GPA.

"Well, Jimi Hendrix was a rock artist." Tommy suggests, after being quiet for so long. "Right, but who listens to him anymore? I only have cassettes of Boston and Motley Crue." Johnny's hand comes up to comb through his floppy hair. His mouth full of pizza, Dutch grumbles, "MJ is all the rage now." He imitates Michael Jackson, singing an off key 'Billie Jean'. "Okay, I think we get it," Y/N laughs, as an idea pops into her head. "Does anyone have the last name 'Hendrix' in our school?"

In the library for study hall, Jimmy and Bobby help Y/N flip through yearbooks. A stack of them lay off to the right of the wooden table's edge, about to crash to ground. Her eyes scan the names of people, as her eyes become tired from staring. She closes the book's black cover from 1982, giving up. "I found him!" Jimmy exclaims, as Bobby and Y/N crane their necks to see. The librarian hushes the teenagers, adjusting her glasses that sat on her nose. The fuzzy black and white picture showed an attractive Matthew Hendrix. The glossy page reflected dark hair and a white smile.

"I know this kid! He's by my locker." Y/N pieces together, the puzzle falling into place. Bobby glances up at her yearbook in her hands. "Is he in our grade?" He asks. The teenager doesn't want a guy older than the Cobras, he'll just mess around with them. "No Hendrix is in our grade, he does football." At the mention of the ill-fated sport, Jimmy quickly inquires, "Wait, it's not the guy Tommy punched, right?" Y/N shook her head in confusion. Everyone was either too drunk or high to remember who was in the party's fight.

The next day's events were rather quite interesting. Y/N got another letter from this 'Hendrix'. She opened the note hurriedly. It would be embarrassing for her if any of her friends found out. This second paper gave more details about how much they liked Y/N, but they also gave a reference she picked up on. It mentioned going to a summer camp in '83. Y/N went with the Cobra Kais, but other guys tagged along too.

So far, none of her friends had waltzed up to her, pressing more about the topic. Dutch definitely wouldn't, he scoffs at the slightest mention of romance. It's a wonder that he even dated, let alone lost his virginity. Johnny and Tommy have been far too quiet about these occurrences. Jimmy and Bobby have been the only ones willing to help Y/N find more about this secret lover.

The note only fueled a desire for Y/N to ask Matthew if he was writing her letters. She waits, leaning on her locker, awaiting the moment the said boy would roll around. The beginning of the school hours always dragged slow, as if in mud. Y/N hopes this event would bring her some newfound excitement. The first bell rang, signaling to students they had five minutes till class. A breeze blew on her shoulders as a tall figure slowed down their pace. Matthew slung a dark bag over his right bicep, shoving it into his locker.

"Hey, Matthew, is it?" Y/N's voice inquires, raising in pitch with giddiness. The teenager’s brown hazel eyes sweep over her figure, deciding if he should pick up the conversation. With a light sigh, Matthew nods his head. “Yeah, whatcha want?” Y/N holds up the notes that were slipped into her locker from the past two days. “Have you been writing these to me?” She extends the papers for Matthew to take. A look of curiosity takes over the boy as he accepts the letters. His eyes move back and forth as he scanned the writings.

“I didn’t write these,” Y/N’s heart sank as this encounter did not go as planned. “But the handwriting looks familiar.” Matthew swears he saw this specific printing before, maybe written on his car in red spray paint? Reliving the memory, the red warning scribbled out a ‘NO MERCY’ on his beloved Dodge Turbo’s side. The faraway look in Matthew’s eyes causes Y/N to wave her hand in front of his line of vision. Coming back to his senses, Matthew shakes his head in disbelief.

“Here are your papers.” Matthew presses the letters back to Y/N. She's positive that she nibbled onto the bait of this fishhook. She goes to ask him more questions, but he slammed his locker abruptly. Grumbling something about getting payback, Matthew heads down the hallway, turning the corner. He deserts Y/N, who's left with more questions than answers.

For the next few days, each note gave more and more hints about the writer. So far, with the help of Jimmy and Bobby, she figured out that they like soccer and enjoy running on the beach. It’s not a grand discovery, but Jimmy assured her that every clue counted. Besides, the final note would be delivered today. Y/N is thrilled, she hopes the anonymous lover would reveal who they are.

The Cobra Kai boys have been drifting in and out the letter drama, scrapping up details here and there. She walks into the lunch line by herself, as she chooses a salad today. Y/N decides to walk alone, she's packed with a lot of tests and doesn't have time to wait for the others. “Heya, Y/N.” Johnny greets, changing out his cassette tape in his Walkman. Tommy’s bruised hand covers one of the cassettes nearest to him, its taped title unable to be seen.

“What’re you doing?” Y/N asks, as the boy seems to be moving the tape closer to himself. Caught in the act, Tommy stops moving the cassette. He lifts his head to meet his friend’s eyes. A nasty shiner around his right eye stands out against his smooth skin. The boy mentioned he fell down a flight of stairs at a party and tried to catch himself. Hence his purple knuckles.

“Oh, I was just helping Johnny change out his Walkman.” Tommy comes up with, flipping the cassette so it was standing upright, the tape side away from Y/N. Her narrowed eyes dart between Johnny, who fakes a shit eating smile, and Tommy, who doesn't dare move until Y/N lets go of the subject. She sits down, letting the topic dissipate on its own. Her brain's tired enough as is.

“Do you have the final note?” Bobby leans in, his long hair tickling Y/N’s cheek as he questions her. Y/N reaches into her trapper keeper, laying the letter between her and Bobby, reading silently. ‘Meet me at the beach after school, around eight. Bring your swimsuit!’ She almost jumped out of her seat at the butterflies overtaking her stomach. Bobby pats the back of Y/N, lightly laughing. “Well, there you have it. You’ll meet them after all!”

The purr of the Firebird rumbles Y/N’s passenger side seat. The smell of the seawater fills her nose with her window cracked open. Johnny’s bright headlights gives way that they're traveling down the dark road. The whistle of the wind and the thumping of REO Speedwagon hum her ears. It's surprising that she didn’t bribe Johnny to take her, he usually would grumble about it for a while. This time he acted almost glad to take Y/N.

Johnny pulls the car forward and parks it in the beach’s parking lot. She scans her surroundings ahead of her through the glass. The silhouette of a figure is down in the sand, facing the waves. “I think that’s my person. Thanks, Johnny.” Y/N unbuckles her seatbelt, ready to open the door and greet her writer. A tan arm swung out in front of her, holding a piece of paper. This stops her from continuing her motions. “What’s this?” Grabbing the note, she opens it.

The infamous handwriting is there but another one is visible. A more hurried, scratchy one. ‘You weren’t expecting another letter? Calm your tits, it’s just a note from your letter carrier: Make sure kick ass when you meet ‘Hendrix’. He’s really an amazing dude.’ Johnny laughs, slapping his large hands together in amusement. Y/N mouth drops, the charade coming to a close in front of her eyes.

“Wait, so you were the one dropping off the letters in my locker?” Y/N asked, her eyes shining in amusement. Johnny nods frantically, his hair reflecting the moonlight coming in on the dashboard. “Hey, it wasn’t hard to put superglue on the lock. It was pretty sick!” Laughing, she opens the car door, leaving the paper on her seat. “You jerk!” Y/N slams the door shut, leaving an emphasis on her words.

The grainy white sand slows her walking as she approaches the figure. “Hello?” She calls, anticipating rising. Everything has came to this moment, it better be worth it. Brunette hair gently moves in the breeze, as goosebumps rise on her arms. No answer is given. The person’s ears are covered by a certain black foam, connected with wire. Sighing, she nears even closer.

As if expecting the visitor, or listening intensely, an index finger presses pause on their Walkman. Turning their head, Y/N’s eyes widen and she covers her mouth in surprise. A set of brown eyes watch her reaction while they remove their Walkman, setting it down on their blue towel. A smile forms the longer the person watches Y/N. “It’s me.” The voice was bubbly and unapologetically loud.

“Tommy? Oh my god.” Y/N’s face pales as she sets herself down next to the writer. The male leans over to the left and makes a show of taking out his cassette tape. ‘Jimi Hendrix- Electric Ladyland’ is written on the brown Scotch tape. “I’m ‘Hendrix’, Y/N.” She blushes, her face turning a shade of pink. “I figured that out by now, doofus.” Tommy quietly laughs, turning towards her. Silence commences.

Y/N’s heartbeat bangs loudly against her ribcage as she leans in. She pauses, just short of kissing him. Y/N wants to make sure he is okay with going further. Fortunately, hesitation is not in Tommy’s vocabulary. Her eyes close once she feels his lips on her own. His warm hand cusps her face, gently stroking his thumb on her cheek. His abs contract as he rests his back on his towel, his left arm propping up his head.

She lays to left of him, her face creating contact with his. Her hair falls over to the side, moving slightly with the ocean wind. Tommy’s hand rests on the small of Y/N’s back, as the warmth of his body pulls her in further. Running her hands through his hair, she gently pulls. A small groan is released from Tommy throat, rumbling Y/N’s chest. An innocent gesture but not so innocent reaction.

Tommy smiles warmly when the kisses end, fireworks going off in his stomach. Y/N pulls herself up and sits facing the black waves, turning shy with the shared intimate moment. “Come on, let’s go for a swim.” Tommy proposes, rising to his feet and pulling off his gray sweatshirt. His toned stomach pales in moonlight, his crucifix necklace dangling down over his chest. His orange swim trunks are loosely draped over his prominent hip bones.

“Like what you see?” Tommy teases, flexing his biceps. “As if, loverboy.” Y/N retorts with faux annoyance. She grips the bottom hem of her black top as she reveals her swimsuit, shedding her pants. It’s now Tommy’s turn to gawk. He stands like a little kid, with his hands relaxed at his side, his jaw slack. Y/N takes this as an opportunity to rush into the waves, splashing Tommy with the lukewarm water.

“Hey! Come here!” Y/N giggles as he rushes over to lift her up off the ground. He spins her around once, laughing. Her eyes widen in thrill as he lifts her up even higher, getting ready to toss her into the water. Her legs kick in excitement as she grips onto his shoulders. “Ah, Tommy!” She giggles, not wanting him to let go of her. Her eyes lock with his own once again.

Her laughter fades as they gaze at each other. Tommy’s adam apple bobs when he swallows thickly. He’s nervous. She feels herself being let down by the taller. Y/N stands now confused by the change in mood. “Y/N,�� Tommy calls, more declarative than interrogative. “Can you be mine?” The water around her ankles feel colder than before.

She nods, gradually getting faster with her confidence. “Yes, yes, yes,” Wrapping her hands around Tommy’s waist she pulls him in for a quick peck. “A thousand times yes.” She turns to exit the water and put her clothes back on. Her boyfriend follows, now noticing the Firebird that’s been there for over an hour. “Are you kidding me? Johnny’s here?” He whines, falling to his knees, his fists pounding the soft sand.

Y/N giggles, amused by his dramatic ways. “Hey, let’s get some fries downtown? Johnny can take us.” Tommy gets up off the ground, grabbing his towel and Walkman. “Fine, it’s a deal. Race you to the car!”

#fanfic #tommy karate kid #johnny lawrence #cobra kai

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rapturerecords · 4 years

Audio

Song: Modern Jazz (Blues) (aka Jazz Blues)

Composer: Gerhard Trede Record Label: The CBS Records EZ Cue Library CBS EZQ 172 Released: ca. 1968

Location: Gomorrah casino, Mysterious broadcast

This is one of the longer pieces in Fallout with the instrumental coming in at 5 minutes. Like its cooler cousin, this library music song known as “Jazz Blues” can be heard playing in the lobby of the Gomorrah casino or later on the Mysterious broadcast.

While the record is almost entirely covered with fairly lengthy Gerhard Trede compositions, one side dwarfs them all with a massive groove for a 14 minute track by Messrs. Kuhn and Kuhn and their “Transfiguration (Free Jazz)”.

Unfortunately, unlike Fallout 3′s end credits, Fallout: New Vegas’ end credits features the licensed music from the standard record labels, but omits all of the radio tunes from APM including the instrumentals save for a brief mention of “Additional Music Courtesy of APM Music”.

As is the case with library music, finding artist and recording information is extremely difficult as these songs were never meant to be sold to the public, instead being exclusively used for the film and TV industry. What follows is an attempt to extricate this information.

Note: Library music is typically identified by composer or emotion. Very little can be confirmed about the musicians who performed on the recording.

Here’s the full track list.

Side 1

Jazz

1. Transfiguration (Free Jazz) (Rolf Kuhn/Joachim Kuhn)

2. Back ‘N’ Forth (Gerhard Trede)

Side 2

Jazz

1. Modern Jazz (Blues) (Gerhard Trede)

2. Modern Jazz (City-Sound) (Gerhard Trede)

3. Modern Jazz (Moderato No. 1) (Gerhard Trede)

4. Modern Jazz (Fast) (Gerhard Trede)

5. Modern Jazz (Moderato No. 2) (Gerhard Trede)

About the composer

A publicity blurb from the May 2018 newsletter from Sonoton, the current license holder for the work of Gerhard Trede.

A color portrait of Trede from Hamburger Flimmern, 2006 Issue 13

Gerhard Trede is the most prominent musician on the Fallout series radio soundtrack with nine tracks total (2 from Fallout 3 and 7 from Fallout: New Vegas), eclipsing even the Ink Spots’ six songs.

A mainstay of the APM lineup, his work appears in everything from Spongebob Squarepants and Ren & Stimpy to period works and TV shows like The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel to Conan to numerous documentaries.

Despite this, very few biographies exist of him in English detailing his prolific composing career aside from official publicity blurbs mentioning his early life in Hamburg, Germany and his extraordinary musical output of over 100 compositions a year to playing over 50 instruments. Several articles in German report on his music scoring work in the newsreel series for Neuen Deutschen Wochenschau.

An essay details how the old Deutschen Wochenschau archive was bombed in Berlin throughout 1943 and 1944 to a point where the film reels and their music preserved on optical soundtracks were badly degraded from moisture, cold, and improper storage. The Neue Deutsche Wochenschau (NDW) would incorporate some rescued music cues. Gerhard Trede was hired in 1953 to fill in the substantial gaps in the music inventory. By 1955, he was composing for the newsreel every week, recording in an inn in Wellingsbüttel to be delivered to NDW. However, his compositions were owned by NDW and income derived solely through GEMA, Germany’s music rights organization.

Moviegoers quickly found the “Tredes Melodien“ from the newsreels so “eingängig” (catchy), that they demanded “Schallplatten“ or records to be made available, only to be continually rebuffed:

Brief von NDW Redaktion (A. Strehlke) an Werner Belgerin, Braunschweig vom 16.12.1961, Korrespondenz ab 1958, Archiv DW. Antwort auf eine Frage zu einer Schallplattenaufnahme der Musik, die in einem Bericht über die Europameisterschaften im Eiskunstlauf (NDW Nr. 575) zu hören war. Eine Schallplattenaufnahme zu erhalten war nicht möglich, da die Musik Eigentum der NDW war. Heute wird die Musik von G. Trede von der Fa. Sonoton als ‚typische‘ Musik der 1950er Jahre vertrieben – zu den Kunden zählen z.B. Fernsehsender und Filmproduzenten.

Letter from NDW Redaktion (A. Strehlke) to Werner Belgerin, Braunschweig, December 16, 1961, correspondence from 1958, DW Archive. Answer to a question about a recording of the music that was heard in a newsreel report on the European Figure Skating Championships (NDW Film No. 575). Obtaining a record was not possible because the music was owned by the NDW. Today, Gerhard Trede's music is sold by Sonoton as 'typical' music from the 1950s. Clients include television broadcasters and film producers.

By the 1970s, newsreels were dropping off in favor of television as Trede quickly shifted gears for the new format. He reacquired the rights to his massive collection of music and continually added new tracks to suit the electronic and experimental fashions of the time.The rights to his work vary from Selected Sound to EMI and finally to Sonoton.

Regrettable, few contemporary photographs of Trede have surfaced. There is purportedly a very young picture of him as a soldier in WWII. Aside from scoring for newreels and television programs from 1952 to 1982, Trede would compose “Nie wieder Krieg” or “War No More” in 1993 to reconcile his experiences as a WWII soldier. Trede would die 3 years later also in Hamburg.

About the recording

For those with an interest with reel-to-reel magnetic tape, CBS evidently issued their EZ Cue library on reels as well, The LP EZQ 172 is equivalent to Reel EXT 572. See the reels spinning here.

As a German composer, Gerhard Trede maintained his own private library music label in Germany and any recording information appears to be landlocked there. Rights appear to still remain in Germany under Selected Sound and Sonoton, as well as under his pseudonym, Victor Cavani. However, he did license music for use in the UK and US market under Mozart Edition and CBS Records EZ Cue Library in the 1960s.

As for partially dating when this track was recorded or released, it’s proving nearly as byzantine as for “Joe Cool”.

Naturally as a division of Columbia Records, Columbia Special Products, and the famed “Tiffany Network”, the Columbia Broadcasting System, CBS needed a service to provide musical scoring for its television shows. Evidence of this comes from when CBS donated its archive to UCLA which has been meticulously poured over by researchers unraveling the cue sheets.The CBS EZ Cue Library was intended as a replacement of an older Reel system used by CBS which numbered as high as #75 with subsections A/B/C/D.

An early CBS EZ Cue catalog lists LPs EZQ 101-175 and Tape EZT 501-575. Several cues are named for CBS shows like The Twilight Zone and Perry Mason, the latter aired its final episode on CBS in 1966.

Advertisements for the CBS Records EZ Cue Library appear as early as 1970 in the Darnell Corporation’s Sales Management. Above is a print ad for CBS EZ Cue in the Radio Section of the 1971 Broadcasting Yearbook, published January 15, 1971. The 1971 advertisement uses the serif version of the CBS logo while the 1972 edition of the yearbook features CBS advertisements using a new sans-serif logo.

So far, this gives us a date that the CBS EZ Cue Library was offered for sale and distribution around 1967-1971.

Like “Joe Cool” and “Stars and Teardrops”, the secret lies in the matrix numbers, in this case XTV 134329 and XTV 134330 for the sides that have the track known as “Modern Jazz (Blues)”.

The Library of Congress holds the Columbia Records Paperwork Collection for the years 1923-1964. It details that XTV stands for a 12 inch mono LP while XSV stands for a 12 inch stereo LP. While the archive shows XTV numbers from 11000-94000 sequentially spanning the years from 1949-1964, the XTV numbers are still 5 digits and have not reached the 6 digit XTV number present on the CBS EZ Cue LP as the archive does not go beyond 1964.

Fortunately, Columbia Special Products pressed other records with similar 6 digit XTV numbers with known pressing dates.

Like RCA Custom, Columbia Custom XTV and XSV codes can be tied to a pressing date though Columbia’s is less precise. Judging by the 6 digit XTV and XSV matrix codes above for work by Columbia Custom for labels like Vanguard, Silver Burdett, Reader’s Digest, and even Columbia’s own CBS Special Products the XTV/XSV numbers can be roughly dated as:

XTV 120000 - 1967

XTV 130000 - 1968

XTV 140000 - 1969

Note that XSV stereo matrix numbers may be pressed at slightly different times than XTV mono releases. The 1968 TV movie for Kiss Me Kate was produced by Armstrong Circle Theatre which ran all the Big Three networks, NBC (1950-1957), CBS (1957-1963), and ABC (1966-1968). CBS evidently kept a close association with Armstrong TV productions by 1968. CBS also produced The Incredible Year 1968 with a higher XSV number of 144898; due to its content as an anthology of CBS News broadcasts from the year, it must have been produced towards the end of 1968 or early 1969.

Therefore, if the record with “Modern Jazz (Blues)” has Columbia matrix numbers of XTV 134329 and XTV 134330, it’s consistent with XTV 130000 releases in 1968. It is likely the first run of LPs for EZQ 101-175 with mono XTV numbers were all pressed around 1968 and later stereo XSV 1400000 content released as needed. As shown above, it appears the serif CBS logo was used to advertise this set until 1971 before the transition to sans-serif.

As for why “Modern Jazz (Blues)” became “Jazz Blues”, it’s likely because the original record had too many “Modern Jazz” descriptors. The record was partially reissued in 1990 on the Gerhard Trede Collection CD under Selected Sound and EMI for Jazz Time 1.

Namely, the CD retitled several of the CBS tracks as:

CD CBS

1. Jazz Blues <=> Modern Jazz (Blues)

2. City Sound <=> Modern Jazz (City-Sound)

4. Jazz im Bach Stil <=> Bach ‘N’ Forth

Note the retention of the Johann Sebastian Bach pun.

The liner notes booklet is regrettably short on details, as expected for a library music CD. Trede would have been in his 70s when this CD was made of his CBS work from the 1960s. Though the CD notes it was made in West Germany when the country reunified the same year in 1990.

“Jazz Blues” is officially described as:

Sax gest. Trompete. Piano, sentimental schön.

Sax, muted trumpet, piano, sentimental nice.

The rest of the liner notes indicate the Gerhard Trede library was still transitioning from Selected Sound to EMI in 1990.

Another note is as follows:

Alle Musiken wurden von Gerhard Trede komponiert, instrumentiert und produziert.

Die Kompositionen, die mit einem (+) gezeichnet sind, wurden vom Komponisten auf allen Instrumenten selbst gespielt im eigenen Studio.

All music was composed, orchestrated and produced by Gerhard Trede.

The compositions marked with a (+) were played by the composer himself on all instruments in his own studio.

Though Trede was a talented multi-instrumentalist, “Jazz Blues” doesn’t have a plus so it doesn’t appear he solely performed on the track.

Other library music records used in Fallout:

Jazzy Interlude/Jazz Interlude - Billy Munn - CBL 37

Swing Doors - Allan Gray - CBL 37

Rhythm for You - Eddy Christiani & Frans Poptie - CBL 40

I’m Tickled Pink - Jack Shaindlin - CMR 406

Joe Cool/Stars and Teardrops - Nino Nardini - SF 1007

Roundhouse Rock - Bert Weedon - 6007 012

#fallout new vegas #jazz blues #gerhard trede #Mysterious Broadcast #modern jazz blues #CBS EZ Cue #library music #CBS Records

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myforeverforlife · 4 years

Text

familiar stranger (final).

“It doesn’t feel like home when you’re not with me."

Jongdae’s eyelids fluttered shut, the weight of your words touching the depths of his heart. "You’ll always have me, no matter what. Home hasn’t been the same without you.” His eyes opened, brown pools of color full of adoration as he stared back at you.

Everything was falling back into place.

Disclaimer: This series was planned out before Jongdae’s announcement, and I wanted to finish this for everyone who’s been reading and following along since part one. As always, everything in this is fictional, the only things linked to reality are the use of some character names.

Word Count: 5,734

Masterlist

Series masterlist: ( 1 ) ( 2 ) ( 3 ) ( Final )

Moving day was more organized than you expected. You only had to bring over the pile of stuff you accumulated while staying with Minseok, and the rest already had a place at home with Jongdae. Most of your items were easily settled and in their places within a couple of hours, much to your satisfaction. The only thing left to do was to get the remainder of your clothes put away.

As you folded and hung up your clothes, it hit you that while most of your other tastes had stayed the same, your choice in clothing hadn't. In the course of six years, your wardrobe had changed almost completely.

"I feel like I'm shopping through my own closet," you said over your shoulder. Rummaging through coats and sweaters, you were impressed by certain fashions choices, and oddly confused at others. "Did I really wear this orange sweater?" You took it out by the hanger, lifting it up just as Jongdae peeked out from the bathroom.

"You did, and I always said that you looked like a pumpkin. A very cute pumpkin, I might add." Jongdae laughed, even with his mouth full of toothpaste.

You hung the fuzzy blob of a sweater back up, failing to hide the smile working its way onto your face at Jongdae's words. "I guess I know why I kept it," you said to yourself as Jongdae finished brushing his teeth. He joined you at the closet soon after, similarly dressed in his well-loved pajamas.

"I forgot you even had this," he chuckled. Jongdae reached out, fingers running down the woolen fabric of the sweater. "I never knew why you didn't donate or throw it away. You always said it was too scratchy to wear."

Eyebrows raised in disbelief, you crossed your arms over your chest. "Really? You honestly don't have any idea why?"

Jongdae was still confused, staring harder at the sweater as if he would find the answer there. "No... why?"

"I probably kept it because you liked it so much! Who doesn't want to be called a 'cute pumpkin' by their husband?"

"Huh." Jongdae's head cocked to the head slightly, studying the article of clothing one last time before turning to you. "You didn't have to do that. I know you don't usually like this style."

"I mean, technically I didn't do anything. 'Past me' did."

Jongdae smiled, closing the distance and putting his arms around your waist. "Well, 'past you' is still you." He kissed the crown of your head, his lips lingering a but longer before he rested his cheek against your hair. "Ready for bed?"

It amused Jongdae to watch you hop in on the left side of the bed, a spot you always claimed. You pulled a pillow close to you as you brought the fluffy blanket over your shoulders, sniffing curiously as you caught a whiff of a familiar scent.

"Lavender," you mused, diving down for another sniff.

"To help you sleep," Jongdae explained as he turned off the light on the nightstand. "You used to talk about how it takes forever for you to fall asleep." He stifled a laugh as he lay down, resting his head on the pillow underneath. "And if we're being honest, you were sort of jealous of my ability to fall asleep in five seconds flat."

You mirrored Jongdae, lying down and facing him as you clutched the pillow tightly to you with both arms. "I'm still jealous, now that you've brought that up," you pouted.

Jongdae cooed with sympathy, scooting closer and bringing one arm up to encircle as much of you as he could. "Hopefully the lavender helps tonight."

"I'm sure it will." You smiled up at him before hugging him back, the pillow between both of you making it hard to get your arm over his waist. To Jongdae's amusement, you shoved the pillow out of the way before snuggling closer, nose pressed into his shirt.

And sure enough, you slept better than you did in a long time.

"Y/N, can you bring me the scallops?"

"Yes, chef!" You picked up the hot pan with a towel, warning your fellow chefs as you stepped past before placing on the counter next to Key. He finished plating his risotto before reaching for the scallops, sending you a quick thanks before focusing entirely on the food before him.

"Mingyu, I need garnish soon! Kyungsoo, get ready to have your salmon up to the counter!"

Both men were quick to respond to the head chef, Mingyu readying dainty flowers to be sprinkled atop the scallop risotto while Kyungsoo wiped the edges of his salmon dishes.

You went to check on the meal ticket one last time, making sure that nothing was missing. Under Key's supervision, his dishes were immaculate and aesthetically pleasing to the eye.

Once Jaehyun came to take the dishes out, the whole process started all over again. Key led your team through a couple orders of spicy pork over cauliflower rice and, much to Kyungsoo's delight, wasabi tacos. Time seemed to fly past as you all finished up the last of the main dishes and started on desserts.

Service ended with a last order of lychee cheesecake and mini red bean pancakes topped with French vanilla ice cream, your mouth watering at the sight of them.

"Good work tonight, everybody. That was the best service we've had in a long time. Maybe even since Y/N was last here," he added, giving you a thumbs-up. "Alright, let's clean up and get the hell out of here. I'm dying for a drink."

You rolled back your shoulders, stretching out the sore muscles and moving onto your neck when Kyungsoo called out to you. "You okay?"

"Yeah, my body's just stiff. Too much sitting around at home for me really left me out of shape," you joked.

Kyungsoo's eyes softened in sympathy. "It's tough jumping back into this after so long. You'll get used to it again though."

"Sounds like you speak from experience?"

"Yeah, before I got hired here, I did my military service. I had to leave my job at Junmyeon's old restaurant, Oasis, but he offered me one here once I got out. I thought I'd ease back in like I never left, but it was weird to get back into the habit of cooking in an environment like this. Not just physically, but mentally as well." He leaned back against the counter, throwing the towel in his hand onto his shoulder and crossing his arms. "Luckily, Key is a decent head chef, when he's not sending drunk texts to the groupchat."

"I can hear you Do Kyungsoo, and those counters won't wipe themselves!" Key yelled from the walk-in fridge.

You stifled your giggles as Kyungsoo flinched, immediately reaching up for his towel and searching for the nearest surface to start cleaning.

Sure, your body wasn't used to the stress of pulling through a service like this, but you felt better than you had in a long time. It also helped that you had been welcomed back so cheerfully. Of course, everyone in the kitchen was overjoyed to have you there. Your tasks had been divvied up and shared among the remaining four chefs, the managers even stepping in to help wherever they could.

But you could feel the camaraderie between everyone, and the way that this same friendship was extended towards you. The younger ones liked to rope you into their antics, Lucas and Mark often looking to you for your opinion whenever they got into an enthusiastic discussion about, well, anything. The latest debate had been over which Smash Bros character was the best.

Your happiness at work filtered into your cheeriness at home, and vice versa. Your parents were even able to pick up on your cheery mood as you talked to them over the phone. Although they were cities away and unable to come up to Seoul as often as they liked, you made the effort to call them at least once a week.

Jongdae liked to say hi to your parents whenever he heard that you were on the phone with them. Nothing more than the usual effervescent, genuine greeting, and then he left you with a kiss and your privacy to continue your phone call. As familiar as he was with your parents, you were almost terrified about meeting his. It was slightly comforting to know that they loved you already, but meeting your partner's parents was always a nerve-wracking event. Jongdae never pushed you to meet them, much less talk to then until you were ready.

But deep down, you knew that this was something you would have to do eventually.

You met them for the first time (again) at his parents on a sunny weekend in March, during a family get-together at their house. Jongdae's older brother was there too with his wife, their little daughter back home spending some time with her maternal grandmother.

It was easy to see where Jongdae's assorted charms came from as you observed his parents. His father was reliable and always ready to lend a hand, even when you didn't say anything. His mother was bubbly and optimistic, constantly refreshing others with a kind word and a warm smile.

And Jongdae, sweet as ever, was by your side throughout it all. A hand on your waist as you talked to his mom, a hearty laugh when you innocently pointed out that his brother had a piece of spinach stuck in his teeth.

His childhood home was gone, but his parents still kept a room reserved for him and his brother in their new apartment. Boxes of artifacts from his youth were stacked against the wall, full of yearbooks, letters and stuffed plushies spilling out when you opened them up.

"You have a teddy bear collection?" you asked, picking up one with a plush skateboard attached to its feet. "This might be the cutest thing I've ever seen."

"Stop," Jongdae whined, falling to the floor and covering his face with his hands as you laughed. "I feel bad about throwing them out."

"I'm serious, Dae. This is adorable." You sat the bear up against the pillows on his bed, lining up bear after bear until you had an entire row there. Some were in better condition than others, but all had been well-loved.

Jongdae showed you old photos of the band he was in during high-school, an adolescent version of him sporting different hairstyles that his friend did for him. "I let him practice on me, but I drew the line at mohawks. My mom would've killed me, and Jongdeok would've teased me about it forever. Not that he doesn't tease me enough already," he added with a good-natured roll of his eyes.

"How about now?" you asked, wiggling your eyebrows. "I think you'd look good in one."

Jongdae choked on his laughter, tears welling in the corners of his eyes as you frantically got him up to a sitting position. "I'm fine," he assured you, coughing in between chuckles. "You just surprised me."

"You mean you don't want a hairstyle that makes you look like a rooster?" you quipped, joining in as Jongdae erupted into giggles once more.

"Okay, that's it, I'm never going with you to the hair salon." His chest continued to rumble with laughter as he leaned against you, his cheek pressed against your head. "I'm glad you're having a good time here."

"Your family's so sweet, how can I not?"

Jongdae smiled to himself, head ducking down to kiss you. "I'm happy that you're happy, darling."

Jongdae's family members were so similar to himself, how could you not love them? They welcomed you into the family a second time, your personality suiting their easygoing ways.

And something you really appreciated — not once did any of them comment on your ring-less finger.

It had been a journey wracked with guilt and confusion, but you had reached the point where looking at your wedding ring didn't send you into a whirlpool of nervousness.

A few weeks and sessions unpacking your guilt with Dr. Suh later, you even took to wearing your wedding ring again — although not where you were traditionally expected to. The elegant piece of jewelry hung from a thin silver chain around your neck, an old Christmas present from your father.

Your ring was the bridge between your present and past — but more importantly, your future. Wearing your ring grounded you, reminded you about how lucky you were to be here now, even if you couldn't remember the past six years. It was comforting to feel the slight pull on your necklace when you leaned forward, the ring swinging forward and catching the light.

What warmed your heart even more was Jongdae's reaction to seeing it again.

You had been antsy all day, the ring hidden under your shirt. For all Jongdae knew, you were just wearing a necklace you had rediscovered. But when you leaned down to pick up a pair of shoes, the ring slipped out from its hiding place. Jongdae, who tended to be completely oblivious to his surroundings, took a bit to realize what he was seeing. Once he did, however, his mouth fell open, eyes trained solely on the ring at your neck. No matter how many times you replayed it in your mind, you couldn't figure out who had moved first. All you knew was that both of you were in each other's arms, Jongdae's lips on yours as he kissed you like his life depended on it.

When he managed to finally pull away, he looked you in the eye, asking why you chose to wear it.

"It just feels right," you murmured, fingers tracing over his collarbones. You couldn't meet his gaze, feeling the the intensity of his eyes on yours. You needed to be clear-headed if you wanted to get your thoughts out correctly. "I used to be scared of it. I knew that I loved you, but I wasn't sure if I was ready for a big commitment like this. It's my first time being married," you finished with a soft laugh.

Jongdae lifted your chin up gently, waiting until you were looking at him. "You didn't do this just for me, right?" He swallowed back the nervousness creeping up his throat.

You shook your head. "Not just for you or me, but for us, darling."

Jongdae froze for a second before his hands came up to your cheeks, caressing them softly. “Say it again, please.” His voice was shaky, despite the steadiness of his hands. "I've missed hearing that."

"Darling Jongdae," you whispered back, your own hands trembling as they reached up to cover Jongdae's where they rested on your face. "I love you. I don't think I ever really stopped."

Jongdae let out an unexpected sob, closing his eyes and ducking his head. His hands dropped from your face, taking yours down with him.

"Dae, don't cry," you pleaded, reaching out to be the one to cradle his face now. "Dae," you said tenderly, brushing his bangs back as he tried to hide his tears.

He turned his head, wiping his face on his sleeve before turning back to you. His eyes were red-rimmed, tears clumping his eyelashes together. "I'm happy," he choked out, taking in a shuddering, raspy breath. "You make me happy, Y/N, no matter what you do. But this... nothing even compares to this.”

"But I'm not even wearing the ring the right way," you murmured, surprised by his strong reaction.

Jongdae shook his head, brows drawn low over his face, a serious glint to his eye. "It doesn't matter where you wear it. You could wear it on your pinky toe, for all that I care. But I'm... I'm honored that you would choose to wear it again. To choose me again."

"It's only ever been you, Jongdae. I'd fall for you again, a million times over if it meant I got to be with you." You kissed him, feeling the subtle tickle of his eyelashes against your skin when he closed his eyes.

"I love you," he breathed, unwilling to move even an inch away when he was already drunk off of you.

"I love you too, Dae."

And in your soul, you felt that truer words had never been spoken.

Winter ended and with it came sunnier spring days, each with their fair share of rainy ones. You and Jongdae had spent these early months of the year cuddled up in late winter's warmth, discovering new things about each other as the first seeds began to sprout. It was normal now for Jongdae to pick you up from work, for both of you to come home and talk about your days over dinner and then spend the rest of the night lazing around.

Your old worries tended to creep up on you from time to time, but your circle of supporters were always ready to listen and comfort. You confided in Dr. Suh, sharing your deepest, darkest fears about not being able to live up to the person you had been before the accident. It took a lot of talking out your thoughts and thinking through the realities of them, sorting through what was fact and fiction, and the importance of living for now.

You had gotten so used to having Dr. Suh as another shoulder to lean on that it knocked your world off balance when you got down to your last sessions.

"I don't think there's anything left for me to help you with," she explained. "You've done an amazing job learning to talk through your problems, and not just to me. I've seen how much you and Jongdae have improved, and I think it's time that I take a step back."

"This is so weird, it feels like it was only a couple of weeks ago that I came in here for the first time," you mused.

"Time really has flown by, hasn’t it?” Dr. Suh took off her glasses, resting them on top of her leg. "You've made so much progress, and I have faith in your abilities to continue your good work. I'll miss my sessions with you and Jongdae, but I sincerely believe that neither of you need me anymore. I'm proud of you both."

A sudden wave of emotion came over you, gratitude towards Dr. Suh for all of her help over the past months, to uncertainty about the days ahead without these confidential talks in her office. "Are you sure?" you asked meekly. "What do I do if I need help again?"

"Then I'll always be here. But I think you and Jongdae have done more for each other than I have." Her lips curled upwards, bringing an uncommon youthfulness to her usually calm demeanor.

"I'm sure together, the two of you will be just fine."

Six months later...

Your played with the ring hanging from your neck, one foot tapping anxiously against the floor. Tonight was the night. It wasn't your first holiday with Jongdae, and some people wouldn't consider a birthday a "real" holiday anyways, but in your eyes, it was absolutely imperative that everything go smoothly tonight.

"Y/N, relax, he'll be here soon," Key said, wiping off a few beads of sweat from his forehead. "If you stay in the kitchen any longer, you'll end up sweating in that outfit."

He had a point. "Are you sure you don't need any help?" you asked, leaning across the counter. Key had done his best to keep you out of the kitchen, sparing one glance at your dress and stating that he wouldn't be the one to get oil or food residue on your outfit. After you begged and pleaded, he begrudgingly agreed to let you sit and watch from across the counter.

"I'm sure," Key emphasized, waving you away with one hand. "Now hurry and get out there before your dress starts to smell like beef or something."

With a snort, you hopped off the stool, pushing open the kitchen door and leaving the chefs to their own devices.

The restaurant was nearly empty, the last few customers finishing up their meals and settling their checks. You had offered to work today, but Irene wouldn't hear of it, especially after hearing of your plans to celebrate Jongdae's birthday. She even insisted that you take your time off to go and treat yourself to some time at a salon. That didn't stop you from showing up an hour before you told Jongdae to meet you, running through your plans and finalizing them.

For your sake, the restaurant was closing early tonight so that you and Jongdae would have the whole place to yourselves. Well, yourselves, and the rest of the staff who you knew would be eavesdropping at every moment.

"Y/N!" Junmyeon called out, coming over with two copies of your menu. "We finally got the printer to work, what do you think?"

In his hands were two menus, the thick leaves of paper already laminated and placed inside the leather bindings. You read down the list, nodding contentedly at what you saw there. "Perfect! Thanks so much, Myeon. I know how much trouble the printer was giving you."

"If it's for you and Jongdae, it's not a problem. You can pay me in leftover food, though." He laughed as he walked away, the apples of his cheeks tinged pink with mirth.

One table by the window had been especially reserved for both of you, the table settings already freshly cleaned after the previous diners. You leaned over, rearranging the petite flowers in the vase that sat there, the golden sunshine of their petals instantly lifting your mood. The simple arrangement held a mix of dandelions and black-eyed Susans, with some sprigs of baby's breath to add some subtle contrast. As much as you and Jongdae both loved lavender, you noticed how he was always drawn to any sort of buttery, yellow flower. His face had brightened up when you brought some home the other day, his nose disappearing into the depth of petals as he smelled the fragrant scent. He made you laugh when he picked one out, sticking it behind his ear as you both did the rest of your Saturday chores.

"Y/N, it's almost time!" Irene came up from behind, smoothing down your hair and giving you a final look-over. She nodded to herself when she was satisfied, gently pushing you into a chair.

"Irene, I'm probably gonna stand up again once he comes in," you said, even as your boss meticulously straightened out every little bit and piece on the table.

"That might be true, but when Jongdae walks up to the entrance, the first thing he's going to see is you sitting here by the window. With the light coming at you from this angle and your vase of flowers here, you look like you belong in a painting. Jongdae will be at a complete loss for words."

Your lips quirked up at the unexpected compliments, thanking your friend for her help tonight.

"I'm happy to do this for you, Y/N. We all are." She glanced up, spotting something through the window. "I'd say good luck, but I know that you won't need it."

You followed her line of sight, sitting up in your seat and craning your neck until you saw Jongdae, frozen on the path leading up to the restaurant. He broke out of his stupor when he met your eye, raising a hand to wave shyly. You didn't even notice Irene as she slipped away discreetly, your heart melting at the sight of Jongdae. Your boss may have tried to frame you like a portrait in a museum, picturesque and pleasing to the eye, but no work of art could surpass Jongdae's beauty in your eyes.

Jongdae greeted Johnny at the entrance, following through the charade as the taller man led him to your table — the only occupied table in the entire restaurant. He took his seat, fingers tapping nervously against his legs as he gave you a crooked smile. "Hi, darling. I didn't think we'd be the only ones here tonight."

"Being friends with the owner has its perks," you shrugged nonchalantly. "Happy birthday, Dae." You had already wished him a happy birthday multiple times already, but you were overflowing with festive cheer. It was your first time celebrating his birthday, and you intended to make this a night he wouldn't forget.

"Thank you," Jongdae replied sweetly, his hand reaching over the table to meet yours.

Johnny came back with drinks and your specially crafted menus. There was only one option listed for each course, but you had made sure to pick dishes that Jongdae absolutely loved. His face lit up as he read down the list, unconsciously swallowing as if he could already taste the food. "Babe, this all sounds amazing. How am I gonna eat all of this?"

"I'm sure we'll find a way. And if we don't, at least we've got a full staff to help us out." You nodded towards the kitchen, Jongdae following suit only to see Key staring through the window. The head chef was unfazed at being caught, waving quickly before he disappeared from view and sending you and Jongdae into a fit of giggles.

The first course was the appetizer: a sampler of short ribs cooked in several ways. The bites were small, but enough to hold you over until the next course. Jongdae, ever the carnivore, dug in with gusto. "This isn't a dish on the menu, is it? Did you come up with this?" he asked in awe.

"I planned it with Key and Soo. They both helped me with the flavor combinations."

Jongdae sighed happily. "You're a genius. I could kiss you right now, you know?"

"I'd be fine with that," you smiled, leaning closer.

The door to the kitchen swung open, Ten coming to bring you the main course. You and Jongdae both jumped back in your seats, laughing quietly at your shared embarrassment.

If Jongdae was ecstatic at the sight of the appetizer, he was completely overjoyed when he saw what the main course was. "It's your kimchi stew," he gaped in wonder.

You had practiced the beloved recipe, the one from your cookbook that reduced you to tears months ago. It had taken a couple of test trials in the kitchen before you felt that it was absolutely perfect, nothing less than what you wanted to present to Jongdae. Tonight, Kyungsoo was in charge of it, but you trusted him with your recipe wholeheartedly.

Jongdae closed his eyes as soon as he took the first bite, the familiar spiciness and warmth rushing over him. "God, this is so good," he gushed, opening his eyes to meet your proud smile.

"I'm glad you like it. Kyungsoo did a great job with it tonight."

Jongdae nodded, scooping up some rice from the stone bowl beside his stew. "I'll have to give my compliments to the chef," he joked with a twinkle in his eye.

When both of you were done and felt like you couldn't eat any more, Ten came back to clear your dishes. You knew what was going to happen next, and the dormant butterflies in your stomach began to fly into a frenzy. Across from you, Jongdae sat oblivious to your inner turmoil.

"I don't know if I can eat any more. But then again, Mom always said I had a separate stomach for dessert." He laughed, hands resting over his full belly as you joined in.

"Well, I guess we'll see if that's true."

Jongdae raised an eyebrow, about to ask something when some of the lights went out, only your little corner by the window still illuminated by light. A chorus of singing could be heard from the kitchen, only to come flooding out once the doors opened.

Junmyeon carried the cake out, concentrating hard on singing and walking at the same time. Irene was beside him, hands outstretched as if she expected the cake to fall at any moment. Kyungsoo was right behind, the cake knife wrapped in a cloth napkin and held carefully in his hands as his cheeks glowed with excitement. The rest of the staff followed along, singing turning to shouts and cheers as the fun of it all started to sink in. Even Minseok and Baekhyun were there, Minseok recording on his phone and Baekhyun with a party hat on his head.

"Happy birthday!" Baekhyun yelled once the singing was over and the applause died down. He took off his hat to put it on Jongdae's head instead. Of course, always ready to go along with the fun, Jongdae let his best friend put the silly hat on him. It was much too small, and you were sure that he would have a mark on his chin from the rubber band, but none of it bothered him at all.

Junmyeon managed to get the cake onto the table without any incidents, much to everyone's relief. He hid behind Mingyu to wipe away the sweat at his temples while Jongdae grinned appreciatively at the cake.

"Matcha cheesecake?" he asked, eyes flashing up to meet yours.

"The one and only. I hope you like it, Dae."

"I love it, all of this. Thank you so much, darling." He brought your hand up, pressing a feather-light kiss to the knuckles there.

"Don't forget to make a wish," Minseok spoke up, still recording every moment.

Jongdae took in a deep breath as he closed his eyes. It was almost like watching him pray, the way he whispered to himself so softly, no one else could hear. He opened his eyes and blew out the candles, the room erupting into cheers and applause once more.

Soon, the cake was cut and pieces passed around. Jongdae had tried to cut it at first, but the slices were in danger of coming out horribly uneven, so Kyungsoo stepped in. Everyone was scattered throughout the restaurant, lounging around and talking over their cake. They were mindful of your privacy, varied conversations never interrupting the intimacy shared at your table.

"Y/N, thank you so much for tonight," Jongdae murmured, now without his birthday hat. "This is the best birthday I've ever had."

"Really?" you asked, fork stopping halfway to your mouth as your froze, taken off-guard.

"Really," he repeated. "I can tell how much work you put into this, you and everyone here. I still can't believe how lucky I am to have someone do this for me."

"I do it because I love you, Dae." You set your fork down, the metal clattering against the ceramic plate. "I actually have one last surprise," you stammered out. The butterflies in your stomach had now reached peak frenzy, almost rendering you frozen.

Jongdae watched, half intrigued and the other half worried by the trembling of your fingers. You reached up to undo the clasp of your necklace, slipping your ring off of the chain and cradling it in your other hand.

"At the beginning of this year, I wasn't sure what would happen to me. I was terrified and lost, and it took everything I had to even try to piece my life back together." You paused, licking your dry lips and readying yourself for the next words. Jongdae's eyes were wide, emotion swirling in that expressive face of his. The love and awe that you saw there spurred you on, words coming more readily.

"I was scared of falling back in love with you because I knew even less about you than I knew about myself. And the more I found out about you, the deeper I fell. It was the biggest leap of faith I'd ever taken, trusting myself to you and hoping that we would both come out unscathed. And now, every single day, I'm so thankful to have you in my life. I love you more than I can say in words, more than I will ever remember. Kim Jongdae, will you marry me a second time?"

Jongdae jumped up, surprising you and everyone else in the room who had been listening in. He came around the table, stooping down to cup your cheeks gently before he kissed you.

Someone started hooting and cheering, but it was merely background noise to you. How could you focus on anything else when Jongdae was kissing you like you were the most precious thing he had ever set eyes on?

"Is that a yes?" you mumbled against his lips, raising an eyebrow when Jongdae chuckled softly.

"Yes, with all of my heart." Jongdae crouched down beside you, on his knees as he took the ring from your hand. Both of you watched as he slid it carefully onto the finger that had been bare for so long. Once it was nestled safely against your skin, you pulled him back in for another kiss, giggling when your friends began to crowd the two of you again.

"Yo, but can people really get married twice?" Mark asked to no one in particular, looking from face to face for his answer.

"I was thinking more of us renewing our vows, but asking him to marry me just seemed more romantic," you explained with a laugh.

"And it worked," Jongdae added, his hand stroking the side of your face. "I'd marry you a thousand times over, if you asked me to."

"Don't say that, she'll really make you do it," Minseok interrupted.

You stuck your tongue out at your older brother, ignoring the chuckles of amusement at your childish reaction. Jongdae reached down to pick up your left hand, his thumb running reverently over the ring there.

"Thank you," he whispered to you, his forehead resting against yours. "Thank you for choosing me again, even after everything."

"Darling, I always will. Even after every hardship, every unexpected thing that comes out way, we’ve managed to still make it out together. With you, I'm never lost."

Jongdae's gaze softened, his brown eyes reflecting your own hopes and dreams back for you to see. You felt his thumb run over your ring again, the touch comforting and immediately putting you at ease. "You'll never be lost again," he said sincerely.

"I promise."

Series masterlist: ( 1 ) ( 2 ) ( 3 ) ( Final )

A/N: and that’s a wrap! thank you to everyone who’s been reading not only this series, but any of my jongdae fics since I started posting them here! 💕💕💕

for the flowers in the vase: baby's breath means long lasting love, dandelions can mean bravery, personal growth, healing, perseverance (there were lots of mixed meanings) and black-eyed susans mean encouragement.

if you guys remember the small paragraph I shared of this a long, long time ago before I really started working on the series, this will seem pretty different from that. I went through a lot of changes after hearing about jongdae's good news because I didn't want to write a jongdae scenario so close to reality. i’m still happy to end this series on a good note, and I can genuinely say that i’ve enjoyed every moment not only of writing this, but for writing everything i’ve done for jongdae. I won’t be writing any reader x jongdae fics anymore, but there’s always a good chance he’ll show up as a side character in future works!

tag list: @khelmatic @chogi-wae @wongxiexie

#exo #chen #chen scenario #jongdae scenario #chen fanfic #jongdae fanfic #exo scenario #exo fanfic #writings

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the-space-above-the-stars · 5 years

Text

to all the boys my brother hangs out with

intro | a love letter, sleuthing, and six boys

Summary: Lee Y/N gets a love letter delivered to her through her brother. And through some quick investigating and the process of elimination, she figures out that the only possibility to who the sender is is one of her brothers friends.

Warnings: none, a love confession?

Genre: fluff

Word Count: 1.1K (it’s short, but it’s just an intro)

Pairings: NCT Dream x Reader, platonic!Liu Yanyang x Reader, brother!Mark Lee x reader

“Okay, I accept that,” Yangyang continued. “But you have to admit there’s something cool about romance,”

“For the last time, Yang,” you groaned, unlocking your locker and taking out some textbooks, carefully packing away your school-issued camera. “I would take a bullet for you, I will help make props, I will help sell tickets and run the show, I will take photos for yearbook, but I will not act in your production of Romeo and Juliet.” Yangyang helped run the slightly understaffed and underfunded school drama department, and this year’s production of Romeo and Juliet was providing him with some challenges.

“Okay, even as the tiniest role? Romeo’s mom is only in a few acts? Or we can dress you like a boy and you could be one of the dudes fighting in Act 1? They’re only on stage for 3 minutes, max.” His desperation is slightly amusing, and you roll your eyes, stumbling back a second later as something pulls on the back of your bag.

“Hey Y/N-ie,” scowling, you look up at your brother, Mark, dangling something in front of your face. “Next time you’re exchanging love letters with a guy, can you please make sure they put it in the right Lee’s locker?”

“What the fuck do you mean, love letters?” He shrugs and hands you the envelope he’s holding. It’s a plain white envelope, with your name written on the back. “Who the hell is sending me love letters?” Mark shrugs again. “Beats me. Come on, open it-”

“Mark!” The voice takes your brother’s attention from the letter to the group of six boys, his friends, standing at the end of the hall. Lee Donghyuck, the one who yelled, nods his head towards the end of the hall. “Come on, we’ve got class!”

“Coming! Tell me what it says later, okay?” Mark takes off, Na Jaemin wrapping an arm around his shoulders. Donghyuck waves at you, and you wave back before the boys leave.

“Who sent you a love letter, Lee?” Yangyang bounces around you like a puppy, impatient for you to open the envelope.

“Hold up, hold up, let me open it.” Tearing it open, you pull the plain piece of notebook paper out of the envelope and unfold it. The writing’s in messy blue ink, your eyes widening more and more as you read it. Fed up with you silence, Yangyang takes the note and guides the both of you to a quieter place in the halls, reading aloud.

“Lee Y/N,” he starts.

Lee Y/N,

I’ve been hiding a secret for the past few years, and I’d say I’ve been pretty good at it. But high school’s almost over and I figured now or never, right? The truth is, I like you. I’ve liked you since you talked back to Mr. Choi in AP Chem and got sent to the principal’s office. At least, that’s when I figured out I liked you. You’re smart, and funny, and so super talented at whatever you try, it’s almost annoying. And not that this even matters, but you’re also the prettiest girl on campus, you can quote me on that. God, I’ve never written someone a love letter before this is awkward. But yeah, we’re confessing feelings here, so I like you, Y/N. And it feels good that you know that now, even if you don’t know me.

“Signed ‘an admirer’. He literally kept this shit anonymous- but what the fuck Y/N, you have a secret admirer, that’s so cool! Oooh, what if it’s that cute guy from your Psychology class?” Yangyang’s more excited than you, the initial shock still setting in as you take it from his hands.

“Who? Who would write me a love letter? And why would they slip it to Mark instead of me? And why- okay, does this dude think he’s getting away with this secret admirer bull?”

***

And so, many hours later after you had sorted through your emotions and hate a good plate full of your mom’s M&M cookies, you and Yangyang sat in your room, staring up at the glow in the dark stars stuck on your ceiling. “So he’s a senior, we know that.”

“Or he could be a junior? I mean, a lot of us are already facing that high school’s almost over crisis, so it could be a junior or a senior.”

“Okay, it’s a guy. I can tell because I’m a guy and this dude wrote you a love letter on a piece of ruled paper in blue ink.” Picking up the letter again, you let your thumb trace over the drawing in the corner, a neon red bleeding heart. An absentminded doodle? “And he put it in Mark’s locker, but why-“

“Y/N?” Another of Mark’s friends, Lee Jeno, pokes his head in the door, flashing his signature shy eye smile. “Mark sent me to see if you have his extra gaming console?”

And as if magic, a light bulb lights up above both your head and Yangyang’s. Who would know Mark’s combination? You knew it, as a safety in case he forgot, and you knew Donghyuck knew it, from all the times he’s stashed his stuff in Mark’s. So wouldn’t it be safe to assume all of Mark’s friends knew it? “Uh, yeah Jeno, here.” He leaves, and you and Yangyang turn to look at each other, bearing a small resemblance to the shocked Pikachu meme.

“It’s one of Mark’s friends.” You say in sync, cue to your mental breakdown and Yangyang looking like that meme of the crazy conspiracy theorist.

“That’s why they put it in Mark’s locker! They don’t know the combination for yours!”

“It could be any of those 6 guys sitting downstairs in my living room right now, Yangyang.”

“Okay, okay, lets make a list.” He grabs a piece of paper and a red marker, and you count down Mark’s friends one by one.

Huang Renjun

Park Jisung

Na Jaemin

Zhong Chenle

Lee Jeno

Lee Donghyuck

“Wait!” Yangyang has an epiphany, grabbing the list again. “This dude said you had AP Chem together a few years back! So wouldn’t that cut out Chenle and Jisung, they were just freshman!”

“No, they were TA’s in that class, they signed up for the same period,” You think back to that AP Chem class, where Mr. Choi sat you in the back for the whole year. From that perspective, you would remember everyone in that class. Jisung and Chenle sat at the front as TA’s, Donghyuck sat by Mark near the door, Renjun was the quiet one, near the window, and you were sandwiched between Jeno and Jaemin.

“Every single person on this list was in that class,” you groan, the struggles of secret admirers becoming tiresome already. “That doesn’t help us, Yang!”

“But I mean, we’ve got some progress!” Ever the optimist, Yangyang tacks the list up. “It’s one of these 6 people, you just have to figure out with one. Now come on, best place to start is at the beginning.

1. Huang Renjun, the transfer student from China.

A/N: This was short but I meant to make it as more of a sort of introduction to the actual story! Part one will take place with Y/N figuring out if Renjun did or did not send the letter. I’m really excited to start this story, so if you have any feedback of want to be added to the taglist, please do send in an ask or a DM!

- Sabrina

@chikinika

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alj4890 · 4 years

Text

New Year's Eve

A Choices Fan Fiction of The Royal Romance, Red Carpet Diaries, and Perfect Match

@lxaah11 @alleksa16 @penguininapinktuxedo @blackcoffee85 @stopforamoment @hopefulmoonobject @krsnlove @annekebbphotography @gibbles82 @cora-nova @bella-ca @hopelessromantic1352 . @sunflowergirl05 @desiree-0816 @greywitchyshots @lilyofchoices @moodyvalentinestories @emceesynonymroll @dr-nancy-house @aworldoffandoms @ab1901 @flyawayboo @i-bloody-love-drake-walker .

Masterlist

A/N Here it finally is! The end to this multi-part fluff! Not gonna lie, I'm quite proud of myself for not allowing this to turn into a big series and for finishing up on New Year's Day, LOL! Anyway here is a final look at this New Year's AU for bff @krsnlove

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Epilogue

The Royal Palace, Cordonia

Dec. 31st, one year later...

Amanda slowly opened her eyes and wondered if she would be forced to get up and answer the door.

She turned over and peeped at her husband of two months and sighed. Thomas was still softly snoring. No getting out of this.

She glanced at the alarm clock on the nightstand and groaned at the early morning hour. She made her way to the door and stuck her head out.

"Forgive me your grace," Bastien began, "but King Liam wanted to make certain you arrived downstairs in time."

"Et tu Bastien?" She said then promised she would be down in a few moments.

"Early morning pests." She muttered as she stumbled around in the dark to find her clothes.

Thomas turned a lamp on and blinked against the brightness. "What are you doing awake?"

"I have something to do downstairs." She explained. She leaned down and kissed him. "It won't take long." She laughed when he pulled her back in bed.

"Wouldn't you rather stay here?" He placed a kiss on her neck.

"You have no idea how much I want to." She reluctantly left his arms and got dressed. "I'll be back shortly."

"I'll keep your spot warm." Thomas promised as he turned the lamp off.

Thirty minutes later, she hurried downstairs. The palace was still dark and hardly anyone stirred. She went to Liam's study and paused at it being empty.

"Bastien!" She called out.

"Yes, m'lady?" He came into the room

"Where are the others?"

The king's guard averted his eyes from hers. "They," he coughed and took a step back. "They should be down soon, they wanted me to wake you up earlier so that you would be here in time."

"Oh!" She exclaimed. "I--" her eyes narrowed. "That will be all."

He quickly exited.

She plopped down in a leather chair near the fireplace and plotted her revenge.

"Good morning." Liam called out to her twenty minutes later.

"Don't you good morning me!" She snapped. "Why was I awakened before the rest of you?" She slowly rose from her chair and approached Liam.

"Now Amanda," he quickly put the desk between them. "You know as well as I that getting up in the mornings is not your strongest--" he ducked the pillow being swatted at him.

Drake and Olivia entered, grinning at the sight of Liam running from Amanda's attack.

"I see she found out your plan." Olivia called out.

Liam paused to answer and got a mouth full of pillow. He narrowed his eyes at her. "Are you finished?"

Amanda stuck her nose up and walked away. "For now."

Olivia joined her on the sofa and set her hands on the beginning of a noticiable baby bump. "I don't believe my heir likes early mornings any better than you do."

Amanda smiled and leaned down close to Olivia's stomach. "I knew you would be perfect." She said to the baby.

Drake chuckled and came up behind Olivia. He gently rubbed her shoulders as they waited on Maxwell to appear.

"Do we have it ready?" Drake asked.

Liam unlocked a cabinet and pulled out a wrapped gift. "Right here."

Maxwell came in a few moments later, yawning. "What's going on? I didn't think we had to be ready for the wedding until this afternoon."

"We don't." Liam explained. "There is something though that the four of us wanted to give you."

Maxwell paused in stretching. "Who? Me? You want to give me something? It isn't my wedding day."

"We know that, idiot." Olivia rolled her eyes. "We were all there months ago for that three ringed circus."

Maxwell grinned. "Nadia and I know how to throw a wedding to remember."

Liam held the gift out to him. "I believe you will understand why we did so once you see it."

Maxwell sat down in a chair and ripped into the paper. He lifted the lid and frowned at the leather bound book. "Um...I'm still not understanding it."

"Open it!" Amanda ordered.

Maxwell lifted the heavy book and turned to the first page. There was a picture of the five of them along with his prediction he made a year ago. "Hey! This is us! You made us into a book!"

"More like a yearbook." Drake explained.

Maxwell turned the page and grinned at the pictures of the five of them when they first arrived in New York a year ago. Then there was the picture Thomas took of four of them in front of the tree by Rockefeller Center.

He then noticed the captions and tidbits written with each photo. They offered a remembered funny or poignant moment that he was either a part of or one of the others were.

The book continued on with all that had occurred within the year: Liam courting Riley all these months. Drake and Olivia becoming engaged during the reception of Maxwell and Nadia's wedding. Thomas and Amanda's low key red carpet wedding. Liam's proposal to Riley at the Statue of Liberty. An ultrasound photo of Drake and Olivia's early fall surprise. All the year's memories were in there.

The last page held copies of handwritten notes to him about how they didn't pay much attention to his prediction, but now were grateful for him pointing out how special that New Year's was. They expressed how happy they were in having him as one of their best friends and knew that next time they would pay closer attention of he ever predicted such life changing moments again.

Maxwell sniffed as he finished the last letter and got up silently to hug them all.

"Not so tight!" Olivia muttered when he pulled her into the group hug.

"Thanks." He mumbled while trying to keep his emotions in check. "You know you all mean the world to me and this," he wrapped his arms around the book, "means everything to me."

"Can we go back to bed now before we have to get ready for the wedding?" Amanda pleaded.

"I know I could use a nap." Olivia stood up and linked arms with Amanda. "Coming gentlemen?"

The five made their way upstairs and parted at the different wings.

_________________

Wedding Reception/New Year's Eve Party, The Royal Palace Courtyard...

7pm.

"Can you believe that those two are together because of us?" Addison exclaimed. "Our Fairy Godmother powers are off the charts!"

"We did good." Jessica smiled when Liam and Riley cut the wedding cake.

"Yes, we did." Holly clinked her glass of champagne with theirs and watched the two share a kiss.

8pm.

"So have you and Hana decided on the most important thing?" Ryan asked.

"I think we've got everything planned out." Rashad explained.

"What he means is the honeymoon." Matt explained.

Rashad grinned at the movie stars. "That was the first thing we planned when we chose a date."

"Now that's what I'm talking about." Seth patted him on the back. "Lucky for me Jess was willing to put up with my suggestions on the best places to go."

"So, when is the big day?" Ryan asked.

"January 31st. Exactly one year and one month from our first date." He said, standing up to greet Hana with a kiss as she told him she was the one to catch Riley's bouquet.

9 pm.

"Remember our first dance?" Maxwell asked as he pulled Nadia onto the dance floor.

"You know I could never forget that." She rose up on her tiptoes and kissed him. "If this had not been a wedding reception, I would have worn my white dress in honor of that night."

He smiled, dimples deepening as he held her close. "In three months, it will be our first anniversary."

"Yes it will." She giggled as he kissed the tip of her nose.

"Since it is customary to give a paper gift," he trailed off to tease her.

"Maxwell!" She wagged a finger at him. "Don't you dare!"

He twirled her and brought her back close to his body. "How does airplane tickets to wherever you want to go sound?"

She squealed and kissed him. "It sounds like you, perfect."

10 pm.

"Happy?" Riley asked as Liam pulled her off for a moment alone.

"Happier than I thought was humanly possible." He held her in his arms as they looked out over the capital.

"When you told me a year ago what you intended, I didn't think we would actually be here together, married." Riley admitted.

"And now?" He asked looking down into her eyes.

"And now I can't imagine living any other way." She looped her arms around his neck. "I am very happy to be your wife."

"And Cordonia's Queen." He added, softly kissing her lips.

"That pales in comparison to being with you for the rest of my life." She whispered.

11 pm.

Thomas sat down with Amanda at an empty table, observing the guests enjoying themselves.

"I think I preferred our New Year's Eve last year." His dark eyes met hers. "Minus the broken ankle."

She laughed and leaned against him as his arms came around her. "It was nice being just the two of us."

"I suggest we make that our annual plans." His lips found hers. "As happy as I am for Liam and Riley, I look forward to being alone with you."

She smiled against his lips. "I think you're rubbing off on me. I'm looking forward to the same thing." She gripped his lapels as his kiss deepened.

"Do you think anyone would notice if we quietly left?" He whispered.

"Yes. We all would."

The couple looked up at an irritated Addison. Her arms were folded and then she pointed toward the crowd. "Go be sociable! You can be alone later."

Thomas glared at her while Amanda laughed. She slipped her arm around him as they followed Addison back to the party.

"We'll try again in a few minutes." She whispered, drawing a smile from him.

11:55 pm.

"Almost time!" Riley wrapped her arms around Liam, smiling the smile of a joyful bride.

"Another new year." Drake muttered, carefully placing his hand on Olivia's stomach. "Just seems like yesterday we were doing this."

"I'm very happy it wasn't yesterday." Amanda leaned back in her husband's embrace. "I prefer not to be on crutches." She smiled as Thomas tightened his arms around her. "Makes dancing so much easier."

Maxwell felt that strange prickling sensation come over him again as he looked at his closest friends waiting on the fireworks to announce it being midnight. "I think it's happening again!"

Nadia looked up at him while he wrapped his arms around her. "What? What's happening?"

"It can't be." Amanda breathed when it hit her what he meant. "We already have the ones!"

Drake shook his head in doubt. "Must have been something you ate."

Liam's eyes widened. "Are you sure?"

Maxwell nodded as the timer continued the countdown. "Something huge will be happening next year."

"Of course it is." Olivia smirked. "I will be giving Lythikos it's future duke or duchess."

"Not only that," Maxwell's blue eyes met those around him. "We will all be expecting babies next year."

#choices the royal romance #choices red carpet diaries #choices perfect match #new year's eve prompt #the end

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early20thcenturynerd · 5 years

Photo

“Margetta Hirsch Doyle ’45 was a regular student at William & Mary. Her friends called her 'Getta' and she was a Kappa Delta. Doyle kept a diary and wrote about her philosophy quizzes, described how much she enjoyed making Red Cross surgical wrappings and mentioned hours spent spotting airplanes from campus buildings. Doyle was a student during World War II.

During the second World War, William & Mary became a predominantly female campus. While many college-age males fought abroad, women kept up the war effort from Williamsburg. In between their studies and social life, students volunteered with the Student War Council and the American Red Cross. Along with other service work, they, like Doyle, made surgical dressings and spotted airplanes, sometimes in groups and sometimes alone.”

Margetta Hirsch Doyle's Entries for May, 1943:

MAY 1

Happy May Day! It was Saturday and so we didn’t do much. Cary, Beth, Mrs. Dalthud and I went marketing and made out pretty well. Cary and I made the first major mistake of our careers as housekeepers. We bought birdseye fish for dinner (no points) and naturally thought we should keep it frozen in the ice box. By the time Lizzie and Flora arrived there were just so many chunks of ice lieing there. We all howled hysterically over it and had a vegetable plate dinner (I hope the fish will thaw by Monday!) This afternoon Cary and I went down town and to the Wigwam. I wrote some letters, changed the bedding on my bed and generally wasted time - worked tonight. I received a card from Bill Brennan - his 29 day training is almost up.

MAY 2

Such an unusual little day! We slept unusually late and then Beth, Punchy and I dressed to go to church. As we came out of Bruton, Joy Allen pounced upon Punchy and me saying Cary had walked by with two ensigns and a lieutenant j.g. and wanted us to walk up to the Lodge and meet them. Bewildered, we looked at each other with a what-the-heck attitude and walked on up. Sure enough, there was Cary with three naval officers! We soon became acquainted and had loads of fun drinking champagne cocktails and eating dinner. After awhile we came back to the house and played the vic. It was really a terrifically pleasant afternoon. Cary, Punchy and I pored through the want ads and I wrote six or seven letters of application to see how the land lies. I tried to phone Bill Brennan to wish him a happy birthday but couldn't get the call thru.

MAY 3

Things may seem “awfully dismal” at times but I’m really so very lucky and the bright spots of life are so nice. Tonight - brazen hussy that I am! - while down at work I placed a call through to Bill Brennan again. It wouldn't come, but the little operator kept trying (pull!) and finally just after I got back to the house the phone rang and a voice said “Boy! This is wonderful!” Ya huh, ‘twas Willy and gosh it was super talking to him. It wasn't at all like a typical long distance conversation - we just said dumb old things and deep things and you’d have thought we were both in Hollis rather than in Billsburg and Atlantic City respectively. So nice! Oh I forgot to mention that I got a perky letter from him too. I’m beaming obnoxiously. I wish…….. My life has a mysterious element too. This evening while I was out two darling marines came to see me, one of who “was a very good friend of a girl from home.” Vague, but I hope they come back!

MAY 4

I’ve still glowed all day from last night’s phone call, and even now nice things keep happening. At lunchtime the package man came bearing a gift for me: a lush "bon bon" spoon with an awfully sweet note from “Mom” Brennan -- I was so tickled with it, and love her good. We rushed today informally - Betty Marie Ellett for lunch and two other girls for dinner with the usual accompanying intra-sorority feeling. Initiation for Jinx Richardson, Ann Wilson and Eleanor Ramsdell was last night and so we had a cup service at seven o’clock this morning - then classes, marketing, fun and work. I received real nice letters from Mother and Daddy and a faintly perky one from Bill Boyd. He is trying to stall off his furlough until June when I’ll be home. Gosh, I hope it’ll work. I’m so lucky! Flat Hat mentioned Punchy’s & my badminton defeat.

MAY 5

This morning was the annual convocation for the tapping of the members of the junior class chosen to be Mortarboard and ODK. It was very impressive and full of suspense, since supposedly noone knew who was to be selected. Fran Pendleton was one of the five girls to get Mortarboard and we’re all very thrilled about the whole thing. The other girls were Margie Lentz, Katie Rutherford, Marion Ross, and [Lebe] Seay. Mary Wilson Carver is the new president. Punchy, Carolyn Harley and I went up on Barrett roof sunbathing and got faintly tanned. Then we went shopping for Mother’s Day gifts and had our pictures taken at the telephone office. Per usual when having our pictures taken, Punchy sneered and I had “my fixed look” sat on the camera, but we’re celebrities anyway. Beth & Marty won badminton matched over Gamma Phi.

MAY 6

“Rabbit - rabbit” really worked this month cause things keep getting better ‘n’ better. Today was a usual Thursday: marketing classes (Econ outside in the Sunken Gardens), archery (I’m off the 30 yd line at last) and swimming. After that we went downtown to the official dedication of the U.S.O., with music and speeches, including one by John D. Rockefeller, ‘Jr. ‘Twas sort of impressive. Yearbooks came out today and it’s the best Colonial Echo in years. We spent considerable time in poring over it, laughing and "ohing" and "ahing". Remember the marines I wrote about Monday night? Well, Warren Ripley came back this evening and is awfully nice. He knows Mary Claire Willard from St. Mary’s and she gave him my name. -- small world. He, a goon, Mavis Bunch and I went to the movies (”Truck Busters” was horrible) and then to the Lodge coffee shoppe

MAY 7

I’m awfully tired, and in a bad mood though still awfully happy about everything. Such a nice life? Nothing exciting happened today. I didn't go marketing, but instead went up in the Library tower for two hours - once with Cary and once with Midge - spotting airplanes. I managed to get a bit of studying done for my philosophy quiz which I sleepily took. (B- on last week’s) I went over to the office to get a social card for Warren and ended up talking in Louise’s room; then I wrote letters to both Bills and fooled around. Holly Rickis has come back for the weekend - it’s natural to have her here. Work was bitter - everything went wrong and the time dragged. A “nice voice” called me up and chatted and a sailor walked us home. Such a masculine life as I’ve been having glimpses into. I can’t get over it! Floyd wrote me from Hunter Field, Georgia

MAY 8

The weekend has come and I’ve resolved to purely have fun - and how it has started! This afternoon Beth and I went downtown to do our weekly shopping for odds and ends and then she Punchy and I went sunbathing by the practice house with Danny and Eleanor Ramsdell, It’s really hot too! Warren came by with two other marines to tell me that they were going to Richmond and he mightn’t be back right on time for our date tomorrow night. Seeing the other two marines I promised Beth & Punchy dates tomorrow night - and I dood it. Every few minutes, after we were all together I would say “Do you really want to do to Richmond?” and finally we talked them into staying for a howl of an evening. We saw “Air Force” one of the best pictures I’ve ever seen, and went to the Lodge. Ray and Dick kept wanting to be in Richmond, and kept making all sorts of classic remarks! Such fun!

MAY 9

Happy Mother’s Day -- and what a day! Being hot, we lazily relaxed around the house and didn't quite get to church. I wrote home and Bugsie, changed the bedding on my bed and dressed for dinner. In the middle of it Warren (who wasn't supposed to arrive until late this afternoon) came with Ray, and thus began the second day of my truly unusual experience. Since there isn’t much to do with a date here on Sunday afternoons we went for a walk through the woods and then sat and watched people playing tennis, after which we went to the movies and saw “Air Force” again. Then we went up to the Lodge for champagne cocktails and a howl of a dinner - amusing (!) episode about the time and the tip. What a boy! Mother phoned tonight - and then Harold from Camp Peary phoned me. He sounds nice but you can’t tell. He phoned the telephone co.

MAY 10

Nothing at all new again. Classes, marketing and quite a lot of studying this afternoon! I actually did some English Lit and then typed away on an interview for Psychology, letting my imagination run rampant with information. I really did get from Warren on the subject “Alcohol and You”. This evening there was the last W.S.C.G.A. meeting of the year, and then we went to an Economics makeup, disturbed by retreat’s being blown from the naval chaplains in our right ears. After that, we had song practice and sorority meeting, made vivid by stirring remarks about the state of the treasury and the consequences of not paying fines and the like. We had a dreamy serenade by Eddie Anderson and two other boys complete with guitar and drooled out the window at its romanticism.

MAY 11

I went to classes, and then as usual went downtown with Cary to do the marketing - was amazed that some boxes of puddings had arrived in town - it made our housekeeping have a bright spot for the day. Archery was nice in that I got off the 40 yd line in one try. I must have just been jinxed by the 30 yd line - I have a new lease on life now though. On the way back from archery, I stopped in to see Holly, Kay and Louise and talked to them for awhile before coming back to the house and getting ready to have my picture taken again for the Transmitter, the Telephone Co. periodical. Speaking of pictures, the Flat Hat came out today with our crummy picture and the writeup. Punchy and I are celebrities! Mother phoned about Daddy’s maybe coming down and to say she has the measles - imagine! Harold also phoned me!

MAY 12

Another awfully nice day! After classes and marketing I did my philosophy and then Beth and I rolled bandages for the Red Cross with Mrs. Pomfret. Beth and Punchy played badminton intramurals with Theta and won - I silently stood by and cheered. Warren was here when we got back & stayed till I had to go to work. He wanted a date tonight and Friday night too but I work both nights and so I got out of it very easily. He’s a nice fellow but a little too eccentric to be very enjoyable. In the mail I got a “big” picture of Bill Brennan in uniform. He looks good and it’s interesting to compare it to the other big picture I have of him. He’s so neat and how I’d like to see him! He enclosed a note as did his mom.

MAY 13

Gad! I’m weary! Today was another one of those days where nothing noteworthy happened but little thing after little thing kept piling up till I haven’t got much energy left. Why do I bother to mention classes, marketing and my athletic afternoon? I’m stuck on the 50 yd line in Archery and in swimming after I emerged from the pool, I slipped, leaped into the air and fell completely flat on my back -- I’m sore and my posterior hurts! At work everyone seemed irritable (probably just because I was) and things didn’t seem to get done right. It’s being paycheck night was the one bright spot -- by the way, with my remaining checks I’ve decided to pay for my $25 room reservation fee besides my ticket home. Then I’ll feel I’m doing something worth while and useful with my earnings.

MAY 14

Life keeps getting better ‘n’ better, excepting for some things of course, the chiefest among which being a meeting of two representatives from each sorority to which I went with Dr. Pomfret, Miss Wynne Roberts, Charlie Duke and Vernon Nunn all about eating in the dining hall next year and reductions (?) in rent, involving all sorts of amazing involvements. The fur was flying as we got in truly deep discussions. There’ll be another even hotter meeting next Monday evening. All the things that keep happening! Such a nice thing happened at work tonight! A Mr. Curyea, who has been calling New York to his wife quite frequently from Camp Peary asked me my number and when I came back from my relief a lush box of candy was waiting for me with a card which said “In appreciation of the service that I have received in my calls to New York City”. It was one of the sweetest things anyone’s ever done for me. Bugsie comes tomorrow! Life can’t get much nicer!

MAY 15

Such a beautiful life. Bugsie was supposed to come this morning but got lost through connections and finally arrived at 3:00 P.M. on the bus; Gosh! It was super seeing her again! We came back to the house and then walked around campus -- had a screwy time at dinner and afterwards getting dressed for a mass blind date - eight couples. It was super with us walking to the Lodge, Chowning’s, Rexalls #2 and going to the dance in Blow Gym with eight army lieutenants. It was a crazy evening but loads of fun, and I hope Bugsie had a kick out of it. Other lovely events: a cute letter from Jimmy Mooney and a perky one from Bill Boyd signed “All my love”. (slurpy, huh -- I’m so glad!) News that Bill Brennan is stationed at Hamilton College, N.Y. Oh things can’t get better

MAY 16

My poor feet! We crowded so much into this little day! First we went to Bruton for a service made completely memorable by the presence of British Admiral Pound, General Wavell & others. It seems that General Marshall and the other important allied military leaders have conferred in Williamsburg about future campaign tactics. As we prayed in church (all of us) it made me realize how insignificant I am in the powerful drama being enacted now. After church Bugsie and I went to the Lodge for dinner and then went sightseeing at the Capitol and Governor’s Palace, stopping at Lavery’s on the way. We went over to see Dossie and had supper with her in the dining hall. We had a typically crazy evening together in the house - Kay came over and we walked her home. Whee - so much done this weekend.

MAY 17

Still everything keeps on happening! Bugsie and I went downtown and did some marketing before I saw her off on the morning train - it was so swell having her here! This afternoon I attempted to do some studying and ended up by writing letters and indulging in bull sessions - also became a bit dreamy over a card and six page letter from Bill Brennan from Hamilton College announcing that things look awfully good so far as our seeing each other once or twice this summer is concerned. (Lovely thought!) This evening Becky and I went to the sorority representatives meeting for setting the rent problem with the administration. They’ve made concessions but even with having 2 extra girls in the dining room our individual room & board will increase about $25 a semester. Oooh! Touching last sorority meeting of the year.

MAY 18

Ooooh! I’m tired! Punchy and I slept through Philosophy, and I got up for the marketing sort of sleepily. In Economics I hesitantly began to read my report on Agriculture (1940-1942) and Doc Heidingsfield said it was one the best: therefore I love him good. This afternoon I graduated from the 50 yd line in archery and was happy to go in swimming on account of its being so very hot. At work tonight there were too many of us to record so I just sort of sat and was errand girl - terrifically boring - it’ll be sort of good not to work anymore. Mother called tonight to tell me that Daddy’s coming down this weekend - it’ll be swell and I’m awfully glad, but I can’t push off studying for exams much longer!

MAY 19

Today was the day when my conscience finally pushed me to the point of doing some studying - English Lit. - and I really got quite a bit of it accomplished, considering all that I have to do. So much work all at the end of the year (I know: it’s my own fault!) at 3:30 P.M. Beth, Punchy Carolyn and I took time out for trek towards the Wigwam for milkshakes and tin roofs to brighten our dreary outlooks on life. At work tonight I learned Rate and Route and that’s all the news there is about me. Mimi Jardine became engaged to MacGregor (a lieutenant in the navy who seems swell). Gollee - that’s the third in one little week for the KΔ house. Carolyn Harley agreed to take George’s miniature on her five hours off “campus” with him Saturday night, and Marty and Tommy are finally all set too. Such romance!!

MAY 20

No more classes or anything, ceptin’ exams - I still can’t believe it -- Honest! ‘Tis all over but the shouting and I’ve even made up my double gym. Archery, with a tournament, was terrifically hot, and so it was super indeed to go swimming even though we didn't have a regular class. Now I can go on towards being a Junior (depending on my exams natchally!) I got a letter from the New York office of the American Tel and Til Co. telling me to come in, in June to see about a job. At least it’s something definite that I can look into to see what they have to offer instead of wandering around completely aimlessly. Mrs. Dalthud took over the marketing today; and we’re really elated about it. Three cheers! I washed my hair tonight and am comparatively smooth! So much studying to do and so little time to do it in.

MAY 21

So many things have happened again today. I went downtown and then paid my $25 room reservation deposit out of my savings. At ten o’clock the train came in and Daddy got off after a hectic trip. He, Cary and I went to the Lodge and found he’s rooming with a Marine major who is quite a character and has wild parties each night. Poor dad - he came here for a rest too! We had lunch in the dining room and then I read over some philosophy notes, just for the heck of it. More relaxing and then Punchy and I went to work for the last time. I’m glad it's over in a way cause it’s getting sort of boring not to be doing anything new, but we’re going to miss the neat gang down there. A senior party back at the house with lush lovely reminiscences, singing, munching on candy bars, punch and lollypops. Such wonderful girls!!!

MAY 22

Day after day, things pile up! I went up to the Lodge and met Daddy for lunch, then coming back to campus for an Economics Review class. Warren Ripley and his mother (down to see him) came over to the house and then they went to the movies with Daddy and me to see “American Empire” one of the corniest Westerns I’ve ever seen. - ‘twas horrible. Beth and Punchy went up to the Lodge to meet us and we had a hysterical evening, including a yummy STEAK dinner, a trek to the major’s room, (meeting him and some of his gang.) and chatting with Chuck Gondak and other interesting people. We laughed and laughed together and really enjoyed ourselves. Marty became officially engaged to Tommy with a lovely ring. Mmmm! Perky letter from Floyd.

MAY 23

Another day at the Lodge! Carolyn Harley and I walked up to Bruton to meet Daddy for church. Reverend Wood, from Toronto, Canada, preached the sermon which was one of the best I’d ever heard (personification of the Cathedral in Coventry and St. Paul’s in London - most unusual but stirring!) Kay, Lou Holly and Danny came up to the Lodge for dinner and more idle chitchat. Kay, Lou and Holly left soon after dinner to do some studying. but Danny stayed and the three of us relaxed in the sun. We had a bite (a bite, I say?) to eat in the coffee shoppe and then I came back to the house and dove into my English Lit. - my mind’s bleary as it always becomes at this stage of the game (and I haven’t even started to study yet!) Harold called tonight!

MAY 24

All morning I grinded over English Lit till I could scream - I’m so sick of the darned stuff! Daddy came up to the house to meet everyone and then we had a sandwich in the Greek’s. This afternoon we went back to the Lodge and sat around talking. Oh, and yes, I did some more English Lit. Dossie Hostetter came up for dinner and we reminisced some more. All the gals down here are so neat! I said Goodbye to Dad till a week from Thursday, and then came back to the house to cram some more. Such monotony! I received another cute letter from Bill Brennan and mail from mother.

MAY 25

Dad left this morning on the morning train but along that time I was hibernating in Wren with my English Lit. exam. Twas really a corker - most of it was fair, but as always I met my Waterloo on the spot passages. At least the darned thing is over and I’ll never have to think about English Lit. again. (one exam down and four to go: Eureka!!) This afternoon I stopped at Barrett with a birthday present for Holly, went to the Wigwam and eventually settled down to studying Psychology of the interview, rather halfheartedly. My brain can’t stand too much concentrated studying all at once. Gee, I’m living and breathing for a week from now when it’ll be all over. Such fun as it’s been though. A postcard from Harold.

MAY 26

Apologies, Diary, for the monotony of these entries but the fact remains that I’m a study bug and nothing else. My only communion with the outside world was a trek to Casey’s for shampoo with which to wash my hair; and after that I returned to Philosophy and Economics. Such a broadening intellectual viewpoint as I’m developing! Much excitement over Jinx Richardson! Supposedly she spent the night in town with Bill Lugar already married and is being shipped. Rumors are spreading fast and furiously. ‘Tis a shame cause she really is a neat girl inspite of all the confusion in which she’s been involved. Letters from Mother and Bugsie, saying she has to have her wisdom teeth dug out of her jaw. Poor gal! Also packages & empty cartons from Dad.

MAY 27

Another day of pure studying! I’d much rather have exams day after day, than sit and cram Psych., Econ. and Philosophy into my head at the same time and then wait to find out how much I don’t remember. I can picture me writing Psychological answers on my Economics exam! All morning and part of this afternoon I spent over at the Practice House reviewing Econ. (see! I said I was in a rut!) with Danny. It helped to see the various emphasis placed on things. Then this evening inbetween perpetual feasts (from boxes à la Hollis) and a phone call from Mother, Beth, Punchy and I rambled over Psych. I got a card from Bill Boyd - he’s been on maneuvers and is going out again - doesn’t lead to a very satisfactory correspondence; but when the real time comes……

MAY 28

My brain just keeps on getting wearier and wearier. This morning I had my Psych exams, and this afternoon Econ., both of which were entirely different from what I’d expected. Unless Doc Heidingsfield is terrifically lenient - there goes my A! Good and amazing news though: I got a B as my final grade in English Lit. Dr. Crane mustn’t have counted all my mistaken spot passages very much. I love him dearly for it. - for bringing my C up to a B when I hadn’t expected a C definitely. Then too, I learned I’d gotten B on my last Psych exam (taken weeks ago!) So, excepting for what I did on my exams today, scholastically life’s looking up. After supper, Beth, Punchy and I took a longish bike ride and it was such fun! Twas my first actual ride and rather long too. A letter from Colbie and cards from Dad.

MAY 29

All my stiff exams are now over. Three huzzahs! Philosophy this morning was completely fair and one of the nicest exams I’ve taken this period. Now there’s only Spanish left. This afternoon we were fed up with the utter filth of the room (I’m not kidding either.) and so again moved beds, dusted, vacuumed, and rolled the rug in moth balls. Then the trunks were moved in and the room looks like a confused mess of the nth degree. I thought I’d lost my keys of the trunk and called home; Mum is sending down the duplicated and “All’s Well that Ends Well” We packed, sold our books in the Wigwam (only collected $2.55 for three books though!) and revisited the telephone company.

MAY 30

The last day of studying and working a la intellect until September - I can scarce believe it yet!! We didn’t go to church but personally improved ourselves, while I did Spanish and Beth and Punchy finished packing their trunks. Then Janie Beth Punchy and I ran a final hasty comb through our hair and went to the Lodge for claret and dinner. It was smooth and we had a lovely reminiscent time, catting and chatting about people. Gad, how I’m going to miss the super Seniors. I’m not at all anxious for the end of the year to come. It’s all been one continuously mellow feeling full of laughs and a few almost-tears which have made Kappa Delta and all the super gang in the house so near and dear to me!

MAY 31

Such a snap of a Spanish final with translations of sentences like “How are you?” - would that they all had been like that! Anyhoo, it’s over and I’m beautifully and blissfully free. This afternoon I pulled open drawers; dumped things on my bed; and by a process of elimination, packed my trunk. I love to pack, and really enjoyed it. With frequent trips to town for returning extra board money and doing last minute shopping, the afternoon sped by till time for Cary, Janie, Mimi Boone and I to see “The More the Merrier,” a howl of a movie about the Washington housing problem, starring Charles Coburn, Jean Arthur and Joel McCray. Darling. Letters from Daddy, Audrey and Bill Brennan.

#1943 #1940s #history #diary #diaries #journal #historical diary #william & mary #womens history #long post

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calummwhatchasay · 5 years

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x² + (3y/2 - √|x|)² = 1 (A.I.)

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scapegrace74-blog · 6 years

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Seventeen: Ines

A/N You ever make a list? A way to compile all the missed opportunities, the transgressions, the warning signs telling you that you’re on the wrong path? Of course you have. Part 4 in the series. Part 1 and links to other parts are here. Rated NC-17. And yes, I did a self-insert. Sue me. But for the record, in the twelfth grade, I totally would have put out for Fox Mulder. No question.

Michelle was his Grade 12 chemistry lab partner. They’d known each other since kindergarten, but something about his newfound confidence with girls must have cast him in a different light that fall. That, or it was the fifteen pounds of lean muscle he’d developed paddling a long board all summer. Either way, casual familiarity turned to coy flirtation as she tapped her pale green nails atop the lab stool next to hers and purred, “Come sit next to me, Fox.”

They were an item by October, when his father countermanded his mother’s decision and bought him a TransAm for his sixteenth birthday.

“Boys will be boys, Teena. And he owned up to his responsibilities. That slut can have a litter of brats for all I care, but none of them will be Mulders.” Another charming dinner conversation, courtesy of his divorced parents.

The TransAm gave him unfettered mobility and released him from the affliction of having to take the school bus each day (made even less appealing by the fact that Nicole had dropped out of school), but it didn’t get him into Michelle’s pants.

Patrician and blue blood to the core, Michelle was a vestal virgin in the church of Nice Girls Don’t, saving herself for marriage to someone of equal pedigree. He was a half-Jewish mutt by comparison, but his surfeit of charm and gifted fingers convinced Michelle to acquire a very technical definition of virginity.

By senior prom, he could play her like a Stradivarius, and teased her that their yearbook should list “Zen and the Art of Exquisite Fellatio” as her favourite book.

Still, by then he had an entrance letter to Oxford University lying on his nightstand, and it was thoughts of trans-Atlantic escape and not Michelle’s coltish thighs that kept him up nights.

Oxford was another universe. The cultural revolution taking place across Britain had not washed up on its shores, and he donned his sub-fusc like Edwardian landed gentry every morning before proceeding to lectures across the quad. If there were students getting laid, they were doing it very discretely, no doubt in the most decorous manner imaginable. He wondered if they closed their eyes and thought of Oxford.

In all honesty, he barely noticed. His brain was so stimulated that his sex drive ran a distant second, appeased by the familiar clutch and tug of his right hand. The freezing cold college showers didn’t hurt either.

Instead of going back to the States between Hilary and Trinity term, he headed to the Algarve with a cluster of first year boys from Balliol. Something about the sun and sand and copious cheap wine turned his formerly dour flatmates into rogues, and they terrorized the seashore, laughing uproariously and chasing anything in a skirt.

They were sitting at an outdoor cafe, three empty bottles of vinho tinto decorating their table, and a passionate debate about cricket was gaining amplitude.

“No no no, mate. Even if we’d played South Africa back in ‘71, we still would have gone undefeated. Tony Grieg was a masterful bowler.”

“I don’t know, Hayes. That Springbok team was prodigiously strong.”

“Bollocks. Ask Mulder. What do you say, Mulder?”

It was a public school idiosyncrasy that everyone at Oxford referred to him by his last name. After a short period of adjustment, he found he liked it. Mulder had no history. Mulder was whoever he made him to be. No-one ever wondered what had happened to Mulder’s lost sister.

Mulder also knew nothing about cricket.

“England all the way, lads.”

A chorus of loud cheers, and another bottle of wine was uncorked.

It was about this time that he noticed their waitress. She was conservatively dressed in a long black skirt and peasant blouse, with glossy black hair and eyes that reminded him of a startled deer. She leaned over him to collect their empty bottles, and breast met shoulder for a fleeting moment. That was all he needed.

That first night, the boys had insisted they leave the cafe and find some fresher mischief further down the beachfront. He left a good tip, and made sure to make eye contact before walking away. He wanted to believe she looked regretful at his departure, but it could have been relief. They were a loud bunch.

Two evenings later, they were back at their regular table, and she brought out their first bottle of wine, along with some petiscos.

“Obrigado,” he murmured, trying to impress her with his rudimentary Portuguese.

“Disponha,” she demurely replied. Things were progressing. His heart did a little hiccough.

Several hours later, his friends were ready to find a bar that was showing England’s qualifying match for the 1978 World Cup.

“You know what, guys? I’m not really in the mood for peering at a tiny grey screen made even greyer by a fog of cigarette smoke. I’m gonna beg off.”

After some cursory protests, his friends walked west and he walked east towards their hostel, before doubling back to the cafe. She was wiping their table when he approached.

He held out five escudos. “Sorry, I forgot to leave you a tip. Ahh, err, preciso de gratificação?”

She blushed and then laughed. He shrugged his shoulders, puzzled.

“You just say that you need gratification,” she tittered in her heavily accented English.

He blushed deeply, then erupted into laughter, which she echoed.

“Well, that may be true, but I really only wanted to leave you a tip. The gratification will have to wait.” He grinned his best boyish grin.

She smiled in response, and he sensed an opening.

“Mulder,” he introduced himself, extending his hand.

“Ines,” she replied, placing her delicate fingers on his palm. “Mul-dar? Is a strange name, não?”

“Well, it’s actually Fox Mulder. Fox.”

“Fucks?!!” She withdrew her hand quickly.

“No. Not fucks. Fox. Like, um, like a small wolf. Fox.”

“Ah. Raposa. Sim. But is still a strange name.” And then they both burst anew into gales of laughter.

After that hilarious introduction, he saw as much of Ines as he could. She lived outside of the town, and rode a little blue moped to work each morning, so he met her at the cafe, waking up late after the night’s revelries. He sat at a small table facing the sea, reading his textbooks for the next term and watching Ines interact with the other patrons. She had a thoughtless grace to her movements that he found captivating.

She was older than he’d assumed. Twenty-five, but still living with her parents. Unmarried, for reasons he couldn’t fathom in his innocence. If the cafe grew quiet, which it rarely did, she’d sit across from him and they’d share a plate of olives and sharp cheese and try to understand one another. After a pause in one such conversation, a cool slender foot skimmed up his right calf, tickling beneath his knee and causing his khaki pants to tent. He looked across the table at her and she answered with a slow, sleepy blink.

They met on a Tuesday. By Saturday, he didn’t know who was seducing whom.

His friends gave up on him, rolling their eyes and teasing him for “going native”, but he could read the envy in their faces as he came back to their shared hostel room later and later each night.

Portugal was a conservative country, and Ines had to live in this small, gossip-fueled town long after he was gone. They kissed in narrow alleyways. They necked behind the breakwater. When she had a rare day off, they walked hand in hand down dusty farm roads until they found an ancient oak tree and lay down in its shade.

His hands charted the exotic territory of her thighs, ass, pelvic mound, before slipping inside her underwear and teasing the moist envelope of her labia.

“Sim, Mul-dar. É tão bom. Sim. Sim.” The sound of his surname on her pretty wine-dark lips was the most beautiful song he knew.

Their last night arrived, and he watched her patiently as the cafe emptied, memorizing her for a rainy day. Finally, her work was done, and she approached his table and held out her hand. She led him through dark tangled streets, past barred windows and open doors. At the base of a steep external stairway, she lifted her finger to his lips, requesting silence. They climbed, and behind the slanted door was an austere room. A mattress and a wooden chair were the only furnishings, but the gauzy curtains billowed before an open window that faced the sea breeze.

“Is Martim’s room. The chef. He sleep with friend tonight.”

He understood at once what she’d done, and why, and he was humbled by her courage.

“Ines, I... this is wonderful. But it’s not necessary. Você não precisa fazer.”

She covered his lips with her finger once more, then cupped his crotch with her other hand.

“Precisa de gratificação,” she repeated his first words to her.

“I’m fine, Ines. You don’t need to-” She kissed him silent before whispering in his ear.

“Not you, Mul-dar. Me.”

Go to Chapter 5: Phoebe.

#my writing #x-files #wip #seventeen

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