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theunquenchablethirst · 3 years

Text

Hooked (Jerome X Reader)

Ok, so this is a thing. I was kinda surprised nobody had used this scene yet, because the Gotham fandom seem to collectively agree that Jerome is BIG KINKY and yet the one scene where he canonically has people cuffed up and hung from the ceiling... nobody has touched??? Y'all have been sleeping on that scene! It's fanfic gold! Anyway, enjoy the hedonism. Much love xxx

Warning: SMUT, 18+, GRAPHIC SEXUAL CONTENT, BDSM, bondage, cuffs, dom/sub, vaginal fingering, oral sex, biting, spanking, slapping, pussy slapping, light choking, spitting, belt whipping, praise/degradation, marking, mention of scratching, Jerome is big meanie pants mean man

The new mayor of Gotham is having a meeting with his council members, but things take a turn when the Legion of Horribles show up to kidnap them and reader. When the victims are being unloaded from the truck, Jerome Valeska notices reader, because she isn't exactly on the guest list.

Tag list of lovelies: @gabile18 @valeskaduh @fangirl--writes @persephoneblck

Masterlist

I had been working as a housekeeper for the new mayor. It was a good job, but I wasn't appreciated. I was just there to clean and serve when needed. I don't think he even knew my name. I was just hired help to him. To all of them.

He was hosting a dinner for his council that day. I had been placed in the corner of the room with a bottle of expensive wine where I was to wait until wanted. He gestured for me to come forwards and fill their glasses while they started talking about their displeasure with the rising foul play in the city, like it was anything new for Gotham. The chairwoman wanted to know what he was going to do about it. Very little in my opinion. He was just coasting. In too deep over his head. He had been appointed far too fast and everyone knew it. He wasn't going to last.

He made an attempt to save face and talk about how he too was disturbed by the recent goings on and was doing everything he could. Trash, utter trash. As he rose from his seat, the lights fizzled out. I stopped pouring. Had this been any other city I would have assumed it was a simple power outage, but nothing was that simple in Gotham. The security guard closed us in and went to see what was happening. The air turned icy. No, this was not good. Gunshots and screams came from the hallway and everyone rose from the table terrified. We quickly started walking towards a door hoping to make an escape, but there was something about the windows. They were freezing over.

The doors burst open and I dropped the wine. It smashed into pieces as a blueish man in some kind of robotic suit and a weird looking, but huge gun stepped into the room. Was that Victor Fries? Then through the second set of doors another man in a top hat who I recognised as Jervis Tetch burst in with some other strange looking friends.

Before I could comprehend the situation, we were all being cuffed and taken outside. Our kidnappers pushed and pulled us towards a huge truck, all the while the mayor tried to buy his way free. He was showing just how little he really knew about the underbelly of Gotham. I knew just by looking at them that they were probably Arkham escapees and couldn't be bought like a sane man could. They had their own plans and you can't bargain with crazies.

We got to the truck and they opened the back door. My blood ran cold when I saw that standing there waiting for us was Jerome Valeska. Of all the criminals Gotham had seen he had been the only one that had scared me, truly and thoroughly. He didn't have any kind of reason for what he did. He just enjoyed death and chaos. And after his last escapade he looked like madness personified, his scars circling his face and eyes and giving him a permanent evil smile. Dread consumed me as I realized that he was no doubt the leader of this operation and if that was true, we were already dead.

I felt myself jolted forwards. The mayor had pushed me in front of the rest of the council to get whatever was coming first. If I wasn't cuffed, I would have turned around and broke his nose. I was lifted into the truck, my hands were pulled above my head and fixed to two hooks. I had to stand on my toes to keep standing which made it awkward and difficult as they pushed me to the back of the truck.

Was that Penguin? What was he doing here? He didn't belong here. I had gone to Penguin looking for a job in his club when I was 16. He was impressed with my audition, but when he asked my age, he rejected me.

"This establishment is not a playground for children. It's a nightclub." He had told me. At the time I had been steaming mad, but in hindsight he was probably right. Even if he was rude. So, after that, I found it hard to understand why he was here and working with Valeska. Maybe he had been kidnapped too?

The rest of the council were loaded on and hooked. The mayor was still trying to offer them money and pardons. When he saw it wasn't working, he resorted to empty, unintimidating threats. Jerome was completely unfazed and even a little disappointed in the lack of smiles.

"Nobody knows how to have fun anymore, right?" He said putting his arm around Penguin. So, he was a part of this.

Jerome pointed to a scary looking figure dressed like a scarecrow. Johnathan Crane? Crane released some kind of purple gas in the face of a member of a council. She started laughing and convulsing violently.

"What have you got to lose? Except your sanity?" Jerome joined in the crazy laughter. So, this was his plan. He'd figured out a way to forcefully drive everyone insane. With a gas.

I silently prayed to God in my mind for any kind of help.

After sufficiently terrifying us half to death, they left us in the back of truck. None of us could say anything and after a few minutes the truck started moving.

"Is she ok?" I asked looking towards the victim of the insanity gas.

"Who cares?! We have to figure out what they want and get out of here." Replied the mayor.

"Maybe they want publicity for whatever that gas is. Offer them some TV time." Guessed the chairwoman.

"Don't you get it?! This isn't a situation you can buy your way out of!" I snapped, frustrated with their idiocy.

"These aren't normal criminals. They don't want your money. They want chaos and madness." They stood there silently stunned. They had never heard me speak with such confidence, but in that moment, they knew I was right.

After what felt like hours the truck finally stopped.

"What's going on?" The mayor whispered.

Everything was quiet. We listened for any noise or sign of life. All we could hear was our own breath.

Then suddenly the doors flung open once again and in hopped Valeska, Tetch and Crane.

"We're here!" Jerome grinned.

The other two started to pull the council one by one off the hooks and walk them out of the truck, closely watched by Jerome. Until they got to me.

"Wait..." He stuck an arm out to stop Tetch from unhooking me.

"Who's she? She wasn't on the party list." He took a few steps closer to me.

"This poor young girl is an unlucky maid. Wrong place, wrong time. Very bad day." Jervis explained looking at me.

"Would you like me to... dispose of her?" Asked Crane, stalking close to me and lifting needle covered fingers to my throat.

"Not so fast, Mr Potato Head." Jerome said pulling him away from me.

He came so close that we were only inches apart. He looked down at me as if he was thinking for a few seconds then smirked and turned around to the others.

"Guys, go and see that our guests are comfortable, will ya? Get everything ready." He ushered them out of the truck. Fear travelled up and down my body. This had all been a bad situation, but being alone with Valeska scared the hell out of me.

"You're lucky I have a soft spot for pretty little girls." He closed the truck doors and turned to look at me.

"Freddy Krueger there... not so much." He relaxed, leaning back against the doors with his hands in his pockets. "You got a name?"

I stayed silent, more out of fear than defiance. He sucked his teeth and stood up straight.

"I get it. You're scared. Who wouldn't be, right?" He started slowly walking closer. "But things will go a lot smoother if you just play nice."

I still couldn't find any words.

"Aw, come on, doll! I'm getting awful lonely over here." He brought his hands up out of his pockets and leaned against a wall of the truck.

He was quiet for a few seconds and I noticed that his eyes were making their way up my legs. Being held up by my wrists on my tip toes had pulled my uniform skirt up and almost all of my thighs were exposed. I blurted out my name in an attempt to distract him from my bare legs. He smiled.

"What a pretty name. Now, was that so hard?" He pushed himself off the wall and came a little closer.

"So, you're the mayor's dust bunny, huh? I gotta say, doll, I can see why he keeps you around." He chuckled, eyeing me.

My whole body flushed and my face turned hot and red.

“But, uh, the thing about mayors in this town, they don’t last very long.”

"Please let me go." I whimpered.

"Oh, but we're having such a good time! Plus, if I did that, you'd scamper off to the GCPD and I can't have good ol' Gordon crashing the party early."

I scoffed at his suggestion. Not likely. I had a distinct distaste for the GCPD. They hadn't helped me when I needed them. I would never need them again.

"What's the matter? He book ya before or something?" Jerome smiled with intrigue.

"My parents... they... did things to us. When I ended up in the hospital one too many times..." Tears stung my eyes as I remembered. "They left me there and disappeared with my little brother. No one ever managed to track them down."

I didn’t fully understand why I was opening up to Jerome, but for a second, I saw a spark of humanity in his eyes. Like he understood my pain. I'd heard his first kill had been his mother, so maybe he did?

"I'd give anything to see him again." I sniffed and a tear rolled down my cheek.

"Yeah, I had shitty parents too." He sighed. "I killed them both."

I had thought about what I would do if I ever saw my parents again. What I would say, what I would ask. I could never think of the right words. But the thought of killing them, well that made me smile.

"What was it like?" I asked.

Jerome grinned from ear to ear and stepped closer so that we were toe to toe.

“Have you ever stood at the edge of a really tall building? You know that little voice in the back of your head that says ‘Jump! You can fly!’ even though every other part of you is screaming ‘No you can’t! You’re gonna kill us!’”

I nodded shakily.

“It’s like finally giving in to that voice. Like jumping off Gotham Bridge and finding out you can fly. And realising you never have to walk again.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat and my heart felt like it was going a million beats per minute. His eyes were locked on mine and it felt like he was looking straight into my soul.

“You wanna fly, doll?” He brought his hand up to cup my jaw and ran his thumb along my bottom lip.

It wasn’t humanity I saw in Jerome Valeskas eyes. It was freedom. A freedom that I had wanted for as long as I could remember. And I could have it right now. He was offering it to me. The only thing standing in my way was myself.

“Yes.” I breathed. “Yes, I do.”

The next thing I knew, his lips were crashing into mine and he had hooked his hands under my thighs and was holding them around his waist. His kiss was desperate and hungry, like he had been starved for days and his grip on the bare flesh of my thighs was rough enough to leave bruises. I locked my ankles together behind him to steady myself from swaying underneath the cuffs. When I did, he drove his crotch forwards, grinding into my centre, a quiet moan escaping me as I felt him.

He slowly trailed a hand from my thigh, up my back and to the nape of my neck, before balling my hair in his fist. I gasped as I felt the sudden, sharp tug of him pulling my head back.

His eyes wandered down to settle on my exposed throat, before yanking my head to the side and nestling in the crook of my neck. He must’ve left a hundred open mouth kisses, but as he started to suck, I felt his teeth sink into my skin. I pulled back with a hiss at the sting, but he wouldn’t let go. He just kept on leaving harsh, red bitemarks and pulling my hair, all the time grinding harder into me.

He licked over the bruises he’d left and gently kissed them, before trailing his tongue up my neck to nip at my ear. He smiled darkly and pulled back away from me, dropping my legs back to the floor. He stalked around me, eyeing me up and down like a predator. I felt him behind me, his hands softly holding onto my waist, pulling me close to his chest.

“You know what’s great about this?” He cooed. “You’re already pre-cuffed.”

I flushed and my core swelled hot, his breath so close to me made my skin tingle all over. He pulled at the top of my skirt and dragged it down my hips, letting it fall down around my feet. He caressed my thighs and then stepped back, tugging at my underwear, playfully letting the elastic snap back to me.

“Y’know...” He said, before the familiar sound of a belt unbuckling. “Marquis de Sade said ‘sex without pain is like food without taste’...”

My eyes widened at his words and my heartbeat quickened.

“So, let’s make this... delicious.”

A million thoughts raced through my mind, but before I could process any, I felt the sharp snap of leather against my ass. I jolted forwards and let out a high pitch yelp.

Even though I couldn’t see him, I could tell he was smirking. I could hear it in his voice. I bit my lip in an attempt to brace myself and he landed the belt across me again.

“Please, Jerome...” I whimpered at the sting, closing my eyes.

He brought it down again, making me arch my back in a gasp. A couple of tears rolled down my cheeks and I realised there was little point in resisting the torment. So, I gritted my teeth and prepared for another lick of the belt.

He whipped me once more, harder this time and a small scream escaped me.

“Please!” I begged.

I heard him chuckle with dark delight. The bastard was enjoying this. Of course he was. What else had I expected from someone like him? I tightened all my muscles for the next sting...

But it didn’t come. Instead, I felt him pulling my underwear down. Relief washed over me when I heard the belt drop to the floor and I realised Jerome was finished and was now crouched, ready to inspect his work. He ran his fingers over my burning flesh, taking in the bright red lashes he had left on me.

“What a pretty picture?” He said, landing a spank. “I wish you could see too doll, but having you cuffed is half the fun.”

His voice was dripping with venom and arousal and I could practically feel his grin in the air. He traced the marks with his fingers a little longer, before grabbing my flesh in fistfuls and sinking his teeth in. I gasped loudly at the hard bite. I wasn’t sure how many more of Jerome's surprises I could take. He laughed and ran his tongue over the new bruise.

“Yep. Definitely a pretty picture.” He smiled, giving me another spank. “I like those little noises you make, doll. Why don’t you make some more for me?”

He snaked his hand up my inner thigh and began stroking along my slit, relighting the fire in my stomach. I moaned, biting hard on my lip and tried to bring my thighs together, wanting friction.

“Naughty.” He said, landing a swift slap on my entrance causing me to let out a little yelp. “I need you to keep those legs open for me.”

It wasn’t as bad as the belt. In fact, it felt quite good. The heat inside me swelled as Jerome returned to running his fingers back and forth in my slickness. I hummed softly in my throat, fighting the urge to close my thighs again, my knees starting to shudder underneath me.

“Look how wet you are and I’m barely touching you.” Jerome chuckled darkly. “I wonder what happens if I do this?”

Jerome plunged two fingers deep inside me and slowly started pumping them. I let the warmth roll through me, moaning blissfully. He gently started to pick up speed, making it nearly impossible for me to keep my thighs apart. The faster he got, the deeper he dove, making me tighten around his talented fingers and struggle to keep steady on my toes.

My legs were shaking and despite my best efforts I just had to squeeze them together. As soon as I did, Jerome removed his fingers from me, leaving me feeling empty and spanked me hard.

“What did I say about that?” He barked, laying down another spank.

His spanking felt different this time. It felt pleasurable and sent a thrill up my spine.

“Sorry.” I whimpered.

“Sorry for what?” He spanked me again. “For being a needy little whore? Hm?” Another spank.

“Yes!” I gasped. “I’m a needy little whore! I just...”

“What? You just what?”

Jerome landed another slap at my core. It made my muscles clench, but it also aroused me so much more in a way I’d never thought I’d experience.

“What? What do you want, whore?”

“Please...”

“Big words, princess. What...” Spank. “Do you...” Another spank. “Want?”

“I want... I want you...” I forced, breathlessly.

“You want me? What do you want me to do, princess?” Jerome teased, tracing a finger along my burning entrance, just barely touching me.

“Please... Make me feel good, Jerome... Make me cum.”

“Are you gonna be a good girl?”

“Yes...”

“Are you gonna do as I say?”

“Yes, I will.”

“Exactly as I say?”

“Yes! Yes! Yes! Just please...Jerome.”

I couldn’t take it any longer. I felt so pathetic and needy. I needed him to touch me.

“So desperate.” He giggled sadistically. I supposed he loved seeing me beg.

Then, finally, he spread me open and dove his tongue deep into my wanting warmth. I closed my eyes and bit down hard on my lip as he swirled his tongue around inside me. I wanted to grab his hair and feel it in my fingers, but all I could do was squeeze my fists together in empty frustration.

Jerome grabbed a hand full of my ass, gripping it tightly, digging his nails in and rose his other hand to my pelvis front, pulling me down further onto his tongue. I squealed, a delightful mixture of pleasure and also pain from the tugging on my aching forearms. He ran his front hand down to play with my swollen clit, circling his fingers around beautifully.

He grinded his face deeply into me, sliding his tongue up, down, around and around inside me. He pressed his fingers down harder on my clit, forcing a loud moan out of me. I felt the pressure inside me build, coiling and tightening like a burning spring. I squeezed my thighs around his head in a desperate attempt to pull him deeper, his tongue nestling inside finding all of my sweet spots and lighting them on fire.

I could feel myself ready, ready to burst. He was pulling an amazing orgasm out of me and I wanted nothing more than to just let it go. All it took was one more upward jolt of his head, pushing his tongue that last little bit deep enough to push me over. I screamed out in erotic pleasure, letting the feeling flood me like warm water. My back arched and my legs convulsed until I withered, letting myself dangle from my cuffs in a breathless defeat.

Jerome slid his tongue out of me and pulled his face back away.

“You sing so pretty, dollface. Like a little birdie.” He said, squeezing the flesh off my ass.

He gave me one more light bite and a spank, before he rose back up to stand, snaking his hands along my sides all the way. He let his hands wander up to cup my breasts, massaging them softly. He leaned in close and began leaving wet kisses in the crook of my neck. I shuddered, his touch sending a cool tingle down my spine. He let his hands squeeze my breasts slightly harder, then pulled away and crept back around in front of me.

He stood facing me, his eyes locked on mine. They seemed to burn holes right into my flesh, creating a sense of fear in me. I was scared of Jerome Valeska, I truly was. But everything he was doing to me right now... The way he touched me, kissed me. I wondered how he managed it. How he was able to both terrify and arouse me in equal amounts.

Lost in my thoughts, I didn’t register his hand rising until it was firmly wrapped around my throat. He leaned down to kiss me, dominating my mouth with his tongue, making me taste myself. Once again, I felt the familiar warmth build in my core as I sensed we were not quite done here. He finished the kiss with a little nip to my bottom lip.

“Are you scared of me, doll?” He purred.

I swallowed hard, unsure if truth was wise here. Then I felt him increase the pressure around my throat, not wanting to wait for an answer.

“Yes.” I breathed.

“Good.” He said through an evil smirk.

He crashed his lips to mine once again, his free hand picking up my thigh to wrap around him. I locked both my legs around his waist, wanting to feel him close against me. I felt his erection hard, under his clothes, grinding into me and I wanted it. Badly. He pulled away from the kiss, leaving his taste on my tongue and raised his hand from my throat to grab hold of my face. He took his other hand away from my thigh and pulled at his tie. I didn’t drop my legs this time, instead I gripped tighter as he slid his tie from around his neck and scrunched it in his fist.

“Open your mouth.” He ordered.

I did as he said and he smiled, before spitting into my open lips and gagging me with his tie. I’d never had anyone do that before and it shocked me a little, but then again, I’d never had anyone like Jerome Valeska before.

He backed up slightly, just enough for him to reach down and unzip his trousers and pull down his underwear, freeing his erection. I couldn’t help but look down at it. It was bigger than any I’d taken before and I wasn’t sure how prepared I was. He started to slowly stroke himself, lifting up my chin to look at me.

He gently stroked a single finger across my jaw and then, suddenly, landed a harsh slap across my cheek. I yelped at the slap, causing a dangerous smile to form on Jeromes mouth. I should’ve been repulsed by him. He killed people and was aroused by my pain and fear, so why was I so attracted to him?

He angled himself underneath me so he was lined up and ready. He wrapped his hand back around my throat and then pushed forwards into me, causing us both to let out deep moans.

“You like that?”

I nodded and whimpered through the material of the tie. Jerome giggled darkly and with his free hand, gripped onto my waist.

“Brace yourself, princess.” He warned, through a poisonous smile.

He pulled back slowly, until he was almost completely out of me and then, like a bullet, ploughed himself right back in, jolting me backwards with force. He continued his thrusting rough and fast, making me whimper and bite down hard on the tie. I closed my legs tightly around him, pulling him closer and forcing him in deeper.

He let out a low, guttural groan and moved his hand upwards from my waist to slap me again, spitting at my face as he did so. I closed my eyes to endure the onslaught of him pounding inside me like a raging animal. I felt like a toy, dangling there for him to use as he liked, but still the searing pleasure of it all made me moan lustfully.

“Open those peepers, princess.” He commanded. “I want you to see exactly who’s in charge here.”

I opened my eyes and saw him grinning at me like a man possessed.

“You like this? You like me fucking you?” He growled, gripping my throat tighter.

All I could do was whimper and moan in response.

“I cuffed you and hung you up, hurt you, spat on you... even made you cry! And you still let me fuck you?” He laughed through shallow breaths. “You’re pathetic, you know that? A pathetic little whore.”

Jerome threw another slap at me and I felt myself tighten around his considerable length, taking him all deep inside me. He drove up into me like he was trying to break me open with his girth and I welcomed every inch of it.

“You’re so fucking tight.” He moaned.

I clenched my walls around him, the feeling of being filled by him sending flutters through me as he pushed in deeper and laughed.

“I don’t think your pussy ever wants to let me go, doll!” He grinned. “But I already know you like taking my cock like this, cause you’re such a good girl for me... I like that.”

I flushed at his words. I didn’t know why, but it made me feel good to please him and, in that moment, I would have done anything for him. I could feel my ecstasy creeping up on me, like magma rising inside a volcano. I cried out wantonly, the heat rising as he worked me, exploring every detail of my canal with his thick shaft.

He let go of my throat and moved both his hands to grab onto my ass and squeezed, steadying me so he could pound me harder and climb to release. His thrusts became erratic and sloppy and I could tell he was just as close as I was. I moaned loudly as he rammed into me harder and faster, burying himself deeper and making my arousal burn.

I could feel it coming, so close. I was about to boil over and all I needed was him. Just him. He continued thrusting like a raging animal, digging his nails into my flesh and scraping them along my ass, stinging sweetly. I whimpered at the sensation and tightened my legs.

“Cum for me, doll.” He panted. “I wanna feel you cum on my cock.”

He plunged into me, pushing the magma higher and just so close to bursting. It was coming. I could feel it.

He pounded again. So close. Again and again, so hard inside me. Just a little more...

I screamed out, closing my eyes and letting everything go. The feeling of my orgasm washed over me like a tidal wave of pure elation. My whole body shook from the force of it and I trembled like a leaf. Jerome continued to thrust into me until he too reached his climax. He growled like a beast and I felt him throb, releasing his hot load of sticky lust deep inside me.

We both relaxed, catching our breath and he stared down into my eyes. He unlatched his hands from the flesh of my ass and brought one round to gently stroke my cheek with his fingertips. It was quiet, but only for a minute.

He threw his head back and laughed like the madman he was, before pulling out of me and stepping back. My legs dropped to the floor and he began to put himself away and zip his trousers back up.

“Well, that was fantastic, dollface. Thanks for playing nice with me.” He said, throwing me a wink.

There was a loud metallic knock at the truck doors and I guessed whoever it was, was trying to get Jeromes attention.

“It’s been fun princess, really. But time waits for no man and I’ve got a party to attend” He said, smiling at me. “Well, more like crash.”

When he turned to leave, I tried to speak, but all that came out was intelligible muttering. He wasn’t going to leave me here, dangling, half naked and gagged like this? Was he? He began walking to the truck doors and I tried to call out.

“Oh! Wait, almost forgot.”

I felt a flood of relief when he began walking back to me.

“I’m gonna need this back.” He said and pulled the tie out of my mouth.

I was glad to finally be rid of it, but my joy was short lived, because he was starting to leave again.

“Hey...” I croaked; my mouth dry.

“Yeah, I’ll have someone come get you later.” He said, too nonchalantly for my liking. “For now, you can just... well, why don’t you just hang out?”

He laughed at his joke and opened the doors.

“Hey! You can’t leave me here!” I tried to shout, but my throat was too dry.

And then... he was gone. He really did just leave me alone, half naked in the back of a truck. How long would it be before someone found me? An hour? Two? The rest of the day?

All alone with my thoughts now, I decided the only thing to do now was wait. Wait and try and go over what the hell just happened between me and Jerome Valeska.

#gotham #jerome valeska #jerome x reader #fanfic #smut

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auburnaudry · 3 years

Text

Am I Your Forever? - Brock Boeser

A/N: I had lots of free time this weekend now that I’m taking a break from my series. I love Brock and this has been living in my head for a while so I finally decided to write it. I also just wanted to get this out so it’s super unedited, sorry in advance.

Summary: You wanted Brock to be your forever but sometimes he says things that make you think your not his end game. (Ends super fluffy)

Word count: 2410 words

You and Brock had been dating for almost 4 years. He was it for you and you assumed you were it for him, you were perfect for eachother. Your relationship obviously had its challenges but nothing you two couldn’t figure out and over come.

You both were getting ready for Bo and Hollys engagement party and of course Brock was ready way before you.

You were putting your last earring in when Brock came up behind you, slipping his arms around your waste and placing sweet kisses on your exposed shoulder.

“You almost ready” he whispered as his mouth was still attached to you shoulder. He looked up at you through the mirror and your heart melted at the sight.

“Yeah I just need to get dressed then I’ll be ready” he nodded against your shoulder and kept you in his arms, closing his eye for a few seconds.

“Which I can only do if you let go of me” you continued. He chuckled and placed one last kiss to your neck as he let his hands fall slowly down your hips until he wasn’t touching you anymore.

You walked over to your shared closet and slowly slipped your clothes off, leaving you in just your underwear. You took the dress you planned on wearing off it’s hanger and slipped it on. You quickly turned around to call for Brock to help you with the zipper but he was already standing in front of you, leaning on the frame of the closet door.

Brocks cheeks turned a light shade of pink as he was clearly caught watching you changed. Even after almost 4 years of being together he still blushed at innocent moments like that and it made you fall more in love every single time.

“Can you please zip it bubs?” You asked him with a smirk. He didn’t answer, just walked over and motion for you to turn around. He left small kisses on your exposed back as he zipped you up. When he finished zipping the dress he slipped his arms around your waste again.

“Now are we ready? We going to be late if we don’t head over soon.” You and Brock were usually late to most casual events that didn’t have an exact start time. You both got teased about it, everyone thinking you two just couldn’t keep your hands off eachother. But in reality, you too just enjoyed taking your time to get ready and were never in a rush. It’s one of the reasons you two fit so perfectly together, you never put too much pressure on things, you both liked to go with the flow.

The ride over to the party was comfortably silent. You guys were enjoying each others company and the last bit of quiet before you were stuck with hours of loud music and constant talking.

Your stared out the window thinking about you and Brocks future engagement, how fun it will be to be engaged to your best friend and the love of your life. You two didn’t talk about the future too often because, again, you both liked to go with the flow. The few times it did come up though, he seemed excited and like a future with you was something he wanted.

When you arrived to the party, you were pulled from you thoughts by Brocks hand giving yours a squeeze.

“You ready?” He questioned.

“Always” your go to response anytime he asked you that. You entered the party hand in hand and began greeting everyone you knew.

Later on in the evening, you were sitting at your table with other canucks players and their significant others. These people had become family to you in the time that you’ve been with Brock, so the entire night had been filled with laughs and light hearted conversation.

“So are you guys next?” Micaela spoke looking in yours and Brocks direction. Before you had the chance to answer though, Brock spoke.

“No definitely not” he said laughing. Everyone else at the tabled laughed along. You just gave a small smile, pretending to not be hurt by his words. You weren’t one to make a scene and say something in front of other people so you bottled it up and hoped that you would have enough courage to bring it up when you two made it home.

The rest of the night, you were consumed by your own thoughts. Why did he sound so disgusted at the thought of marrying you? Your heart physically ached. Were you stupid to think he was the one?

You tried your best to seem unfazed by his comment but it kept eating away at you.

“You okay babe?” Brock whispered in your ear on the dance floor. You were lucky because he too hated drawing attention to your problems in public.

“Of course, just tired.” You weren’t sure if you voice was convincing enough, but it must have been because Brock dropped it.

“Me too, we can head home soon.” And within the next 30 mins you were saying your goodbye and congratulating Bo and Holly on your way out.

The ride home was quiet, but not the comfortable silence you felt on the way to the party. But you didn’t want to bring up your feelings. You were embarrassed that you were on a completely different page than your boyfriend.

As soon as the car was parked, you hopped out and went inside. You stripped your clothes and threw on your Pjs, too tired to even take a shower. You wiped your makeup off with a wipe and washed your face. As you started to brush your teeth Brock walked into the bathroom. He wrapped his arms around your middle again and kissed your cheek.

“Your sure your okay? You seem off.” He asked looking you directly in your eyes through the mirror in front of you. The eyes contact made you nervous so you looked down at the sink and nodded since you couldn’t respond with your mouth full of toothpaste.

You finished your nightly routine and crawled into bed. Shortly after, Brock turned all the lights off and crawled into bed next to you. He pulled you into his chest and kissed the top of your head.

“I love you baby girl, goodnight” you could tell Brock was a little worried about you but didn’t want to push things, so he didn’t bring it up again. He knew you would bring it up to him if something was really bothering you or when you were ready.

“Love you too, night” and with that you both went to sleep.

...

You and Brock were having a relaxing day at home with the puppies. It was rare that you got an entire day to spend together doing whatever you wanted so you decided on staying home and just enjoying each others company.

You were cuddled up on the couch talking about anything and everything with the TV playing in the background. You were interrupted by Brocks phone buzzing from under you and you were forced to get up and look for it.

“Hey mom” he answers the FaceTime call when he finally found the phone between the couch cushions. You also say hello and then leave to go grab a snack from the kitchen. When you got back to the couch, you focused on the TV while Brock continued his conversation with his mother.

“So when are you two going to get married.” Laurie asked. You weren’t paying much attention before so you weren’t sure how it even came up, but now you were completely focused on how Brock was going to respond.

“Couldn’t tell you, stop asking.” Again your heart sank into your stomach. This is now the second time he was asked about marrying you and his response was the same both times.

Just like the night of the engagement party a couple weeks earlier, you got lost in your thoughts again, questioning your entire relationship.

They continued talking for a little bit and eventually you and Brock said your goodbyes to Laurie. You stayed quiet for the rest of the day and avoided Brocks touch. You were so upset, but again you were too embarrassed to even bring up how you were feeling.

That night you decided to take a bath. You didn’t take baths often but loved it when you had the time. You always asked Brock if he wanted to join, but tonight you were too upset with him. So when he took the dogs on their walk, you went to the bathroom and shut the door.

You filled the bath with bubbles and a fun LED light to set the mood. You had just recently installed a TV in the bathroom for nights like this, so you turned on your favorite show and got into the tub. It was really calm and relaxing for about 5 mins but your body tensed up when you heard Brocks voice.

“Babeeee?” He called through the house. You could hear his footsteps get closer to the master bedroom “Bubs are you in here?” You didn’t respond. You thought maybe he would give up after looking in the master bedroom, but you were wrong.

He must have noticed the bathroom door was shut and the lights were on because soon after he called for you he knocked lightly on the door.

“Hey baby you in there?” His voice was sweet, laced with a little bit of concern, probably since you weren’t in the spot he had left you before he walked the dogs.

“Yeah babe.” You tried your best not to give away the fact that you were upset. You heard the door handle jiggle followed by the squeaking of the hinges as Brock opened the door to peak his head in.

“You didn’t tell me it was bath time.” He looked at you, a little hurt that you didn’t invite him.

“Sorry” was the only response you could think of.

“What’s wrong babe, your acting weird.” He walked into the bathroom and kneeled beside the tub. All of a sudden you felt extremely exposed and wrapped your arms around your chest to cover the bit that was visible over the bubbled.

Tears started rolling down you face and you couldn’t hold it in anymore. Brock quickly stood and undressed himself moving you slightly so he could slip in behind you. He held you, trying to make you feel better, but you didn’t relax into his touch and it was very noticeable.

“D-did I do something?” He questioned. You slowly nodded, turning yourself around in the tub and sitting across from him. His face fell as you nodded and moved away from him.

“Are you breaking up with me?” He whispered clearly afraid of the answer.

“No no of course not I-I would never.” You voice was still a little shaky from the crying. His expression soften from your reassurance.

“What’s wrong baby, you have to tell me.” He grabbed one of your feet as he spoke and started to rub it. You were quick to pull it away because you wanted his full attention on you.

“Do you not want to marry me?” Now you were the one whispering, afraid of what the answer might be.

“What? Of course I want to marry you one day, what kind of question even is that?” You looked at him confused.

“When mic asked when we were gonna get engaged at Holly and Bo’s party you acted disgusted at the thought and today your mom asked you a similar question and again you responded like she was crazy for asking.” He now understood why you were so upset and he felt so guilty “I-I just... it really hurt my feelings, like is the thought of marrying me that bad? And if you don’t want to marry me are we just wasting our -“ Brock cut you off before you could even finish your sentence.

“Please don’t ever think like that, I love you more than anything, I want you to be my wife and I want to start a family with you.” You finally felt at ease with his words “I only responded like that because we are really private about our relationship, and I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable if I said yes and then everyone starts asking questions. And we really haven’t talked about it ourselves much so I didn’t want to put you on the spot. I wasn’t sure if you were on the same page as me, so I responded the way I did to get everyone off our backs.” He reached out and grabbed your hand and pulled you back between his legs with your back to his chest. “I’m sorry I hurt you and had you second guessing us.” You now understood where he was coming from and why he said the things he said

“It’s okay I understand now, I’m sorry I didn’t bring it up sooner.” He kissed your exposed shoulder and you finally relaxed into his touch.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” He spoke after a few short moments of silence.

“Hmm?” You hummed, unsure what he was alluding to.

“About us, our future?” You smiled and grabbed one of his hands from your waste, bringing it to your mouth to place a kiss on it.

“I would love nothing more.” With that, you two talked about your future and when you wanted to get engaged, how long you wanted to be engaged before you got married, how long after you got married did you want to start having kids, how many kids you guys wanted, and so on. You spent so much time talking, the water turned cold and you were forced to get out of the bath.

You both dried off and finished your nightly routines, meeting eachother in bed. Once you were both laying comfortably in bed, Brock pulled you in for a long, passionate kiss. When you both pulled away to catch your breathe he rested his forehead against yours.

“I love you and want to spend the rest off my life with you, please don’t ever doubt that.” Brock whispered.

“Good cause your stuck with me .” The rest of the night was spent kissing and exchanging I love you’s. You truly couldn’t have picked a better guy to spend the rest of your life with.

#brock boeser #brock boeser x reader #vancouver canucks imagine #nhl imagine #nhl fanfiction #nhl x reader #brock boeser fic

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spacexcowgirl · 3 years

Text

Lightning In A Bottle - G.W.

George Weasley x Reader

Summary: There’s no one who makes George feel quite as alive as Y/N. But will making a move ruin everything?

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: Slight drug/high mention (blink and you'll miss it), alcohol insinuation, kissing, George being head over heels in love with Y/N, I don’t think there’s anything else but let me know?

A/N: for the anon who requested a George x Reader based on the song “Electric Love” ! I wasn’t sure where I wanted to go with this originally, but I decided to be lightly inspired by the tiktok trend with this song (where best friends kiss at the peak of the song). Pictures are from Pinterest.

message to be added to tags :)

If you were to ask George Weasley what he was thinking about at any given time, his answer may vary, but always stay within a similar realm. Maybe he’d say pranks, or quidditch, or missing his mum. No response would be particularly groundbreaking, and you’d probably move on to his twin brother to receive a more outlandish and off-the-wall answer. What you wouldn’t know, though, is that whatever George chose to reply with, was most likely a lie.

You see, George did think about all of things listed, but there was something else that plagued his thoughts far more often than he’d ever like to admit. Y/N Y/L/N.

The two of them had been best friends for years now, having met during their first year at Hogwarts. Y/N had this presence that even at the age of 11 had pulled him in. His worst days could be brightened by her smile alone, his best days made impossibly better when she appeared at his side. She was like the strike of lightning shocking a darkened night sky to life, the sugar rush that surged energy throughout your body. She was a drug that brought George to his highest highs, and he would be remiss to let her slip through his fingers.

If it wasn’t clear, George was smitten with the girl. It had now been nearly half a decade that he had harbored feelings for her, and he had never acted on them. He was terrified of being rejected or messing up their friendship entirely. Some part of him was addicted to the rush her presence brought, the way she lit up every room and nearly set him, body and soul, ablaze. He couldn’t risk losing that over his silly feelings.

So, now he sat at a Gryffindor party, where he should be celebrating after a victory over Slytherin. But, he just didn’t have the heart for it. Not while he watched her speak animatedly to Roger Davies, a beautiful smile lighting up her entire face. Even from his place across the room, George could see that Davies was contributing very little to the conversation, but rather seemed just as enamored by her as everyone else.

“Keep staring, why don’t you?” A voice startled George slightly, causing him to gulp before realizing that it was only Fred. “Not like that’s creepy at all.”

“Oh shut it,” George grumbled in response, although he couldn’t help a slight blush from rising to his cheeks. He hated being caught looking like a lovesick puppy.

“Seriously, mate, when are you just going to man up and ask her out?” Fred took a sip from his cup, and George didn’t miss his slight grimace as the liquid burned his throat.

“We��re not talking about this.” George groaned.

Obviously, he was closer with Fred than anyone else in his life, but Fred just didn’t get it. He hadn’t met a girl that got his heart racing the way Y/N made George’s heart race. So, any girl that Fred was casually interested in, he went for. And it always worked out. George could take a shot at flirting with random girls that he thought were fit, because they didn’t really matter. But the idea of making a fool of himself in front of Y/N, the possibility of ruining things, it made him feel ill.

Fred looked as though he was going to press his brother further, but was cut off by the music stopping abruptly and a sharp whistle garnering his attention. In the center of the common room, Angelina Johnson stood atop a table, her hands cupping around her mouth as she made an announcement.

“Oi, we’re going to be starting a round of truth or dare, if you wanna join come over.”

Fred glanced over at his brother, a devilish glint sparkling in his eyes before they both wordlessly communicated that they would be playing. They wandered to the center of the room with a few others, Fred immediately jumping over the back of the couch with ease. George took a place on the floor instead, figuring someone else would want to sit on the couch more. He couldn’t help but grin widely when Y/N took a few steps, then plopped down on the plush carpet beside him.

“I‘ve hardly seen you all night, hot shot,” Y/N bumped her shoulder into his, a teasing smile on her lips. “What, you hit the most bludgers in a game and suddenly you’re too cool for your best friend?”

“I’m sorry, who are you?” George teased back, chuckling heartily when she gasped and lightly swatted at his arm. “I’m only kidding! Godric, woman, excuse me for wanting to give you your alone time with Davies.” He had intended for his words to come of jokingly, but he heard the way he sneered out the other boy’s name, and he couldn’t help but cringe.

Y/N’s eyebrows shot up, as if she truly had no idea what he was on about, but before the conversation could progress any further, Angelina was clearing her throat and garnering all those who gathered’s attention. She explained that if anyone refused to answer the truth or do the dare they were given, they’d have to take a shot to make up for it. Hums in agreement sounded around the circle, then it finally got started.

George could feel nerves bubbling in his stomach, because it seemed no one was holding back that night. Of course, he was always up for a challenge and very little scared him, but Fred was playing too. And every time he’d catch his brother’s eye, and Fred would shoot him that smirk, George knew he was planning something.

It was Neville who was the one to ask Fred ‘truth or dare?’ And George’s stomach immediately dropped. That meant Fred would be going next, and he was certain he’d be choosing him. After Fred finished his one-minute long hand stand, per Neville’s very PG dare, the older twin immediately set his gaze on his brother like a predator locking in on its prey. George gulped, causing Y/N to side-eye him warily.

“Georgie,” Fred cooed innocently. “Truth or dare?”

George pondered his options for a moment. If he picked truth, there was a chance Fred would ask something that would force him to admit his feelings for Y/N. Of course, he could always refuse and take a shot, but that would look awfully suspicious, wouldn’t it? Then again, he didn’t even want to imagine what Fred would come up with for a dare. Biting down anxiously on his bottom lip, George pleaded with his brother wordlessly.

“Come on Georgie, we don’t have all night.” Fred exhaled.

“Dare.” George settled on, not granting himself another moment to ponder which was the right choice. As the corners of Fred’s lips curled upward, making him looking strikingly like the Chesire Cat, George was certain he made the wrong decision.

“Alrighty then,” Fred leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I dare you to kiss Y/N.”

“You creep!” Y/N laughed out, clamping a hand over her mouth. “Why would you want to watch your brother kiss me?”

George was certain his face couldn’t get any redder, but his expression was contorted into one of anger. Fred had never understood limits, he always took everything a step too far, and usually George was the one to reel things back in. Fred’s expression seemed to soften at the sight of George’s genuine frustration, but it offered little reprieve to the situation.

“Or, he can take a shot. No big deal.” Fred scratched awkwardly at the back of his neck, doing his best to fix the situation he created. Everyone else seemed eerily silent as their gazes shifted between George and Y/N.

“Yeah, I’ll just take a shot.” George sighed.

“Why?” Y/N spoke, a little too quickly. If George didn’t know any better, he’d think she almost looked embarrassed.

“I mean, I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable…” George trailed off sheepishly.

“Right, right,” Y/N nodded in understanding, but George could sense the change in her usual demeanor instantly. “That would be so weird, especially in front of everyone.”

“You guys could go into one of the dorms for privacy?” Angelina suggested, causing both George and Y/N to shoot her a glare.

George was prepared to come up with another excuse, to just take the shot and move on, but then Y/N sighed and glanced over at him, her bottom lip drawn between her teeth. It was like the small action put him under a spell, and suddenly his mind was entirely blank. With a shaky exhale, he nodded, then stood and offered Y/N his hand to help her up.

There was a few shouts and hollers as the two exited the group, and George was certain he distinctly heard Lee shout ‘I expect Georgie to be wearing your lipstick when you two get back!’ But he could hardly focus on anything but the feeling of Y/N’s hand in his own. The people who weren’t playing the game sloppily danced and moved around, and George was careful to weave the two of them through the crowd as he guided her towards his dorm.

It was like a sort of electricity was surging between them, flowing back and forth between the spot of their interconnected hands. He found himself wondering if she could feel it too, hoping desperately that it wasn’t all in his head.

As they ascended the stairs, the music from the party became more and more distant. Still, even when they made it to his dorm and shut the door, they could lightly hear the muffled melody from below. George dropped her hand and looked around desperately, a quiet swear leaving his lips as he took in the disastrous state of his room. Of course, he hadn’t anticipated that the girl he was practically in love with would be in his dorm, so he hadn’t had the good sense to pick up.

“So…” Y/N trailed off, seemingly unfazed by the state of his dorm.

“So.” George repeated, scratching at the back of his neck.

Y/N breathed out a sigh before stepping further into his room and making her way towards his bed. She patted the spot next to her, signaling for him to join her. George was quick to oblige, of course.

Y/N’s eyes seemed to trace every inch of George’s face, her gaze soft. She was usually so energetic and lively, and George adored that side of her, but this newfound quiet demeanor had him weak in the knees. Godric, he longed to know every one of her sides, to memorize every quirk and edge of hers. After her eyes had exhausted the expanse of his freckled skin, they finally landed on his lips, before returning to his deep brown eyes. Then, slowly, she began to inch just a bit closer, her eyes fluttering shut.

George wanted this, so desperately. He wanted nothing more than to cup her face and kiss her senseless and fill her with that same electricity she constantly filled him with. But there was a small voice in his head that was telling him she would never feel the same way as him, and this was a recipe for heartbreak, and the moment their lips met, everything would be ruined. So, he pulled back abruptly and cleared his throat.

“We don’t have to do this.” George spoke hoarsely. “They’ll never know if we don’t.”

Y/N’s eyes remained shut, squeezing just a bit tighter as she let out what sounded like a disappointed huff. George could read the embarrassment on her face when she finally opened her eyes but couldn’t meet his gaze. Instead, her eyes remained trained on her lap.

“Is the idea of kissing me really that awful?” Y/N’s voice was uncharacteristically quiet.

“What?” George sputtered, certain he must have misheard her. “No! No, that’s not what I mean—”

“What else could you mean?” Y/N’s voice raised, her usual fire seeming to awaken. “Godric, every chance you’ve tried to get out of it. Do you know how embarrassing that is, Weasley? Do you know how that makes me feel?”

George sat stunned, his mouth hanging slightly agape as she continued on her rant. She was now on her feet, angrily wringing her wrists. Her nose scrunched up in that little way it always did when she was frustrated, and even though it was clear she was not happy with George, he couldn’t help but be endeared by her even then.

“Obviously, you can do whatever you want. I’m not saying you have to kiss me.” She continued, pausing her pacing for a second. “But… We’re best friends, yeah? Am I really so bad you can’t stomach even a peck? What does that say about me, George?”

She allowed herself to glance at him for one moment, waiting to see if he’d grant her any answers, before scoffing and turning away. She was about halfway to the door when George’s senses seemed to come back to life and he forced himself to his feet to stop her. His hand gently encircled her wrist and she was quick to whirl around and look at him in confusion.

Perhaps it was the fact that George had dreamed about this moment for so long, but there were a number of things that stood out to him about it. For one, the sound of his pounding heart beat mixed with the music below, both gradually building up to a crescendo. And he knew, that was the moment.

Their lips collided right when the mixed sounds of the music and his beating heart seemed to hit their peak. It was as if everything in the universe had been building up to this moment, or at the very least everything in George’s universe had. His lips seemed to tingle where they connected, this mutual energy rushing between both of their bodies. Y/N arched against him, thankful when his arms found her waist and kept her from tumbling over. The passion he portrayed in the kiss made her knees feel weak, and all at once she felt both entirely useless and completely alive.

If George thought that just being in her presence had an effect on him, that was nothing compared to having her lips on his. The feeling of her body curved against his was certainly something he could get used to, and he was certain it would kill him to never experience it again.

Y/N was the first to pull back, slowly, and draw in a deep breath. George found that he couldn’t help himself, though, and chased her lips for another, shorter kiss.

When they finally pulled apart for real, they both gazed at one another with the same question in mind; what did this mean? Before George could speak up and ask, he got distracted by her once again biting down on her lip. He did his best to hold in his groan, knowing damn well she would be the death of him.

“Do you feel that, too?” Y/N spoke, her eyes searching between his.

Y/N didn’t have to explain what she meant, because George knew, and he did feel it. Instead of answering her, he removed one of his hands from her waist and took her hand gently in his own. He placed her palm over his heart, covering it with his own, and let her feel the rhythmic and steady pounding against his chest. Once he was sure she understood, he brought her hand to his lips and placed a light kiss against her knuckles.

“I only didn’t want to kiss you because… I knew I could handle never kissing you, never knowing. But to kiss you once then never again?” His voice was quiet, although he hoped it was reassuring. “I didn’t think I’d be able to do it.”

“George Weasley,” A smile grew on Y/N’s lips, the one he knew so well, the one that sent a shiver down his spine. “As long as you promise to always kiss me like that, I’ll never ask you to stop.”

With that, Y/N used the hand that remained around his neck to pull him down once more, grinning as their lips moved together. He flipped their position around and slowly began to walk her backwards to his bed, only pausing when she pulled back.

“You know, I think we’re gonna have to thank Fred after this.” Y/N teased, eliciting a groan to tear from George’s lips as he tilted his head back.

“Please, love, can we not talk about my git brother right now?”

Y/N’s giggles filled his ears like the sweetest melody, and he was certain that even a siren luring him to his death could succeed if they sounded as beautiful as her.

Y/N made him feel alive in the way she shot him little smiles at breakfast, or how she’d slide her notes to him when she knew he wasn’t paying attention, or how her voice would carry the loudest as she cheered him on during Quidditch. Now, he knew she also made him feel alive from the feeling of her soft lips against his, from the way her body arched into his touch, and how even in a moment like this, she’d find a way to joke. As he gently pushed her back onto his bed, he realized he couldn’t let her go now that he had her.

TAGS: @theweasleysredhair @letsgotothehop @wand3ringr0s3 @sarcasticallywitty15 @mischiefisbeingmanaged @gcdric @lovefromrosie @thisismysketchbook @george-fabian-weasley @evermoreweasley @lunalovecroft @leovaldez37

#george weasley #george weasley x reader #george weasley x y/n

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amelialincoln · 3 years

Text

The Way Life Goes (2)

She thic and she important. Feel free to leave part 3 prompts or theories in my ask box. As always, enjoy...

TW: substance abuse

“Have you seen Amelia?” Was the first thing the general surgeon asked Link at the beginning of the work week on Monday. Link shrugged, pushing his overgrown shaggy hair out of his face and tugging his Ipad aggressively out of the charger.

“Nope.” He popped the ‘p’. Meredith eyed him in a way that made him uncomfortable enough to continue. “Scout and I have been crashing at Jo’s since Friday. I’d assume she’s at my apartment.” He didn’t get very far before Meredith stepped in front of him.

“Look, as irritating as it is, the minute shit is going down in her life she’s at my house in seconds. She didn’t come to the after party and hasn’t shown up for her shift yet today. I really doubt she’s just hanging out in your apartment.” She crossed her arms, looking somewhat terrifying, despite the fact that he loomed over her.

“I can't talk right now, I have surgery.” He replied, pushing back any fears of where she might be and focusing on the chart in front of him.

“She rejects your proposal and now you’re just done? What happened to you guys?” Link’s jaw tightened so hard you could hear the sound of his teeth clashing.

“She doesn’t want to be with me. It’s as simple as that.”

“I don’t think she doesn’t want to be with you. She just obviously isn’t ready to get married. And I think you knew that.”

“Whatever, Meredith.” Link’s throat was tight as he pushed past her, swallowing down his guilt.

She had somehow found herself to Link's apartment in a daze, praying he wasn’t there as she pushed through the door. He wasn’t. She grabbed some clean clothes and more cash before leaving once again.

It was somewhat exhilarating, living on the edge. Chasing high after high and making sure that the timing is perfect to prevent any meaningful thoughts from actually surfacing. So far she'd been excelling at it. However, it was when she was halfway back that she realized she had fucked up. Anger and self hatred hit her like a ton of bricks and she almost staggered back. The high had worn off and her mind had started to scream. You are so weak. Back here again after you promised the last time was the end. So many promises, she thought. So many empty promises that she’d broken time and time again. The promise that she’d made to be a good mother. Failed, again. Why should she even attempt to pick up the broken pieces after she found herself back to square one each time? Why not stop trying to fix it and just accept herself for who she truly is, an addict? Why keep disappointing the people that care about her over and over? There was no point. Not anymore. Scout’s name was blaring in her mind like an alarm. He’s better out without you. She convinced herself. Don’t let yourself ruin him. You destroy everything you touch.

“Amelia.” Camilla was looking at her weird. She tried to focus on her new friend, attempting to calm her shaking hands. “Wait too long?” She asked, digging into her bag. All Amelia could do was nod and pull out the cash. “This one’s on me.” Camilla placed a reassuring hand on Amelia’s shoulder as she rolled up her sleeve. She paused, with bated breath, until the image of Scout faded from her mind.

“Can you hear me?” Meredith practically yelled into the crackling phone. “I’m sorry, I know this is your honeymoon. I just still haven’t heard from her and you know her better than me so I need you to tell me what I should do.”

“Is this about Amelia?” Maggie’s groggy voice asked into the speakerphone. “You still haven’t heard from her?”

“I wouldn’t have called if I hadn't. I’m worried about her.” She could practically hear Maggie’s hesitation. “Don’t come back. Don’t even offer that.”

“She’s been having a rough time,” Maggie sighed. “Richard doesn’t let on too much but I know COVID has been hard on her. Link has good intentions. He just hasn’t ever had to see her at her lowest.”

“You think she’s using?” Meredith’s voice was hushed as she passed her Ipad to a nurse and thanked her quietly before letting herself into her office.

“I mean if I rejected a proposal from a man who meant a lot to me because I wasn’t ready I’d probably down a bottle of wine out of guilt." Maggie smiled bitterly.

“She’s stayed sober through a lot worse,” Meredith countered, glancing up to find Bailey waiting at the door with an expression she knew too well. “Hey, I’ve got to go. Tell Winston I say hi.”

“I will. Talk to you later.” Meredith placed her cell phone in her scrub pocket before meeting an irritated Bailey at the door.

“Where’s Shepherd?” Meredith knew what she was going to say before she even spoke the words. She bit the inside of her cheek, not knowing how to respond.

“Why?” She asked, receiving an eyebrow raise.

“Because she’s got a gliosarcoma in an hour and she hasn’t clocked in,” Bailey stated, fixing her lab coat and giving Meredith an exasperated look. “Look, whatever drama she and Doctor Lincoln are having, I don’t care. She can show up to work.”

“I don’t know where she is,” Meredith responded. “I honestly have no idea.”

“Wha--” Bailey started. She let out a grunt of disapproval before waving an agitated hand in the air and storming off. Meredith bit the nail on her thumb, sending yet another message to the missing neurosurgeon and wondered guiltily, for a moment, why she was so self destructive.

Link spent a lot of time in the ER compared to his colleagues. Compared to most other specialties, the majority of cases that presented themselves in the emergency room were ortho related. Most of the time it was pretty mundane, whether it be a broken ankle or a dislocated shoulder, but to keep the hospital from impending lawsuits, he was usually needed to supervise the interns, who were prowling in the ER looking for cases and trying to pop limbs back into place or reset joints, thinking they could handle it easily on their own.

As a result of this, Link was already in the OR when the trauma came in. He was sitting in the swivel chair behind the desk, dragging his feet across the floor to propel him side to side. He wasn’t paged so he was unfazed by the ambulance pulling up. Then again, he wasn’t really fazed by much these days after falling into a somewhat self deprecating state. He stared at the clock, hoping he’d be let off early.

“Did you hear about this?” Bailey asked Richard, as she secured her gown around herself and handed him a pair of gloves.

“Yeah,” Richard’s voice was a tone that Link couldn’t quite decipher. “Bunch of overdoses at Quilchena, saw it on the news in the lounge. Must’ve been something laced in whatever they all were doing.” He snapped his gloves aggressively over his hands as if he were mad at something. “This kind of thing has been happening all the time because of COVID. Addicts have been struggling during the pandemic. Never seen meetings so full.” Link found himself wondering if he was talking about Amelia. Bailey nodded to Richard sympathetically ask they rushed to meet the gurney’s being pushed into the ER.

“John Doe,” the paramedic announced. “Got naloxone at the scene, friend administered it. Conscious but having trouble breathing.”

“Page cardio,” Bailey ordered to a resident. Link watched curiously as Richard froze in place.

“Jane Doe,” the paramedic continued. “Unconscious but breathing. She--”

“Put her in trauma one,” Richard ordered firmly. Link wished he could see what was going on as he watched the blood drain from Bailey’s face. “Don’t let anyone see her. She wouldn’t want that.” It clicked in Link’s brain at that very moment when the pair of them turned to look his way. He got out of the chair he was in so fast that it clattered to the ground behind him.

Her face was so pale it was practically grey and her arms and lips were tinted a purpley blue. She looked so slender he felt like one could reach out and just snap her in half. Her expression was almost peaceful though, and that’s what haunted him most. The image of her was burned into his mind immediately and he knew, as they wheeled her away, that it would never be forgotten.

As Bailey and Richard steered her gurney away he felt frozen in place before finally, and without any indication from his mind, his feet began to follow them.

“She’s seizing,” Bailey exclaimed, her hands flying up to either side of her head to avoid holding any of her limbs in place. “Where the hell is trauma?” Link watched as she twitched, bile building up in the back of his throat. He felt slightly dizzy. He’d never been one to get queasy, even in med school while the rest of his peers either fainted or threw up during their first time observing in an OR. That’s when he knew he wanted to become a surgeon. He wasn’t sure if it was his ego telling him that he was superior for being the last one standing or the tiny and quick glance of approval the attending gave him before going back to ignoring him completely. Though, there must be something different about seeing someone he loved in this situation because he had to place a hand on the doorway to steady himself and looked away. Teddy came through the doors at that moment, brushing past him as if he didn’t exist. For a reason he couldn't quite explain let out a breath of relief that it wasn’t Owen. Something in his mind was screaming your fault, your fault, your fault. And selfishly, he hoped that Meredith, or really anyone who cared for Amelia half as much as he did, wasn’t at the hospital, and theorized that she’d probably beat him to a pulp.

“Can I help?” He found himself croaking, receiving only a glance from Richard.

“Absolutely not,” the general surgeon replied firmly, before finally getting Amelia connected to the monitor. Everyone in the room kind of paused for a moment, reading the levels and unanimously thinking to themselves silently, fuck.

“She’s coding,” Teddy proclaimed, as the alarm-like sound began to reveal itself. Link’s heart sank and he reached out to grab her hand, ignoring Richard’s orders for him to leave. Her palm was cold like ice, but not the dead kind of cold. Cold as if she’d just run in and out of the water, grinning and calling to him as if the ocean’s touch had electrified her, sending a rush of serotonin through her veins. Link remembers that look from when they’d gone down to California, for a conference that she was speaking at, like it were yesterday. She’d convinced him to go swimming, despite it being mid February, and had explained that diving into the frigid waves replicated the feeling of euphoria she used to get when a really good high would hit her full force. She’d told him about how she would swim a lot when she was first getting sober, craving the way the world felt like it was on pause and the way that silence filled her ears when her head was completely underwater. That was really the last time she’d grinned at him like that. Right before Covid had really hit. The first time they’d left Scout for the weekend with his parents. Coming up out of that water like she had been brought back to life.

He’d been so blind. He’d watched her slip into a mindless routine. Go to work. Drive home. Feed the baby. Put the baby to bed. Go to bed. Wake up. Every day, over and over. She would walk around like a ghost, stuck between life and death. He had ignored the way she'd fill her free time with meetings and when she had started going to sleep before he got home, brushed it off as postpartum and told himself that everything between them was fine. Postpartum doesn’t last this long you idiot.

“Clear!” Teddy’s calm voice echoed through the room, snapping him back to reality, and he pulled away his hand last minute before her chest rose and fell. His eyes flicked to the heart monitor, nothing. “Again, charge to three fifty. Clear!” The room fell silent as the compression pads thumped. Nothing. Teddy paused, staring at the monitor.

“Dr. Altman?” The nurse called out. “Again?” Her voice was quiet as the trauma surgeon lifted a hand in response.

“Wait,” her voice had become soft. The monitor beeped as a small peak rose and fell. “Come on, Amelia,” Teddy muttered.

“Charge again,” Bailey ordered.

“Just give her a second,” Teddy pleaded, not taking her eyes off the screen. “She’s fighting.” The trio of doctors stared at the monitor while Link fixated his eyes on his girlfriend and slid his hand into hers once again, interlocking his fingers with hers. Don’t die, don’t die, don’t die. The monitor beeped, and then beeped again, and then again. Link forced himself to look up and watched as the numbers climbed.

“Thank you, god.” Bailey brought a shaking hand to her face before closing her fingers into a fist and pressing it to her forehead. “We are lucky that the lord is looking out for this woman because the people in her life seem to not be.” The comment cut through Link like a knife.

“Bailey, that is not fair!” Richard exclaimed. Link had never heard the man raise his voice with such aggravation, even Bailey winced as she stormed out of the room, throwing her gloves to the side.

“She’s lost a lot of people...and a lot of surgeons,” Richard muttered in apology to him.

“Can she breathe on her own?” Link choked, looking at Teddy, who shifted on her feet.

“She’s weak. I’d like to keep the tube in for a couple of hours at least. See how she does. I’d also like to get neuro down here to give her a check. Let’s get her up to the ICU for now and monitor her closely. She’s stable. Let’s focus on that for now.” Link nodded, not knowing what else to say as Teddy pulled off her gown and tossed it into the bin before practically staggering out of the stuffy room.

“I didn’t know.” Something about the way Richard was looking his way was causing a buildup of defensiveness inside him.

“How?” Richard shook his head with disappointment, massaging his throbbing temple and trying to block out the emphysematous but rhythmic breath sounds coming from the breathing tube. “How, did you just not know?” His colleague was radiating judgment and Richard’s eyes narrowed into tiny slits before his entire body slumped, in no effort to lecture Link about something he should be hearing from Amelia. He looked at his friend, without a trace of condemnation, knowing, so easily, that it could be him in that hospital bed and her where he was standing. “It’s not my place,” he finally stated, tearing his eyes away from Amelia and blinking away any buildup in his tear ducts. He turned to the nurse and thanked her, always polite. “When you take her up can you make it discreet?” He knew the woman had recognized Amelia immediately. “Her reputation is on the line.” The nurse nodded as if she understood. Richard thanked her again before exiting the room.

Richard had ended up telling Meredith, who stopped by to let Link know that she and Hayes would pick up Scout from daycare and take him home with them. Link couldn’t read her expression, it was clouded as if she was undergoing an internal conflict that caused her to wince and look away upon glancing at Amelia. Some of the colour had returned to her cheeks, they looked as if someone had applied too much blush to a pale complexion and were hot to the touch. Teddy had removed the breathing tube about an hour ago. She’d gasped at first, her lungs whistling and wheezing in protest. Enough to make Teddy almost contemplate putting it back in before the breathing had settled.

“You didn’t look for her,” Meredith blurted out, as if she’d been trying to keep the words at bay. The look on her face told him that she regretted saying it almost immediately.

“Neither did you,” he bit back, more aggressively than he would’ve liked. Meredith’s face snapped away from him so quickly it was as if he’d physically hit her.

“If you really loved her. Enough to marry her. Her response shouldn’t have mattered,” her voice was as sharp as a knife. “She loves you and she’s been unfortunate enough to have most of the people she’s loved taken away from her. Do you know how rare it is for Amelia to come to Maggie and I teary eyed because she finally feels safe and loved and not being pressured into anything by the person she loves? " Meredith took a step back as if she didn't want to continue but couldn't help herself. "Amelia is a runner. She breaks under the expectations that the people that she loves have of her and she functions under the fear that the people she loves are going to leave her or die. So if you want to be an ass and make her feel like she isn’t enough for you because she doesn’t feel the need to commemorate her love to you on a stupid peice of paper, I will remove you from my sister’s life.” She was gone before he could even think of a reply and he stared wordlessly at the spot she’d just vacated.

“No,” the voice was so soft he could barely hear it. His head whipped to where she was lying. “No, no, no, no.” Amelia’s eyes were wide and she recoiled as he reached out to touch her. Her heart monitor climbed and he pulled back his hand. She was looking at him in a way that made his skin crawl. He realized, then, that she was looking at him in fear. She looked scared. It shocked him how quickly everything had fallen apart. How quickly he’d gone from someone she’d loved to someone she felt as though she barely knew. But it wasn’t really that quickly, a part of him was whispering over his shoulder. You just didn’t want to accept it.

“Hey.” The words sounded stupid as soon as they left his mouth. “It’s okay. You’re okay.” He found himself wondering what had happened to her over the last couple of days, the bruises scattered along her arms had become more evident as colour had returned to her skin. She gagged suddenly, moaning in a way that made him sick and he slid a kidney dish under her just in time. There didn’t seem to be much in her stomach so it was mostly dry heaving. Her heart monitor climbed every time he tried to touch her and he gave up on trying to hold back her hair.

“She’s awake?” Teddy stood in the doorway. Amelia looked up at her blankly before laying her head back against the hospital bed and staring up at the ceiling. The shame in her eyes were evident. Link nodded to Teddy, who gave him a somewhat genuine smile. “I’ll just do a quick vitals check.”

“No,” Amelia moaned, the pain in her voice causing Teddy to stop in her tracks. “I just want to go home. Let me go home.”

“You’re not going to go home though, are you?” Link glanced up to find Richard standing at the foot of the hospital bed, arms crossed. His stern expression was slightly wavering. Link wondered how hard it was for him to even be within two meters of her.

“Shut the fuck up,” Amelia spat, pulling her IV out of her wrist and throwing it across the room hard enough that the machine screeched against the concrete floor. Link grimaced as the IV site began to bleed. The sudden bout of energy seemed to exhaust her as she collapsed back onto the bed.

“We’re good for now, Doctor Altman,” Richard said softly, not wanting to watch as his coworker, and friend, incriminated herself in front of someone she’d regret. “You can go home with Maggie or I can check you into a rehab clinic, the choice is yours.” Link’s eyes fell to the floor, his face burning at the idea that he couldn’t be trusted to take care of her.

“Maggie’s on her honeymoon,” Amelia mumbled, the anger dying out in her eyes as she realized what his response would be before he even spoke it.

“I called her,” Richard confirmed her prediction. “Meredith is taking care of Scout and I shouldn’t even be in the same room as you.” Hot tears spilled down Amelia’s cheeks as she glared at him. You ruin everything. The voice in her head had been telling her over and over since she’d woken up.

“Rehab. I choose rehab. Call her and tell her not to come.” Maggie had arrived at the hospital an hour ago but Link decided to keep his mouth shut.

“Fine,” Richard sighed. “I’ll call right now.” He stepped outside where his daughter was waiting anxiously and placed both hands on her shoulders trying to calm her down.

“I need to go in and see her,” Maggie’s breathing was asynchronous, she held her shaky hands into her chest, trying to look into her sister’s hospital room.

“Don’t,” Richard warned. “She’s not herself right now. I shouldn’t have called and stressed you out. She chose rehab.” He watched as her face twisted in confusion.

“What? That’s ridiculous.” Maggie shook her head in disbelief. “Let me take her home.”

“I wasn’t expecting her to be this bad. It’s too much responsibility to put on anyone. I...I just don’t think it would be a good idea, Maggie.” He pulled her into a hug as she started to sob.

“Link, is he…” she trailed off as she buried her face into her biological father’s scrub top.

“It’s not anyone’s fault,” Richard sighed. “But out of everyone, he’s the last person that should be taking care of her right now.” Maggie nodded, cursing herself for not doing more as she had watched Amelia change over the last couple of months. “Has she mentioned anything about her friend Charlotte? She needs an ally, someone who understands how her brain works. I know how much you care about her, Maggie, but you can’t help her the way she really needs in a couple of days when the realization of what she’s done has hit.”

“Charlotte, the one in L.A.? I’ve talked to her a couple times, never really for too long, just over FaceTime when Amelia used to call her while living at Meredith’s.”

“Amelia brought her up a lot at meetings,” Richard bit the inside of his lip, hoping that he was making the right decision. “I think we need to call Charlotte. I think that she knows Amelia on a level that not any of us in Seattle can really understand.”

“Okay,” Maggie nodded, pushing her own feelings aside. “Get St. Ambrose Hospital in Los Angeles on the phone,” she loudly ordered to the intern, sitting at the nurses station, who had been just out of earshot, “And tell them I need to speak to Doctor Charlotte King.”

#amelia shepherd #amelink #amelink fanfiction #ameliashepherd #amelinkfanfiction #atticus lincoln #atticus link #greysanatomy #atticuslincoln

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zoryany · 3 years

Note

(Of Loyalty and Royalty) "You know, Captain Solo," the Empress said, delicately putting her wineglass down. Han tried not to stare at the motion, or at her, or anywhere. Things were always awkward around her. "I had my doubts, but I am beginning to see what Luke sees in you. I am glad he has you." Han breathed a sigh of relief. Then the Empress *had* to add, "Of course, my husband does not share this response."

Royal Imperial Skywalker AU (parts 1-6)

Send me things!!(always accepting, for this or any other verse, just�� slow)

It had taken several minutes of insisting, and some creative thinking on his part, but Han had finally gotten Goldenrod out of his and Chewie’s collective hairs, having sent him off on some convoluted mission to find a very vital component for modifying the Falcon. It was weird enough being in the Palace, even with Luke, so being here without him was absolutely surreal. The night before had not been a restful one, that’s for sure.

At least now he had Chewie with him. Something about that big, walking fuzzball made everyone feel more at ease, it seemed – aside from the moments it was clear he was about to lose his temper. Then? It was best to steer clear, unless you wanted to lose an arm. But… even in the early days, Luke seemed to be comforted by his presence.

Han would argue until the day he died that he was not out of his mind for missing the fact that Luke was, indeed, the Imperial Prince, given just how fumbling the kid was right off the bat. Too earnest for his own good and stumbling over his words, you’d think he’d never spoken to another human being before. Which… well, clearly wasn’t the case, but perhaps he just didn’t have as much experience with the sorts of conversations regular folk might have. And for that, he always seemed so nervous when he tried to talk to Han. It was endearing, of course, and played a large part in winning the scoundrel over, but it absolutely screamed “Outer Rim Crop-Duster” without giving a hint at any form of nobility. And yet, when he was around Chewie, he seemed to just… relax. Words flowed much more naturally, whether he addressed the Wookiee or the captain, and a good portion of the tension he carried in his shoulders would just evaporate.

The ease of interaction between him and Luke had grown over the weeks, of course, but Chewie had always been an effective buffer in any situation. He was also effective when it came to negotiations for that very reason, and it was why Han almost wished his first mate had been around for the previous night’s dinner. True, all parties agreed it was for the best that he’d stayed behind, but still; it would have saved Han a lot of discomfort.

“Well, pal,” Han sighed, flopping down on his overly luxurious bed and sprawling out, “how’s it feel, living the high life?”

Perched awkwardly on the foot of the bed, Chewie gave Han a look absolutely brimming with irony. Given his history, as well as that of his people, Chewbacca had never really been in favour of an Imperial Regime in and of itself, but there was a certain level of respect he’d always held for the newfound freedom the Wookiees experienced under the current system. He would speak ill of the life of his people under the Republic, and the galaxy headed under Palpatine, but he carefully maintained an air of neutrality towards the current Royal Family. Through it all, though, Chewie had never sought a life of luxury. He’d always been content to live day to day, repaying the life-debt he was convinced he still owed Han and doing whatever he could to find his place in the galaxy.

Han supposed that over two centuries was plenty of life lived, and sometimes you just had to find your thrills no matter their source.

“Yeah, yeah, I getcha,” Han conceded, sitting back up and running a hand through his hair. “Can’t say I’m feeling all that at home here, either.”

Chewie took a few moments to glance around the room, taking in the décor and the pure extravagance everything seemed to exude, before he finally rumbled out his opinion on the matter.

As he pushed himself off the bed and wandered over to the balcony door, Han shook his head and sighed again. “Yeah, I agree, buddy. It really is… A lot, isn’t it? No wonder the kid felt restless here. I never woulda pinned him to live in a place like this, either.” He spent a brief moment looking out at the sprawling city below him, wondering just how Luke felt every time he took in the same view, before a wry grin spread across his face. “Wanna see a little more of where your new favourite cub grew up?”

Chewie rolled his eyes. On occasion, Han would complain about how much more Chewie liked Luke than him, a joke which seemed to have worn a little thin, but the fuzzball ultimately nodded, and the two breezed out of the room to get a closer look at the wing in which they were to reside for the foreseeable future.

***

“I know, pal.”

It turned out the Imperial Palace – or, at least the sections of it they had proper access to – was not as interesting as they would have liked it to be. They were in the guest wing, of course, and had encountered far too many droids restricting access to other, more interesting sections of the building. The two could make it past if they so chose, but decidedly chose not to, if only to avoid landing on the Empress and her husband’s bad side, and to not to piss off Luke or land him in any more hot water than he might already be in. So instead, they’d settled onto an elevated veranda, sprawling and luxurious and attended by a number of other droids who sought to meet their every need, feeling every bit as though they had landed themselves in a gilded cage of their own.

“I’m not sure what the next move is either.” Chewie draped a warm, hairy arm around his shoulders, and Han was grateful for it. “I can’t live here any more than you can. It just ain’t gonna happen. Luke knows that too.”

He left the next bit unsaid, and as Chewie finished his thought for him, Han found himself wishing he didn’t understand Shyriiwook nearly as well as he did.

For a moment, he tried ignoring his first mate, but another, more insistent rumble, accompanied by a not-quite-painful squeeze to his shoulder had him groaning. “You’re right, of course. As usual. I can’t stay here, and I can’t just drag Luke away from this place. I’m not sure we get to be happy, yanno? In a perfect world, I’d just take the kid with us, travelling the galaxy, adventurin’ from place to place, non-stop.” He paused and allowed the wry smile to twist at his lips. “Pretty sure Luke wouldn’t be strictly opposed to that, either. But…”

Silence rang heavy between them, even with the bustle of the city-planet below them. On another occasion, Chewie might have chimed in with the missing thought, again, but right now, it was clear there was no need. Han wasn’t avoiding it because he didn’t want to acknowledge it; he was avoiding it because it brought a level of pain he never wanted to confront when he was only just getting closer to Luke.

At the end of the day, it was duty that came into play, before anything else.

“Ah! Captain Solo!” Han nearly jumped out of his skin at the crisp tone of the droid as it interrupted his thoughts. “Here you are. And Chewbacca! I nearly thought I had lost you.”

He had to suppress a groan as he forced a grin and faced the gleaming golden droid. “Nope. Still here. Can’t get rid of us that easily.”

“Well, that is indeed excellent,” Threepio continued, completely missing the irony. “I do believe I have found the component you were looking for. I have placed it with your ship until such a time that you may require it.”

“Well,” Han drawled, genuinely surprised the droid had found anything, given his description, “I guess I’ll just have to take a look at it next time I’m fixin’ up the Falcon, and I’ll let ya know how you did, yeah?”

Chewie chuckled softly from behind him, but the droid carried on. “Her Majesty has requested your presence, Captain Solo. I must request that you follow me.” Request was more than likely putting it mildly.

Chewie raised a brow at the droid, rumbling a soft inquiry in Shyriiwook, but Goldenrod seemed unfazed. “I apologize, Mr. Chewbacca. While I recognize your desire to accompany the Captain, the Empress has asked to speak with him alone. However, if you so choose, I may wait with you outside her chamber while they carry out their business.”

The Wookiee was losing patience with the droid almost as quickly as Han was, but Chewie had always been better at maintaining his composure. Despite his own frustrations, he growled an agreement. Both Han and Chewie followed the protocol droid to the hallway leading to the Empress’ chambers, Han being ushered in while Chewie was pointed to a position just to the side of the doorway.

“Mistress Padmé awaits you inside, Captain Solo. I advise you do not keep her waiting.”

“Yeah?” Han felt his lips contort into a wry, contrary sort of smirk. “Well, I’ll make sure I don’t. I know better than to keep a woman like that waiting.”

“Indeed, you do have some wisdom in you after all, Captain Solo.” Threepio’s voice was chipper and polite as ever, but if he didn’t know better, Han would almost think the droid was mocking him.

“Right,” he replied, face darkening slightly, before turning to his friend. “See ya later, Chewie,” he said with a nod. “Try not to tear off Goldenrod’s arms while I’m in there.” He’d lowered his voice, but not enough to go undetected by a droid’s auditory sensors, and Han took more pleasure than he probably should have in the way Threepio seemed to jump at the comment.

Striding forward, the assured steps he took into the chamber worked to conceal the anxiety that truly roiled beneath Han’s composed exterior. Something about the Empress caused his legs to turn liquid and his wits to escape him. Luke was able to disarm him with his charm and catch him off guard enough to force him into idealism; the Empress disarmed him completely with her ability to read right into the core of his being.

Actually, every member of the family seemed to share that ability. His thoughts hadn’t felt private since he’d landed on Coruscant. The Empress could see right through him, the Princess shared her mother’s eerie personal precision, the father had his own brand of intimidation, and Luke…

Luke had always been able to sense Han’s vulnerabilities. Even when it wasn’t obvious that was what he was doing, it was present enough that the kid seemingly maintained a solid connection with him no matter what. Now that Han knew just what Luke’s connections and abilities were, he couldn’t help but feel just a touch more wary of him. He’d never much believed in the Force, nor did he really know what it did, and he didn’t quite trust it.

But… he did trust Luke.

He knew just how gentle the kid could be. Despite the insecurities they both felt, despite knowing what seemed to eat at him the most… Han held faith in Luke. It made him uncertain. Han was unaccustomed to uncertainty like this. But even though he was entirely unsure what the future held, he knew he had faith. A faith he hadn’t come close to holding for years before this, but faith nonetheless. He was not about to abandon that just because he was about to face the Empress, the most powerful woman in the galaxy, and someone who could very well dismiss his existence on a whim.

“Captain.”

The door closed behind him, and Han found himself in another room that seemed overly lavish and luxurious compared to what any being actually needed. He hadn’t really noticed, but they’d moved beyond the guest wing of the Palace. The droid’s escort had been so seamless that he didn’t even realize the route they were taking was unfamiliar and led past paths that had previously been obstructed. He’d been purposely misled to this chamber, and would be escorted back to his own private room so he could not find this one again, he was sure. It instilled a growing sense of unease within him, but Han would not back down. Holding his own against the Empress was all he could do. It even seemed liable to become his greatest achievement ever.

Han was not an Imperial Loyalist. He never had been. He wasn’t a rebel, by any means, just went where the credits were, but most Imperials were fairly stingy with their credits. It was the outlaws who paid the best, and for so long, he’d pledged himself where the fortune laid. But now… well. Was it fortune that drew him to Luke? Or something else? So many could look at his history, look at Luke’s identity, and draw their own conclusions. Han Solo, smuggler, scoundrel, and Imperial Leech.

Luke had never seen that in him, though. And, well, if Luke believed in him…

“I can sense your discomfort.” The Empress’ voice was somehow both cool and warm. She had an inviting air about her, something that begged you to share your every last secret, but she never shed her nobility. Calm, collected, and in control… that was the Empress, and Han wasn’t sure he would ever stand a chance against her in any sort of battle, of the wits or otherwise. And yet, he wasn’t sure that mattered. He would hold his own against her for Luke’s sake. That much felt so certain, no matter what.

“Discomfort, Your Majesty?” Yeah, playing it off seemed like his best bet. What else was he supposed to do? Just admit to the fact that he felt uncomfortable around her? No, that was a weakness he wasn’t about to show off just yet.

It seemed, though, he couldn’t fool her. The Empress wore an expression that seemed far too similar to a predator capturing its prey, though it did not contain the same level of cruelty as one who was about to devour. No, she seemed ready to play with her food before deciding if it should be consumed immediately, or if it was worthy of keeping around for a bit longer.

“You have not shown any signs of comfort since arriving at the Palace, Captain.” Her smile grew, but as it spread, it only became more inscrutable. Han really had no idea whether it carried more welcome or intimidation with it, but he could certainly tell that it carried more. “It is my sincerest hope that you may find some level of ease within our walls. I do not wish you to be on edge for the entire duration of your stay. After all, what kind of hosts would we be if you could find no trust in us whatsoever?”

Han quirked a brow. “I really gotta say, Majesty, it ain’t nothin’ personal. Promise. Your family’s done nothing wrong to me. Got no reason to stand against ya. Plus with Luke around, I’m really not about to do anything stupid like that. But you can’t blame me for being a bit nervous. I ain’t used to dealing with big shots like your family. And I’ve got no interest in kriffin’ things up. Especially not for Luke. Kid’s been through enough. He don’t need me comin’ in to make things even worse. It was his choice to have me here, and if I didn’t think he actually wanted me anywhere near the rest of your family, you better believe I wouldn’t have agreed. Sorry to say it, but my interest in politics is almost negative, so it would take either a huge stack of credits or the word of someone I trust to get me at the Palace at all.”

Did he actually just say all that? In his head it hadn’t sounded that bad. It just sounded like his usual ramblings. But actually saying it out loud…

The Empress clutched a delicate goblet in her gloved hand. It was filled with wine, and she took a long drink out of it before setting it down and smiling at Han. “You know, Captain Solo,” she said as the glass delicately took its place atop a coaster on the end table. Han tried not to stare at the motion, or at her, or anywhere. Things were always awkward around her. "I had my doubts, but I am beginning to see what Luke sees in you. I am glad he has you." Han breathed a sigh of relief. Then the Empress had to add, "Of course, my husband does not share this response."

“Well, Majesty, can’t say I expected him to.” Han hadn’t noticed, but a droid had placed a full tumbler of Correllian Whisky next to him, and he was quick to take a swig of it before he continued. “Can’t say I expected any of you to like me at all, to be honest. Still not sure if that daughter of yours is all that sold on me, either.”

Bright peals of laughter echoed through the chamber. There was genuine joy and amusement in the Empress’ expression, and it was enough to make her seem purely human. It was likely a side of her that only the closest and most intimate of associates would see from someone so regal. He’d seen the holos. The whole galaxy had. She was gentle yet stoic, kind yet solemn, genuine yet guarded… She was what you would expect a beloved Empress to be. But this – this seemed to be who she really was, and an unexpected warmth bloomed in Han’s chest at experiencing it. Maybe… maybe he wasn’t so doomed here, after all, if he’d won over the most powerful woman in the galaxy.

Maybe he’d have a chance at winning over the old man…

“My dear captain, you do understand my children well, I must say.” The light remained in her eyes, and Han could practically feel the tension in his shoulders unwind – though, that could very well be the whisky’s work. “Winning over Leia is no easy feat, but I think you have a better chance than most. She worries for her brother. And I assure you, it isn’t personal.” Clever woman, using his own defense against him. “You took her brother’s attention and caused him to be away from her. She was worried sick and missed her twin. It is not your fault – my son has always been reckless and acts of his own accord – but she resented you before she even knew who you were. Please be patient. Luke adores you. She will come to accept you no matter what. Even if she does not choose to show it.”

Han finished the last of his whisky, grimacing a bit at the thought of the princess. She resembled her mother a fair bit and had been seen in public with the Empress more often than Luke ever had been. The twins didn’t look all that much alike, really, especially when seen separately. While together, though, the similarities shone through. Similar mannerisms, expressions, body language… and they definitely interacted like siblings. Seeing them in this capacity left no doubt in his mind that the twins were, well, twins. But the princess always seemed far more like The Princess than Luke ever did The Prince.

The Empress took another sip from her goblet and her eyes settled on the dark liquid within. “My son has always been more trusting than his sister. He has a gentle heart. I know the dangers he faces because of it. That gentle heart is far too fragile for his own good, and while I know that Luke is strong… well. We all know that Luke is strong. He is not some delicate, withering flower that will crumble to pieces with a strong gust of wind. He is trusting, though, and will offer up that most vulnerable and breakable part of himself far more readily than any of us would prefer.” She paused, emptying the contents of her glass before setting it down and meeting Han’s eyes with a piercing, imperious gaze.

“The unease my family feels around you isn’t personal, Captain Solo. Neither we nor you have any reason for it to be, correct? But our concern stems largely from Luke himself. We know his nature, and when he left Coruscant for such a prolonged period of time, we all worked ourselves into a frenzy of worry about just what harm he might bring upon himself. Physical danger concerns us, of course, our family has guards for a reason, even given our own martial prowess. But Luke’s emotional state, especially when he’d fled searching for freedom… you understand why we would be concerned, yes?”

Han just nodded, wishing he had another glass of whisky.

“My husband may not be swayed just yet. Your status as a smuggler certainly does not help, either.” She really knew how to reassure him when it came to tall, dark and terrifying… “The best way to win him over, however, is to continue as you are. Make Luke happy. That is all we desire for him, first and foremost, and the finer points of status can be discussed at a later date.”

Han met her gaze with gritted determination and nodded sharply. “I will, Your Majesty. Swear on the Falcon. I will not let the kid down.”

“Good,” she replied, humour in her voice while intensity remained in her gaze. “See that you don’t. Farewell, Captain Solo. Until next time.”

#han solo #chewbacca #padme naberrie #Padmé Naberrie #padme admidala #skysolo #han and chewie #imperial royal skywalker family au #c3po #wow it sure has been a while #since I've posted anything #I've had this sitting for a while #it needed heavy editing #and I'm still not sure I'm happy with it #but hey!#han and padme

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skullrock · 3 years

Text

the campers, chapter nine

chapter nine - the savior

series summary: Steve gets a job as a camp counselor at Camp Know Where, intending on using the summer to discover himself. When things start to go wrong at camp, the only people that can help him are the Party, Hopper, and his mortal enemy - you. [Enemies to lovers, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort]

chapter summary: You, Steve, and Hopper explore the Upside Down in search for the missing campers.

warnings: swearin’, angst, violence feat. demogorgons, death! this one is dark folks!

word count: 5.5k

a/n: you can catch up on the series here! sorry I was gone for two months w this story but here u go <3

===

The walkie drops from Steve’s hand and he straightens immediately, pressing his back up against Hopper’s. He holds the bat in both hands now as he scans the area.

It’s always weird, Steve thinks, how much of an impact adrenaline has on his body. He can’t hear anything except his own heartbeat and the rapid breaking of twigs somewhere in front of him. It’s almost an out of body experience - he’s numb to everything except the horror and anticipation. His knuckles turn white against the dark wood of the bat as his eyes flicker around in the near pitch blackness of the dimension.

“Steve, do you copy?”

And Steve does what seems right - he stomps on the walkie until it stops. The moment the sound goes out, the Demogorgon appears, and Steve’s tense muscles falter before stiffening again.

Hopper turns on his heel to stand beside Steve and cocks his rifle before shooting, directly into the opened flora of its head. Steve plants his feet and raises the bat as the thing gets closer. He almost feels like he’s right back at Jonathan’s house, with Jon on one side and Nance on the other. He kind of wishes that was the case, but Hopper would do.

Steve swings the bat as hard as he can once the monster is close enough and the nails slice into the thick skin of the Demogorgon. Both Hopper and Steve groan at the sound of its high-pitched shriek, and Steve rips the bat backwards before hitting it again, right where it’s ribs would be. Hopper fires more shots at it, but Steve knows it takes more than a few bullets to kill one of these things. If it can even be killed.

The Demogorgon’s mouth opens again to cry out and it slashes towards Hopper first, narrowly missing him. Steve arches forward to miss it’s claws before slamming the bat into its neck. When it cries out again, Steve aims towards it’s opened mouth and swings with all of his strength. Hopper takes a shot right after, and that seems to do the trick - the Demogorgon shrivels up on the cold ground. Hopper and Steve assault it a few more times before it finally goes limp, leaving the scene in deafening silence, save for the men’s ragged breathing.

Steve let’s the bat fall to his side, his grip on it easing. Hopper steps forward to look over Steve’s shoulder at the corpse before clapping Steve on the shoulder, sighing. The corner of Steve’s lips quirk up at the validation before he frowns when his eyes land on the obliterated walkie talkie.

It reminds Steve of Jonathan’s camera.

“Shit,” Hopper breathes, kneeling down to pick at the pieces.

Steve feigns innocence and points at the dead Demogorgon. “Must have stepped on it.”

Hopper stands. “We need a walkie.”

Steve looks at him like he’s crazy. “But we - we’re all the way in here -“

“I’ll go forward to look for the kids. You can go back to get a new one, since you broke this one.”

Steve’s mouth opens and shuts. “I don’t know if it’s a good idea to split up.”

“We’ll get more done if we do.”

Steve stares before rolling his shoulders, throwing the bat back over them. “Fine. But we need to know where to meet.”

Hopper simply points at the shoe prints in the ground. “Follow these when you get back. I won’t move from them.”

Steve feels like he’s going to throw up at the thought of being alone here, but he knows that they really do need a walkie. So he sighs and nods curtly before taking off, back in the direction they came from.

“Hey, Steve?”

He turns. “Yeah?”

Hopper frowns. “Be careful.”

“No shit,” Steve mumbles, kicking at dead leaves as he continues.

===

You have no idea how literal children are handling this situation better than you, but they are.

El never really struck you as the superpower type, but you watch as she helps the portal open just slightly for you. Mike is completely unfazed, of course, like he’s watched this happen one hundred times. You stare at both of them with your jaw slightly agape before nodding. “Thank you.”

“You need a nickname,” Mike says. “For the transmissions.”

“Who is going to intercept this transmission, Mike?”

“Just -” He sighs loudly. “What should we call you?”

“I don’t give a shit,” you mutter, climbing onto your knees and looking into the portal with uncertainty.

Mike makes a noise of annoyance. “We’ll call you Athena.”

You genuinely couldn't care less, but anxiety pools in your gut as you continue to stare. El takes a small step forward. “Axe first.”

You throw it through to the other side and look up at her and Mike as you touch your waistband for the walkie-talkie you had. Your bandana is secure around your face and the goggles from the science room fog up slightly with each breath you take. If this was a prank, it was a very elaborate and good one.

“I’ll call you,” you say.

“Good luck.”

No one says it’ll be fine, or it’s really not that bad once you get in, or haha this is a big prank and we totally got your ass!. It’s just a somber good luck, with El wringing her hands and Mike clenching his fist.

Still, you continue. You have to find Steve.

===

Steve really does not like being alone in here. He doesn’t like being alone anywhere, but certainly not in the Upside Down. Any noise that he thinks might not be his makes his blood pressure skyrocket. His bat is constantly out in front of him, ready to strike at any second. His knuckles twist the bat tightly, making his fingers go numb.

About thirty minutes pass since he’s left Hopper, and he cannot seem to locate the portal he entered through.

Steve’s starting to get really scared now. He pauses his movements to think hard, eyes taking in the continuous scene of navy and black. Nothing looks familiar, but that’s probably because everything is cloaked in toxic particles and some kind of mucus that makes Steve shutter.

“You’re okay,” he mumbles out loud, taking a small step forward. “Jesus, you’re okay.”

Another small step. Then another.

A clicking sound emerges behind Steve and his blood runs cold. He can suddenly feel a presence behind him, and it sure as shit is not human. The clicking mixes in with a high pitched chittering and Steve’s knees nearly give out, but he turns and swings with the last of his strength.

He thankfully hits the Demogorgon, but the bat gets stuck in its thick skin. Steve pulls back, and pulls back, and pulls back, and he swears the moment before it swipes him it laughs at him.

He hits the ground with an audible thud and groans before rolling, narrowly avoiding its claws again. The bat is stillstuck, sticking out of the Demogorgon’s neck. For the first time, Steve curses his weapon for being useless

He jumps to his feet but is thrown down again. The claws reach him this time, swiping through his jacket and shirt and piercing the skin of his ribs. And Steve screams. He can usually grit his teeth and bare it, but the feeling hurts more than any punch he’d ever encountered. He feels bile rising in his throat and he pushes up, trying to scramble backwards. The fresh blood only motivates the monster, who comes for Steve slowly, chittering and clicking sickeningly.

Somewhere off in the distance, you hear Steve’s scream, and your heart drops to your soles. You take off, sprinting after him, too scared to shout for him. As you get closer to the sound you can hear something else, an unsettling clicking noise, and goosebumps rise on your skin. You still run, though, zeroed in on finding and saving him.

Steve’s pretty pissed. He’s been through a hell of a lot, and this was how he was going to go out. He’s a seasoned survivor and he’s about to die at the hands of the first monster that he ever defeated. And he’s pissed because he’s never going to be able to save those kids, or save the Party, or tell you that maybe he kind of sort of loves you.

Still, he braces himself, figuring that it can’t hurt any more than the pain in his ribs. He squeezes his eyes shut and forces himself to think about sitting on that large rock with you at the swimming hole, feeling your soft and warm skin on him again.

Instead of hearing his own screams, though, he hears the Demogorgon let out one, a shrill and painful shriek. Steve opens his eyes curiously and his mouth drops.

You slice through the Demogorgon’s back, exposing a black interior. You pull back with a shout and slam the axe back into it, this time aiming right by the bat stuck in its neck, and it cries out again. It tries to twist back but in a complete moment of fury at the sight of a wounded Steve, you slice it’s head clean off.

The body slumps, but the head rolls, still shrieking. You march towards it and slam the axe into it over and over until it completely stops.

Steve’s never been more in love in his life.

You pant down at the head before looking back to Steve.

“Hey, Y/N.”

“Hey, Steve.”

You pause for a moment longer before running for him, dropping your axe and kneeling beside him. He winces and hisses, moving his hand to his rib cage. You push it out of the way and examine him, moving back the blood soaked layers to assess the damage. It’s not as bad as you’d thought, but he’s losing a good bit of blood. You help peel his jacket off before tying the arms tightly around the wound, making him cry out.

“I’m sorry,” you breathe, tears forming in your eyes. “God, Steve, I’m sorry - so sorry for everything.”

“Hey,” he says softly, reaching for you, resting a blood soaked hand on your cheek before removing it. “Ah, shit -“

You grab his hand and lace your fingers through his. “Steve. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have blown up - I should have trusted you -“

“‘s okay,” he says quietly. “I’m sorry, too. Should’ve just told you.”

“I get why you didn’t,” you laugh sadly, running a hand over his cheek. Your eyes well with more tears as you’re hit with the overwhelming sadness of his situation. He doesn’t deserve this. He’s still a kid. And he’s had to live with this for years.

“Don’t cry,” he says, furrowing his brows. “‘m okay.”

You shake your head and bring it to rest against his, forehead against forehead, eyelashes fluttering together. “I’m just so sorry.”

“Think you made it up to me,” he smiles - or maybe it’s a grimace. “Now I’ve got to make it up to you.”

You push him back down when he attempts to stand, but he shakes his head, brows furrowed in concentration. “Gotta get up.”

“You’re hurt,” you say, and he sets his jaw.

“Have to help,” he pants. “Need to save the kids.”

You’d almost forgotten about them in the excitement. Your shoulders slump at the reminder and you have some serious doubts that they could have possibly lived through a hell like this.

Still, you help Steve up. He moves slowly, planting his feet and taking a few shaky breaths once he’s up. He walks towards the corpse of the monster with his back hunched and rips the bat from it’s flesh, wincing a bit as he does. He shakes it to get some excess flesh off before swinging it over his shoulder gingerly.

He looks very good like this, you think.

“Why are you here?” he asks suddenly. “How did you -“

“The kids told me,” you explain, grabbing your axe. “They told me your walkie had gone out and they needed help.”

Steve’s mad for a second before realizing he would have done the same if he was a kid with no other adult to go to.

“Demogorgon broke ours,” he explains. “Well, actually, I broke it -“

“A what?”

“Demogorgon,” he says, nodding towards the body on the ground. “Monster.”

“Like from Dungeons and Dragons?”

“The kids had a theme when naming everything,” he says. “C’mon, we have to go find Hopper.”

“Is he okay?” you ask, following after Steve, who stumbles and moves a lot slower than he had before.

“Who knows,” he mumbles. “Hope so.”

He stops walking for a moment to reach for you, grabbing your hand and lacing his fingers through yours. He gives a firm squeeze and looks to you with a sad smile, but you squeeze back in reassurance.

It’s all that needs said.

“Athena to… whatever the hell - I got Steve.”

A cacophony of noises erupt softly from the walkie until Dustin says, “Is he okay?!”

“Doing great,” you lie, trying to not scare them. “We are going to find Hop-”

“Stache,” Steve corrects, only because Mike has yelled at him enough to make him remember.

You stare at Steve in annoyance but Mike also cuts in with, “He’s called Stache.”

“I do not care what the names are. We are going to find him and then we will look for the kids. Okay?”

“Over,” Steve says, and Mike says, “Over,” and you almost have a mental breakdown between the technicalities and the anxiety.

“Over,” you hiss, and turn the walkie off.

You and Steve follow the footprints that he had pointed out to you, hands clenching your weapons tightly. Steve realizes that he’s probably leading a trail straight to the two of you with the blood dripping from his ribs, but he knows he can’t back out of this. He won’t back out of this. He needs to save the kids and put a stop to this.

Eventually, you find Hopper, who’s a bit rugged but otherwise okay. Hopper stares at you for a moment, confused with why you’re here, but Steve simply points to the walkie. Hopper nods and steps towards Steve, suddenly noticing his wound. He examines Steve with worry laced in his brows, touching the fabric over the wound gingerly. “Got you pretty good, huh?”

“Hurts,” Steve mumbles, his fingers still tight around the bat.

Hopper looks to him with a newer expression, one laced more in fear than worry. “It likes blood.”

“I know,” Steve says, shifting. “We - we’ll be alright.”

Hopper is not so convinced, and neither are you, but there really isn’t much of a choice here.

“Have you found anything?” you ask quietly.

Hopper shakes his head, but points off into the distance. “But I bet we’re close.”

In the distance, you can see the buildings of the Camp. Well, this version of the buildings - dilapidated and overgrown.

“You think they’re there?” you ask.

Hopper nods, continuing to look at the buildings. “Will was….”

Your heart drops, remembering the story that the kids had told you. Steve looks sick as well, but everyone moves forward, weapons at the ready once more.

You come upon the main buildings - the cafeteria and the classrooms. The cabins are off in the distance, but Hopper is sure that if the kids were anywhere, they’d be here. He remembers where he found Will and Barb, in a sort of nest at the heart of the city. He reckons if the Demogorgons were going to have a nest, it’d be in one of these buildings.

Your heart leaps to your throat as you approach the buildings, and you stick as close to Steve as you can. He moves slowly, hunched over, but adrenaline keeps him moving. You look at him with concern, but Steve looks straight ahead, trying to act unfazed.

Hopper enters the school building first, raising his rifle and flashlight as he breaches the entrance. Steve ushers you in, looking around the outside before falling in behind you. Hopper looks around at the numerous hallways, before turning to you and Steve. “Somebody want to lead the way?”

Steve looks at you expectantly, and you narrow your eyes. “Come on, we’ve been here for weeks. Do you really not know the layout of this building?”

Steve shrugs innocently in reply and you sigh loudly, pushing past him and Hopper to lead the way. Your knees shake with each step you take, but you force yourself to stay upright. Steve moves in front of Hopper to be close to you. It’s not that he didn’t think Hopper could save you; he just wanted to be the one to do it.

The first few rooms are clear, although some are a bit more decayed than others. You have the fleeting thought that you wished you had brought something to take samples with - but who would ever believe this, anyway? The three of you pushed on, looking into each room slowly, straining to hear any signs of danger.

When you get to a new hallway, everyone splits up, checking the rooms separately to cover ground quicker.

You find the first missing camper.

The room is decayed beyond repair. Vines tangle over the concrete floor, and the same slime-like membrane covers the room and it’s inhabitants. It looks almost like a nest - cocoons on the walls, membranes with web-like appearances attached. But there were undoubtedly bodies in the room, and you stepped one foot over the threshold cautiously. You couldn’t breathe - refused to - as you took another step into the room. Your shoes stuck to the membrane on the ground and it took a bit of effort to keep moving. It felt almost unreal - the atmosphere, the scene before you. Like you were in another world completely - which, you were - but it felt like a nightmare.

Brent Albright was twelve and skinny. He disappeared first. You recognize his body immediately.

Shaking, you knelt down. “Brent?”

There was no response - no stirring, no signs of life. You reach for him and shake his arm, your own shaking violently. “Brent!”

It took every effort in you to not throw up.

“C’mon,” you whisper hoarsely. “C’mon, Brent.” You grab his wrist and feel for a pulse, but find nothing except ice-cold skin and veins.

You try to scream, but nothing comes out. Soon, Hopper and Steve notice your absence, and they find you kneeling on the ground, shaking your head as you stare at his body.

Steve’s knees buckle but he pushes himself forward, following Hopper to kneel beside you.

“Gone,” you whisper.

Hopper reaches to feel the boy’s pulsepoint in his throat, but he knows once he feels his skin that he’s not there. His head droops and he sits his rifle down, cursing under his breath.

Steve shakes so hard that it feels like his organs are vibrating. He stands, takes a sharp breath in, and then strides to another room to vomit.

The scene hurt everyone, but it hurt Steve so much that he felt like he was drowning. He could always save them - he could always be the hero. He thought he’d be able to find the two campers and bring them home, safe and unharmed. But he failed them. He couldn’t bring them home. He couldn’t keep them safe, couldn’t get to them fast enough. And if he couldn’t do that, what could he do?

Steve remembers what Nancy told him about Barb. That El had found her in the Upside Down. Dead. He can’t help but to look around the room and realize that this is where Barb was when she died. Alone and lost and scared, just like Brent. And no one could save her, either, after she was ripped here right in his own backyard.

Will was here, too. Will had to deal with this. Will was probably in the same position - apparently nearly dead when he was found.

Steve digs his nails into his chest, trying to use the pain to ground himself. His head spins and he collapses to the ground, putting his head in his hands, wincing at the pain in his ribs. It’s all my fault. It’s all my fault.

It feels like he deserves to be next.

In the other room, you and Hopper examine the walls for any other signs of life, but find nothing that’s remotely distinguishable. Everything was flesh and bone.

Hopper rests his hand on your shoulder and sighs heavily. “There’s still a kid out there. We have to find them.”

You nod weakly. “Steve.”

“Go see if you can calm him down,” he says.

You nod and move to where Steve is, the room across from this one. He shakes alone as he curls up in on himself, and you rush for him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

“It’s all my fault,” he whispers brokenly.

“How?” you ask.

“I couldn’t… I shouldn’t have waited.” He shakes his head and presses the heels of his palms into his eyes. “Jesus, I should have looked for them sooner.”

“How would you have found them here?”

“I don’t know!” he snaps. “But they’re gone, and I couldn’t - I couldn’t do anything.”

Steve understands so deeply how Nancy felt in 1984. And he had brushed her off, terrified that they’d get hurt if they talked about it. He understands how helpless she must have felt, and it makes him feel like there’s a boulder in his stomach, cold and rough.

You wince when you hear him start to cry, and you press him deeply into your side. You feel sick and upset too, but you know you need to be strong for him.

“Steve,” you whisper. “I’m so sorry.”

It makes him cry harder. He doesn’t know if he wants the pity or not, but nonetheless, he feels small and scared and he just wants to go home.

“There’s another kid,” you say gently. “And he needs our help, too. We have to keep going.”

Steve nods and swallows hard. He takes another deep breath - which really isn’t that deep - and sniffles, then stands, grabbing his bat and moving from the room. You follow him, frowning, tears brimming your eyes, too. But you push them back and grab your axe, setting off to find the other.

===

Fred Perkins is found just a couple of doors away. This time around, the kid is breathing.

Hopper finds his pulse, which is faint and slow, but there. He must have been recently dragged in, as he was relatively unharmed, but seemed to have hypothermia or something similar. His lips were blue and his face was paler than anything you’d ever seen - you were surprised he wasn’t a corpse. But you checked his pulse as well, and it was there.

“Fred,” you say, pushing his hair out of his face. “C’mon, buddy. Can you hear me?”

He doesn’t even stir.

“We need to get him back quickly,” Steve says. “I don’t know how much longer he can be here.”

Hopper nods, but you pause. “Isn’t the nearest portal the one that’s almost half an hour away by foot?”

“Do you want to leave him here?”

“No,” you snap. “But it’s not going to be easy, and your ribs are already messed up -”

“We can do it,” Steve says. “We have to do it.”

Your eyes linger on him for a moment before you look back down at Fred. You wish you’d brought a blanket or an extra jacket for him, but there’s nothing you can use. “Hop and I can carry him. Steve, just keep an eye open for us, okay?”

Steve stiffens, irritated, wanting to help. “But -”

“Steve.” Your voice is quiet and sincere, and he drops it.

“What about Brent?” he asks. “We can’t leave him here.”

Hopper sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “We don’t have much of a choice.”

Steve nearly becomes belligerent at this. “Leave him here? You want us to just leave him here? All alone?”

“Steve, it’s too dangerous. We can’t.”

“We can come back for him later,” you say, although it’s a lie. Eleven needs to close the portals - there’s no coming back. “We need to worry about Fred right now. Okay?”

Steve takes a slow, deep breath and nods, gripping his bat tighter. “Okay. Okay. I’ll keep an eye out.”

Hopper really doesn’t have much of an issue carrying the child, since he’s small and skinny and had very obviously lost some weight. As he carries Fred, you call the kids back at camp.

“This is Athena, can you hear me?”

“This is Paladin, what’s your twenty?”

“We found Fred,” you say. You think it’s probably best to leave out Brent’s fate. “We’re coming back to the portal to get him out of there. It’ll take us a bit, but stay on the lookout. Have you seen anything on your side?”

“No,” Mike answers. “But El keeps having to reopen the portal. It keeps wanting to close.”

You share a glance with Steve and Hopper. “O-okay. We’ll move as fast as we can. Over.”

You clip the walkie back onto your waistband and follow closely beside Hopper, your axe over one shoulder. You pay more attention to Fred than to the woods around you, but Steve is luckily very aware of everything. Every crunch makes you all halt, looking around like prey before continuing once no threat is made obvious. The walk feels like an eternity, and there are times where Hopper needs to rest and adjust; he still refuses any help, which irritates you, but only for a moment. You’re not sure if you could really help much.

Your worry drifts to Steve, who hasn’t said much of anything and whose jaw is perpetually clamped tightly shut. You quicken your pace to walk with him, and you run your hand down his arm in an attempt to soothe him. “I’m sorry.”

Steve licks his lips, sniffles, and shakes his head just slightly.

“How are your ribs?”

“Medium rare.”

You smile slightly and bump into him. “We’re almost back. We’ll get you help.”

Steve nods, but he’s distracted. Though he can’t see anything, he feels some imminent danger that he can’t shake. The woods are dark and too quiet, and the fine hair on his neck stands on end. His hands wring around the bat as he looks around and scans the trees for any signs of danger. It’s so important to him in this moment that he protects you and Hopper and Fred. After letting down Brent, he cannot - will not - let anyone else get hurt. He’ll die to protect you if he has to.

After what feels like a hundred years, you arrive back at the portal you’d gone through. A massive wave of relief runs through you as you approach and you can’t help but to almost skip as you get closer to the portal. You call through to El and Mike who answer immediately, their own relief evident in their voices.

Steve protects you and Hopper as you kneel on the ground. “We’re sending Fred through first,” you say, helping Hopper lay him down gently. “We need to get him back to camp as soon as possible, he’s in really bad shape.”

You help Hopper feed Fred through to where Mike and El are able to grab him and bring him to the other side. You can’t help but to smile widely - you did it. You made it. Steve’s alive, Hopper’s alive, and one kid is alive. You did it.

Something snaps nearby.

Immediately on alert, Hopper jumps up and grabs his gun off the holster. You grab your axe and stand by him, behind Steve, who announces, “Company.”

You hear something wet behind you and whip around - the portal is closing. The portal is closing.

“El,” you call. “The portal -”

It closes.

“Guys.”

“What?” Hopper snaps, eyes trained on the darkness expanding in front of you.

“The portal closed.”

Both men’s shoulders - and weapons - drop as they spin to confirm your observation.

“What the -” Steve starts, but a similar, eerie clicking noise fills the air.

“Demogorgon.”

It clicks in Steve’s head within a split second - they’d been following the four of you this entire time. They planned this. An ambush. They closed the portal to corner you. Steve’s blood left the trail.

Clever shits, Steve thinks, before his bat swings at a Demogorgon that had sprung towards him.

You shout for him, but one emerges to your left. You slice through its arm with your axe, cringing as it lets out a piercing scream. You hear Hopper unloading his gun beside you, but you keep going, slicing at the monster before it eventually crumples and falls to the floor. You jump when something grabs your arm, but it’s only Steve, who quickly pulls you to run from the tree. You hear more snarling behind you and you feel like you can’t breathe with the bandana and goggles fogging up. Steve keeps pulling you though, and Hopper runs beside you, occasionally pausing to shoot back behind him.

What Hopper and Steve know, and what you don’t know, is that bullets don’t do shit to these things. The only time Steve ever saw one of them disappear was when he had set one on fire with Nancy and Jonathan - and even then, he couldn’t be certain that it actually died. It seemed that slicing through them was good enough, but maybe it wasn’t - maybe they could form themselves again. Either way, your chances weren’t looking good, and Steve’s heart plummets when he realizes what he has to do.

Steve suddenly stops running and Hopper goes to help him move along, but he shakes his head and nearly shoves him away.

“What is it?” you ask quickly. “Are - are you hurting? Can you not -”

“Go,” he says, turning around, and walking back the way you came.

You lunge for him, grabbing onto his arm, pulling him towards you. “No. No. This isn’t time to be hero, Steve -”

“They’re right,” Hopper says, taking a step towards Steve. “C’mon, we need to -”

A piercing wail pierces the air. They were getting closer.

“It’s my fault,” Steve says quickly. “It’s my fault. My blood -”

“I don’t care if it’s your fault, Steve -”

“Please.” His voice cracks. “Please. Go.”

“Not without you!”

“Kid, come on -”

Steve shakes his head and cups your cheek with his hand. “Right behind you. I’m right behind you. Go.”

Your heart hammers in your chest, reaching up to your throat. You feel like you’re suffocating. “Steve, please, not again, can’t lose you -”

But he leaves, marching towards the darkness, bat raised and shoulders back. Hopper tries to grab him, but Steve moves with such purpose that the universe itself could not call him back.

Hopper forces you to run, grabbing your arm and pulling you along. You wait to hear any noises of Steve’s certain death, but it’s eerily quiet. Only your breaths and footsteps make any noise.

You soon after land on the camp’s main buildings once more. Your mind races as you try to think of places to hide, but Hopper can see something bright and luminescent at the bottom of the lake. He stops to squint, and realizes that it’s a portal. An odd place for a portal, but a portal nonetheless. It’s your only option.

You’re confused as Hopper pulls you towards the pier, but you quickly understand as your eyes land on the open mass at the bottom. You almost stop running. “No way!”

“Hope you can swim,” Hopper says, and although you can, you’re not so sure you can survive that long - not when your heart hurts from beating, with your lungs on fire, with the absence of Steve cutting through your gut like blades. Not without him.

“But Steve -”

Hopper grabs your shoulders and turns you to face him. “We have to. We can’t wait. He’ll be right behind us, he’s more than capable, but we need to go now.”

Your eyes dart back to the woods, then to Hopper. “Right behind me?”

“Promise,” he says. “I’m right behind you.”

You nod, legs and arms shaking. Your eyes move towards the woods one more time, hoping Steve would emerge, but there’s nothing except silence. You take a deep breath and step towards the edge of the pier, then another, then another. Your lungs contract and expand; your legs feel weak and on fire; and you feel your chest expand one more time before plunging into the water.

===

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#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington au #steve harrington fic #my fics #the campers

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k-writer1998 · 4 years

Text

Stepping Back

Prompt fic: baker! seungmin x florist! reader

angsty fluff

w.c: 2.2k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Seungmin you’re always so rough with the dough. If you keep that up the bread is gonna be tough again,” Felix pointed out as he passed by the boy’s workstation.

With a groan Seungmin threw the dough back into the bowl right before the front bell rang. Felix shooed the boy to the front as he went to handle the abandoned dough. Seungmin and the kitchen never seem to get along yet how he ended up working at a bakery is a mystery. The pay was good and the work wasn’t that bad, except for the need to bake things and a few weird customers. The top of his list being the owner's niece who stops by to help her uncle tend to the plants in the bakery. As he puts it "her mom took all the gardening genes leaving plants to die under my care." She as a person wasn't weird, many would say she's endearing with her bubbly personality, the weird part is her "usual" she asks for every time she comes in. The usual is whatever was freshly made the night before but it took a bit for Seungmin to learn that so whenever her voice says "the usual" there is always the slightest hint of annoyance that jabs at him. Why she asks for those goods specifically was beyond him as he knew that usually it's Felix and him making those.

If it hasn't been noticed yet, Seungmin was in a particularly foul mood today. I mean as a stressed college student who barely gets sleep he's never quite in a pleasant mood but today was more than usual as he has back to back exams and project deadlines approaching. The poor dough was the first victim and unbeknownst to all the second was the poor girl who walked through the door. As always she gave him a sunny smile before she said those four cursed words to Seungmin.

“I’ll have the usual.”

“You say that every time.”

Due to the stress, his self-restraint lacked as the comment fell from his lips naturally but Y/n was unfazed. Her smile stayed in place as she walked around the counter to grab the watering can and started to water the shop’s plants. If he didn’t have school consuming his mind then maybe he would have understood the meaning behind the little glances she stole at him or the light blush that danced across her cheeks when she locked eyes with him. Instead it only further annoyed him but the pushing force was the small giggle that escaped her lips as she took a bite.

“I get that you like to come here and make fun of me but could you at least make it not so obvious?”

At his sudden burst y/n jumped before a look of confusion crossed her face. She had just giggled in glee at the realization that Seungmin had made this batch because as the baker’s niece, y/n had seasoned taste buds. Why was he so mad?

“Make fun of you? Seungmin I would never do that.”

“Yeah, okay,” he rolled his eyes as he turned to walk away but she got up and grabbed his wrist.

“Wait, I’m being serious. Why would you think that?”

“Just give it a rest y/n.”

“No, Seungmin-”

“Well obviously I can feel you watching me and half the time I bring your order you laugh at me. You order a “usual” as if there was anything usual about your order. If anything you just like messing with me and just hide behind the fact you’re the owner’s niece,” he snapped.

“That’s not the reason I- Do you really think that of me?”

In that moment, as y/n looked at him with a pained expression, Seungmin snapped from his irritated state, guilt flushing his system instead. Both parties were frozen there for a moment. Neither of them knew the other well enough to understand that y/n hates being accused because of a misunderstanding and Seungmin will bite back if backed into a corner. Y/n was the first to drop her gaze and her hold on his wrist, sadly he didn’t know what else to do but to remove himself from the situation. Another beat passed before the weight that seemed to be crushing y/n released and she quickly took the chance to escape before the tears fell. Felix wondered why Seungmin flew past him in a flurry but catching y/n leaving in the same manner with the pastry abandoned on the table, and the fact he heard the male’s raised voice, it was easy to tell what went on.

After that she stopped showing up around Seungmin’s shifts and as the days passed the guilt grew. His nights were spent trying to figure out how to apologize, beating himself up, or wondering how much she must hate him that sleep wasn’t really an option. That took a toll on him though so one night as he and Felix were prepping for the next day and waiting for the oven to finish cooking the tart shells, Seungmin ended up falling asleep in the front. There was the slightest click as the lock opened and y/n slipped in, grabbing the bells to stop the soft jingling that would alert the boys. She just needed to grab her forgotten notebook, from when she came in earlier. She rounds the counter and sees it tucked under the register like her uncle said but she was not prepared to see the sleeping boy when she whirled around. She silently grabs her chest in surprise but when she noticed his gentle breathing, she relaxed. Her eyes softened, regardless of the fact she was avoiding him, she still missed him. Y/n's body moved closer before her brain had time to resist and squatted at the end of the table to be level with Seungmin. As she was fighting the urge to reach out and touch his hair, a voice called out which made her stand and snap her head in the direction of the voice.

“Y/n? What are you doing here so late?”

“ … I forgot my notebook when I stopped by to water the plants earlier.”

“How are you holding up?”

Y/n knew what Felix meant by the question as his eyes darted past her to the boy who was still asleep. She looked down, her hands suddenly looking so much more interesting.

“It’s hard. I acted on my own whims, not even taking into consideration how he would feel…”

“I’m sorry he’s so dense, but he didn’t mean what he said. Even if he won’t admit it, his eyes keep looking for yo-”

“Felix don’t. Not the false hope…”

She cuts Felix off before she turns to look at Seungmin’s sleeping figure. Her hand moves to touch his hair but freezes mere centimeters away.

“Even this is too much. I like him so much it hurts,” y/n’s voice trembles as she hesitantly pulls her hand back and gives Felix a weak smile. “I’m sorry, I should go.”

She quickly collected her things and exited the bakery. With a gentle shake of his head and a sigh, Felix went back to the kitchen to take the tart shells from the oven which left a guilty Seungmin to finally raise his head. He had woken up mid-conversation, meaning he heard the indirect confession and the pain behind it. The guilt he felt for snapping at her now grew by tenfold. The next few days Seungmin continued to wait to hear her cheerful voice enter the bakery but it never came. Felix, tired of watching two of his friends play this stupid game of cat and mouse, decided to step in.

“I seriously can’t with the two of you. If she doesn’t come here why don’t you go to her?”

“I- What are you talking ab-”

“Seungmin who do you think you’re kidding here? You miss having her around whether you admit it or not. You aren’t one to sit back and wait, so why are you doing it now?”

Felix had a point and Seungmin knew it. He wasn’t one to let things fester like this and he wasn’t quite sure why this was different than any other situation. He wasn’t sure of what he felt towards y/n right now but he didn’t like where they currently stood. Felix said that he could watch the bakery on his own before pushing Seungmin out the door, leaving the boy no more room to hesitate. Running into a situation without a plan wasn’t like Seungmin but he liked the spark of spontaneity as his feet broke into a run. Before he knew it he had burst through the door of the flower shop, giving y/n quite the shock by both the loud entrance and the boy who caused it.

“Seungmin? Are you okay?”

Instead of answering, he struggled to catch his breath. Concern swelled her body as she rounded the counter and was beside the boy in seconds, looking out the windows in an attempt to catch a glimpse at what was apparently chasing the boy. The fact that she was hiding from him was thrown to the wind but it came back the moment she felt his hand on her shoulder as he stood tall. By then it was too late because she was now stuck in his grasp but as much as she started to panic so did Seungmin. He charged over here with no plan whatsoever and he had no idea where to start. As his eyes quickly scanned the interior of the florist shop his eyes landed on the bouquet in process sitting on the counter and everything clicked in his mind.

“I’m fine, didn’t mean to scare you. I’m just in urgent need of a bouquet.”

“Oh… what’s the occasion? You seem in a rush so I can pull something together really quick.”

“I wanted to say I’m sorry.”

“Sounds like you caused trouble,” she responded with a small laugh as she went to grab a few flowers. “Tulips for forgiveness and new beginnings, a touch of ivy for support, and a few pink roses to show you appreciate them… How bad did you mess up?”

“Well they aren’t talking to me so I would say pretty bad.”

“Then we are definitely going to need to add some white orchids to show your sincerity.”

As Seungmin watched her move around the flower shop he realized how much he missed seeing her in her element like this, even if he pretended to find her annoying. It was also a show of how little he truly knew about her other than the basic things he heard from her uncle, and there it was that guilty feeling again. He swallowed it down as he watched her put the seemingly odd array of flowers together. Y/n on the other hand felt the heat of his gaze on her as she worked and she realized how Seungmin must’ve felt when she watched him, it made her nervous. With a final tie of the ribbon Seungmin’s bouquet was finished and as she handed it to him she couldn’t help but ask. She justified her curiosity as normal questions she would usually ask customers.

“Here they’re on the house. Hope the person forgives you, who are they anyways?”

“No you have to let me pay,” he demanded as he pushed the cash into her hand before he shoved the bouquet back onto her. “I can’t let you pay for your own apology bouquet.”

Her mouth fell agape as she looked wide eyed at Seungmin. She was able to recover her wits enough to shake her head in confusion.

“Why are you apologizing? I was the one who was making you uncomfortable at work.”

“You really weren’t. It’s no excuse but I was extremely irritable that day because of all the stress from school and I just so happened to take it out on you. Y/n you didn’t deserve me speaking to you like that, I’m sorry.”

The sincerity in his eyes burned the blush onto her cheeks so she had to break the eye contact before he noticed. Looking down at the bouquet she had a bright idea because she still felt a bit apologetic for her own actions that day as well.

“Thanks… I’ll accept your apology but you have to accept this as well,” y/n held out a white orchid to the boy with a soft smile. “I am partially responsible cause I kept pushing you and that’s my fault.”

“Deal.”

As they both smiled at each other, both holding their own flowers, the tension between them melted and something in Seungmin changed. Did her smile always make him feel like this? His hands felt clammy and his heart started to pick up speed as he felt warmth creep up his face. Apparently he was full of impulsive decisions today and this one really was the cream of the crop as the words tumbled from his lips.

“Actually there was one more thing I wanted to tell you...”

I mean things work out… they just don’t know it yet.

#skz gc prompts #stray kids #skz #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #stray kids scenarios #skz scenarios #kim seungmin #seungmin scenarios #seungmin imagines #seungmin oneshot #stray kids oneshot #skz oneshot #my writing

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capricornsims · 4 years

Text

Strangetown Mystery 12: Covert scientists

With Jenny locked away with her family in the barracks, the Curious brothers worked behind closed doors in the bunker’s hidden laboratory. Albeit skeptical of the general’s intentions, the brothers accepted the opportunity to work in higher paying positions with the added bonus of being close to their sister. Overall, their task was simple, find a cure for the syndrome and ultimately connect the cause to extraterrestrial threats. The brothers considered that working for the enemy would cover their tracks regarding the breach in the [Redacted] lab, not that they would openly admit their crimes. In order to keep their behinds safe from the General’s wrath, they simply smiled and nodded to whatever orders he gave them along with instructions given by the Dudes in Black to keep their operations in secrecy. While his brothers worked diligently in the lab, keeping their heads down and doing what they were told, Pascal wasted no time investigating their new inside job.

Pascal: Lazlo, we need to be very quiet, but I think something weird is going on here, this whole lab is suspicious.

Lazlo: Other than the fact that our sister is imprisoned in the other room? What is it Pascal?

Pascal: My theory about the aliens and the government is real. Just look at them, the Dudes in Black, they’re blue, they are clearly aliens and what makes it worse is that Buzz is working with them.

Lazlo: I don’t know man, those suits and hats seem pretty convincing to me. But I wouldn’t doubt that Buzz is up to something sketchy.

Pascal: Wake up Lazlo! The Dudes in Black are are plotting something big and they’re using PT9 as a distraction for Buzz so they can do whatever they want. We need to find out what’s really going on in the [ Redacted ] lab or we’re all doomed!

Lazlo: Are you seriously going back there? That place is dangerous, Pascal.

Pascal: WE are going back there and we’re meeting up with Erwin later to investigate the lab and collect some spore samples. You also said that you would help me, we’re the Curious brothers not Curious brother!

Lazlo: I know, but I don’t want you to get infected or get caught by the military.

Pascal: Don’t worry, Lazlo, with your help we can stop whatever is causing the syndrome.

Lazlo: I’ll do my best, but this investigation is escalating quickly. Let’s just hope that Vidcund is on board with our plans.

Later that night, the brothers entered the foreboding gates of the [ Redacted ] lab, avoiding detection from the watch towers and sneaking passed security cameras. Pascal almost dragged Vidcund by his ear through the broken fence, annoyed by his reluctance to join them. Beyond barrier they encountered a familiar face waving back at them, it was Erwin with his flashy collider tin hat pacing back and forth clearly paranoid about something. To the conspiracy theorist, the three lab coated clad men looked like they were out to get him, brandished with government issued badges and everything. Despite Erwin’s suspicions, Pascal assured his friend that they were merely working for the government so they could get more information about the bizarre plants . He even presented his friend with a spore scanner that they needed for their research to further prove his loyalty. Shaking his head, Erwin hesitantly trusted Pascal’s motives but he was still weary about the other two brothers, especially Vidcund.

Vidcund: Hey Erwin, long time no see! Damn it feels like ages since we broke into this lab and released a deadly infection.

Erwin: Hello...Vidcund..if that is your real name.

Lazlo: Dude, shush, we didn’t release it ,Pascal did.

Erwin: Anyways, Where did you even get the spore scanner? The feds didn’t give it to you right?

-Flashback to that morning -

Pascal: Give me the infection scanner or ELSE I’LL KICK YOUR BUTT INTO NEXT TUESDAY!

Military guy: *sniffle* Okay man, just..just...take it, you didn’t have to beat me up that bad *sniffle*

Lazlo: Nah, he beat up a soldier in broad daylight when he wouldn’t negotiate with him. He scared the feds so bad that they just left us alone.

Vidcund: Yeah our older brother is kind of crazy.

Erwin: Wow he’s more dedicated than I thought he was, heh. Anyways let’s get inside before we get spotted by the watch towers.

They returned to the sub level of the lab, going passed the toxic cloud of spores that shrouded the other corridor. The distinct sounds of machinery and loud air vents added to the eerie atmosphere of the abandoned laboratory, but Pascal went ahead of his party unfazed by fear. Meanwhile his brothers speculated the relationship between Erwin and Pascal, wondering if it was even good for him to hang out with the conspiracy theorist. “ He’s going too far, we’re going to get in trouble if we keep coming here. This whole investigation isn’t worth our time” Vidcund whispered to Lazlo as they paced themselves behind Erwin. Instead of responding to his older brother, Lazlo just nodded his head avoiding the prospect of choosing sides. He believed that Pascal knew what he was doing despite the dangers that it held, remembering how his brother got himself abducted for science. “ I trust him, Vid. All we can do is be supportive.” He frowned and continued their trek deeper into the corridor.

The end of the darkened hallway revealed a laboratory with everything still intact as if scientists dropped what they were doing and fled their work. Pascal took in the rest of the room, noting the sterilized air and the numerous plants in containment pods similar to the mutated bizarre plants around town. In the center of the room he spotted what looked to be lab equipment equal to the ones in the bunker’s laboratory. This was it, this was the place where they would finally understand what the spores did and how they they were going to stop it. In addition to his own mission, he was informed to research the spores properties in order to build a filter for the hazmat suit he was building.

Pascal: Don’t touch anything, we have to run these spores through the analyzer and figure these things out.

Lazlo: Wow, these plants look so much cooler when they’re not trying to kill you.

Pascal: We have them back at our lab, the scientists must have been analyzing the plants before they were interrupted by the explosion.

Erwin: I can’t believe you guys are working with the military now, doesn’t that put you more at risk? Especially with the Dudes in Black?!

Lazlo+Vidcund: YES

Pascal: Nope, in fact, it keeps us safe from suspicion because we’re doing everything they say, but I’m doing more behind their back. I can tell that the Dudes in Black are using Buzz for their own gain and using us humans as pawns in their game.

Lazlo: Our brother-in-law is also being imprisoned by the General, who knows what the Dudes in Black are really doing.

Erwin: SEE the Aliens and the Government are both trying to kill us! Wake up SHEEPLE we have to expose them!!!

Pascal: We will expose them once I get all the evidence. So far I have a clear analysis of the spores, and other evidence about the plants, but finding the cause is the next step.

Lazlo: If we can’t connect the syndrome to the Dudes, the best case scenario is that we prove that PT9 isn’t the cause of it and we free him.

Erwin: And we find a cure along the way right? That’ll also be good!

Vidcund: I’m happy that you found the properties and stuff, Pascal, but I have to go. This whole investigation is fun and all but I have a life to attend to.

Pascal: Vid, you’re a plant scientist I need you here for this.

Vidcund: I’ll work with you in our house lab, now I really gotta go. I have a date.

Pascal: ...Fine, good luck on your “date”, Vid.

-Later that night at the Beaker Castle-

Circe: I thought you couldn’t make it for our date. I was getting worried that Loki would walk in on us.

Vidcund: I ditched Pascal at the lab so I wouldn’t be late. He was totally butt hurt that I didn’t want to be on his fetch quest.

Circe: Well Loki isn’t going to be here for a few hours so we can hang out for a bit.

Vidcund: Great! I can’t wait to tell you about my new experiment! it involves reanimating guinea pig tissue with microwave radiation...but guinea pigs are very expensive in bulk so I ended up drying up my bank account and all my credit cards are maxed out.

Circe: Oh my goodness, I feel so sorry for you.

Vidcund: Don’t be, at this point I need a miracle if I want to complete this experiment.

Circe: You work for a top secret lab right now, you’re going to get money no matter what. As for your miracle, you could work something out with your employers.

Vidcund: How would that work?

Circe: Just do them a few favors and maybe they’ll give you some extra cash. As a scientist you have to do anything to achieve your goals no matter what it takes.

Vidcund: Yeah, maybe I will do them a favor...

(( Note: It’s been a while since I updated Strangetown Mystery, but this story is very fun to write so it’s only going to get more weird.

#strangetown mystery #strangetown #strangerville #pascal curious #vidcund curious #lazlo curious #sims 2 psp #sims 2 to sims 4 #simblr #sims story #premades #erwin pries #circe beaker #the dudes in black

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be11atrixthestrange · 3 years

Text

Thank You For Dying

Just a run-of-the-mill Deathday party in the Prefects’ bathroom, #PartyLikeIts1492

...because I guess this is what I write now...

The typically-bustling fifth floor was void of any living creatures, repelled by the putrid odor wafting from the Prefects' bathroom. Argus Filch was aware of the smell — and the fact that it probably meant shenanigans — but he still hadn't moved his pending investigation higher on his to-do list.

The fact that even the school caretaker scrunched his nose was concerning. Filch had built up an impressive tolerance to the fouler aspects of maintaining a centuries-old home for grimy teenagers, thanks to his sustained exposure to the greasy mop of hair on his head, which emanated its own unique brand of stink.

The strong stench was no accident. Inside the Prefects' bathroom laid an expansive buffet table, assembled by a reluctant team of house-elves at the request of the Fat Friar. The previous week's rancid leftovers were delicately displayed, having been harvested from mealtimes and kept out in the steamy kitchen left to spoil, another unusual ask from the Hogwarts ghosts.

"It smells so strong!" said the Hufflepuff ghost, his eyes swirling with excitement at the array. "I can almost taste it!"

The pool-sized tub was brimming with bubbles and bustling with activity. Thanks to the begrudging elves, neon lights colored the bathwater, and music echoed off the walls, amplified and melodious, which elicited a few nods of appreciation for the castle's stately acoustics. A sudden splash sent a wave of displaced water into the air, which crashed onto the buffet. The table collapsed under the force, soaking everything and leaving the already-spoiled food squishy and soggy. Peeves then erupted from the water, cackling and pointing at the table, now a useless pile of rubble.

"Peeves!" groaned Nearly Headless Nick. "Why is he here again? He's not even dead."

"Because we need him to hang the banner," said the Grey Lady with an air of expended patience. "Unless you'd like to do it."

Nick glanced at the banner, coiled in a pile next to the destroyed table, and then at his hands, translucent and purposeless. "Fine. Peeves, hang the banner, and then get out."

"Nicky so angry, he's not my fan," chuckled Peeves. "Why would Peeves listen to a grumpy old man?"

Nick rolled his eyes and turned to the Bloody Baron, who was busy directing the elves around the tub so they could get to work on fixing the table. "Can you tell him?"

The Bloody Baron huffed at Nick before raising his voice to the Poltergeist. "Peeves. Hang it up."

"Wheeeeeeeee," sang Peeves as he swooped down to snatch the banner. It unraveled into a ribbon as he launched into the air. Peeves pinned it to the wall so that it hung visibly from the entry door, its message now clear and bold:

Happy Deathday, Myrtle!

"Why does he only listen to the Bloody Baron?" asked Nick under his breath, earning a scowl from the Grey Lady.

"Because the Bloody Baron has quite the temper," she said.

"Oh, yeah. Sorry to bring that up," said Nick. "Things are still weird between you two, then?"

Helena Ravenclaw scowled, and Nick immediately realized he had made things even more awkward by asking about it. He groaned to himself — they had coexisted for centuries, and he still couldn't manage one smooth conversation without reminding her of the whole murdered-by-her-ex thing. It didn't help that the Bloody Baron was always there, keeping his possessive eyes on her, glaring at Nick from across the room whenever he managed to get her alone for a chat.

He knew he couldn't die again, but he still feared the Slytherin ghost. Why did the Bloody Baron have to be so bloody terrifying?

Nick startled as the object of his silent rage appeared between them, as if he had been summoned by Nick's thoughts.

"I apologized for that," said the Bloody Baron through gritted teeth.

Nick glided away slowly, barely catching her response, "Apologies don't bring people back to life…"

"Everyone, quiet!" The conversations died as the room's attention turned to the speaker. The Friar was floating above the newly-repaired buffet table, addressing the group from up high.

"If she breaks your heart, use your head! Just be a man, don't strike her dead!" sang the Poltergeist, his tune echoing from wall to wall.

"Shut up, Peeves!" came a chorus of voices. Peeves cackled.

"Get out," ordered the Baron, pointing a crooked finger toward the door.

He didn't have to ask twice. Peeves zoomed out of the room and into the fifth-floor hallway, his maniacal giggles growing quieter as he whisked away.

Nick sighed, scowling at the door and wondering what it would take to get some goddamn authority in this place. Besides murder, of course.

"Anyway," said the Friar. "Let's all get into place. Myrtle should be here soon. And please, for the love of Merlin, save the arguing for another day," he added with a pointed nod toward the Ravenclaw and Slytherin ghosts.

Everyone found a place to hide — the Grey Lady glided up to the window to mimic the position of the stained-glass mermaid, and the Friar hovered behind the buffet table, his nose conveniently buried into what used to be a treacle tart, maybe. The Baron retreated into the shadows, leaving Nick to submerge himself into the tub, obscured by the bubbles.

They heard Myrtle before they saw her, her nasally voice screeching through the air vents, riddled with gasps, groans, and 'how dare you, Olive Hornbys.' She pendulated between sobs and giggles with impressive efficiency, demonstrating a startling lack of emotional control. It sent a shiver of annoyance through Nick's spineless body so fierce that he almost sympathized with the Bloody Baron's compulsion to kill. It was a good thing that Myrtle was already dead.

Her mumbling and grumbling stopped as soon as she reached the door. When she glided through the entrance, the Fat Friar, the Bloody Baron, the Grey Lady, and Nearly-Headless Nick erupted from their hiding places.

"SURPRISE! HAPPY DEATHDAY!".

Myrtle's eyes grew wide as she scanned the room, passing over everyone's faces before landing on the banner across from her. Its large, drooping letters swayed as the sign rippled in the breeze from a nearby steam vent.

"Deathday?!" shouted Myrtle. "You're celebrating my DEATH?" Her face contorted in anger and her voice crept dangerously close a level of shrill that only Hagrid's pets could hear.

"Why yes, of course!" beamed the Friar, unfazed by her reaction. "You deserve a celebration like the rest of us!"

"So, you're saying that you're happy that I DIED?" she screeched. "Why is everyone so happy that I'm dead?!"

"Myrtle—" began the Friar as his giddy features fell. He couldn't finish because she had already stormed out of the bathroom, her sobs ricocheting through the empty hall.

"What is her problem?" said Nick, shaking his head so that it popped out of its precarious position. "Oops," he added, jerking it back into place.

"What's so bad about being dead?" asked the Bloody Baron, earning another pointed look from the Grey Lady.

"She just needs time to get used to being dead," said the Grey Lady, her eyes glued to the Baron. "It's not like she killed herself."

The Baron scowled back at her. "Now that's cold."

"Enough!" said the Friar. "This isn't about you. Someone should go talk to her."

The four ghosts looked warily at the bathroom entrance, unwilling to volunteer.

"Ooooor," said Nick, lifting his shoulders in a shrug. "We could just… stay."

"Yeah," said the Grey Lady, now addressing the Friar. "I haven't been to a party in a while. Would be a shame to waste all the planning and hard work that you did."

"Right," said the Baron. "It's not our fault she can't accept that she's dead." He smirked as the Grey Lady rolled her eyes again.

"At least we tried to include her," said Nick. "I know that was important to you."

The Friar sighed, his guilt evident by his furrowed brows. His expression softened when he inhaled a waft of rancid food and looked longingly at the buffet table. "You're right. We planned a party, so it's only fair that we get to celebrate."

"That's the spirit!" said Nick with a grin.

"Oh, what the hell. To Myrtle!" said the Friar, raising an imaginary champagne flute into the air. "Thank you for dying!"

"To Myrtle!" chorused the ghosts, pretending to chug their drinks, ever-so-thankful for the inevitability of death.

#hp fanfiction #Harry Potter #harry potter fic #hp ficlet #hp fanfic

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emybain · 4 years

Text

Recovery (sequel to rainy day)

thank god this is no longer in my wips

part of the nova’s family lives au

ao3

Evie was curled beside Nova, braiding her hair as Nova ate a bowl of yogurt with fruit mixed in. It was one of the only foods that she could consume without throwing up, oddly. She was on forced bed rest after returning from an overnight stay at the hospital. Frankly, she didn’t understand why they made her stay the night anyway; the biggest injury she had was her arm probably. But hospitals were weird about things like that, always wanting patients to stay longer than they needed just to stay safe. Nova did cut her head open from the broken glass, but at most she had a continuous headache that was only a minor annoyance.

Multiple times a day, Nova had to listen to her mom lecture her on how irresponsible she was and how lucky she was to come out of the accident the way she did and not dead. While she was right, the constant reminder gave Nova a greater headache than the stitched up cut across the side of her head.

“Does it hurt?” Evie asked, breaking the silence. She normally wasn’t so docile with Nova, but since the accident, she had started showing her soft side a little more. It was pleasant.

“Does what hurt?” Nova made the mistake of shifting her body slightly toward her sister. A sharp, agonizing pain shot through her right side. The bowl clattered to her lap as her good arm went to the ice pack over her ribs. Because of this, as well as her broken arm, Nova resorted to only wearing sports bras and sweatpants since she got home.

“Well, I was going to say your arm, but clearly I’m thinking about the wrong thing.” Evie was unfazed at Nova’s pain.

After a moment, letting the pain ease enough for her to talk, Nova relaxed and picked her bowl back up. “It’s not that bad. Just...a different kind of pain than what I’m used to.”

Evie hummed in thought. She tied up the second braid on Nova’s head, giving her pigtails. There were big strands hanging out from the woven pattern, due to Nova’s hair being so short, but it was good overall. Impressive, almost, for Evie’s age.

Nova turned the channel on her television, figuring she should check in on the news. It was nearing the evening, and she hadn’t seen any news coverage that day. The show that talked about the latest celebrity gossip was still on before the nightly news. It took a moment to figure out what they were discussing, but once they showed detailed pictures of the crash, Nova let out a sigh.

Beside her, Evie stilled, hand falling from Nova’s hair. They watched the coverage together in silence.

“...ran a red light, causing an incoming car to hit the backside of her vehicle and flipping the car over onto its hood.” The woman shook her head. “First responders were quick to the scene. Artino appeared to be the only one hurt in the incident.”

“She’s lucky no one else was hurt in the incident, Heather. The other party involved has chosen to not press charges” the man added with a grim smile. “The cause of the accident is still unknown. For now, the world can only wonder what this means for Artino’s future with the Renegades.”

“You make a good point, Steve.” Heather tapped her long, fake nails on the glass desk in front of her. “The Council, however, refuses to make any comment at this time. As for Artino, she is at home-”

Nova turned the channel again to a different news station, one she knew wouldn’t report gossip about her life. The pain from her screw up was almost as bad as her injuries. She hadn’t received a call from HQ since returning from the hospital, but her wreck was plastered on every tabloid and the main discussion of every news station, it seemed like. The car was totaled, flipping over after being t-boned in an intersection. The young couple that hit her had been nice, more worried about her crawling out of an upside down car and the blood streaming from her forehead than the severely dented front of their car. They had even called for an ambulance themselves, and stayed with Nova while the police and fire truck and ambulance showed up. Nova remembered thinking of what her father had told her about what to do if she ever got in an accident, his lectures including to keep a safe distance from the other party and to not speak to them until the police arrived, but they had been so kind to her, and she had been so out of it and dizzy that she didn’t care.

“People will forget about this in a week.” Evie reached for Nova’s forgotten spoon and took a nibble of her yogurt. “Some stupid couple will get engaged and the media will go nuts.”

Nova swallowed. “Yeah. I know.” But she was lying. They wouldn’t forget. Evie was just trying to lighten the mood.

From downstairs, the doorbell rang. Evie sprung from Nova’s bed to go peek at whoever it was, ever the nosy little bug. She took the now empty yogurt bowl with her. Nova returned her focus to the TV, wanting to forget about the accident and everything surrounding it.

Clearly the universe wanted to see her suffer.

Mom called out Nova’s name from below, followed by a string of commands to Thomas in Tagalog that Nova didn’t fully catch. She could hear the pounding of her baby brother’s feet on the hardwood floor as he ran up the stairs and down the hall toward Nova’s room.

She heard him blow a raspberry at Evie, who must’ve terrorized him in some way when he passed, and then he was poking his head into her room. “Mommy said Adrian’s here,” he told her, eyes fixated on the ice pack on her side and the cast on her arm.

Nova closed her eyes and sank a little, ignoring the pain from her ribs. She hadn’t heard from him since the other day, before her crash when she had gone to his house when she had nowhere else to go. When they kissed. But she knew he was bound to show up at some point, whether or not he was angry with her. Adrian was just like that.

“Papa says you’re sad.” Thomas took a step into the room tentatively, chubby hand wrapped around the knob still. “That...that there is a lot of unhappiness in your life right now.” He worded everything slowly, trying out each syllable. Nova had to give him a supportive smile. She held out her arm, and he surged forward to climb onto the bed to give her a hug.

“I’m fine, Tommy.” She pressed a kiss on top of his curls. “Well, I’m going to be.”

“Good.” His grin was toothy. Her heart warmed. “I hate being sad.”

Nova chuckled and ruffled his hair. “There’s a lot going on right now, Tommy.” When he frowned, she continued. “It’s nothing you need to worry about, though, okay? I upset people I care about, including Mommy and Papa, and that hurts me. But things are going to be better again. Soon”

There was a soft knock on Nova’s door. She looked up and froze. Adrian stood in the doorway, eyes searching her face and lingering on the cut across her head, then down to her stomach and arm. Her cheeks flushed under his stare.

“Hey, Tommy, why don’t you see if Papa needs something downstairs.” Nova found her voice, trying to act calm despite the sudden increase in her heart rate. Tommy hopped off of her bed and skipped to the door, unbothered as all children are, and even greeted Adrian like nothing was wrong. Nova was envious of his childlike innocence sometimes.

“Your mom let me up,” Adrian explained, now looking around her room curiously. Nova could tell he was bothered, though. His posture was always stiff when something was bugging him. He avoided eye contact. “I haven’t been up here in awhile. Not since last year. But even then, I didn’t get to look around much.”

“Well, not much has changed. I’ve mostly just thrown out what I have no use for anymore.” Her laugh was awkward, ending in a slight wheeze.

“I saw your car.” She almost thought she saw him wince. It could’ve just been the meds she was on. “I guess you won’t be driving any time soon, huh?”

She could tell he was just trying to keep the mood light. At least it was something different. Her team had all come by the day before with ice cream and Get Better Soon balloons. It was sweet, especially Ramona’s bad attempt at chastising Nova for being an idiot, but Nova was beginning to go stir crazy from all the attention she was getting.

“No, but I’m more upset about the car.” She shrugged. “Edward was a good one. Gone, but not forgotten.”

A shadow of his normal, goofy self crossed his features, but only for a moment. Nova bit the inside of her cheek and patted the spot where Evie had been sitting, silently inviting him over. “How are things at Headquarters? Ramona said that since the wreck, they haven’t been given any assignments.”

“Normal,” Adrian said once he was settled beside her. He kept a safe distance from her, which stung slightly, but she understood. “Max is pissed off at you.”

A laugh escaped Nova’s lips, and she clutched her side at the sudden pain. Adrian’s eyes followed her hand, brow furrowed. Nova pretended to ignore his obvious concern. “Why? What have I done to possibly piss off the Bandit?

He looked back up at her and tried for a smile. “You haven’t been in to see him.”

Nova rolled her eyes. Whenever she was at HQ, she always tried to make a habit of visiting Max’s quarantine before leaving for the day. “Well, you can tell him I’ll be back the second my mother lets me so much as stick one limb out of this bed.”

“Noted.” His smile became a bit more genuine, much to Nova’s delight. And then it disappeared again. He scanned the minor cuts across her face and the larger one on her forehead, glanced over the tiny bruises here and there. “Nova, I’m so sorry this happened to you.”

She blinked at him. “You’re sorry? This was my fault, Adrian. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“No, I...I was wrong for kissing you when you were vulnerable like that.” He shook his head. “You needed a friend, and I was an ass.”

Her mind immediately went to the other day. Their kiss. The closeness. His lips on her neck and all over her face. She was still mentally kicking herself for initiating it in the first place. Every day, she had wondered what Adrian must think of her, yet here he was now, apologizing for no reason. This was Adrian, of course. He always apologized, even if he wasn’t at fault. That’s just who he was. But if he thought that there had been something wrong with the kiss (like Nova suspected) which caused her to push him away that day, then it truly was a mistake. She didn’t know what she was thinking. While she had been setting herself up for heartbreak since then, hearing his apology now was still a blow to her feelings for him. She should never have put him to sleep. Instead, she should’ve apologized before things went too far and hoped for forgiveness. Well, it was too late now.

She grabbed his hand and squeezed it tightly. Damn her racing heart. “I was the one who kissed you, remember? I should be apologizing.” She looked down at the covers. “For that, and for putting you to sleep. You were only trying to help me. You didn’t deserve that, and I’m really sorry.”

He let out a slow sigh. “It seems like we both fucked up then, huh?” Nova stared at him blankly. “Can we just...pretend that the kiss didn’t happen? Go back to how things were before?” Though it pained her to do so, Nova nodded and forced a smile. She was lucky enough to still have his friendship, after fearing he wouldn’t want anything to do with her after she revealed her true feelings for him.

“I’d like that very much.” Perhaps her biggest lie to date.

“Good.” He nodded hesitantly, as if something was still bothering him. “And what you told me? The Anarchists and the messages?” Thank every star above he changed the subject before Nova could dwell too much on her rejection. Not the best topic, though.

Nova clenched her teeth. “My parents are still mad about that, but I think they’re waiting until I’m a little better before they lay into me.” She paused. “Can we not talk about the rest of that right now? I’ll...I’ll tell you more later, but my head is throbbing right now and I don’t know if I could handle that.”

“Of course,” he responded, perhaps a little too enthusiastic. Their hands were still clasped together. She tried not to think about it too much. “But you need to address that soon, Nova. And tell the Council. It’s too serious not to. You could be in danger.” After a moment, he added quietly, “And I can’t lose you, too.”

“Hey.” She sat up a little. “I won’t let that happen. I’ll make this right. I promise.” And that’s all she chose to say for the rest of the subject. Things were too complicated right now. It would be too hard to tell Adrian that she was beginning to lose faith in the Renegades and the Council and their system, that while the Anarchists were terrible people, their beliefs weren’t all bad. Not now. Maybe one day.

His posture relaxed a little. “Thank you.”

A small weight seemed to lift from her shoulders, but there was still more holding her down. She didn’t want to worry about that right now. Reaching for the remote, she turned to a movie channel that often played some of her and Adrian’s favorites. “Want to stay a while? I’m sure I could bribe Evie into making us some popcorn.”

She half expected him to say no, to laugh at her for even suggesting it. But he smiled and nodded, scooting further onto the bed until his back was against her headboard and he was inches away.

Nova was still plagued by his words from earlier, even as they sat in silence watching the movie. It was a good one, set in a far away universe, but Nova could barely pay attention. How could they move on as though what happened between them was nothing? Did Adrian think that she had only been acting in the moment, and not from her true feelings? Is that why he wanted to forget it, for her sake? Or was he embarrassed for her? That wasn’t necessarily like Adrian, Nova knew that, but she couldn’t rule out any possibilities. Ever since they started hanging out again, Nova’s baby crush had grown into something much more. Before, it had been merely admiring how handsome Adrian was, or checking him out when his back was turned, or playful flirting passed off as banter, or entertaining the idea of going on a date with him late at night when she was alone. Now, well, it was indescribable. He was her best friend. The very thought of him brought a smile to her face. Everything about him was endearing, even the way he snored softly while asleep or forgot to wipe off toothpaste from that one spot on his chin in the mornings and Nova would have to point it out to him at HQ or how he completely zoned out when drawing.

“Adrian.” He turned his head to look at her, eyebrows raised. They had only been watching the movie for about twenty minutes. Nova licked her lips before continuing. “I lied...about earlier.” When he frowned, Nova pressed on before she could be interrupted. “I don’t want to forget about the kiss.”

“What do you mean?”

She inhaled a shaky breath. “I understand if you want to go back to how things were, but I can’t just forget the kiss. Maybe you can but…” She searched for the proper words, “It meant too much to me. You mean too much to me.”

Her heart pounded in her chest as she waited for an answer. “I thought...after that, and what happened last year, you weren’t interested in me like that.”

She would have laughed if it didn’t hurt. “I thought my feelings were made pretty clear the other day. I was convinced you were the one who didn’t want that.”

He searched her face, shifting his body just a bit toward her. “You’re joking. Nova, I’ve-I’ve had the biggest crush on you since we were twelve. I thought you knew.”

It was Nova’s turn to be surprised. “I had no idea.”

“Well, you’re the one who’s always pushed me away.” He shook his head. “Skies, Nova, you put me to sleep mid-kiss. I don’t know about whatever world you’re from, but here, that usually means not interested.”

Her cheeks lit up. “I’m sorry about that, and every time before. I just…” she sighed, eyelids falling closed, “I don’t know. Being scared isn’t an excuse, but I was terrified that you would reject me.” She shrugged meekly. “We have so much history, and...and I don’t want to ruin that. You’re my best friend, Adrian.”

She nearly jumped when he grabbed her hand and interlaced their fingers. His palms were sweaty, but she didn’t care. “No, I-I understand. I’ve felt the same way.”

“I’m not good at this kind of thing.” She gestured between them awkwardly with her head.

His laugh helped ease her nerves, his words even more so. “I know.”

She bit her bottom lip and avoided his gaze when she said, in a quiet voice, “Could we maybe try again?”

He bent his head down to look at her, and the look she got nearly made her slap him with a pillow. “You’re not going to put me asleep again, are you?” If it weren’t for the dorky smile on his lips, she definitely would’ve hit him.

“I don’t know. If it makes that shit eating grin disappear, I just might.”

“That’s more like it,” he said, and before she could retort with something snarky, he leaned forward and kissed her. After a short moment, he pulled back, smile gone and eyes a question. Only when she nodded did he kiss her again, this time a bit longer.

Nova sighed against his lips and leaned into him as much as she could without it being painful. She let go of his hand and let her fingers trail up until they came to rest on his neck . She felt him curl his hand into her hair, pulling out her braids, before bringing both palms to rest on her cheeks. The feeling of his gentle caresses sent chills down her spine. His fingers traced a path around her face, as though he were trying to create a map to remember every curve and feature. Their last kiss had been frantic and needy, more passionate than perhaps meaningful. Nova supposed it was due to the circumstances, of course, but also from years of tension and misunderstandings. Now that she was aware of Adrian’s feelings, she was able to fully let go and kiss him without worry.

He broke away, and Nova opened her mouth to protest. He silenced her by gently pressing kisses on her cheeks, the tip of her nose, her eyelids, all while murmuring her name and how much he adored her. Her heart swelled in her chest, and she brought his lips back to hers one last time before separating.

“I’m so glad you’re okay so we were able to redo that,” he breathed, mouth brushing hers as he spoke.

She rolled her eyes, but smiled and giggled. She let her forehead rest against his, closing her eyes. “Yeah. Me too.”

They spent the rest of the evening watching movies and cuddling, and even got Evie to bring them snacks, who may have expressed her disgust at the two of them. But Nova didn’t care. Not one bit.

#renegades #archenemies #supernova #au #nova artino #adrian everhart #nodrian #oscar silva #ruby tucker #osby #tuckva #danna bell #narcissa cronin #daniss #my writing #anarchists

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lifeofroos · 3 years

Text

Part 11. Still Hades. Shoutout to this background music generator.

In short: Nico gets therapy from Dionysus. The rest is here.

This might be crazy - part 11: Sweet Iced Tea

I wasn’t going to sleep tonight, I could feel it. Instead, I got up, grabbed a juice box from my closet and shadow travelled out of my cabin, to the Big House. A few minutes later, I was at Denny’s with Dionysus.

‘I thought it would be a good idea to make use of this time instead of just laying in my bed and thinking about tomorrow.’

‘Yeah, sure, but there is a tomorrow for me as well. A tomorrow in a very busy camp filled with teenagers.’

‘I mean, we don’t have to…’

‘Yes, we do. You want to talk right now, and there are important things for you to talk about.’

‘Hades.’

‘Yes, Hades.’

‘Can I just begin?’

‘If you feel like you know what to talk about, you can begin.’

‘Than I will not hold you up,’ Mary, our regular server, piped in. She put down a sweet tea, winked and dashed back to the counter. I looked at my sweet tea and took a breather. Alright. I got this. ‘So, last time… last time we got to the point where I actually had to live with my dad. And how he… was not the nicest to me.’

‘Yes. We talked about that.’

‘Yes. I also told you he… told me he had wanted Bianca to survive, rather than me.’ So. That. ‘But… I do not think he fully meant it. I think he was grieving, or disappointed because he thought his plan to let his children save the day could not go through. He…’ I bit my lip. ‘He… he definitely wanted that last thing. He even locked Percy Jackson into a dungeon in his palace, because he wanted me to get up and do what Percy was slated to do. That…’

‘Telling you that he would rather have Bianca survive than you is unacceptable, no matter what he was feeling or what his intentions were. I already said that last time. Even if he did want one of his kids to succeed so that they would be respected, he could have done that by actually training you instead of releasing you from the Lotus hotel when he thought your time was ripe to be useful. And locking Percy Jackson in a dungeon, no matter how attractive, is also a terrible way of solving things.’

I thought about that. ‘Yes. But, at some point during those months I was there, he seemed to… comply with the fact that I was what he had. He, and Persephone…’ Oh, man, Persephone. Help me gods. ‘And… and Demeter, she was also there… at some point, they decided to listen to me and helped with defeating the army attacking Olympus while the other gods were off fighting Typhon. That.’ I looked at the table. ‘I mean to say that he began to listen to me. After the war, I got my own cabin in camp Half-blood and the other campers began to accept me, but I was still not in camp very often. Some of the time, I was in camp Jupiter and sometimes in the Underworld. The contact with my father… became less as when I lived in the Underworld for an entire year, of course, but we kept it up. Now, I am in camp half-blood more often, but I still go to the Underworld now and then. Sometimes it goes well, sometimes not. He… Hades… he gave me a French taxi-driver. He is dead. The taxi driver. I… don’t know if that means anything.’

‘He did not coach you more? About your powers, or just as a father?’

‘No. I think he is trying to be a better dad now, but he is not really sure how to do that. But…’ I shrugged and took a long sip of iced tea. Dionysus took a moment to think about what had been said. ‘Do you want to forgive him for how he treated you?’

‘I don’t know.’ I have been defending him and I would actually like a relationship with my father, but...

‘Nico, whether you forgive him or not is completely up to you. I won’t tell you how I feel about the situation. As long as he does not hurt you anymore and if you really think he changed his ways, or at least tries to do so… it’s up to you.’

Hm. This was one of those moments where it would have been easy if he had done all of that thinking for me. Alas, I nodded. ‘I’ll have to think about that some more.’

‘Take all the time you need. It is not something you need to rush to a conclusion for.’

‘No. Until that time, I… I just mentioned Persephone. I want to say something about her as well, now that I am talking anyway.’

Dionysus nodded. ‘That’s okay if you want to.’

I swallowed. The talking was more difficult this time than it had been last time, even if what we were saying had mostly been said before. ‘I don’t know when Persephone learned that we existed, but when she did, she ignored me until I was moved into the palace and she simply could not do that anymore. Which, can I give her credit for that?’ It seemed weird, giving someone credit for ignoring me. But it was better than being hunted down.

‘I wish I could say you could not.’

I showed him a small smile. ‘Well, I am. While I was living in the Underworld… she still ignored me. From the few words she did say to me, I could make up that she did not like me, but she accepted that I was in the palace. She was not going to punish me for what my father did. That, or she was afraid that he would get angry if she tried to touch me.’ I looked at my cup.

‘I could not tell you which one of those is true, but I can tell you that Persephone was never a harsh stepmother,’ Dionysus filled in.

‘Hm. In the time after the titan war, she did once get fed up with my presence in the Underworld, so she changed me into a dandelion.’ He was trying not to laugh. I was telling about my trauma and he was trying not to laugh. ‘Hades found out quite soon and ordered her to change me back. Afterwards, she did give me the pomegranate seeds that saved my life while I was in the jar that the twin giants put me in. I think they were meant as a make up gift, and at first I thought it was worthless, but boy.’ A few loud-talking people passed the restaurant. I looked over my shoulder until they were gone. ‘So, it might seem like Hades and Persephone are kind of… they both try. Hades to sort-of be a good parental figure and Persephone to accept me, or at least not make my life more difficult. But both…’

‘It is the same thing as I said before. They are both trying now, and it is up to you if you accept that or if you find that it is too little, too late. But it does not erase the fact that they hurt you in some way. In order to really work through that, you’ll have to talk to them as well.’

‘... Alright. But…’

My sentence was cut off by a herd of drunken twenty-somethings hurdling into the Denny’s. I turned around so I could take a look. A few of them were laughing, one was crying and what seemed to be the least drunk guy of the bunch winked at Mary. ‘A stack of three waffles for each of the boys, please.’ Mary sighed. ‘Coming right up. What kind of toppings do you want?’

‘Nothing but you, darling.’ He winked again and I cringed. That almost physically hurt.

Mary was completely unfazed by it. ‘Alright, that will be six plain waffles. Do you want anything to drink with that?’

‘Nothing but your…’

‘Alright, alright, I know you can go on for the entire night, but that is more, more than enough.’ Dionysus stood up and walked towards the herd of drunken men. The ‘leader’ looked at him from head to toe. ‘And who do you think…’

‘Actually your lord and savior, seeing how you are drunk in a Denny’s at the moment, but I really wish I wasn’t.’

‘My… what?’ The guy was just drunk enough to get confused by that statement, it seemed.

‘I’ll give you this.’ Dionysus tapped the guy on his forehead. His pupils grew creepily wide. ‘You go to the door. You’ll just wait outside, aghast, until your friends have finished their waffles. Then, you will never be able to find this place again. Your pals will know about the restaurant, but you won’t. You’ll never know what they are talking about and it might make your mind break in the future - who knows!.’ He twirled the guy around and pushed him in the back, towards the door. ‘Now leave.’ The guy left without a look around.

Mary arched her brow. ‘I assume that is just five stacks of waffles, then.’ Dionysus smiled at her. She rolled her eyes and disappeared to make the waffles. I picked up my iced tea, stood up and walked over to Dionysus. ‘That… I mean…’

‘There are loads of people who make the party scene unsafe for the other party-goers. It is quite literally my job to root those people out. They, again quite literally, ruin my health.’

‘Right.’ I drank my sweet tea until there was no more. ‘Is the session over?’

He nodded. ‘Just one more thing: Do you want to talk to Hades?’

‘I’ll have to think about that.’ I put my cup on the counter. ‘But I might.’

‘If you decide that you want to, I’ll make sure you have extra free time.’

‘Does Chiron agree to it, then?’

‘Chiron finds it just as important as I and your sunny boyfriend do that you get proper help.’ He gave me a reassuring smile. I nodded, after which I yawned. ‘Alright.’

‘Good, then we can go back. But first…’ he pointed at the waffle makers. The next moment, five plates with plain waffles were standing on the counter.

Mary came walking back, with her eyebrows raised. ‘That’s special.’ She looked at Dionysus. ‘Well, thanks.’ In reaction, he put a fifty dollar bill on the counter.

‘No, you thanks. For letting us sit here, for serving us and for putting up with scum like that.’ Mary looked at the money. Then she smiled the warmest smile I had seen from her yet. ‘I am really, truly glad to be doing it.’ She waved us goodbye, while Dionysus transported us back to camp.

A/N: next chapter, he won’t be talking about, but with Hades. Thanks to Rickandrowling28 for that idea! I also hope I did not skip anything that happened between Hades and Nico. Fandom wiki had been a real help, but it does not erase the fact that it is at least three years ago that I read the books (I got the first one from a friend on my fourteenth birthday and binge read the rest in three weeks or so after that).

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i-stan-nct-and-satan · 4 years

Text

Not Broken (Jaehyun Mafia AU pt3)

Not Broken Masterlist

Jaehyun X Reader

Y/N is a burlesque dancer living in Seoul. Jaehyun is one of the most powerful mafia men in Seoul. How will Y/N survive when Jaehyun suspects that she is involved with a rival gang?

Reasons to read this story: Ten's a cross-dressing madam so..... yeah read it ya freaks.

I slammed the empty liquor glass on the table.

Ugh. Maybe I shouldn't have downed the Madam's liquor so fast.

I continued to examine the necklace, still debating whether I should wear it for the show or not.

Anyone who looked at the necklace would never have been able to imagine the secrets held within it.

I shuddered at the memories.

That night, when I snuck out of Lucas' window, I promised myself that I would never be ashamed of who I was ever again.

It seemed like I broke that promise almost every day.

The only reason I was still alive today is because Lucas made sure that no one saw me entering, or inside his house.

Well...except for his driver, who barely even looked my way.

If anyone important had known that I was in his house that night, there is no way that someone from WayV wouldn't have been sent to kill me.

I mean,,, I did smash in their leader's head. Not exactly something the mafia could easily forgive.

Yet I hadn't even heard any news about gang leaders being killed. Not that they would put that kind of stuff on the news, but you would think that something about the event would surface in the public.

Now that I thought about it, I hadn't heard any news about NCT or its various subgroups at all. That was until tonight.

I can't wear the necklace tonight. Not with NCT 127 watching me preform.

If there was any chance that one of their members could recognize the piece of jewelry, then they would link me to the murder of their Chinese gang leader's murder. I barely got away the last time I encountered the mafia. This time I definitely wouldn't be as lucky.

I clutched the pendent in my hand and approached the Madam's full length mirror.

Looking at my reflection in the mirror, my face quickly contorted into a confused look.

My makeup had streaks in it.

I had cried and I didn't even notice.

I let out a deep breath I didn't even know I was holding in, and made my way to the Madam's vanity table.

Taking a random cushion, I tried my best to touch up my face, erasing the streaks in my foundation and trying to erase the haunting memories that clouded my mind.

What if they knew about that night and that's why they came to the show?

I could feel my heart beating in my chest and I suddenly became light-headed.

Thump! Thump!

Fuck! I have to get out of here.

I grabbed my chest and took in a deep breath.

Am I having a panic attack?

I kept breathing.

"Y/N," I say to myself out loud, making sure to lower my volume in case anyone was to be within hearing distance.

"If they knew that you were there that night, then they would have had more than enough opportunities to kill you. They wouldn't have had to go through all the trouble of booking the entire audience just to kill you at your performance."

Starting to calm down, I began to powder the touched-up makeup.

Besides, Yuta more than likely, wouldn't have been blatantly flirting with me and Taeil wouldn't have been so embarrassed for his colleague if either of them knew about how Lucas met his downfall.

I returned to the mirror hoping that the Madam's makeup wasn't too light for my skin tone and let out a small sigh of relief when my worries were proven to be excessive.

Maybe my worries about tonight were excessive as well.

Once again, I lifted the necklace up to eye level.

That girl. Even though she was gorgeous, she probably wasn't anyone to Lucas, just like me. He probably found her somewhere and tricked her into coming home with him. Or maybe he kidnapped her off a random street.

She was dressed up in a green gown, so she was probably on her way home from a party when they encountered each other.

Plus, it was obvious that Lucas didn't want anyone to be at the house when he and I had arrived there, so he must have been the same way with her.

If that were the case, then that would mean that the necklace wouldn't mean anything to any of the other NCT members. Not to mention the fact that Yuta, Taeil, and Johnny saw me wearing the necklace earlier and none of them seemed to even notice the pendent.

I paused for a moment as the harsh realization that I could have ended up like her, struck my mind.

He acted the same way towards her as he acted towards me and yet...I was alive.

Necklace still in hand, I decided that the only way to move on from that night, was to continue doing what I had always done, which was putting on a brave face, and the necklace to go with it.

Lucas was wrong. I am worthy of this necklace and I'm going to prove it. Maybe this is a blessing. Like the Universe sent NCT to our show so that I could face my fears and move on.

I smiled at the thought that the universe could actually be on my side for once.

With the necklace now clasped around my neck, the chain draped on top of my collar bones and the pendent resting above my sternum, I took one last deep breath and left the Madam's quarters.

I realized that I probably should have gone back to my own dressing room, even if it were just to do some last minute practice on my routine, but I couldn't help but return to the spot where Madam Ten and I had originally been snooping on the audience members. Who could blame me? Although I was terrified of NCT 127, as I was probably right to be, I was just so curious. I wanted to see the leader of NCT 127 with my own eyes.

And so, I lifted the curtain back once more and my eyes scoured the audience in search of where the Madam had gone off to. I was quick to find her as my suspicion that she would be at the main table was correct.

The first thing I noticed was that Madam Ten was standing awfully close to a sitting Johnny with her arms draping around his shoulders, her hands playfully stroking his collarbone. The discomfort in his eyes was apparent, but he didn't push the Madam away.

Taeil was sitting next to Yuta, across from Johnny and the Madam. Taeil was giving Johnny a sympathetic look while Yuta was obnoxiously laughing and obviously teasing Johnny despite me not being able to make out exactly what he was saying.

The room was getting louder, which was normal since it was getting closer to showtime.

Next I noticed Mark who was sitting, well then again, more like half laying in his chair, leaning up against a less than pleased Doyoung. Mark was passed out but seemed to be mumbling in his drunken slumber. Doyoung was looking at what I'm pretty sure was a flip phone that must have been older than he was. Probably a typical burner phone.

My eyes flickered back to Madam Ten as she swiftly lifted her leg over Johnny's, exposing her upper thighs.

I didn't understand what was happening at first, it looked weird and random, but then the Madam tightened her arms around Johnny's neck and sat on his lap. This action caused Yuta to let out a laugh that could easily be heard over the roars of the crowds, Taeil to drag his hands down his face in what I could only describe as a "big oof" kind of emotion, and Johnny to launch out of his chair, almost knocking the Madam to the ground. Luckily, he still had the decency to catch and assist her as she transitioned back into a standing position.

The Madam said something that I couldn't register as she brushed her hands down her dress as if she were wiping off any dirt that might have gotten on her dress despite her not ever having touched the ground. She turned to face Johnny and pinched one of his butt cheeks, prompting him to jump a little and causing the cheeks on his face to flush a deep red.

I couldn't help but sigh to myself. The Madam did have a habit of being oblivious when it came to men who obviously weren't interested in her, but she had never acted this forward before.

Johnny turned to Doyoung and lifted his hand close to his ear and pointed to it with his other hand. Doyoung took his flip phone out of his pocket. He stood up and the passed-out boy using his body for support fell sideways causing a big crashing sound as the chairs were knocked over.

Doyoung seemed completely unfazed by the accident, continuing to talk to Johnny as he typed something into his keypad and then lifted it up to his ear.

Mark was jolted awake by his fall, staying on the ground for a few seconds as he got over his confusion. The incident must have shocked him sober, because after that, he got up and sat up in his chair, not saying anything.

I kind of felt a little bad for the boy. He was obviously younger than all the other members and none of them gave him more than an annoyed glance after his accident. Even Johnny, who seemed to have previously treated Mark like a little brother, was preoccupied with Madam Ten's advances and communicating with Doyoung.

Doyoung nodded his head despite talking on the phone and ended the conversation with a quick flip of his hand-phone. He mouthed something to Johnny, or he said something, I really couldn't hear anything at that point. Johnny snapped his fingers in front of Yuta's face and the purple haired playboy who had been grinning ear to ear quickly turned serious.

Despite his teasing and rude personality, I had to admit that Yuta's smile was probably one of the most innocent things about him. My heart hurt a little as I watched the smile leave his face. He stood up and started walking towards the entrance. It wasn't surprising that he was such a flirt. Any girl who saw that smile would have to fight to resist falling in love with that smile. It was almost healing in a way.

I slapped my face gently in an attempt to free myself from my thoughts.

Ugh is this what the Koreans call 심쿵(heart skipping a beat)?

My gaze followed Yuta. Once he arrived at the entrance, he put and earpiece on and mouthed some words.

The lights turned on and off. This is something we normally do before shows to tell people to hurry to their seats when the show is about to start, but it's still way too early for our stage crew to dim the lights yet.

My brows lightly furrowed as I noticed that instead of prompting people to sit down, all the gang members were rushing back to their seats to.... stand up?

What was originally a chaotic mess of noise and movement, had now ceased. Everyone was standing at their tables while fixing their ties or motioning for their colleagues to promptly return to their own tables.

The room was so silent, that I was almost worried that I had gone deaf. It seemed to be more likely than it being the case that these loud and obnoxious criminals had suddenly become respectful audience members.

If one had not seen the gang members’ previous state, anyone would have assumed that it was a room filled with normal businessmen, minus the tattoos and occasional unnatural hair color.

I held my breath. It was so quiet that I was afraid that someone would notice me peaking out from behind the curtains if I had breathed too loud.

A sudden noise arose from the back of the room. Yuta, along with an older gang member, had opened the two entrance doors. Everyone's heads including mine, turned to the doors expectantly. Madam Ten on the other hand, escorted by Taeil, was making her way towards the purple haired mafia member.

Two men entered the room, one shortly after the other.

The first man to enter was breathtaking to say the least. Very short compared to the majority of people in the room, but at this point, it felt like if he were tall, it just wouldn't be fair. The first thing I noticed was his hair. Firetruck red. Messy, but stylish. His hair resembled flames with how bright it was. Almost as if one would burn themselves if they attempted to touch the man's fiery locks.

The next thing I noticed were his eyes. Big anime doe eyes that could compete even with Yuta's anime character aesthetic. Although he was far away, the closer he came towards the main table, the sharper his features became. He had two slits in his eyebrow that looked to have resulted from scratches as opposed to a fashion choice. Still though, it only added to his charm. Besides the two cuts in his eyebrow. He also had a noticeable scar under his right eye.

Not only were his eyes similar to that of an anime character, his jawline was so impossibly sharp that it looked as if it had been drawn by the world's most talented artist.

Like everyone else in the room, he was wearing a suit. His was very simple compared to everyone else's, pitch black, with no pinstripes. His coat pocket had a walkie talkie bulging out of it and he had an earpiece in attached to long wire that traveled down his neck into the inside of his black button up shirt.

I couldn't help but notice how the shirt's top three buttons were undone, putting his protruding collarbones perfectly out on display. He looked like the world's sexiest bodyguard. The earpiece and walkie talkie were the only details about his attire that made me assume that maybe this man wasn't NCT 127's leader.

He was so distractingly beautiful that I almost didn't notice the second man who followed behind him.

My eyes left the godly red head and found themselves landing on him.

Oh...My.....God.

He was... intense. Almost indescribable, really. His features were soft yet...defined? Sexy, yet reserved. Childlike, but oh so very masculine.

He looked nothing like how someone would describe the perfect man, and yet if there was a person who matched that description, even they would most likely be filled with envy towards this man. Nothing about his features were conventionally attractive like his red headed colleague, but gazing upon this man almost made me forget about the unreal anime character whom I had just been previously drooling over.

His hair was a faded shade of pink that was messily parted in the middle. His bangs were styled up, so the center of his forehead was slightly exposed. If it weren't for his formal clothing, the hairstyle would have seemed casual, but when paired with his black velvet Armani suit, he would have been able to fit in at the Met Gala.

Under his suit jacket, he wore a black button up shirt similar to that of the red head but instead of showing off his collar bones, the tight fitting material showed off... everything.

He was obviously a very muscular man, which made me think about how strange it was that most of the other members of the gang were on the skinnier side, excluding Johnny, whose biceps may have been exposed when Yuta, Taeil and you walked in on him and the Madam.

For some reason though, instead of making my heart flutter, I found myself clenching my stomach. The man was intimidating to say the least. His gaze, although mysterious, did not give off charming vibes. He didn't look angry, more like focused. His brows were slightly furrowed as if he were contemplating something serious. He looked so intense that I feared that anyone who made eye-contact with the man would have holes literally burned into them. Despite this apparent fear, I found myself hoping to meet his gaze even if just for a brief moment. Even if it meant revealing my hiding spot.

His outfit definitely showed off his wealth and leadership status. His jacket sleeves were slightly rolled up revealing not one, but two Rolex watches. One adorning each wrist. The diamonds that decorated each watch were so bright that I was amazed he could even see the time.

His black leather shoes were decorated with the infamous Louis Vuitton symbol. His belt buckle seemed to be the only detail of his outfit not littered with designer branding, but of course I didn't doubt that it cost more than my life.

He and his red headed colleague made their way towards the main table, only to be met with The Madam and Taeil.

"Boss, this is Madam Ten. She is the owner of this lovely establishment, and the director of the Heartbreakers Burlesque team that will be preforming for us tonight," Taeil said as he introduced the Madam.

It was easy to hear the group due to the silence that surrounded them.

"Charmed, I'm sure," Ten cooed as she lifted up her hand.

My breathing hitched as I braced myself for the worst. There was no way a man as scary as this would have anything close to a friendly reaction to the Madam. Something inside me prayed that he would at least be decent enough to react no worse than Doyoung had when he first met the Madam.

My fears for Madam Ten increased when the mob boss just stared at the Madam's outreached hand.

How could Madam Ten be so brave? What is she thi-

The cold face of the mob boss melted into a heart-wrenchingly soft smile. Dimples as deep as the ocean formed on the sides of his upturned lips as he reached for the Madam's hand and gave it a quick peck.

My heart skipped a beat.

"It is such an honor that you allowed us to be a part of your audience tonight. I have heard great things about your show and I only hope that my colleagues were not too troubling to you and your girls when they made our reservations for tonight's performance," The gang leader articulated, still holding Madam Ten's hand.

The Madam giggled like a little schoolgirl as she spoke.

"Not any trouble that cannot easily be forgiven."

The pink haired man gestured to the red head standing next to him.

"Where are my manners? This is my right-hand man Taeyong, and I see you've already met Taeil. My name is Ja-"

"No need to introduce yourself, I'm sure you realize that everyone in this area is well aware of the famous NCT127 leader, Jaehyun," Madam Ten interrupted, causing my stomach to clench again.

Despite the interruption, Jaehyun did not seem angry, unlike the man called Taeyong whose glare was very apparent.

As if he were queuing Taeyong to brush off the small sign of disrespect, Jaehyun patted him on the shoulder.

"I appreciate you and your girls welcoming us despite knowing our less than charming reputation, Madam Ten. Will you perhaps be joining us to watch the show?"

"Of course! What type of host would I be if I didn't?" Madam Ten responded as she hooked her arm around Jaehyun's, sparking another glare from Taeyong.

They made their way to the main table while everyone else in the room still silently stood.

Once they arrived at the table, Jaehyun gestured toward a chair at a nearby table, prompting Johnny to grab it and push it in behind Madam Ten, allowing her to have a seat. The man who had originally been sitting in the chair had remained standing and gave no response to the chair that had previously been his being taken away. Instead he remained standing.

"Oh, you didn't have to pull up an extra chair for me," The Madam voiced to no one in particular.

"But of course, we did, if we didn't, you wouldn't have had anywhere to sit," Jaehyun responded.

"I believe that I would have had no problem finding a place to sit," The Madam uttered while flashing a wink towards a very skittish looking Johnny.

After letting out a chuckle and a small comment about Johnny being a charmer or something, Jaehyun sat down in the chair closest to the stage, causing everyone in the room to turn to face Jaehyun and bow before sitting down at their own seats resuming their earlier conversations.

The man whose chair had been taken away, quickly sat down on the floor and stayed there until a waitress came over with a replacement chair. It was strange seeing a grown man sit on the floor as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

Everything was loud again, and I couldn't understand anyone's conversations, so I had just continued watching the main table. Sitting on one side of Jaehyun was Taeyong, on the other side was Yuta. Next to Yuta was Taeil, then Johnny, then Madam Ten, then Doyoung, then Mark, then back to Taeyong.

Although I examined everyone at the table, I couldn't take my eyes off the gang leader for more than a few seconds at a time. I kept finding myself being drawn back to him. Even though I witnessed the enchanting way he greeted the Madam, I still couldn't help but feel like this dangerous man wasn't as kind as he was letting on. I mean of course he wasn't. He was the leader of NCT127. This man was a killer, a ruthless cold, unforgiving killer. They all were.

I was watching as a group of murderers talking and having fun as they dipped chips into bowls of queso cheese. It was officially the weirdest night I had had since my encounter with Lucas.

I jolted back in surprise at the sudden switching off the lights, then cursed myself for getting scared.

Stupid. It's just the lights warning the audience that the show is starting soon.

I continued to watch the table until....

Oh my god, the show is starting soon!

After my sudden realization, I ran from the hiding spot towards my dressing room hoping to get in some last minute practice before it got close to the show’s beginning.

Madam Ten stood up from her seat and walked towards the curtains. Since the stage was on the same level as the rest of the room, she didn't have to walk up any steps. Grabbing a microphone off a podium that was just a little bit too tall for her, the Madam made her way towards the center of the stage.

The way the stage was set up, we never actually opened the curtains during performances. Excluding times when acts started on stage, performers would often begin their acts off stage and then walk through the curtains making their entrances in a spectacularly dramatic fashion.

This way, performers could have plenty of room behind the curtain to do any last-minute practice or preparations for their performances throughout the show.

Right now, a few of our girls were setting up the chairs we often use for chair burlesque while I was just going through my routine. I was working on a particularly hard move when I heard the Madam's voice.

"Welcome one and all to our playground here at Paradise Theater! Tonight, I implore you all to have a fun time at what I'm sure for most of you is your first, but hopefully not your last performance by the Heartbreakers."

Applause filled the room and a few of the girls and I walked towards the side of the curtain.

We couldn't really look out without being spotted now that the audience was focused on the stage, so we just listened in.

I looked around at who else was backstage.

Yuri, Sunny, and Yoonoh were in the corner working on their chair routines.

Wendy was flirting with one of the stagehands as per usual.

Amber was adjusting her wig, which made me sigh. Normally Amber had an androgynous style, even when preforming, but with the request that tonight be all about traditional femininity, the Madam must have made her change up her usual appearance.

I looked back towards the curtain as Madam Ten continued her introduction.

"Now before your mind can be blown by the angels that will be preforming for you tonight, we need to go over a few rules."

I rolled my eyes. Madam Ten never skipped a chance to insert the names of past acts into her introduction speeches. Blow my mind, Angel, My first and last, All names of past acts.

"I bet all the money I make tonight that she does that thing where she tells the audience they'll be Dripping with love for the dancers."

I turn to see Wendy mocking the Madam's exaggerative hand motions as she quotes one of her cringier pieces of wordplay.

"You know I would, but I'd rather be able to pay my rent this month," I playfully replied.

Wendy was one of the OG performers and one of the only Americans in the group. She had been living in Seoul for a lot longer than I had so she was much better adjusted. We were close despite our slight age gap, due to our similar cultural backgrounds. She was the first friend I had made within the Heartbreakers.

Jungwoo wasn't the best at English so he didn't approach me until he found out that I could speak Korean pretty well. Although I was closer to Jungwoo, I would often have more serious conversations with Wendy, mostly due to the fact that my Korean wasn't exactly at the level of discussing philosophical theories yet. Wendy was like my big sister.

"The first rule is that no one is allowed to touch the performers."

A large wave of boos could be heard from the audience.

"Now, now. A performer may come into the audience and ask for your help in removing an article of clothing, or sit on an audience member's lap, but that does not mean that you can cop a feel."

I turned back to Wendy.

"How is your act going?" I asked.

Wendy glanced at her partners as they continued wrapping their legs around their chairs.

"Yuri's being Yuri, so...." Wendy rolled her eyes and huffed slightly.

"That bad huh?" Before I could continue, a small crash disrupted my thoughts.

Wendy and I both looked over at the origin of the sound to see that Sunny had fell out of her chair. Yuri started scowling her.

"Yuri is just mad that the Madam made your act the finale and our group act the intro."

"Oh," I gave Wendy a sheepish look.

"Don't worry about it. You know me, I'm just happy to perform. Yuri seems to be the only one who's pissed." Yuri gave me a smile before continuing.

"It's about time someone replaced her as lead dancer. We're all super proud of you."

I looked down at my feet.

It was true, Yuri was the lead dancer for over six years before Madam Ten announced that it was time for a younger dancer to take the role. Yuri was pissed, always claiming that I wasn't half as good as her and that I wasn't prepared to take on the role along with all its responsibilities.

She was right. I showed up late at every practice, and that's when I even showed up to practice, but I wasn't about to let her know that.

"The second rule is no recording the performances. A lot of our dancers enjoy keeping their private lives private. Besides, instead of pressing replay over and over again, wouldn't it be better to some back and see your favorite performers in person?" Madam Ten's voice could be heard clearly backstage.

I spotted Yuri approaching Wendy and I.

"You know the only reason that you're the grande finale is because we only have hardened criminals to perform for tonight, right?" She spit out the words as she adjusted her strapless bra.

"Umm... Excuse me?" I responded.

Yuri proceeded to talk out her ass.

"The Madam chose to put your act last because it's the most blatantly sexual. Everyone else's acts tell stories. You know, like real burlesque? Your act is basically just you running around with your tits out. Makes sense that this kind of audience would enjoy that kind of slut show."

I scoffed.

"You know we're a burlesque team right? Running around with our tits out is kind of the point. You're not seriously trying to slut shame me for doing what you've been doing for the last ten years, are you?"

Yuri rolled her eyes as she returned to join her dance partners.

"Fuck yeah dude," Wendy said as she lifted her hand up for a high five.

I raised mine to meet hers.

"The third rule is common sense. Things like no chewing gum, no fighting, no harassing the waitstaff or performers."

That was Wendy's que to get in place for her act to start.

"And now that that's been established, I just know that you'll be dripping with love for our first performers!"

Wendy pointed her finger at her mouth and made a gagging gesture before walking through the curtain's opening along with Sunny, Yoonoh and Yuri, all dragging their chairs along.

I was about to turn around when I saw that Yuri make an obvious effort to give me one last stink eye before she walked on stage.

I wanted to just brush Yuri's actions off as jealousy, but I couldn't help but think that there might be some truth to her words.

I had seen the girls practice their chair routine and it was astonishingly good to say the least. They were able to pull off moves that I hadn't even thought were possible... and yet here I was, the lead dancer.

I mean of course I had lots of talent as a dancer as well and I was far from being even close to our teams weakest performer, but I had to admit that I was also lacking many ways that Yuri and Wendy... just weren't.

Wendy had never made me feel bad for holding a higher status than her within the Heartbreakers, but I'm sure she can't be as okay with it as she leads on.

Wendy had been with the Heartbreakers for four years, and yet she was never lead dancer. And then here I come with almost no experience and within my first year, I replaced Yuri.

Is Yuri right? Is it just because of my looks? My sex appeal?

That can't be true because Wendy was twenty times prettier than me. Maybe my style was just more sexual, and less artistic than Wendy's style. Although the Madam loved artistic burlesque, she was a businesswoman, and sex sells.

I can't even remember the last time I showed up to practice on time. I don't deserve this.

🖤💚🖤💚

After the chair burlesque group was Amber's fire dancing, then Lisa performed one of her older routines, a dance to that song, Swalla. Next was Hyolin, the second lead dancer. I didn't know what she was doing for her act, but knowing her, the audience was gonna go crazy for it.

I was on next. I walked over the mirror wall that we used to practice with backstage and gave my self one last look to make sure my costume was on right and that the strings of my dress were tied loose enough that I could easily escape from it yet tight enough that they wouldn't come undone before their cue.

My act for tonight was going to be different than anything I had ever done before. Typically, my acts required only one costume change and it would lead straight into decorative pasties and a lacy thong, but tonight was my first time doing the finale. The theme for tonight's performance was opulence AKA excessive wealth. It seemed like a fitting theme for the night, considering our audience members.

My act was the gold act. Everything in my costume had a golden color to it, minus the emerald gem resting on my chest.

Tonight, I had to pull off two dramatic costume changes. The outer costume was a long striking gold dress that went down to the floor with slits on both slides that went up to just above where my hip bones protruded. It had shiny gold detailing in a lace pattern that blossomed up my torso. It showed the entirety of my upper chest since the sleeves rested off my shoulders. Tiny rhinestones that resembled cubic zirconium was scattered throughout the skirt of the dress, which only added to its brilliance. To be honest, I was quite glad that I was only going to be in the dress for a total of thirty seconds of my performance before I planned to slip it off. It was a major tripping hazard.

For accessories, I wore golden beaded gloves with white detailing that reached past my elbows and a golden headband that resembled woven leaves often depicted as being worn by Greek goddesses in story books.

Taking off the dress would reveal my second costume which was sadly wasn't an improvement comfort wise.

Although I was used to wearing corsets while performing, this one was a little more constricting than what I was used to. It was itchy as well due to all the gold beads that were sewn into it. Not to mention that this corset was over the bust whereas I was used to under bust corsets.

The last costume reveal was my favorite. A simple pair of gold rhinestone pasties, a pair of gold satin panties that were one square inch of fabric away from being a thong, and a chair bralette that wrapped around my breasts and waist.

I knew that I would be able to move around more freely once I stripped down to this part of my costume, so I decided to put my costume changes close to the beginning of my routine instead of making the final transition at the end.

I was dancing to the song Unravel Me by Sabrina Claudio. I often performed to American artist's songs and this song always felt extremely sensual to me. The lyrics and song title also seemed to go well with the theme of multiple costume reveals.

I wanted so badly to pull back the curtain and look upon the audience one last time before I had to walk up on stage. Not because I was intrigued by them, but because it was my first time having such a huge role in the show. I was nervous, yet excited, and I wanted to remember every detail of the night. But alas, drawing back the curtain was not an option. Surely it would cause the Madam great displeasure if I were to disrupt her show.

So I just kept staring at my reflection, debating if I really was worthy of the costume I was wearing, of the routine I was about to showcase to the world, of the emerald necklace that weighed heavy around my neck.

Was I?

I was so lost in thought that I hadn't even noticed that the music from Hyolin's act had finished, until she told me good luck on her way back to the changing rooms.

Madam Ten's voice entered the room and I knew that it was my turn to go on.

I walked up to the curtain. For some reason I walked so close to it that my nose was touching it. The cheap red velvet curtain slightly scratched it, and I was reminded of the black velvet jacket. I wondered how it would feel compared to the red curtain.

It has to be softer, right?

Why I was thinking about the jacket worn by one of the most ruthless killers in Seoul, I had no idea, but the thought gave me comfort and calmed my nerves.

With one last deep breath, and the cue of the music, I stepped through the curtain and into what I didn't know would be the beginning of a nightmare.

A beautiful, beautiful nightmare.

#nct mafia au #nct smut #nct au #nct 127 #nct #Jaehyun #jung jaehyun #nct 127 mafia #nct 127 mafia au #nct mafia #jaehyun mafia leader #jaehyun au #jaehyun smut

179 notes · View notes

madzilla84 · 4 years

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hi i went through your ace tag and it was rlly comforting in a way. can i ask when u knew or how to deal (if its not to invasive!) thx

Hi anon! I’m glad you liked the posts - I know I can be pretty iffy at tagging so I’ll make sure to keep everything there if I can :)

It’s not invasive at all! The answer’s very long though, lol, because it’s me, so I put it under the read more.

I talked a bit about this in my post last year with the clumsy metaphor for my II denim jacket as sexuality, so if you read that then I might be repeating myself a bit, apologies.

The very short answer is that on some level I’ve always known, and I handled it Extremely Badly lmao. Don’t do what I did. Which was mostly nothing. XD

The longer, proper answer - I knew I was in some way Different when I found myself completely bewildered by the crushes my friends developed when we became tweens/teenagers. Like a lot of queer people, I selected my Pretend Crush and dutifully put up his poster in my locker (Noah Wyle from ER; I thought he had pretty eyes). I thought everyone else was just doing it to be cool, as well, in the same sort of way everyone pretended to love [insert name of popular band here] to save face at school.

But like, we got older, and people started making out and hooking up with Real Boys at parties, and still - I felt nothing. You’re a late bloomer, many people told me. I thought maybe I could be gay, if I had no attraction to men - but then I wasn’t attracted to women, either, so couldn’t be that. So what, then, I wondered? You can’t be nothing.

OR CAN YOU??? XD

I got to university-ish age, and around that time I went online and heard the term ‘asexual’ for the first time, and stumbled across AVEN; read the definition and thought, yep, that sounds very familiar. But the problem is, finding something out about yourself doesn’t mean you accept it, or like it, or even really believe it. I wondered then if it was actually a real thing, and not something someone on the internet had made up to make themselves feel better, because there was actually something wrong with them, and thus, with me?

I came home for Christmas during my first (only. lol whoops) year of college and brought up the subject with a small group of acquaintances at a New Years party (I’d had quite a bit to drink), and the reaction was - depressingly predictable.

That’s not a thing.

I can’t imagine that.

That sounds awful.

God, no sex? I’d rather be dead.

Have you even tried it? You need to try it.

That can’t be natural.

Okay, I get it, I thought, not bringing that up again.

And, the thing was, because I wasn’t in a relationship, or dating, or looking to, it was sort of - a non-subject. I had no prying family members asking about my love life. My true friends were unfazed by whatever I did or didn’t do (and still are, they’re good eggs), so it was just - something I never had to think about. In my mind, it was just another thing about me that made me weird and an outsider and that I didn’t belong anywhere or with anyone. (All not true! But that was then.)

And unfortunately it took me about 15 years to start to properly deal with it. Yikes. Such a long time - it’s not even about missed opportunities for dating because I’m still not looking to do that, but more about - accepting that it’s a real part of me and is okay and *good* actually and not just a peculiarity to avoid thinking about at all costs. Acceptance seemed unattainable, let alone the idea of being *proud* of it? Ha! Unthinkable. The best thing to do was just to - pretend it didn’t exist. Why poke that bruise, I thought?

I was always in this weird kind of limbo with the LGBT community - like, I felt on some level like I should be there? But at the same time, I felt like an outsider. (For many of the same reasons people to this day will tell you aces/aros don’t belong. All wrong.) I got really into queer films etc as a teen, I went to gay bars with friends and joined the uni LGBT society … and felt uncomfortable almost all the time. (I know *now* that’s because I was *still* trying to be something I wasn’t and wasn’t being honest with myself or anyone else, on any level. And a lot of the club nights we went to were basically about hooking up, which is fine and all but absolutely Not what I was looking for, and made me feel even more out of place. Why don’t I want to do that? What’s wrong with me?)

But fortunately, the world is quite a different place now, and I don’t think it’s quite so bad now for younger folks because people are talking about it *so* much more; there’s so much more help and support. And I know everyone bitches about social media but it didn’t exist when I was a teenager and there are so many ace/aro people and resources to connect with now!! We’re still made fun of almost constantly *at best* and excluded a ton and erased etc etc, but it *is* getting better. Even for us older folks still figuring it out. :)

I don’t mind admitting that Dan’s video was a huge help. (Albeit a very painful one. Part of why that video was so tough for me to watch, and still is, is that some of it hit a bit too close to home, you know? I didn’t experience the bullying he did, nor the fame, but many things were deeply recognisable.) That sort of tore the scab off (bit gross, sorry), whether I liked it or not, and made me look at it properly for the first time … well, ever, really. The period of time directly after that was - very raw, for me.

The phandom really helped, too; it’s a very accepting and welcoming community and there are actually lots of ace people! Which is awesome! Maybe I *am* a real person! ;)

So many little things helped too. I met a friend for lunch in January and she got me a glass ace flag pendant as a gift; I couldn’t believe it. I’ve felt able to bring it up with a few people outside my closest friends - eg. a couple of colleagues - and was heartened by their responses. I know they didn’t 100% get it, and that’s okay, but they were interested and open to listening and that meant a lot. I went to Pride last year and had a great time, and the first person who spoke to me there asked me where I got my ace pin. :_) (I’d been once before, in 2015, and I hated it; I felt uncomfortable and disingenuous and like I didn’t belong there, and yet I knew deep down I wasn’t technically just there as an ‘ally’.) Even Dan’s little tiny offhand mention in his mermaids stream! I was like, yeah, we do exist!

It’s all sort of had the fringe benefit of feeling happier and better about being open about it, like joining the LGBT network at work and - you know, just taking little steps. (anyone wanting to start with me that aces/aros don’t belong in LGBT spaces can catch my tiny hands) I saw an ace lanyard at Vidcon and thought ‘yay!’ rather than being uncomfortable to wear it, partly because I thought about how happy I would be to see someone else wearing one.

I don’t know what the rest of this ‘journey’s going to look like, I just know that over the last year I’ve gotten mostly to a place where I can say I *like* being ace, because it’s actually just what I am in the same way I have brown hair or am short, and not some weird deviance from Being Normal that I Must! Hide! At All Costs! That might sound simple but it was a hard place to get to. (thanks Mr Fire, I guess)

I hope this ramble made *some* sense and answered your question in some way! Feel free to send any more questions :)

#anon asks #ace tag #mad.txt #long post #this looks really whack on mobile but should still be readable :/#we love a functional website

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cakesunflower · 5 years

Text

Serendipity [C.H. One Shot]

Summary: Peyton and Calum weren’t the closest of friends—or even friends in the first place—which makes the fact that their parents are best friends all the more irritating. And their constant desire of wanting their children to date unbearable. When their families take a trip together to Paris, Calum comes up with the ingenious plan of acting out a fake relationship to get their parents off their backs. Falling for one another was inevitable, wasn’t it?

A/N: this is a grand total of 17,629 words of god knows what. took me a hot minute but it’s finally done!!! happy reading!!!!!!!

Serendipity—Finding something good while looking for something else.

“Say hi to Calum for me!”

Peyton rolled her eyes at her mother’s words, not bothering to turn around as she lifted her hand in a half hearted wave before stepping out of the house. She ignored her twenty-one year old sister Edie’s snickering, or the giggles of Edie’s girlfriend Diana as the three of them left the house and walked up to the Uber waiting for them.

As they settled in, Diana leaned forward to look at Peyton from the other side of Edie, the amused expression present on her face as she asked, “Do you think your mom will ever accept the fact that you and Calum, like, hate each other?”

A scoff escaped Peyton, eyes on her phone as she scrolled through Instagram after texting Luke that they were on their way. “At this point I’m pretty sure she likes to remain purposefully oblivious.”

Edie snorted. “Ignorance is bliss.”

Peyton gave an amused shake of her head, locking her phone before leaning back and staring out the window. It was almost ten o’clock, the sun long since having set and lights from street lamps and buildings brightening their surroundings as the Uber took them to the bar. It was their friend Luke’s birthday and instead of having a big celebration, he wanted to just get together at his favorite bar, which Peyton was up for. She’s known him for about seven years, met when they were sixteen in high school, and still remain close after graduation and going to different universities. They had many mutual friends, but there was that one guy that Peyton felt like she could’ve gone her entire life without knowing.

Maybe it was just her being petty for all these years, but a bad first impression was enough for Peyton to groan at the mere mention of Calum Hood’s name. The first time they had met was at her high school graduation party that her parents threw, inviting her family and entire graduating class. Prior to graduation, they’d met Calum’s parents through a mutual friend and had immediately hit it off, inviting them and their son who went to a school on the other side of their large town to Peyton’s party as well, where within ten minutes of his arrival, Calum had managed to spill a drink down her dusty pink dress and then instead of apologizing, told her to watch where she was going when he had been the one to bump into her.

It was a cliche scene of a first meeting gone wrong, and it was definitely something that could’ve resolved itself quite easily, had it not been for Calum’s stubborn nature for refusing to apologize and Peyton’s pettiness of not wanting to let it go. His parents had forced him to apologize at the time and when he did, it seemed as though Peyton was the only one who could tell how insincere he sounded, their parents’ fondness for one another making them deaf to the sarcasm in Calum’s tone.

Ever since then, Peyton and Calum had never been on the same page.

To make things worse? Their parents thought they’d make the cutest couple. So for five years, that’s the one consistent kick they’ve been on. The only thing Peyton and Calum could agree on was how stupid and horrible that idea was because, really, what could possibly give them that idea?

Arriving at the bar, the colored lights and loud music were welcoming as the three girls immediately made their way towards the bar, ordering themselves drinks before spotting the group of people they were to meet. Luke and everyone else were settled on the couch towards the back, the table in front of them already home to many beer bottles and glasses.

Luke sat on the end of the L shaped couch, his profile to Peyton, and his obliviousness to her arrival was used to Peyton’s advantage as she quickly walked up behind him before wrapping her arms around his neck and exclaiming, “Happy birthday, Lu!”

The blonde’s hands went up to grasp Peyton’s arms briefly before letting out a laugh, glancing up at her as she moved to stand to his side, an arm still draped around his shoulder. “Thanks, P,” he returned, his arm going around her waist for a side hug. He then looked at Eide and Diana, greeting and thanking them as they chorused their wishes too.

Room was made and chairs were pulled up, with Edie and Diana settling on the couch and Peyton sitting on a chair opposite of the couch as she made conversation with Ashton. For the first few minutes, Peyton enjoyed herself with a drink in her hand and friends around her, until the empty chair to her right suddenly became occupied and not all the margaritas in the world were enough to let her deal with the likes of Calum Hood.

Peyton’s shoulders tensed as he sat down, leaning away from him as he settled with his back against the chair and legs spread, a glass already in hand. She could see him glance at her through her peripheral as Calum hummed over the music, “Ready to spend a week in Paris with me?”

Her jaw set at the reminder, grip on her glass tightening. Her parents’ thirtieth wedding anniversary was coming up and had planned a trip to Paris to renew their vows. Only, they weren’t going by themselves—it would be Peyton, her grandparents, Edie, Diana, Calum, his sister and his parents as well. Her parents wanted those they were closest to there, which was all of them, since neither of Peyton’s parents had siblings. Of course, Peyton had been beyond thrilled over the idea of going to Paris—which soon became deflated when she realized she’d be in the company of Calum fucking Hood.

Huffing, Peyton didn’t even look towards Calum, right leg crossed over her left knee as she responded, “Totally. Can’t wait to go on top of the Eiffel Tower.”

She heard Calum snort, tone completely unimpressed as he retorted, “Why, so you can push me off it?” When Peyton pursed her lips, Calum added with a mockingly disappointed sigh, “Always so immature with your words. Are you sure you’re a literature major?”

Her jaw began to ache from how tightly she was clenching it, finally turning to throw a glare at Calum. But he was utterly relaxed, as usual, sipping his drink with his gaze straight ahead as the purple and blue colors of the club splashed against his skin. Instead of admiring the sharpness of his strong jaw and the sweep of his lashes like Peyton’s betraying mind wanted her to, she merely shook her head, deeming it useless, before looking away and sipping her own drink.

She was positive she’d be able to bite his head off more than enough during their week long visit of France.

Peyton ignored Calum from then on, which was perfectly fine as he was doing the same, keeping himself entertained by chatting with his friends while Peyton chatted with the others. It was the mention of her name that dragged Peyton back to the right side of the table, hearing Edie bring her up with a teasing tone. “Oh, Cal—Mom says hi.” And then she added, “Well, she told Peyton to tell you she says hi, but that wasn’t going to happen.”

Peyton glanced over, unfazed. “I’m not a messenger.” She scoffed, bringing the straw to her mouth as she added flatly, “Mom’s always saying hi to Calum.”

Calum smirked, easily picking up on Peyton’s annoyance she thought she’d hid. He wasn’t going to tell her that his mother would’ve told him to give her regards to Peyton had he seen her before leaving for the bar. “Don’t be jealous that I’m the favorite kid.”

Edie snorted, not at all insulted as Peyton shot him an unimpressed glare. “Oh, yeah, I’m burning with jealousy,” she retorted, sarcasm heavy in her voice before finishing her margarita.

Sighing, Edie mused, “You two are gonna be so fun to be around in Paris.”

Ashton snickered at their expense. “How much you wanna bet your parents picked the City of Love in hopes of you two getting together?”

He was only joking, but both Peyton and Calum paled, expressions dropping as their friends sprung into racacious laughter, well aware of their parents trying to get their kids together for years. Peyton shuddered, because even though it may be a joke, the fact that she wouldn’t put it past her parents to do something like that made her throat dry. “I need another drink.”

She left behind everyone’s laughter as she made her way to the bar, letting out a breath. Honestly, Peyton was well aware her parents, maybe even Calum’s, would be relentless about the two of them—they have been for years—especially in a place like Paris. It was ridiculous, how much her and Calum’s parents yearned for their kids to get together, almost weird in a sense. They were well aware that the two weren’t friendly with one another, but every time they got in a spat, they would be told they argued like a married couple.

Like. . . What?

Folding her arms on top of the bar, Peyton leaned against it as the bartender made her drink, lost in her thoughts. Honestly, she was thrilled to be going to Paris—who wouldn’t be?—even if it meant having to see Calum every day. Maybe she could sneak off and do her own thing, and the thought was uplifting until the annoying voice in the back of her head reminded her that her parents would want her to spend time with her sister and definitely with Calum.

Peyton sighed, settling on the empty stool and resting her chin on her palms, waiting for her drink as her shoulders sank. One would think dealing with the same shit for years would have Peyton get used to it by now, or just be able to ignore it altogether. And for the most part, she did, since she went to graduate school out of state and didn’t have to deal with her parents’ meddling face-to-face. It just got exhausting, especially when she and Calum managed to get on each other’s nerves within five minutes of being in each other’s presence. Peyton truly wondered if their parents were genuinely oblivious to the lack of friendship between them or just ignored it in hopes of keeping their ridiculous fantasy in mind.

“Hey, sweetheart—can I buy you a drink?”

Eyebrows furrowing, Peyton turned her head to the left to see a man, definitely older than her and tipsy, leaning against the bar facing her with a smile on his face he probably considered charming. Not at all in the mood, Peyton parted her lips to tell the guy she wasn’t interested when another body appeared behind her, warm and domineering without even looking. But the familiar forest-reminiscent scent had Peyton’s back straightening, especially when the person spoke up.

“She’s with me, mate. And not interested.”

Pursing her lips, Peyton watched as the guy’s eyes flickered towards Calum before his expression dropped and he pushed himself from the bar, walking away without another word. Rolling her eyes, Peyton looked ahead in time to see the bartender place her drink in front of her, thanking and paying her before taking the straw between her fingers. Peyton didn’t bother glancing Calum’s way as he replaced the spot the guy had been in, flatly saying, “Could’ve handled that on my own.”

The glass clattered against the wooden bartop as Calum placed his there. “Don’t care,” he returned in a tone that only proved his words. Rolling her eyes, Peyton sipped her margarita as Calum faced her, feeling the tequila run down her throat as she looked at Calum bemusedly. He was leaning against the bar on his left elbow, fingers from his right hand tracing the rim of his glass, gaze on his actions as he said, “I’ve got an idea.”

Peyton scoffed, her unimpressed expression returning to her face, a look she often wore towards Calum. “Tell it to someone who cares,” came her instinctive response. She moved to get up from the seat, sarcasm evident in her tone. “I’m sure it’s riveting.”

She’d barely gotten off her seat when Calum’s voice, irritated and edgy, sounded over the music playing. “Shut up and listen, will you? It won’t kill you.”

It just might. Peyton’s jaw clenched tightly, annoyance sparking through her veins as her eyes narrowed into a glare. One would assume the way Calum was looking at her was uncaring and indifferent, but Peyton had known him long enough to detect the impatience in his dark eyes and the way his jaw was set. She wasn’t at all fond of the way he spoke to her, the scowl on her face saying just so, and Calum rolled his eyes and released a heavy breath through his nose before relaxing himself and gesturing to the stool she’d been occupying.

This time Peyton exhaled sharply, begrudgingly settling back onto her stool as she pressed her lips together. Peyton wasn’t sure why she even listened, not one to extend any type of conversation with Calum, but there was a look in his eyes that made her stay.

“What?” she questioned, eyebrows raising to emphasize the bored tone she spoke with.

Calum remained leaning against the bar, and Peyton watched, sipping her drink, as Calum tilted his head innocently with a smirk that said otherwise when he easily, effortlessly, stated, “Be my girlfriend.”

It didn’t help that her drink was sharp enough as it is, but Calum’s words had Peyton immediately choking on the beverage as she haphazardly placed the glass back on the bar and coughed into the back of her hand. There was a mild sense of panic over the thought of choking, but Peyton felt a hand rub at her back to help her through the sudden coughing fit as she took a deep breath. No one really looked her way, too consumed by having a good time or her coughs drowned out by the music, which she was grateful for.

Be his what? Peyton was positive that she had most definitely misheard Calum; thought maybe she drank too much and she was hearing things or that the loud music misconstrued what he said. But there was a heavy, unsettling feeling in her sinking stomach that she had heard exactly what she thought she did.

Disbelief hung Peyton’s jaw as she straightened on the stool, hands flat on the bartop as she looked up at Calum with a wide eyed look that painted the perfect picture of her incredulity. His hand was rubbing her back to soothe her out of her coughing fit, and she ignored how warm, near electrifying, his touch had been as he pulled his hand away. All Peyton could focus on was the fact that Calum looked completely serious, as opposed to Peyton’s utter shock. The fact that he looked so at ease, as if he hadn’t just said the most ridiculous thing ever.

“Did you drink too much?” Peyton demanded breathlessly, leaning away from Calum as she stared up at the tattooed man. She was definitely struggling wrapping her mind around what Calum said, hoping he had some good explanation for it. “What the fuck, Calum?”

He rolled his eyes, finding Peyton too dramatic although he didn’t entirely blame her for her reaction. It was kind of amusing, honest. “Hear me out, will you?” Calum’s smooth voice said, finishing off the rest of his drink and Peyton pursed her lips as she smoothed down her blouse, averting her gaze from the sight of his working throat, which he cleared once he put the glass down. “Our parents have been up our ass for years ’bout gettin’ together, yeah?” Peyton only scoffed in answer. “If we pretend to be together, just for a little bit to make it through this Paris trip, maybe they’ll leave us alone.”

Peyton gaped at him, lips parting and eyes narrowed dubiously, unsure if he was serious or not. The fact that Calum’s expression was totally void of amusement or teasing had her bristling. “How does that remotely sound like an idea that would work?” she exclaimed questioningly, holding back her confused laughter. “If—if anything, they’d be even further up our asses.”

“Not necessarily,” Calum said, moving to sit on the stool his legs were bumping into, facing Peyton. When she shot him a disbelieving look, Calum let out a breath. “Look—they already try to talk us into goin’ on a date. A few days before we leave for Paris, we’ll pretend that we did, make up some shit story about it and make ‘em believe their years of pushing is finally paying off. We pretend in Paris, make it seem like we’re together, and then once it’s over we come up with some reason to break up and they’d have no choice but to respect that decision. They wanted us to date, we tried, it didn’t work out—the end.”

His words were followed by an old Drake song playing throughout the bar, and Peyton wondered if Calum genuinely believed this plan of his was fool proof or something. Her eyebrows were drawn together over scrutinizing eyes and Peyton felt as though she needed another drink after hearing Calum’s idea. It was so stupid and it would never work. Peyton was sure they would be even more relentless than they’ve been for the past few years, probably would be over the moon that their dreams were coming true or some shit. She just couldn’t see how this would work in the way Calum thought it would.

She let out a scoff, shaking her head at him. “So instead of having them hound us for getting together, you want to give them ammunition to talk about our relationship?” Peyton used her fingers to create air quotes around the last word, shooting him a bemused look. “That’s fucking dumb, Calum. They’d be even more annoying than they are now.”

Also—did Calum not understand what his plan would entail? If the two of them had to pretend to be dating, wouldn’t they have to hold hands or something in front of their parents to sell it? Physical contact between Peyton and Calum was extremely scarce and rare—she highly doubted they’d be able to hold hands without feeling extremely awkward about it. It wouldn’t seem natural. Was Calum forgetting that?

“Maybe,” Calum shrugged nonchalantly in response to Peyton’s words, not at all looking offended as she insulted his plan. “But there’s also a good chance they won’t be as bad. Think about it—” He paused, elbow resting on the bar top while his right hand gripped his knee, his brown eyes locked with Peyton’s own. “—All these years, they’ve only ever talked about how they think we’d be good together. Once they see that we are, sure, they’ll make comments about how happy they are and try to get us to talk about the relationship, but my folks know me. They know I don’t like to talk ’bout ‘em too much, and if I tell them you and I are just seeing how things go and want to keep it to ourselves, they’ll respect that.” Calum sighed at Peyton’s still dubious expression. “’M not sayin’ the comments will completely stop, but they’ll definitely ease up. Once we’re back from the trip, we wait a little bit and then break up.” He grinned, holding his hands out in a ta-da motion. “Their dreams will be shattered and we’ll be left alone.”

Peyton snorted, looking away from him as she shook her head. “You’re terrible,” she easily said. But even she had to admit, in some freaky, roundabout and absurd way, Calum’s plan had some kind of logic in it. They’d be fucking with their parents to get them to lay off, which Peyton still wasn’t entirely convinced would work, but it may be worth a shot. Only—that meant having to pretend to be Calum’s girlfriend, and Peyton wasn’t sure that was something she could pull off for even five minutes, much less a week.

Years of unfriendly hostility and heated glares were to be put on a shelf for the sake of fooling their parents.

It would only last a week or so, and while there was a good chance this ludicrous plan of Calum’s wasn’t even going to work, the thought of potentially being free of her parents’ endless pleading over her nonexistent love life with Calum was too enticing.

Maybe that’s why she said yes. Maybe that’s why she ignored the small, rational voice in her brain telling her this could definitely blow up in their faces.

*****

When an arm draped over Peyton’s shoulder, she tensed as the familiar earthy scent engulfed her and instinctively, she moved to pull away. But the grip tightened, keeping her in place as Calum’s voice murmured, “Stay put, doll.”

Peyton pursed her lips, keeping her expression neutral as she lifted her chin and kept her eyes on the baggage claim in front of her. “Don’t call me that,” she grumbled under her breath.

Calum smirked, unfazed as he kept her close. “What’s wrong? Eleven hour flight got you cranky?”

She was quite well rested, actually, slept through a majority of it and was wide awake now, which was good since it was early in the afternoon in Paris. Her agitation came from Calum standing so close to her, arm around her and keeping her tucked into his side. It wasn’t the first time he’d touched her, but it wasn’t something Peyton was used to just yet. When they planned their first date, they had no intention of actually going on. Just put on a show of Calum showing up at Peyton’s parents’ house to pick her up, saying hi to her overjoyed parents before taking Peyton’s hand in his and leading her to the car, well aware of her parents’ gazes. When he had first grasped her hand, Peyton was about to pull it away when she remembered it was just pretend.

Their so called date included Calum and Peyton ending up in Ashton’s apartment to hang out with him and the boys. They had some explaining to do to the boys when they showed up together, a sight completely out of the ordinary, and the boys only guffawed at their ridiculous plan. But they were well aware of the two’s parents’ antics, so they didn’t entirely blame Calum and Peyton for their near desperate plan.

That was five days before they left for Paris, and since then Peyton’s parents, her mom in particular, were quite excited that she and Calum were finally trying to look at things from their perspective.

Peyton wasn’t sure if she was annoyed or relieved that Calum’s plan seemed to be working. After she’d faked shyness and told her parents they were just trying to figure things out and wanted to take things slow, they’d understandably backed off. Just like Calum had predicted.

Damn. If only they’d tried this years ago.

Peyton nearly cringed. Did she really just consider that?

She tilted her head to look up at Calum, his height always towering as his arm remained around her shoulders. An exaggeratedly sweet smile upturned her lips as she hummed, “You’re irritating.”

His smirk only widened, other hand lifting until the tip of his finger tapped the tip of Peyton’s nose as he mused back in an annoying voice one would speak to little kids with, “So are you.”

Peyton rolled her eyes, conveniently catching sight of her silver suitcase making its way over. Jutting her chin towards it, she drawled, “Why don’t you be a good boyfriend and get my suitcase, hmm? Wouldn’t want our folks to think you’re anything less than gentleman, would we?”

This time Calum rolled his eyes with a scoff, dropping his arm from around Peyton. He wasn’t one to do what Peyton told him to, but he didn’t bother arguing as he stepped up to the conveyor belt and waited a few seconds for the suitcase to come over. Peyton watched as Calum’s right hand gripped the handle on top, effortlessly lifting up a suitcase Peyton had trouble getting down the stairs as she clenched her teeth at the sight of his back muscles rippling through the soft material of his red tee.

He may be a dick, but even a blind man could agree he was a sight to be seen.

Peyton averted her gaze quickly, putting her attention on her phone as Calum turned and rolled her suitcase over, a tight lipped smile on his face. She scoffed once he was in front of her, her gaze flickering to where her and his parents stood, still waiting for a few suitcases. Meeting Calum’s eyes once more, Peyton said quietly, “If you keep that constipated smile on your face every time we’re together, we’re never gonna sell this. You’re a shit actor.”

Jeez—even she was better than him at this faking thing, and this whole plan had been his brilliant idea! If he couldn’t pretend, then what was the damn point?

There was a spark in his dark eyes which narrowed immediately at Peyton’s words, coming to stand in front of her in all of his towering height. He smirked down at her, wolfish and challenging that almost made Peyton bristle. “Oh, I’m gonna have fun makin’ you regret sayin’ that,” Calum mused, voice a smooth husky tone that Peyton disturbingly realized had goosebumps raising on her skin as well as her eyes widening under drawn together eyebrows.

What the fuck did that mean?

He casually wandered away from her after that, and Peyton took in a deep breath before exhaling slowly. One way or another, she had a feeling she was in for it.

Fortunately, they didn’t have to wait long for the rest of the suitcases and eventually they were all piling into a few different taxis to take them to the hotel. Peyton excitedly entered her room, which was a single suite that she got all to herself, connected to Edie and Diana’s room. Since it was early in the afternoon, the plan was to unwind for an hour or so before freshening up and heading out to lunch with everyone, and Peyton was more than ready to dress in a cute outfit and explore Paris as soon as possible.

Knowing she most likely had to do so with Calum was a thought she was pushing away for now. No need to spoil her mood already.

An hour or so later, Peyton had showered and put on a pretty yellow floral dress, the weather outside permitting such an outfit as she did her makeup and slipped on her shoes, right before getting a text from her mother that they were all meeting in the lobby.

Grabbing her purse, Peyton opened the door of her hotel room, stepping out in time to see the door right across the hall opened and out stepped Calum. The both of them paused at the sight of the other, unaware of how close their rooms were, and Peyton noticed in mild frustration as an amused smirk tilted at Calum’s lips, regarding her coolly as the door behind her shut. Of course her parents booked their rooms right across from each other. She was surprised they hadn’t gotten them connecting rooms.

Peyton would’ve been pissed.

She felt Calum’s eyes trail over her, making her eyebrows twitch into a frown as she gripped the strap of her purse self consciously, eyeing him suspiciously as his dark eyes raked over her. It was unnerving that his stare didn’t feel invasive or creepy, having known him too long for it to be so. But what really got Peyton was the goosebumps she felt rise on her skin under Calum’s look, hyper aware of his knack of taking in every detail and stupidly conscious that he’d point out something that would definitely insult or embarrass her.

“Don’t you look pretty.”

His unexpected words had Peyton staring at him in a mix of dumbfoundment and surprise, maybe even a bit of suspicion because why was he complimenting her? She wasn’t entirely sure if she could pick up on any sincerity in his tone, unsure if he actually meant it or he was just saying it to be an ass, because that’s what her relationship with Calum was like.

So Peyton scoffed, stepping away from the door and beginning to walk down the carpeted hall towards the elevators. “No one is around us—you don’t have to pretend,” she responded with a roll of her eyes.

She heard Calum’s deep chuckle from behind her until he was right next to her a moment later, his legs allowing him to catch up with her in two short strides. “Just practicing,” he hummed as Peyton pressed the button for the elevator. “Apparently I’m a shit actor so I figured practice makes perfect, right?”

Peyton couldn’t roll her eyes harder if she tried, shooting Calum a bemused look as he stood next to her, tall and silently attractive in a fitted pale yellow tee and dark jeans. And it wasn’t until they stepped into the elevator that she finally noticed the color of his shirt, letting out a huff as she grumbled, “You couldn’t have picked a different color?”

Glancing down at himself, Calum scoffed as he picked up on the similar colors of their outfits, before shrugging uncaringly as the elevator moved. “We’re just meant to be, aren’t we?” Calum drawled, the sarcasm dripping heavily from his voice as he pulled out his phone and busied himself with it.

Peyton made a disgusted face at his words, face scrunching up at the abhorrent thought. The elevator then stopped two floors below the one they were on, the doors sliding open to allow a man to step in. Peyton’s gaze involuntarily flickered to the man, sporting a dark beard and appearing quite a few years older than her in age, probably mid-thirties, which is why a prickle of discomfort irritated her skin when she caught the way his dark blue eyes trailed over her figure.

It was startling how uneasy his gaze made her feel as opposed to Calum.

Like he was undressing her with his eyes. Peyton pressed her lips together as the man stepped into the elevator, her dropping when she saw the way his lips curled appreciatively before moving to stand with his back to her, getting just a bit too into her personal space as the doors shut. Swallowing slightly, Peyton shifted on her feet, moving a small step back and to her right, accidentally bumping into Calum.

She heard him click his tongue irritatingly, catching the brief annoyed look he shot her before returning his attention to his phone, but Peyton didn’t care in the moment. To be honest, she’d rather be pressed up against Calum than be anywhere near the creepy man who couldn’t keep his wandering gaze to himself.

When the elevator doors slid open and the guy walked out, Peyton let out a quiet breath, missing the raise of Calum’s eyebrows as they stepped out and walked towards where their families were. The lobby wasn’t too busy, and Peyton’s mom caught sight of her right away, a grin taking over her face as she and Calum approached the group.

“Aw, look at you two and your matching outfits,” she cooed, like one would to a baby, as Calum’s mom also joined in on the fond smiles.

Peyton bit her tongue, knowing this was coming as she forced a smile to her lips, ignoring the amused look her sister was sending her. Edie found this whole pretend dating thing way too funny, and Peyton would do, had it not been her as a part of it. “You know what they say, Mrs. D.” Peyton nearly toppled over the sudden weight of Calum’s arm around her shoulders, still not used to it as he tugged her into his side and now all she could smell was his cologne, forcing herself to relax in his hold. “Couple that matches together, stays together.”

Oh, my God. Peyton wanted to face-palm at Calum’s ridiculous words, sharing an exasperatedly unimpressed look with Mali—who was also quite aware of their plan. Practically everyone was, save for the people they were trying to fool.

Apparently Calum’s answer was enough for their parents, complimenting them before beginning to walk out of the hotel to head to whatever restaurant they’d decided on. Walking at the back of the group, Peyton let out an incredulous breath as she tilted her head to look up at Calum. “Are you serious?” she asked, voice quiet enough for their parents not to hear as she gazed up at him. She had a nice view of his stubbly and sharp jaw, but Peyton wasn’t going to focus on that as Calum raised an eyebrow at her. “It’s not even funny how corny that was—it was just sad.”

“Quit complainin’,” Calum rolled his eyes, his arm still a weight on her shoulders as they walked down the sidewalk. Their hotel was in a busy, touristy part of Paris, most of the main attractions within walking distance, including restaurants, which is why they all decided to go on foot. Peyton preferred it, allowing her to enjoy the Parisian scenery. Calum jutted his chin towards their folks, his right hand reaching for the sunglasses hanging on the neckline of his tee before placing them over his eyes. “Satisfied them, didn’t it?”

Peyton pursed her lips and inhaled deeply through her nose, gaze flickering to the sky with a shake of her head as they continued walking. They were at the back of the group—she didn’t understand why he still needed to have his arm around her shoulders. But arguing with Calum, while it could be fun at times, often proved to be exhausting and achieved nothing more often than not. It’s not like his touch disgusted her or anything—she just wasn’t used to it. Five years of knowing him and touches between them were nonexistent. So the feel of his warm arm around her bare shoulders, thanks to the spaghetti straps of her dress, was something to get used to.

She vehemently ignored the small, surprising voice in the back of her mind whispering how she liked it. Maybe she was delusional.

Instead of thinking about the situation she was in, Peyton let herself enjoy the sights they were walking by. She found herself mesmerized by some of the buildings, walking along the cobblestone pathway as the sun peeked out every now and then, passing by many cute cafes and boutiques. There was also lots of greenery in front of the stores, potted plants bright and colorful with some flowers in as well. She’d only been walking on the Paris streets for a few moments but Peyton was already in love. The sights they passed were enough to distract Peyton from the man whose side she was tucked into.

Eventually, they found a restaurant that had a fixed menu of salad, steak and fries, and since no one was a vegetarian or anything, they headed inside. It wasn’t until Calum settled on the chair to her right did Peyton realize the extent of their fake dating. For as long as they were here, she would have to sit with Calum, hold hands with him, make it seem like they were an actual couple. She’d understood that, to a degree, when they’d gone on their fake date at Ashton’s house, where they actually did take some time to discuss any details of their plan—which there weren’t that many of. They just agreed what they’d tell their parents about the so-called date like where they went and what they did, sell them on the fact that they actually had a good time and were genuinely interested in pursuing a relationship.

For years, the only time Peyton and Calum saw each other was when they were both home from school and their friends were hanging out or if their parents wanted their families to get together. And while they weren’t particularly fond of being around one another, it was somewhat tolerable. Even though Peyton had told Calum he was a shit actor in this whole pretending scheme they had going on, she was now wondering if it was her who’d be unable to keep this up. But really—would either of them be able to keep it going, even if it was just for a week?

Her legs were crossed under the table, right leg over her left knee, but her right foot was bouncing mid-air with nerves as her thoughts ran through her mind. And suddenly, despite being in a restaurant, all Peyton seemed to be able to smell was Calum and the cologne he wore, sitting right next to her and his presence was suddenly dominating her senses. Her heart seemed to be picking up its pace as well, and Peyton wondered what’s suddenly gotten her so on edge. It was just pretend. Surely she was capable of acting like she and Calum were a couple for a week or so, right?

There was a hand on her right thigh, fingers lightly digging into her skin as the soft material of her dress did nothing to allow the warmth from the hand to dig into her body. Peyton’s foot froze, as did her entire body, as she tried to keep her expression neutral while dropping her gaze to her lap, where Calum’s tattooed, ring clad hand was resting on her. Her heart thudded, completely astonished that he was touching her, yet. . . Not disturbed or disgruntled. Just utterly surprised.

Everyone was chattering amongst themselves, and Peyton took a breath as she ignored the heat she felt from Calum’s hand, leaning towards him ever so slightly and turning her head to face him. Automatically, while listening to the conversation his dad was having with Peyton’s grandfather across the table, Calum leaned towards Peyton.

“What are you doing?” she hissed, raising her eyebrows in alarmed question.

Calum turned his own head to face her, their faces inches apart yet neither of them paid that any attention as his dark eyes locked with hers. There was mischievous mirth dancing in his brown irises, looking like he was enjoying this way too much. “What, I can’t touch my girl?” he responded just as quietly, though the innocence in his voice was loud and clear.

Peyton pursed her lips, picking up on the way Calum’s gaze flickered to her mouth for a split second. Her heart jumped. “I’m not your girl.”

Looking back at her, an arrogant smirk curled at Calum’s lips, the kind that Peyton knew weakened all of the girls’ knees, the kind that was drying her throat without her consent. He leaned closer, his nose barely brushing hers, and Peyton suddenly felt as though her head was spinning because he was so close, face flushing warm. “In Paris, you are,” he smoothly replied, giving her thigh a small squeeze, smirk widening when he saw the way Peyton’s throat worked to swallow the gasp that nearly escaped and the pinkness in her freckled face. He was having too much fun. He ticked his head to the table. “Drink your wine, sweetheart.”

Peyton gaped at him, watching with slightly parted lips as he returned to listening to the other conversation as if nothing had happened, as if his hand wasn’t on her thigh and burning her skin. As if he wasn’t in the midst of giving Peyton some kind of fucking crisis.

She didn’t like doing what Calum said, but she still reached for her glass of wine. God knows how much of it she’d need to make it through this ridiculous plan.

Not like anyone could see under the fucking table anyway.

*****

Unsurprisingly, summer nights in Paris were a bit busier than the mornings, which Calum noticed as everyone, save for Peyton’s grandparents, walked to the Eiffel Tower. It was their second night in Paris, and somehow they’d forgone visiting the prominent landmark their first night, spending most of their time merely walking around and shopping, as well as getting sweets to eat at practically every bakery they passed by.

There were loads of people out and about, walking under the clear sky and lamps as street vendors tried to sell small knick knacks they had spread out on the ground. When they got to the tower, Calum noticed the other side had a line for people to go to the top, since it was barely ten at night and going to the top was still open. He wasn’t surprised when the parents decided to do so, rolling his eyes when Mali went with them, leaving just him with Peyton, Edie, and Diana.

He watched, near disinterested, as the girls took pictures of the tower and of each other. Crouching down, Calum nursed his cigarette, taking a drag as his eyes wandered to Peyton. Diana was currently taking pictures of her and Edie, the two sisters posing in front of the tower with grins on their faces and laughs tumbling out of their mouths. Calum watched quietly, blowing out billows of smoke, eyebrows involuntarily drawing together slightly as his eyes took in the sight of her smile.

It wasn’t something he hadn’t noticed before—Calum would be blind to think Peyton wasn’t gorgeous. Voicing it was a complete different matter.

They never complimented one another. But Calum would be utterly lying if he didn’t let those thoughts flutter in his mind every now and then. Being friends had never been in the books for them, but God damn it, was she gorgeous.

And he found himself looking at her, slowly bringing the cigarette back up to his lips, remembering his little move under the table at the restaurant yesterday. It had been an impulsive mood—completely unnecessary in regards to the plan, since no one could see under the table. But her leg had been bouncing and she was practically radiating some kind of nervous energy, and his hand had moved on its own accord. But then he had some teasing fun with her, and the sight of her blushing face and wide doe eyes had made it worth it. He found himself smirking as the lights for the Eiffel Tower behind her started going off and glittering against the sky night sky. Peyton turned around to admire the sight, recording it on her phone before tucking her phone in her purse as Calum finished his cigarette and stubbed it out, flicking it to the trash just a few feet over before getting to his feet.

His movements seemed almost automatic as he took a few steps over, coming to stand next to Peyton as his gaze remained on the landmark in front of them, watching as the bright lights danced on it. The sight was mesmerizing, if he was being honest, watching with his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket and lower lip pulled into his mouth absently.

But then a breeze blew by and suddenly, instead of smelling the nicotine he’d been taking in, all Calum could smell was floral mixed with citrus, and he instantly knew it was from the woman standing next to him. Unable to help himself, Calum glanced at Peyton, head turning towards her ever so slightly, catching the way her dark eyes glimmered and the gloss on her lips shone because of the lights. She was in a state of admiring wonder at the sight in front of them.

Then her body shivered slightly as another breeze blew by, strands of her dark hair flowing against the wind, and Calum’s gaze flickered to her shirt—a V-neck blouse tucked into her jeans. Calum pursed his lips for a moment, realizing that Paris nights seemed cooler than its mornings, before looking away with a slow blink of his eyes and licking his lips as he shrugged off his jacket. Peyton didn’t notice his movements, or did and didn’t acknowledge him, until Calum draped his jacket over her shoulders.

He watched her jerk in startlement—apparently she didn’t notice—head snapping to him as his dark eyes met hers while he secured the jacket on her shoulders. She frowned, though she couldn’t hide the surprise and wariness in her eyes. “What’re you doing?”

A wry smirk tilted on Calum’s lips, refraining to roll his eyes as he shoved his hands into the front pockets of his pants. He had on a full sleeved shirt which kept him warm enough, quirking an eyebrow at Peyton. “Actin’ like a good boyfriend,” Calum quipped back.

Peyton let out a breathless scoff, her hands coming up to grip the collar of Calum’s jacket as she kept it around her. She shook her head before asking, “Why do you do that when they aren’t around? The point is to be pretending in front of them, not when they aren’t here.”

She had a point, Calum knew. But in this case, he’d feel like an ass if he just let her stand there in the cold when he’s got a jacket on and doesn’t even need it. Regardless of the status of their lack of friendship and fake relationship. Besides, it’s not like they didn’t act like a couple in front of their folks; Calum just found it a bit amusing when he did so when they weren’t around and made Peyton bristle.

Raising an eyebrow, Calum inquired, “Does it make you uncomfortable?”

Peyton frowned at that, lips thinning as Calum waited for her answer. “No,” she muttered, and Calum felt surprised at himself for feeling a small sense of relief at that. Peyton shrugged, shifting so she could put her arms through the sleeves. “It’s just weird.”

Calum pulled his lips into his mouth at the sight of her in his jacket, feeling a kind of twist in the pit of his stomach that he was all too familiar with. The leather jacket hung off her frame, the broad shoulders of the apparel that fit him perfectly hanging off her smaller ones. It was a bit shaking, how appealing she looked in his jacket, a view Calum never thought he’d see and never imagined himself admiring. Peyton’s hair was tucked into the collar of the jacket, chin lifted slightly as she returned her gaze to the tower and the shadows of the lights accentuated the curve of her jaw.

She was glowing, Calum couldn’t help but notice. The glittering lights were dying down but there dull lamps around them gave her a soft glow that hid her freckles in her skin. Despite showing some level of agitation towards him, Peyton seemed fixed in a state of serenity, soft eyes taking in her surroundings and viewing them with quiet admirance. Calum’s throat worked as he noticed her long lashes and the subtle pout of her lips; details he never gave himself the opportunity to notice over the years he’d known her.

There was a severe twist in his gut, one that nearly knocked him breathless for reasons he hadn’t seen coming.

Standing in front of the Eiffel Tower with Peyton next to him, draped in his jacket, Calum found himself wanting to start the past five years all over again.

He wanted to laugh. It was only their second fucking day in Paris.

*****

“Smile, you two!”

A soft smile lifted the corners of Peyton’s lips, the smile coming to her a lot easier than she anticipated with Calum’s arm around her waist and hand resting on her hip. The wind had picked up where they were, at the top of the Arc de Triomphe, but it was pleasant against the early afternoon sun. So Peyton smiled, her left arm around Calum’s waist, her head leaning into his side as she ignored the thought that this didn’t feel half bad. It was an uninvited thought.

“Oh,” Joy cooed after snapping the picture, walking towards them and holding her phone out. “Look at how cute you look.”

Both Calum and Peyton looked at the picture, and Calum instantly felt the jump in his heart at the sight of it. The sun was shining against them, their eyes squinting slightly though the smiles on their faces were evident, their skin glowing in their own way against the sunlight. Calum chewed on the inside of his lower lip at the picture, taking note of how Peyton just barely came up to his shoulder, and how comfortable she looked tucked into his side. But that was just for show, wasn’t it? And the soft, fond smile playing on his mouth wasn’t genuine, right?

Suddenly becoming acutely aware of how his hand had gone from her hip to her lower back, Calum quickly pulled it away, as if Peyton had burned him, and subtly took a step to distance himself from her. He missed the way Peyton glanced at him as he turned around to face the city below, running his ring clad fingers through his curls as he let out a breath.

Calum would be lying if he said within the past two days, he began reconsidering the plan. Not because it wasn’t working—it definitely was, they had their parents fooled—but because there was something different. Calum didn’t understand how quickly a change such as that could settle in, how he could barely feel the sting of annoyance and exasperation whenever Peyton appeared into view like he was so used to feeling. He still felt it, no doubt, but it was nowhere near as intense anymore. The fact that a few days of faking a relationship could sprout such a change was fucking unsettling.

He was quiet for the rest of the time they spent up on the Arc de Triomphe, keeping to himself as he admired the view from the height they were at. Calum needed a moment to himself, needed to get his scattered thoughts together as he frowned at the cars driving around below. Since when did he let Peyton Dennis get under his skin in any way? Since when did he allow himself to look at her in any different way than how he’d look at her before?

Once they were done on the Arc, Calum and Peyton and their families walked down to the street before walking along the Champs-Élysées. There were many stores and restaurants on either side, and it seemed like their families wanted to go into every store whether they wanted to buy something or not.

At one point, as they walked, Peyton ended up walking next to her mother, their arms linked together as they went. “Honey,” her mom spoke up quietly, making Peyton hum in response. “Everything okay with Calum? He seems a bit off.”

Peyton looked away from the McDonalds they passed and glanced at her mom in confusion. But she was looking straight ahead at the man in question, and Peyton followed her gaze. Calum walked a little ahead of the group, broad shoulders rigid under the burgundy bomber jacket he wore. Peyton didn’t understand how her mom could notice something being off with Calum, but then she remembered how he’d acted on top of the Arc. One second they were smiling for a picture, and the next he was putting space between them like she was a fire he didn’t want to get burned by, all the while ridding his face of all expression.

Peyton knew Calum to be moody at times, and while normally she wouldn’t care, for some reason she found curiosity picking at her, especially when her mom pointed it out.

Snapping into the role of his girlfriend, Peyton shot her mom a smile and said, “I’ll make sure he’s good.”

Her mom smiled in approval, and Peyton was walking away from her and passed everyone else before stepping up next to Calum. But she made him aware of her presence by impulsively grasping his left hand in her right, feeling him jerk slightly in surprise even though she’s the one who felt the stark contrast of his cold rings against her warm skin. Peyton hadn’t expected herself to do that, her own heart jumping at her actions, but she was aware of their parents behind them and figured to put on a show.

When Calum glanced at her, a questioning frown on his face, Peyton shrugged. “Apparently something seems off with my boyfriend and I gotta make sure you’re good.” She noticed the way his jaw set, looking straight ahead but not pulling his hand from her grasp. Peyton frowned at the unusually hard look in his dark eyes. “What’s up with you?” she questioned, now genuinely wondering if there actually was something bothering him.

“Nothing,” Calum gruffly answered, not in the mood to talk to Peyton about the confused muddle that were his thoughts and feelings—not when he didn’t have a clue about them himself. Not when they had to do with her.

Peyton eyed him, easily picking up on the lie as they continued walking. Her gaze happened to drop to their joined hands. His silver bracelet was peeking from under the sleeve of his jacket, rings prettily decorating his fingers. Peyton chewed on her lower lip as she acknowledged how his skin felt warm, soft and inviting against hers. Let herself acknowledge the electricity shooting up her arm and sparking through her chest to leave her breathless. It almost had her gasping—that’s never happened before.

Peyton quickly looked away, alarmed gaze on the pavement they were walking on as her heart picked up its pace. What the fuck was going on?

“Let’s get ice cream,” Edie’s voice cut through Peyton’s panicked thoughts, her sister gesturing towards a small, quaint ice cream shop.

They all walked to it, and once her dad bought Peyton her chocolate cone, she walked over to where Calum was lingering on the street with his cup of ice cream, the shop too small with no tables or chairs for customers. He merely stood on the sidewalk, absently eating his treat, and as Peyton eyed him she found herself growing uncomfortable at how distant he looked. What was bothering him? Why was this bothering her?

She approached him, licking at her ice cream. “You look way too moody for someone eating ice cream in the middle of Paris.”

Calum let out a scoff, his plastic spoon scooping some more of the ice cream. “Am I supposed to smile every time I take a damn bite?”

Peyton rolled her eyes. “Wouldn’t kill you to act like you’re enjoying yourself.” She gave her ice cream a lick. “You’re in Paris, for fuck’s sake.”

This time Calum rolled his eyes, working on his own treat. “Right—with my girlfriend.”

Peyton shot him a look, glancing over her shoulder to see their families were out of earshot. To Calum, she jeered, “What, this relationship preventing you from hooking up with some French babe?”

A wry smile quirked at his lips. At least it was a change from the blank looks. Calum lazily waved his plastic spoon. “I’m nothing if not faithful.”

Peyton snorted, both amused yet unimpressed. “Is that why you’re so moody? You’re not getting laid?”

His smirk widened, cheekbones prominent as he took another spoonful of ice cream before he shot her a look, something akin to being dangerous dancing in his eyes. “Sure,” Calum shrugged, facing her as his height towered over her. “Wanna help me out?”

Jaw dropping, a choked and startled gasp escaped Peyton as she gaped up at Calum, not entirely used to sexual jokes from him. “Not your actual girlfriend, Calum,” she stammered out. “Pretending doesn’t go that far.”

Calum hated that he had to ignore a pang in his chest at Peyton pointing out that this was fake—hated that there was a pang to ignore in the first place. Fake, fake, fake. It was all pretend.

Why was he having a hard time remembering that?

He schooled his expression, dark eyes meeting hers. “You’re breakin’ my heart,” he smoothly commented.

Peyton rolled her eyes, unfazed by his words until she looked at his ice cream, eyebrows drawing together. “What flavor is that?”

“Pistachio.”

Her face scrunched. “Ew.”

Raising an eyebrow, Calum asked, “Have you ever tried it?” Peyton shook her head no. “Then how’re you gonna judge somethin’ you’ve never given a shot?”

Both of them purposely ignored how his words could definitely pertain to them, too. Eerily so.

Still, Peyton gave him an unconvinced look, and Calum rolled his eyes before scooping some up in his spoon. Then, to Peyton’s surprise, he held it out to her and before she could even question him, Calum nodded at the spoon before smirking, “Say ah.”

Peyton’s incredulous gaze went from the spoon to Calum’s eyes, feeling completely taken aback at the gesture and wondering if this was some kind of joke. Her mind blanked, not entirely sure how to react as Calum watched her, before bringing the spoon towards her mouth and Peyton acted without thinking, parting her lips so he could bring it to her mouth.

His eyes were on hers as Peyton’s lips closed around the plastic spoon, the cold treat melting on her tongue while her stomach turned at the sight of Calum’s gaze on her mouth. Suddenly Peyton couldn’t even focus on the taste of the ice cream, too distracted by Calum’s intense stare that seemed to be burning right through her, freezing her in place. His eyes. . . There was a look in them she’d never seen directed towards her. A look that would’ve robbed her of all her breath if Mali hadn’t interrupted them.

Seriously. What the fuck was going on?

Hours later, around ten at night after dinner, they found themselves at the hotel bar. Their parents were gone on a night out together, Peyton’s grandparents were off doing their own thing, and the rest of them decided to grab some drinks. It was a nice bar with dim lights, TVs playing different channels a long couch against the wall opposite of the bar counter, with tables scattered around. They’d been nursing drinks for a few hours now, and around half past midnight Edie and Diana retreated to their bedroom with hands all over each other and drunken giggles falling past their lips.

As Calum excused himself to grab a smoke, Mali and Peyton approached the bar and ordered themselves more drinks, settling on the stools as the bartender prepared their orders. “I seriously can’t believe you’ve got our parents fooled,” Mali giggled, shaking her head in disbelief as her dark eyes glimmered with amusement. She shifted in the seat to face Peyton, who sat to her right, grinning triumphantly. And a bit tipsily. “Like, they genuinely believe you two are in a relationship! What, do they think five years of them trying to force you together was finally paying off?”

Peyton laughed, her head feeling slightly heavy on her shoulders but the alcohol running through her system making her feel good about it, accepting the glass of Henny and Coke the bartender placed in front of her. “I think that’s exactly what we’re hoping for them to believe,” Peyton responded with a snort, lightly grasping the thin black straw between her fingers. With a smirk and a raise of an eyebrow, Peyton added, “Who knew Calum and I were such good actors?” before taking a sip.

Mali snorted, fingers wrapping around her own glass as she crossed her right leg over her left knee. “You and Calum are shit actors,” she countered, grinning at Peyton’s affronted look. “Our parents are just too happy to notice.”

Pouting, Peyton waved her off, dismissing Mali’s words and pretending that she and Calum were good actors and that’s why the plan was working. They’d been fooling their parents for a few days now and had yet to slip up. Peyton took another sip of her drink; she hoped she hadn’t just jinxed that.

After finishing her drink, Mali checked her phone and stood up. “Mm, my boy’s finally getting off work. Time for a FaceTime date before I crash,” Mali said, running her fingers through her blonde hair. “D’you want me to wait with you until Cal gets back?”

Peyton snorted with a shake of her head. “No, no. Enjoy your virtual date.”

Kissing her cheek, Mali bid her goodnight before leaving the bar, taking a few men’s stares with her as she went. Busying herself on her phone, Peyton took sips of her drink as she scrolled through her social media. She was able to keep to herself for a few minutes until the seat Mali had been in was suddenly occupied, and before even looking Peyton could feel the hairs at the back of her neck standing up. She may be tipsy, head fluttering slightly, but she could pick up on the unease her body felt at the presence of someone else.

And when she looked to her left, Peyton understood why.

Her back straightened slowly, stomach sinking considerably when she recognized the man as the creepy dude from the elevator from the other day, her skin prickling in sensational discomfort. The man sat facing her, elbow resting on the bar as he shot her a smile that he probably thought was charming but made Peyton’s throat dry uneasily.

“Ciao, bella,” he greeted, leaning towards her as he spoke in an Italian accent that wasn’t too thick. “What’s a pretty girl like you doing by yourself?”

Tipsy or not, Peyton wanted to roll her eyes at the ridiculously cheesy and overused cliche. Cheesy pick up lines were a universal thing, of course, but that did not mean Peyton wanted to hear them. Especially not from a man in his thirties who was already eyeing her like a piece of meat. And suddenly, all Peyton could think about was where is Calum?

“I’m not by myself,” Peyton answered, subtly leaning away from him as far as she could without falling off the stool.

She watched as the man sat up, exaggeratingly looking around as if he was searching for someone, and the pricke of annoyance intensified. For the first time, Peyton was grateful for her ability to not get drunk easily or her habit of reasonably controlling her alcohol intake. Being drunk around this guy was definitely not something she wanted to do.

Looking back at Peyton and grinning wolfishly, the guy mused, “I don’t see anyone with you.” His smirk widened. “But I can change that.”

He was getting too close, and suddenly all Peyton wanted to do was get out of here. For some reason, she couldn’t process the thought of getting the bartender’s attention to get this guy to leave her alone, not wanting to be here herself. She wanted to leave.

“Not interested,” Peyton muttered, getting to her feet and thanking God she didn’t stumble or anything. She wasn’t that tipsy, but enough to act before she thought it through. “I’ve got a boyfriend.”

She could feel and see him turn around to keep his gaze on her, calling out, “What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him, bella.”

Peyton held her breath as she walked, her pace quick, frowning when she felt as though she was being watched and when she glanced over her shoulder, feeling her heart jump to her throat when she realized the guy was following her. Mouth dry, Peyton didn’t go towards the elevators, not wanting to risk the chance of getting stuck with him in there. But as she left the bar and entered the lobby, her gaze flickered to the left where the windows facing the street were, her eyes catching sight of a familiar figure leisurely pacing about on the sidewalk right outside of the hotel, nursing a cigarette.

The guy was calling out to her, and Peyton moved impulsively.

She didn’t think.

But her steps were quick as she went outside, hearing the guy’s footsteps behind her, and with her breath held in her chest she approached Calum, who happened to just turn her way as smoke curled from his lips. He paused in his pacing at the sight of her, dark eyebrows drawing together as the cigarette remained between his fingers.

Peyton saw the confused look he was giving her, wondering why she was outside at nearly two in the morning, looking frazzled. But she ignored the look, was acutely aware of the man coming up behind her, felt goosebumps rise on her skin and wasn’t sure if it was because of the cool breeze or because of the situation she found herself in.

But the creepy Italian guy was approaching her, and suddenly Peyton’s feet were moving and she was throwing caution into the very wind that was chilling her skin, ignoring the way Calum’s bewildered gaze remained on her as she neared him. Her hands finding his cheeks, Peyton didn’t even think as she pulled Calum to her level and pressed her lips to his.

There was a mumble of surprise from his end, his hand automatically coming to grip her hip. And, God, at first the sole reason Peyton kissed him was to get away from the guy, to deter him. She hated that she needed to literally throw herself in the arms of some other guy to get a creepy one to leave her alone, but here she was, kissing Calum fucking Hood.

She could’ve definitely found some other way to get rid of the man.

The question was if she wanted to.

But as Peyton kissed Calum, she felt her skin firing up at the first touch, her heart racing a hundred miles a minute as Calum’s lips moved against hers after a brief moment of startled pause. Forget being drunk off of the drinks she’d consumed—the second Calum’s lips sucked on her lower lip, Peyton found herself immediately getting intoxicated by the kiss, her hands going from his face to allow her to wrap her arms around his neck and keep him close, feeling an intense flutter throughout her body that weakened her knees. She could vaguely feel his own arm around her waist, pressing their fronts together, and Peyton had to keep down the pleasured whimper threatening to escape when Calum’s tongue easily slipped into her mouth.

Calum. This was Calum she was making out with in the middle of a goddamn sidewalk in Paris—and she didn’t fucking care. Not when his body felt so lean and inviting pressed against hers, not when she felt as though every cell in her body was coming to life, and certainly not when his plump lips were kissing her as though that’s what they were made for.

He tasted like a mixture of what he had drank and nicotine, not the best of combinations but Peyton had kissed cigarette smokers before, so she didn’t mind. She most certainly didn’t mind that it was Calum—because it was Calum. Years and years of frigid behavior and cold attitude were being utterly disregarded as Calum’s tight arm around her kept her impossibly close, and Peyton found herself not wanting to let him go, either.

Their kiss slowed down moments later, becoming softer, almost sweeter, as Peyton’s arms unwinded from around his neck and her hands slowly came to lightly grasp the lapels of his jacket. Part of Peyton didn’t want the kiss to end, was hesitant on facing the aftermath of her stupidly impulsive actions because this was definitely not part of their fake relationship.

With that thought, Peyton pulled away with a small gasp, the air rushing into her lungs yet her eyes remained closed, trying to get the disarrayed thoughts in her raging mind together to form at least a single coherent line of thinking. She could feel Calum’s warm, slightly heavy breath fanning against her skin as their foreheads pressed together, her skin exceptionally warm from what just happened. Her lips were still fucking tingling from touching Calum’s, and Peyton had a sneaking suspicion that sensation wouldn’t stop any time soon.

She pressed her lips together, letting out a breath through her nose as her eyebrows furrowed together. Oh. Oh, God. She’d fucked up, hadn’t she? Kissing him definitely meant changing things between them, and Peyton wished for once, she thought things through.

It was alarming; she wasn’t as thrown off over the fact that she’d kissed Calum as opposed to the thought of how things would be between them now that it’s happened.

Peyton wondered if the hit of dizziness she felt was because of Calum’s kiss or because of everything happening.

Swallowing, Peyton pulled away from Calum, her hands still gripping his jacket and his arm still around her waist as she took in a shaky breath through her nose. As soon as Calum opened his eyes, Peyton glanced away, unable to meet his gaze as she looked over her shoulder and realized the very man she’d been trying to get rid of was nowhere in sight.

That had her shoulders relaxing a little, but her stomach could be mistaken for a butterfly garden in the moment. “He’s gone,” she muttered in relief, nodding once to herself.

“Who’s gone?” The dazed confusion was evident in Calum’s husky, breathless voice, clearly just as affected by the kiss as Peyton was.

She shook her head, turning her head back to face Calum, yet unable to meet his gaze. The fact that she’d kissed him was still trying to wrap its way around her mind. “There was this guy,” Peyton began, eyes on her blue painted nails against his jacket. “Followed me out of the bar even when I said I had a boyfriend so I—”

“Decided to use your fake one to fool him, too?”

There was a familiarly edgy tone in Calum’s voice that finally did have Peyton look up at him, her eyebrows drawing together as her dark eyes met Calum’s. His, though, were back to the unreadable state they had been all day, which Peyton irritatingly found frustrated her to no end. She couldn’t pinpoint the moment she began caring about what was going on with Calum, but she did, and it spun her head. Especially this change in attitude—an attitude she was used to over the years she’d known him, but still found surprising for some reason.

And uncomfortable, like it didn’t fit Calum. Peyton could already feel a headache coming on.

When Calum’s arm dropped from around her waist, Peyton frowned a she took a step away from him, watching as he brought his forgotten cigarette back up to his mouth. “I just wanted to get a creepy thirty-something year old off my back,” she defended, glaring at his tone, eyes feeling heavy. With a scoff, she added, “Sorry if I made you feel used.”

“That’s what we’re doin’ though, isn’t it?” Calum inquired sharply, dropping the finished cigarette to the pavement and snubbing it out with the heel of his shoe, dark eyes still on Peyton. He shrugged questioningly. “Usin’ each other, yeah?”

Peyton was fucking confused. She had no idea where this sudden hostile tone was coming from, why Calum was looking at her as if she’d just committed some kind of crime. She hated that her lips yearned to be touched by his again. “This was your idea, remember?” she reminded with a raise of her eyebrows. “Kissing wasn’t a part of it and I’m sorry if I crossed some line, okay? I wasn’t thinking.”

There was a heaviness settling in her chest at the thought of making things worse as they could be with Calum. During the years of their mutual unfriendliness towards one another, there had always been a line they wouldn’t cross, an insult or jab they wouldn’t throw because they knew it’d take things too far. The thought of crossing that line by kissing him made Peyton’s stomach twist and her body bristle in unease, guilt, and regret.

She watched as Calum shook his head, running his ring clad fingers through his curls and messing them up. His broad shoulders dropped, and the defeated look he sent her way made her heart stutter. Calum’s voice was low when he muttered, “You shouldn’t have done that.”

Fucking hell—why was she feeling tears burn her eyes? “I’m sorry.”

*****

There was definitely tension in the air. But it wasn’t like the kind that used to exist between them. Before, it used to stem from annoyance and exasperation and grievances with one another. Before, it used to be because they weren’t friends but were forced to see the person they couldn’t stand because of their friends and family. Now, though, the tension was different. Now, it stemmed from a moment shared between them that neither had expected, a moment they had thought about all night and got no sleep because of. A moment neither of them could stop thinking about—painfully yearning for it to happen again.

After that spontaneous, impulsive kiss, the two had retreated to their rooms in an awkward, heavy silence that still burdened their shoulders even once they split off to their separate rooms. Sleep hadn’t come easily to Peyton last night, making herself dizzy with thoughts over what happened, why it happened, how she could let it happen. It was just a kiss, it wasn’t too big of a deal; but this was Calum—they barely had a stable relationship already. Things were bound to teter even more off balance than they already were. And it was her fault.

The next day, she didn’t see much of Calum, which was a bit of a relief. She wasn’t quite prepared to face whatever aftermath there may be from last night’s event, truthfully feeling a bit embarrassed over what happened. He’d said you shouldn’t have done that right after she kissed him. How fucking mortifying was that? Instead, Edie invited Peyton to come with her and Diana to visit the Louvre, so the three girls spent more of their morning into afternoon at the museum. Of course, they had to leave in time for their parents’ vow renewal ceremony later that evening, which was taking place in a beautiful garden lit up with fairy lights and lanterns that provided a soft glow.

And as Peyton stood there, in between her grandmother and Edie as they listened to her parents renew a preexisting love, Peyton felt her gaze involuntarily flickering to the right. As her father spoke of his love for her mother, Peyton’s eyes landed on Calum, standing between his father and sister. Tall, broad shouldered and, for the first time Peyton wouldn’t feel hesitant on admitting out loud, extremely handsome. His attire of a white full sleeved button down with black stripes, black pants and polished boots made him seem ethereal, unfairly beautiful when he was doing nothing but standing there.

Peyton never let herself admire him before. Now. . . He’s all she could think about. And it was fucking with her head. She wondered if this was the universe playing some kind of cruel joke on her, because she didn’t think Calum had looked her way at all except for a brief greeting when they first arrived, catching sight of each other for the first time that day.

But even that had been forced. Peyton felt her insides twist at the rigid hug they’d shared. It felt wrong.

You shouldn’t have done that.

It made her wonder when things with Calum had started to feel right.

*****

They were in Paris. They were in a city full of art and culture and beautiful sights. Yet Calum was in his hotel room, binging on Netflix while everyone was out and about doing whatever. It had been a few hours since the Mr. and Mrs. Dennis’s ceremony, and after everyone enjoyed a nice dinner, they returned to the hotel in case they wanted to change clothes or just went off to do whatever the hell they wanted. Calum, for one, decided to stay inside.

Mostly because he felt as though he needed to get his head on straight.

Things had completely changed in a matter of days and Calum felt as though someone had pulled the rug out from under him. He, for the life of him, couldn’t understand or pinpoint when exactly he began developing feelings for Peyton.

He could admit that to himself now. He had feelings for her. He liked her.

Seriously, though—it baffled him how out of nowhere they came from. One second things between them were as they had been for years, and the next moment the sight of her smile had his heart soaring in his chest. It hit him so fucking hard, knocked him right off his feet and robbed him of all his breath, and Calum was dizzy with confusion as to how that could possibly happen. He wasn’t one to fall for someone so out of the blue, without even a single thought or consideration. But with Peyton. . . It just fucking happened and Calum had no idea what to do.

He wasn’t even paying attention to the show he was watching, laying on his side with his elbow propped up and head resting on his hand, a perpetual frown on his face as he lost himself in thoughts that weren’t making any sense. For fuck’s sake, this was Peyton Dennis; calling them friends over the years would’ve been a hard sell—and now he liked her?

Matters of the heart really made no fucking sense, did they?

Maybe if he’d never suggested the stupid fucking idea of pretending to date, then this never would’ve happened.

As soon as that thought creeped through his mind, a voice at the back of his head roared to life, telling him the idea was probably the best one he could’ve had. That falling for Peyton was the best result he could ask for. But Calum didn’t see any logic in that, especially when he doubted she felt the same way.

That thought had his heart sinking in his chest, his jaw clenching tightly in frustration.

Calum knew, without wanting to admit it too much, that maybe things had been changing for a few days now. But then she went and kissed him, and everything he thought he knew in regards to his relations with Peyton were gone out the window. Because, fuck, he’d never felt anything like it. Her lips had been so soft, so tantalizing that his own burned with the desire of kissing her again. The first touch of her lips on his had his entire body igniting in a fire that would make the sun jealous, head in the clouds and never wanting to bring it down. Holding her that close, kissing her like that—Calum was sure he’d never get enough.

He was so lost in his thoughts that he barely registered the knocking on his door. Blinking out of his own head, Calum’s eyes flickered to the time on the bedside clock, frowning when he saw it was one-thirty in the morning. Who the hell was knocking at his door?

Not bothering to put on a shirt, Calum got out of bed, only wearing his sweatpants, as he wandered over to the door and leaned into check through the peephole.

His breath hitched in his throat when he saw Peyton standing on the other side. Calum pulled away from the door, frowning confusedly at nothing in particular as he ran his fingers through his hair. What was she doing here? And why did the universe think it was a good idea to send the very girl he was thinking about right to his door?

Licking his lips, Calum took a breath before gripping the door handle, the sound of the door opening catching Peyton’s attention as she looked ahead. Calum watched, allowing himself to feel a bit smug, as her dark eyes took in the sight of him without a shirt, chest and arms and tattoos on full display for her viewing pleasure. He watched as her lips parted to speak up, the words dying on her tongue as her eyes flickered to his tattoos and physique, and while he admired that she seemed to be enamored by the sight of him, he needed for her to stop looking at him like that. Or else there’d definitely be a repeat of last night.

“I—” Peyton spoke up, clearing her throat, and this was the first time Calum was seeing her nervous because of him. Normally she’d ignore him or shoot him looks of annoyance or work her mouth with some snappy comment. But this was different. Calum wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about that. “Were you sleeping? I’m sorry if I woke you up.”

“No, I wasn’t,” Calum told her with a small shake of his head. At the reminder of the time, his eyebrows drew together slightly. “Is everythin’ okay?”

Peyton nodded. “Yeah.” Her throat worked, offering the smallest of smiles. “Can we, uh, talk?”

Calum felt his heart thud particularly harshly at that, unsure if this was a conversation he wanted to have. But he nodded anyway, opening the door wider and stepping to the side. “Come in.”

She entered the room and Calum couldn’t help but admire her as she walked past him, dressed in a jacket over a dark purple dress that had a V-neckline and hugged every curve she had, the sight of her in it making Calum regret not wearing any boxers under his sweats as he shut the door. He took a breath, squeezing his eyes shut briefly as her scent filled his senses, before turning around to face her.

Before Calum could ask her what was up, Peyton faced him and rushed out, “Are you mad at me?”

Calum blinked before a puzzled frown took over his face. “What?”

“Because you’ve been acting weird since last night and I told you I was sorry if I went too far but I can’t help but get the feeling that you’re still angry.”

Had she had too much to drink or something? Calum wasn’t even aware he’d given that kind of impression. “I’m not angry,” Calum told her truthfully. He was confused and in a daze and kind of really fucking into her, but he wasn’t angry. “I could ask you the same thing, doll.”

Peyton appeared taken aback. “Me? Why?”

Calum let out a small scoff of a laugh, feeling both amused and a bit disgruntled at the same time as he told her, “You’re the one that’s been off with your sister and Diana all day, Peyton.” He took a few steps closer to her, not a fan of the bit of distance between them. “Felt like you’ve been avoiding me all day.”

Her gaze averted as he neared her, rolling her lips into her mouth as she looked over to the side. She looked slightly guilty, but also hesitant. “I was just—” Peyton cut herself off, taking a deep breath before admitting with a near defeated shrug, “I was embarrassed.”

Calum’s eyebrows drew together in a frown, her words taking him by surprise as he ducked his head ever so slightly, trying to catch her gaze as his face scrunched a bit in confusion. “Emba—why?” he repeated, watching as Peyton pursed her lips. “What about?”

Her dark eyes met his, looking almost incredulous as her eyebrows drew together upwards and a humorless scoff escaped her. “What about?” Peyton repeated with a shake of her head. “Right after I kissed you, you told me I shouldn’t have done that. That’s just—I mean, that’s embarrassing!” She ran her fingers through her dark hair, pushing it back. “How else am I supposed to feel?”

Calum’s jaw was clenching as she spoke, realizing that his words probably made her freak out and feeling a pang of guilt for being the cause of that. Because the last thing she needed to be was embarrassed over what happened—and as much as it fucking confused the shit out of him, he didn’t regret it. “Not embarrassed,” he told her clearly, confidently, taking the last few steps between them to close the distance until he was standing in front of her. And, just like Peyton had the night before, Calum decided to throw caution in the wind, too. His hands came to cradle her jaw, thumbs brushing across her cheeks as her wide eyes met his. “I only said that because. . .” He let out a breath through a smile. “Because it was a bitter reminder that what I want for real. . . Was only pretend.”

Peyton’s lips parted with a shaky inhale, Calum’s heart thundering in his chest at his confession as her dark eyes stared intensely into his. “What you want. . .” she began, only to trail off with a breathless whisper.

Calum’s lips quirked up into a smile, leaning closer to Peyton as he finished her sentence with a confirming, “Is you.”

There was a moment of comprehension as Calum’s words settled in Peyton’s mind, his heart beating wildly in his chest as his words hung in the air, giving him a moment to process what he’d just admitted to. That he’d just told Peyton Dennis, the girl he more often than not got into bickering arguments with, he wanted her.

Just like the night before, Peyton made the first move of grasping his wrists, feeling the metal of his bracelet against her skin, and leaning her head up just enough to connect their lips in a heated kiss, one Calum returned instantaneously at the first feel of her soft lips against his. The desperation of the kiss had Calum groaning against Peyton’s mouth, her hands starting at his chest before sliding up to his shoulders and then eventually finding home in his hair, her fingers tangling with his curls as Calum wasted no time in licking at the seam of her lips before sliding his tongue in to meet hers.

His hands dropped from her face, his warm touch trailing down her body before placing his hands on the curve of her ass, smirking against her gasping mouth when he gave her a cheeky squeeze. Calum’s head was spinning as he tasted the strawberry chapstick she wore, kissing the taste off as he bent his knees a bit, his lips never leaving Peyton’s as his hands found the back of her thighs and lifted her off the ground easily, her legs wrapping around his hips as Calum nipped at her lips and settled himself on the edge of the bed, Peyton easily straddling his lap.

Their kisses were desperate, fueled by a fire neither of them wanted to put out, but eventually Calum pulled away, smirking at the protesting whine that escaped Peyton, only to transform into a beautiful moan as he kissed his way along her jaw, fingers digging into her hips. Peyton’s head tilted as Calum’s sinful lips worked on her neck, quickly discarding her jacket and dumping it somewhere on the floor as her left hand tangled itself into his hair once more and her right gripped his bicep, nails digging slightly into his skin as he found that spot that had her breath hitching. The sensation of his lips, tongue and teeth working on her skin in addition to his scruff scratching at her had Peyton’s heart threatening to burst out of her chest.

He marked up her neck, collarbones, and the tops of her breasts peeking up from her dress as Peyton made a mess of his hair, raking her fingers through. As Calum’s lips found hers again, his hands went to her back before finding the zipper of her dress and pulling it down hastily, impatient and desperate to get it off.

And, fuck, what a sight she was.

Calum didn’t even remember moving his laptop off the bed or even retrieving a condom, only that once Peyton was completely bare in front of him, for him, he’d tugged her back to the bed until she was lying down and his lips were on her again. Every fucking kiss sent an electrifying spark shooting through his body, warming him to his very core as he felt Peyton’s hands ran down his chest, as if committing him to memory.

“Fuckin’ beautiful, y’know that?” Calum was rasping against her lips, his right hand finding home between her legs as Peyton moaned against him as he slid a single digit in between her slick folds. He groaned. “Beautiful and so wet for me.”

Peyton’s head tilted back as his finger, soon joined by a second, worked her open as the metal of his rings had every coherent thought flying out the window, a whimsical sound escaping her and her own fingers threading through his hair as Calum moved himself down a bit, catching a nipple between his lips. She arched her back at the sensation, pushing herself into him, and Calum fucking adored the sight of her; head back and mouth dropped open in silent gasps as she tried to catch her breath with his fingers inside of her.

He continued like that, watching her lose herself thanks to his fingers while he gave her breasts the attention they deserved, his eyes never leaving her gorgeous face and taking in every pleasured expression that flashed across it. Feeling the familiar clench in her stomach, the coil forming and burning, Peyton clenched around Calum’s fingers while her dazed eyes met his. The sight of him with his kiss swollen lips wrapped around her nipples, peeking up at her through dark curls, had Peyton making sounds that were music to his ears.

“Calum,” she gasped, one hand in his hair, the other on his shoulder, and her breath robbed by his fingers and the rings that shot shivers up her spine. Her nails dug into his shoulder as she felt the cool metal of his necklace teasingly drag across the bare skin of her torso. “Oh, my God—I can’t—”

Releasing her nipple, Calum leaned up and captured Peyton’s lips with his once more, fingers never slowing down their pace as he mumbled against her lips, “Come on, sweetheart.” He pulled away from her mouth as she tilted her head back, his eyes never leaving her as an adoring yet smug smirk took over his lips, the sight of her one he wanted to picture in his head forever. He brushed his nose against her cheek as he encouraged, “Let me see you fall apart around my fingers, yeah? C’mon, baby.”

As if his fingers weren’t enough, Calum’s words were all it took for Peyton to do just as he said, her eyes clenching shut and eyebrows furrowing as her orgasm shook through her a lot more intensely than she thought. The sounds she made had Calum’s lips parting before rolling his lower lip into his mouth and biting down at it, the way she tensed before coming around his fingers a sight to be fucking seen.

Peyton was breathing heavily by the time she was done, a soft whimper escaping her as Calum pulled his fingers out, coated in her release. Smirking and already out of his sweatpants, he kneeled between her legs, grabbing the packet of the condom as he brought his fingers up to Peyton’s mouth, her lips already parted as she tried to catch her breath and he didn’t hesitate in placing his fingers in her mouth.

And she didn’t even pause in closing her lips around his digits as her hand came to grip his wrist, his stomach clenching excitedly as she sucked them clean while he tried to get his wits together and used his other hand and teeth to rip open the condom packet before rolling it onto his hardened cock. He was desperate to be in her, and lining his tip to her entrance, Calum slid into her easily and desperately, breath hitching yet still managing to smirk as Peyton moaned around his fingers, eyes shutting with a frown and her jaw dropping at the sensation of him filling her.

The sight of her, so flushed and covered in darkening hickeys with kiss swollen lips, looking so breathtaking and perfect. . . It was definitely one to behold. One he would never get tired of.

And the image of him above her, with curls brushing across his forehead and plump lips looking deliciously kissable and tattooed arms she wanted to dig her nails into. . . He looked like a god.

He was definitely answering her prayers tonight.

*****

Now that they no longer had to pretend, their remaining days in Paris were that much more enjoyable. The morning after they’d slept together, Peyton and Calum had looked at each other, mesmerized by the sight of the other laying in bed with them, wondering if it was real.

And then, Peyton asked, “No more pretending?”

To which Calum had smirked and pulled her closer and said, “This is the real thing, sweetheart.”

And that was that.

It was baffling—in the best way—how easily things went from there. How natural it felt for them to hold hands when they went out, even so far as share a kiss when they were around their families. Which had completely shocked Mali, Edie and Diana before the two had to explain to them, away from their parents, that they were an actual couple. Their sisters and Diana had been justifiably surprised and almost disbelieving, just as floored as Calum and Peyton that this was real and no longer pretend. But it was good. They were happy.

Besides—they got to have an official first date in Paris. It was kind of fucking amazing; dinner, then some dessert from a cute bakery before walking along the Seine, never once letting go of each other’s hands. It was perfect.

Undoubtedly, both still found themselves giggling over how natural it all felt. How easy it was to just forget about their years and years of cold attitudes towards one another and fall into this new dynamic that felt so wonderful and blissful and full of a kind of happiness neither of them had expected to find in one another. A kind of happiness that now that both of them had gotten a taste of, would never want to let go.

The minds of their friends back home would explode.

Sunday night, they were to go back home, their boarding time around eleven-thirty that night. It was a late flight, no doubt, but nobody seemed to mind too much since it gave them a whole day to spend in Paris for the last time. But around 9:45 that night, rushed knocks sounded on Peyton’s door, startling her from gathering all of her toiletries.

“What’s up?” she laughed in amused confusion as she opened the door to reveal a jittery Calum, bouncing on the heels of his feet as he looked at her with a grin.

“Put on your shoes,” he told her quickly, gesturing to her feet impatiently. “We gotta do something before we leave.”

She was going to question him as to what could be so important, but Calum was shooing her back into her room and Peyton rolled her eyes, walking in to slide on her Converse. Pocketing her phone and wallet, Peyton shot Calum an amused look as he grasped her hand, fingers intertwining with his as he led her towards the elevators. “Are you gonna tell me where we’re going?” she questioned once they were inside. “We have to leave for the airport in, like, half an hour.”

“It won’t take that long,” Calum reassured her, a happy glint in his dark eyes that itched at Peyton’s curiosity.

He took her out of the hotel as they began making their way down the sidewalk, walking in a comfortable silence. At one point Calum took their joined hands and raised them so he could drape his arm around her shoulders, tucking her into his side as she changed hands to hold his right one in her left, hanging over her shoulder, so her right arm could wind around his waist as they went.

Eventually, they were at the Eiffel Tower, and Peyton shot him a questioning look as she pointed out, “We’ve already been here. A bunch of times.”

Calum rolled his eyes, though his smile remained. “I’m well aware, doll,” he said, digging something out of his pocket.

Just as Peyton recognized his phone, the lights of the tower went off, glittering against the night sky as a bunch of tourists ooh and ahh’d at the sight. Peyton watched as Calum stepped away from her, raising her eyebrows as he walked up to a woman standing idly by as he spoke to her. When Peyton saw her nod as he handed her phone to her, she let out a small laugh as she understood what he was doing, grinning fondly at him as he quickly made his way over.

They stood, right in front of the tower, as Calum grasped her hands in his. “C’mere,” he murmured through a grin of his own, and Peyton easily complied as his hands familiarly grasped her face and he pressed his lips to hers.

Peyton couldn’t help but smile into the kiss, her eyes closing and arms winding around his waist, adoring how fucking cheesy and cute this was, her heart pounding that this was something Calum wanted to do. Over the past few days of them actually being together, she’d come to realize just how sweet he was, how thoughtful and considerate he was when it came to others. Always wanting to hold her hand or keep and arm around her, kissing the top of her head or her temple, buying her whatever treat he found her eyeing whenever they passed a bakery, and just generally being the kind of sweet she didn’t expect from him.

It was a wonderfully pleasant realization, and Peyton hated that it took five years for her to see that.

They pulled away moments later, foreheads pressing together and breathy giggles escaping them both as she commented, “That was so freaking sweet.”

Calum pressed his lips to hers once more before pulling away with a cheeky wink. “Not as sweet as you, doll.”

Her cheeks hurt from how widely she was smiling.

A few hours later, Peyton was in the bathroom at the airport, washing her hands as her mom stepped out of the stall and came up next to her. They were about to board soon, everyone else seated in the waiting area for their gate as Peyton put some soap on her hands.

“I’m glad you and Calum finally saw what the rest of us were seeing,” her mom hummed as she turned on the tap, catching Peyton’s attention. Casually, her mother added, “A bit ridiculous that you had to see it after your attempt at trying to fool us but, hey, whatever does the trick.”

Peyton froze, hands unmoving under the running water as her head snapped up, eyes going to her mother through the reflection of the mirror in front of them. Her thoughts had ceased out of complete shock. Through a startled laugh, she asked, “What?”

Her mom chuckled in amusement, washing her hands before shooting her daughter a knowing look. “Come on, honey, you think you could play your own mom? Please,” she scoffed with a roll of her eyes, turning off the tap. “It wasn’t hard to figure out you two were only pretending.”

Peyton couldn’t believe what she was hearing, absently turning off the tap and gaping at her mom with wide eyes and a slackened jaw. She was deaf to the other women in the bathroom, to the water running and toilets flushing and the automatic hand dryers roaring as she followed her mom to one of them. She knew? Peyton was in a state of complete disbelief. “If—If you knew then how co—why didn’t you say anything?” she stammered out, unable to totally get her thoughts together.

“Because I knew what would happen if I stayed quiet,” her mom answered with a laugh, looking quite smug. “I knew you two would eventually see how well you work together and would stop pretending on your own. I just waited for it to happen. I’m happy it didn’t take you too long, though. It was only a matter of time until you realized you were no longer pretending.”

“Oh, my God,” Peyton scoffed out a laugh, her wide eyes and disbelieving smile still on her face as she shook her head at her mom while drying her hands. “So we were just pretending for nothing?”

Her mom clicked her tongue. “Not for nothing,” she reminded with a smile. “You got quite a handsome boyfriend out of it, didn’t you?”

Peyton pressed her smiling lips together, the disbelief still leaving her in a state of bewilderment, yet she couldn’t stop the grin from forming as she thought of her tall, dark haired and tattooed boyfriend. A boyfriend she dizzyingly adored. “Yeah,” she relented with a sigh that could be only described as blissful, her cheeks warming at the thought of Calum. “I did.”

Her smug mother winked. “Told you so.”

Peyton scoffed again, pressing her tongue to the back of her teeth in wonderous awe as her mom left the bathroom, shaking her head to shake the shock off. Although she doubted that would happen any time soon. She couldn’t believe her mother knew this entire time, letting her and Calum believe that they had their parents fooled. Peyton wondered if anyone else knew, too, but then figured that it wasn’t important. Not anymore. Not when she and Calum were actually together with no scheme up their sleeves.

By the time she returned to where their gate was, they were already lining up to board and Peyton smiled when she saw Calum standing amongst their families, her travel backpack hanging off one of his shoulders from the strap. She took it from him once she came to stand next to him, and Calum smiled, “Got Mali to switch seats with you.” His arm found home around her shoulders as he leaned he tucked her closer. “You’re mine for the next eleven hours.”

Oh, man, she was his for as long as he’d have her.

Peyton grinned at that as the line shuffled forward. “Calum.” He looked at her, raising an eyebrow, and the incredulous smile was on her face as she quietly told him, “My mom knew. She knew about the plan this entire time.”

She watched as dumbfoundment flashed across Calum’s face, eyebrows drawing together and eyes widening, mirroring the expression she must’ve had in the bathroom upon hearing the same thing. “What? Are you kidding?” he asked through a confused, deep chuckle.

Peyton rolled her smiling lips into her mouth as she shook her head before letting out a laugh. “No, she just told me in the bathroom. I’m just as shook as you are.”

Calum looked ahead with the incredulous expression still painted on his face, lips parted before he looked back at Peyton. “How come she never said anything?”

Peyton shrugged, but still smiled as she recalled her mother’s words, her dark eyes meeting Calum’s as her smile turned soft, her tone quiet. “She said it was only a matter of time until we realized we weren’t pretending anymore,” she told him, feeling her heart flutter when a smile graced Calum’s lips as well after a small scoff of his own.

“Guess she was right,” Calum hummed as they took a few more steps forward. He gazed down at Peyton, taking in her pretty face with dark eyes and long lashes and pink lips and adorable freckles. Took in how stunning she was, and how much he found himself just absolutely adoring her, infatuated with her, in a matter of days. How quickly just pretending transformed into something so fucking real and how the girl Calum hadn’t gotten along with easily became the one he couldn’t stop thinking about.

He grinned, boyish and charming as he completely pressed her into his side, head tilted down to keep his gaze locked on her warm one. “I think we can both agree this plan of mine was riveting, huh?”

At that, Peyton let out a laugh, head tilting back as Calum grinned, knowing she picked up on the reference to the night when he first told her about his idea, how she’d rejected it before even listening to it. Peyton shook her head, a happy grin lighting up her face and her eyes, shaking her head up at Calum as she asked, “Are you gonna play that card a lot? Let me know now.”

Calum pressed his forehead to hers, uncaring that they were in a public place, loving any kind of closeness he could get with Peyton. Her left hand came up to grasp his right that was hanging off her shoulder, intertwining their fingers. “Of course I am. It’s the best plan I’ve ever had.”

Mirth danced in her dark eyes, leaning away from him ever so slightly as she teasingly asked, “Oh, so am I just a plan, then?”

Calum’s smile lessened a bit, a serious expression falling over his face yet the fondness for the women he was holding never diminished from his eyes. “No,” he said, tone quiet and just for her, pulling her back into him. Calum lightly brushed his nose against hers, pressing a soft kiss to her inviting lips, smiling when she tried to chase his lips once he pulled away. “You’re my girl. You’re the real fuckin’ thing.”

tags: @crownedbyluke @angelbbycal @irwinkitten @captain-what-is-going-on @astroashtonio @caelumhood @softforcal @hotmessmichael @meetashthere @glitterprincelu @valentinelrh @flannelpunkcalum @old-zeppelin-shirt @roselukes @kinglycalum @heavenlyhemminqs @slimthicccal @wrappedaroundcal @calumhampton @ohhmuke @lipstickstainfading @calumsmermaid @cals-babylons @inlovehoodx @5secondssofssummer @paqueretteash @fucking5sos @sublimehood @hereforlukescruff @ghostofch @cliffordcntrl @hoodcentral @asht0ns-world @soulmatecashton @babygirlcashton @invisiblexcth @calumh-excess @cal-pal-cuddles @lovelettercalum @checkeredcalum @empathycth @calntynes @jetblackyoungblood @gigglyirwin @hearts-to-the-sky @poppedpins @xhaileyreneex @5sos-stan4lyfe @cosmixcalum @lifeakaharry @complete-trash-101 @calistheloml @romanticalumhood @cathartichaoss @sunnysidesblog @cxddlyash @akacalciumhood @calumthoodsyonce @gorgeouslygrace

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