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claire-starsword · 2 years ago

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Shining Soul 2 - Prologue and Character Bios translation

While to my knowledge the game’s story is the same for all the characters, they all actually have their own backstory behind the scenes, and it’s a shame that nothing gets brought up, especially since one of them seems linked to the main antagonist, if we can even call Gillespie that.

All the info here is taken from the official guide book, which is sadly kinda poor, and from the old official website. Everyone say thank you Internet Archive real quick, because while I’ve seen a backup from sega around it already had broken pages.

Prologue [this one is the same in both the book and the website]

The time when the warriors of light defeated the forces of darkness is now in the very distant past.

The world was at peace.

However, an incident slowly inched closer.

Sometimes the sun's light would be blocked by thick clouds, while at others there'd be continuous drought, and water supplies would dry out, making the people suffer.

Finally, monsters began to appear, and the world fell in despair...

King Marcel of the Klantol Kingdom felt how dire the situation was and, besides building a fortress and strengthening the country's defenses, declared open a fighting tournament in the Colosseum, in order to find heroes powerful enough to exterminate the monsters.

"...Heroes who have inherited the light, you’ll save this world covered in darkness!"

Characters

Warrior Alex [Eric in the english version]

Guide book:

A descendant of the Legendary Warrior always aiming to be strongest

A descendant of the warrior that defeated Dark Dragon long ago. While traveling throughout the world as he practiced his sword skills, he decided to take part in the fighting tournament.

Website:

Alex descends from the warrior who defeated Dark Dragon in the distant past, although he doesn't know that.

He's still growing up and thus has a huge appetite. A mischievous boy going through puberty. He wants to travel the whole world as a warrior one day.

A specialist in close combat - His balance of offense and defense is exceptionally good

A warrior who uses strong melee weapons. He balances that well with great defensive equipment and is thus an easy to use character.

___

Magician Pamela [Premiera in the english version]

Guide book:

A heroine of legendary blood hiding magical power behind that beauty

A descendant of the magician who fought Dark Dragon. Contrary to what you might assume from her looks, she's a hard worker who doesn't hold back in her efforts. Sensing the incident in the island, she took part in the fighting tournament.

Website:

A girl a little (two or three years) older than Alex.

While her magic skills are still getting there, she's descendant of a legendary magician. She aims to become the greatest magician in the kingdom, and trains day and night with no skipping.

A specialist in offensive magic who can use a variety of spells

She can attack enemies from a distance with many types of magic. Of course, since she has no physical strength, her physical attacks and defensive equipment are not very great.

Archer Rwinn

Guide book:

A kind forest guardian of flawless skill with the bow

One hailing from the elven race that lives traveling throughout the forests of the whole world. After a certain event he became good friends with the family that runs the item shop. Feeling the unusual incident impacting the forest's creatures, he came to the fighting tournament.

Website:

It is unknown if he's a descendant of the archer who defeated Dark Dragon.

In the past years, he noticed that the forest has been restless and unusual incidents have been happening to the creatures there, and thus felt that the balance between light and darkness was crumbling.

Skilled in long distance attacks with bows and throwing spears

He is skilled at long distance attacks but, in counterpoint to that, is exceptionally bad at close combat. He can also attack borrowing the strength of the animals that live in the forest.

Dragon Warrior Tyroth

Guide book:

Number one in destructive power! A brave beast warrior

A young dragonewt of strong body and mind. Has a troublesome but inseparable relationship with the drunkards of the tavern. Sensing the incident in the island, he decided to take part in the tournament.

Website:

Originally, the dragonewt race used to live in regions of the continent with lava, but as this peaceful era went on, plenty of young dragonewts began wanting to know more of society and be active throughout the world. Tyroth is one of these young people.

This heavy soldier has plenty of openings but his attack power is number one

Using heavy weapons like axes and flails, he deals strong blows to his opponents. Naturally, his weak spots are the time he takes to attack and his slow movement.

Priest Prim

Guide book:

A novice priestess who wields the light and banishes evil

She's a girl of the race known as cantaul, and both her parents are priests of light famous throughout the world. Having a sharp sixth sense, she felt evil energies and came to the island.

Website:

A girl of the cantaul race, which is few in numbers nowadays.

She descends from preachers of the light doctrine skilled in light magic.

Her skills as a priest are still developing, but she has excellent control of her spiritual aspect, and her sixth sense is far better than that of a human.

She saves the party with healing and support magic

Despite being able to equip flails, her attacking capability is still shaky. However, her real strength is in helping the party with skills like healing and support magic

Brawler Zachs

Guide book:

A solitary grappler who shreds his enemies with swift attacks

A wolfling man skilled at hand-to-hand combat. He usually never misses a day of his training. And in order to put his skills in service of the people, he joined the tournament.

Website:

The wolfling Zachs was an orphan.

In his youth, Zachs learned a special form of hand-to-hand combat from someone, and was then raised by a martial artist who had mastered the spiritual power of sensing the flow of ki.

He has no defense but attack and speed are outstanding

With superior speed and high attack he can defeat monsters in an instant. However, in order to preserve that speed, he has limitations on what he can equip, so his defense is a bit worrisome.

Dark Wizard Bradster [Armand in the english version]

Guide book:

A mixed race of human and vampire blood who bends dark magic to his will

A half human half vampire man skilled at dark magic. Due to his mixed blood, he's weak to light. He came to the tournament looking for his missing twin brother.

Website:

Bradster was born from a human and a vampire. His magic is tied to the darkness. He is very skilled in this dark magic.

He has a twin brother, and seems to be following after his last whereabouts.

A half human half vampire skilled in magic

A character skilled at magic that uses the powers of darkness to transform into monsters, spew poison and so on. He can also fight summoning special swords.

Ninja Raizen

Guide book:

An assassin swift as the wind, from the land of the rising sun

He uses the arts known as "ninjutsu" from a small island country to the far east. Following the duty written in the Prophetic Scrolls passed down by his ancestors, he joined the tournament.

Website:

Raizen was born and raised in a small country to the far east.

He belongs to a class known as ninja who utilize arts called ninjutsu.

Right from the moment of his birth he has undergone harsh training away from people's eyes, and his arts are on a level any magician can respect and admire.

He makes full use of swift attacks and special arts

He makes a fool of the enemies with fast attacks and ninjutsu tricks. He is also notable for having the fastest movement among all characters.

___

Notes:

I talked about it only in the tags but it might be worth noting it here, the conflict against Dark Dragon mentioned here is that of the first Shining Soul game, not Shining Force. Shining Soul does attempt to have some connections to the classic games but those are shaky at best.

As I mentioned in the beginning, the dark wizard’s missing twin is Gillespie, the game’s main antagonist which has basically zero lore or even much relevancy in game, something that boggles me to this day.

#shining soul #shining soul 2 #shining series #shining soul 2 translations #sf simone #i wonder why is she portrayed with the forbidden fruit #it legit feels like there were a lot of concepts behind this one that never came even close to being put in the game #ssoul2 alex #i refuse to call him eric obviously #ssoul2 pamela premiera #obviously these characters are descendants of the first soul characters #but. it does feel like they also pulled a bit from max and anri with these two doesn't it #idk how much of that might be just. having the same designer though #ssoul2 rwinn #ssoul2 tyroth #ssoul2 prim #ssoul2 raizen #who is this guy lol #jk i had to stare far too much at each one of his sprites. i am extremely aware of him and prim by now #ssoul2 zachs #ssoul2 bradster armand #this one is legit mindboggling #i started a playthrough with the unlockable gillespie one and it looked the exact same which is weird as hell #and now there's another guy who by all means should have another plot???#wack #like with the first soul i kinda feel there wasn't any plot to begin with and it was all just a big shoutout to force villains #but this one like. the ideas are there. there was just zero effort to put them in #maybe this stuff was even written after the game was done though i get a different vibe #given how cinematic the start of the game is #anyway. just rambling lol

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blainesebastian · 10 days ago

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more than yesterday

word count: 10,669 ship: Nick Leister x reader rating: NC-17 (for smut, suggestive sexual language, and expletives) summary: One time you asked your grandmother if she loved your grandfather as much as she did when that picture was taken of them. She would smile and pat your hand, "I love him more than I did yesterday". You're not sure how that's possible. notes: thanks so much for reading! :) any comments, likes, reblogs or asks are very much appreciated notes2: masterlist is here, gifs are from here!

There’s this old picture of your grandparents that you’re obsessed with.

They were on vacation somewhere, a couple’s retreat, the location doesn’t matter as much as what they’re doing in the photograph. There’s a body of water behind them, a river, a stream, maybe a creek of some kind. They’re standing on a large rock, facing the camera, your grandmother’s smile bright as your grandfather stands behind her, arms around her, chin on her shoulder. His face is nearly tucked into her neck.

The love that radiates from that picture makes your chest ache.

One time you asked her if she loved him now just as much as she did when that picture was taken. Your parents' marriage is…fractured, distant, cold. Their photos together never look like any of your grandparents’. You think one of the most horrible things a person can be stuck in is a loveless relationship. Just for the sake of it. For settling.

Your grandmother would pat your hand with wrinkled fingers, smile bright, eyes a little glassy and say: I love him more than I did yesterday.

You’re not sure how that’s possible.

—

You can tell just from the sound of his voice that he got caught in the rain, Nick’s accent a shade deeper as he sniffles, telling you all about Maddie’s game. You adjust your phone against your ear, leaning back against your pillows. You’re glad it seemed to go well? That her team won but…

“Don’t take this personally,” You say after a moment, “But you sound awful.”

He laughs softly, “Yeah, I didn’t know it was going to rain like that. Caught me completely off guard.”

You wince, rubbing the back of your neck, “I hope you don’t get sick.”

There’s a soft huff of air that definitely sounds like he’s shivering. “My immune system is impeccable, I never get sick.” There’s the familiar noise of water starting in the background. “I’m going to shower, I’ll call you back.”

You roll your eyes, a small smile tugging the corners of your mouth, letting him hang up before resting your phone against your chest. In the time you’ve been with Nick, you suppose that statement is pretty accurate. You tend to end up sick more than he does. Not to mention, in the times he’s taken care of you? He’s been lucky to come out on the other side unscathed. Kinda unfair, but then again, you’re glad that he hasn’t managed to catch any bugs from you…that would just end up making you feel worse.

But him tossing out I never get sick into the universe? Famous last words for sure.

—

It’s obvious as you hang out at Jenna’s place that Nick doesn’t feel well. He’s been quiet most of the night, a bit more contemplative than usual. There’s a pallidness to his skin tone, darker circles under tired eyes, and he keeps bringing his hand up to rub at the bridge of his nose. Despite the fact that you’re the designated driver for this party, he’s only had one beer, and you don’t even think he’s finished it.

Coming back from the bathroom, you slide up to him in the kitchen as he sits on a stool at the counter, listening to Lion and Zach talk about upcoming fights at Lion’s gym. His arm slides automatically around you, squeezing your hip, and you lean into his side. You take a long look at his profile, pressing yourself up on your toes to plant a kiss on his temple.

He turns his head a bit in your direction and you give him a gentle smile, “You okay?” Your hand slides up his back, resting along his neck. Your thumb and forefinger massage the tense muscles there.

Nick lets out a slow breath through his nose, tipping his chin down to speak over the music, “Have a headache that won’t quit.”

You wince in quiet sympathy; you know exactly what that’s like and you’re sure the beats and vibrations of the songs playing aren’t helping. “C’mon, let’s get out of here.”

He chews on the inside of his cheek, “I didn’t want to ruin your night by cutting it short.”

You give him a look that he should be well familiar with now, because how could your night be ruined if you’re spending it together? The corners of his lips twitch in a barely there smile before nodding, setting his beer down on the counter. You’re out the door and in the car as soon as goodbyes are shared.

—

Unsurprisingly, Nick’s radio-silent the next day—you don’t need to guess to know why.

Not giving him the chance to squiggle out of letting you come over, you grab a small bag and fill it with all the essentials you can think of that make you feel better when you’re sick. You run through the mental checklist: warm compresses, Vicks VapoRub, chapstick, a can of your favorite soup (you wish you could cook like Nick does but alas, it’s the thought that counts), extra tissues, vitamin C and your cure-all mint tea (the best with no milk and a little honey).

Making your way over to his place, you’re patient as you knock on the door, eyebrows lifting when he opens up. Your heart clenches in your chest when you get a good look at him—he’s in a pair of sweats and a white t-shirt, a zip-up hoodie unzipped, his curls a little unruly, eyes slightly glazed over and the tip of his nose red.

You chew on your lower lip, trying not to smile, “Wow,” You trail off a moment, “You look…you look terrible.”

He scoffs, which just ends up making him cough. He turns away from you, putting his face into his arm. You wince, stepping through the doorway before he insists on you leaving. He tries to put his other hand up to stop you from getting any closer, but you’re not worried about getting sick. You’re worried about him.

“Awful bedside manner.” He replies, voice the consistency of gravel.

Your hand gently trails over his arm, squeezing his wrist. It sounds painful—the tea you brought should help with that. “I won’t be getting that review once you see what I’ve brought.”

The door closes behind you and a bright smile spreads over your face as you reach into the bag to showcase everything you have that’ll help make him feel better. But Nick is already shaking his head, crinkling his nose. He sighs, rubbing the bridge of it, struggling with a sneeze before straightening his shoulders.

Once he trusts himself to speak, he says, “Trust me, it’s not like I’m not happy to see you, but I just want you to head back home.”

You purse your lips in thought, “Huh. ‘I want you to head home’... I don’t recognize that brand…” You reply, totally bypassing his concern, “They were out of that at the store.”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.” You’re remaining firm on this, your face softening as you get a good look at him. You reach up and gently toy with a few curls near his forehead, “Let me take care of you for once.”

Nick looks like he still wants to protest, but takes a step back and sneezes into his arm instead. You hum softly, nodding,

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

—

Nick relents (barely) to you stepping in and helping him feel better. He bristles against the idea of sticking to one spot, but you encourage him as much as possible to settle on the couch and allow you to grab things for him. You wrap a blanket around him, you make him a hot cup of tea, you make sure those tissues are within reach. You also sneakily take his temperature by pressing a kiss to his forehead.

He gently grabs onto your wrist, tugging you back, “I don’t have a fever.”

You hum, sitting down next to his outstretched legs. “You still feel pretty warm.”

Nick takes a slow sip of his tea, shrugging his one shoulder, “Thought I was at least pretty hot.”

You smirk, reaching into the bag for the can of soup, “Should have known you were going to take advantage of that one.” You show him the can, “This is all I can do, I won’t be taking questions or feedback at this time.”

When you’re sick? Nick manages to make these…home cooked meals that are utterly comforting. It’s something that he manages to whip up pretty quickly too, or maybe that’s always the delusions of a fever, who knows. Regardless, you know that a can of soup is pretty pathetic compared to what he’s able to give you.

You go to stand, but Nick stalls you with a soft hey. You pause, looking over at him, your graze brushing over the tired lines of his face. Still so handsome, even when he’s struggling with being sick.

“You don’t have to do all of this for me.”

You shake your head, wanting to shush him for trying to give you an out. Doesn’t he get it? You reach for his hand, squeezing, drawing it up to your face to press a kiss to his knuckles, “I want to.” You look down at the can, “Besides…how bad can it be? Making a can of soup.”

Nick doesn’t say anything, but he does wince.

A scoff sounds from your lips, “I saw that.” You mumble, standing from the couch to head into the kitchen.

—

Good news: you make the can of soup without anything catching on fire.

Bad news: by the time it’s finished, Nick’s asleep on the couch.

But as you sit down next to him, threading some fingers through his hair, you consider that maybe that’s not such a bad thing.

—

You’re late heading to this party that Jenna is throwing and you’re pretty sure that it’s a surprise for Lion’s birthday. You swear your internal clock is just off lately, like you’re ten minutes behind no matter how early you try and get yourself together. That, however, has nothing to do with why you’re tucked into your walk-in closet, tossing clothes over your shoulder as if you’re doing a bout of spring cleaning.

You had a dress set aside, something you had been planning on wearing for a week or two, something new that still had tags on it. Well, all best laid plans—you went to put it on and it didn’t fit. Couldn’t get the zipper to budge. Honestly at this point you should know better than to buy something without trying it on, but you’d been so confident. You tried all the tricks in order to problem solve—greasing the zipper, putting it on backwards and frontwards to shift where the zipper was, zipping and then trying to pull it on.

Nothing worked. It’s currently under the small pile of clothes near where your shoes are organized.

You cross your arms over your chest, standing in a pair of high-waisted underwear and a bralette, staring at your clothes like they’re completely foreign objects to you, like they belong to someone else. Everything you pull on, you just…hate how it looks, hate how you look. You can feel the tell-tale signs of frustrations building up in your chest, crushing your ribs together, the clock working against you in being able to figure this out.

You swallow over the urge to cry, determination straightening your shoulders as you reach for something else but—

“There you are,” Nick’s voice sounds as he steps into the closet (and over a pile of dresses), “I’ve been calling you.”

Curling your hair around your ear, you filter through a few other things still on hangers, “Sorry, my phone is…” You glance around, your eyebrows drawing together, “Somewhere.”

Nick pauses, seeming to actually take in the space around him before you can feel his gaze back on you, settling right between your shoulder blades, “What happened in here?”

His voice is warm, curious, and for some reason it makes your chest hurt a little bit. You shake your head, not wanting to reply to him, not even wanting to look in his direction. But Nick’s always been someone that’s like a beacon, a black hole, he pulls you closer without even trying to. Your eyes run over his form—lithe, toned from boxing, from working out but not from trying very hard. He’s wearing jeans and a blue waffle-knit sweater, leather jacket on top, his usual silver jewelry pieces paired with a new watch. The navy of his sweater is making the dyed curls in his hair appear golden.

Easily beautiful, and an ugly voice slithers into your head, something from a dark corner that you usually have silenced—what in the world is someone like that doing with someone like me?

Your breath hitches in your chest as you stand up straight, tearing your gaze away from him. “Just…trying to find something to wear for Lion’s party.” You’re hoping that your focus on the dresses in front of you hide whatever beginnings of a meltdown you’re having, fingers shaking as you skid another dress on a hanger out of your way.

You expect Nick to maybe remind you of what time it is, but he doesn’t do that, instead you can feel him walk closer. The heat of his body presses into your back and he gently reaches out and wraps his fingers around your wrist, turning you around until you’re facing him. He tips your chin up with his other hand, eyes scanning your face.

“Look at me,” His voice is soft, patient. He brushes a thumb along your jawline.

You bite down hard on the inside of your cheek so you don’t do something ridiculous, like cry, but a traitorous tear slides down onto Nick’s hand. Regardless that he probably knows exactly what’s wrong, he asks anyways,

“Talk to me. Tell me what’s going on.” He knows that talking it out removes the potency it has in your head, like the words lose their meaning the moment they’re out of your mouth. Which is why it’s so difficult for you to release them from underneath your tongue.

You draw in a slow breath, curling your hair around your ear, “I had this dress I was going to wear and it didn’t—it didn’t fit,” Your voice gets smaller, like you feel like you have to hide that from him? Someone who knows you better than anyone. “And I know that’s not the end of the world or anything, I’m just frustrated,”

You pull back a little, motioning to all the clothes on your floor.

“Because nothing looks right.”

You tilt your head back as Nick says your name, a soft sound that feels like some sort of promise and you quickly put your hand up, not wanting to hear him comfort you. You…it’s appreciated but,

“I know,” You mumble, “It’s just…” You shake your head, “It’s fine, I’ll find something to wear and we’ll get going.”

Nick moves to catch your elbow before you can walk too far in the other direction, gently guiding you towards…the mirror? “Nick.” You squirm but he’s a warm weight behind you, a wall of toned muscle as he wraps his arms around your waist, hooking his chin over your shoulder.

He presses into you, his fingers brushing along your ribs, causing goosebumps to spread on your skin.

“Shh,” He whispers, planting an open-mouthed kiss on your shoulder. “Take a breath. Relax.”

It’s easy to do that with him, despite your peak in anxiety, despite the funeral of clothing on the floor. You lean into him, the firm planes of his chest feel like home in words you can’t describe.

“Can you look at yourself in the mirror for me?” And at the gentle protest of his name leaving your mouth again, he smiles a little against your jawline. “Real quick.”

You let out a soft huff before swallowing over a thick emotion in your throat, your eyes reluctantly shifting to the glass. You know what he’s doing, and yet you find yourself unable to look at anything other than Nick—the strength of his body, the way his one hand is splayed on your stomach while the other rests on your hip.

He’s quiet for a long moment, relaxing you by pressing a series of kisses to your shoulder, the back of your neck, your jawline when you turn your head slightly. You melt right into him, his intention, you’re sure. Your eyes slip closed and when he notices, he squeezes your hip.

“Eyes on me,” He instructs and butterflies begin in your chest, seeping down into your belly. You listen, gaze wandering to his brown eyes and the look on his face causes heat to throb between your legs.

“I wish you saw how I see you,” He says carefully, thumb brushing over the fabric of your underwear, right at the elastic. He doesn’t waste time saying things that you know he's thinking—beautiful, perfect, his. He’s always been a more tactile person; has spoken better with his hands.

“But since you seem to be caught up,” He nips at your earlobe. “I’m going to show you.”

Part of you wants to tease that you can feel how he sees you pressed into your ass but all manner of coherent thought leaves your head when his hand slips into your underwear. There’s no wasted time, there’s no need to rile you up, you’re already wet for him. He gently spreads your lips with his fingers, a soft moan in your ear as he brushes his fingers over your clit.

You give a full bodied shudder, leaning further back against him, your head wanting to tilt back to rest on his shoulder as he begins to circle your clit, as one finger slips into you, two. You attempt to turn your head, maybe hide your face, maybe kiss him, but his other hand comes up and turns your chin.

“Look.”

Your breathing picks up when you manage to get a look at yourself, falling apart to Nick’s hand, how flushed your skin is, how pliable you are underneath his touch. He grinds himself into your back as he picks up the pace, his fingers moving in and out of you in a rhythm that feels like it unlocks something in you, pleasure building and building—

“Nick,” You whisper, unable to keep your eyes open, rolling your hips into his touch as much as you can.

He doesn’t waste time, he doesn’t tease you, he rolls his thumb against your clit, tilting his head down to steal a kiss when your head turns towards him again. You let yourself go, cumming hard, using his body to support you, to keep you upright. His arm moves, closing more securely around your waist, making sure you don’t sink to the floor.

You shift in his arms, wrapping your own around his neck. His hand runs down your back, keeping you near, only pulling back to breathe. While this is the last thing you expected when Nick showed up, you have to admit that you do feel better.

You press a kiss to his cheek, not saying the words, but Nick gives you a soft smile because he already knows.

He licks his lips, “Doesn’t matter what you wear tonight,” He tells you, cupping your cheek, thumb pressing against your lower lip. “Because when we come back here I’m taking it off.”

—

Today has been a…weird day, to say the very least. Nothing happened, exactly, but it feels emotionally taxing nonetheless. You think it’s just a build-up from the week, the busyness of family obligations and planning for the future and…honestly? The weekends without Nick always feel a bit strained. You know how that makes you sound, and it’s not like you’re the type of girl who can’t handle a few days without her boyfriend. But you think it speaks to the testament of your relationship together, that he’s your person. It’ll be nice once that balance is back in place.

Nick’s never minded you hanging out in his bedroom when he’s not home, a space to feel close to him, a place that feels safe, comforting. You gently push the door open with your shoulder, setting your bag down on a chair, and you run a hand through your hair before sitting down on the edge of his bed. A small smile twinges the corners of your mouth when your phone buzzes, taking it out to see his name.

It’s like he can sense you’re there, or something. Hitting the proper button, you put the phone on speaker, “Hi.”

“Hey yourself,” You can hear the smile in his voice.

“How far away are you?”

“I just left,” He replies, sounding a little guilty, “I’m sorry, I know it’s later than I usually am.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” You assure him, “I just miss you.”

“I miss you too,” You close your eyes, stretching your legs out—you can hear the rumble of the familiar engine, can picture him driving. The deep timbre of his voice makes it feel like he’s right beside you, “Are you home?”

“I’m in your room,” You reply, a little sheepishly. “I hope that’s okay.”

“Of course it’s okay,” He replies quickly, “Stay until I get there?”

You smile, standing and stretching your arms over your head. You wander into his closet, tugging one of the drawers open that have his t-shirts in it, “As if you could convince me otherwise, your bed is far more comfier than mine.”

He chuckles, “It’s the tempurpedic mattress topper.”

You tug a shirt out, wandering back to his bed to change into, “You’re like a seventy-year old man.”

“I have never heard you complain.” He volleys back.

You grin, setting the phone down to shimmy out of your jeans, “You’re lucky your stamina hasn’t suffered.” After pulling his shirt on, you tug the covers back, crawling in. They’re crisp and cool and smell like him. You press your face into the corner of his pillow, breathing him in.

“You sound tired.” He says after a moment.

“Just what every girl wants to hear.” You’re teasing, a smile tugging the corners of your lips, but your voice is soft.

“Want to tell me about your day?”

Your heart warms at the offer and you find yourself nodding even though he can’t see you.

—

You don’t remember falling asleep but when you wake up, your phone is permanently etched in the skin on the side of your face against Nick’s pillow. You blink, rubbing a hand over your eyes, turning your head a little when you hear movement near his closet. It’s Nick taking his sweater off, and once he sees you, a warm expression lights the brown in his eyes.

“Hey,” He whispers, moving to sit near your thighs, “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

He reaches for your phone, disentangling your hair that somehow has gotten wrapped up in the corner of the case, and sets it on the nightstand.

“You didn’t,” You mumble, clearing the scratch from lack of use. You’re not sure how long you’ve been asleep but the sluggish feeling wanting to pull you under tells you it wasn't much. Your hand slips over your face again, pinching the bridge of your nose, “What time is it?”

Nick threads his fingers through your hair, resting his palm on your shoulder, “Just after midnight.”

“How’s Maddie?” You ask, dropping your hand, reaching for his. Your fingers lace together effortlessly, his thumb brushing over your knuckles.

He smiles, that same affectionate look that always graces his features when he talks about his sister. “She’s good. Made captain on her team.”

You grin, “That’s awesome, I’ll have to bake her something.”

Nick purses his lips, squeezing your hand, “Think a card will do.” You scoff, attempting to smack his chest but his reflexes are fast, catching your wrist before you can. He laughs, squeezing your hand again, “I’m joking—just joking.”

“You are not,” You mumble.

“Just worried about food poisoning—” He doesn’t get to finish that sentence because you bop his head with a pillow. A small giggle escapes your lips as he looks a bit taken off guard and he smooths a hand over his hair before he leans down and steals a kiss.

“Just for that, I’m not helping you bake anything.” He replies against your lips.

You can’t help but grin, nipping at his lower lip. “Liar.”

Nick hums, shaking his head. He kisses your cheek…and then plants another one on your jawline and then lands a bunch in rapid succession over your chin and neck until you’re laughing and pushing him away.

“I’m going to take a shower.” He tells you, standing, your hands still laced. “Go back to sleep.”

You smile a little, dipping your chin into the pillow he usually sleeps on, watching him disappear back into his closet. You’re asleep by the time he comes back out.

—

You’re not awake, exactly, but you feel him crawl into bed. A warm, solid weight behind you, the smell of his soap and shampoo, the slight dampness of his hair. He inches close, folds himself against your body, runs his hand up and down your arm before covering your shoulder with the duvet. His face tucks against the back of your neck, a kiss placed there, before he lets out a long breath through his nose.

Like he can finally feel settled too now that he’s lying down next to you.

—

“I just think…” You pause, pulling your hair away from your face and then focusing on the apron tie around your waist, “We should, you know, work this like a checklist.”

Nick narrows his eyes, his palms resting on the marble countertop, “I could do this in my sleep.”

“And that’s not the point!” You exclaim with a laugh. “I said I wanted to bake Maddie something to celebrate her whole captainship…thing. I don’t remember inviting you to help.”

He glances at the ingredients you’ve set out on the counter, drawing his lower lip into his mouth and biting down for a moment, “Don’t take this the wrong way but—”

“How else am I supposed to take it when you start off like that?”

“—the last time you tried to bake something, on your own, something caught fire.”

You wince, “That was…an extenuating circumstance.”

“My oven still hasn’t recovered.”

“Nick.”

And his mouth twitches with a smile when you whine his name like that. He raises his eyebrows, pulling his hands back from the counter and resting them behind his back, waiting for you to continue.

“If I follow the recipe, step by step, it’ll work.” You’re not sure who you’re trying to convince—him or yourself.

Baking is just one of those things that you can’t interpret, that you shouldn’t change too much. Everyone has their own way of doing things but…in general? Nick’s right. You’re sort of a bit of a disaster in the kitchen, you don’t need help ruining something.

So step by step and you’ll be able to make these chocolate chip, peanut butter cookies for Maddie.

You point at him, “So let me do this.”

He hums, glancing against the ingredients before kissing your cheek. “Whatever you want.”

—

Two failed attempts later, you’re ready to throw the jar of peanut butter out the kitchen window.

You just…don’t get what happened. You followed every step to the letter, you have all the ingredients and measurements right, the oven temperature is correct (nothing was set on fire) and yet…something is off. The cookies are weirdly shaped, not baking so that they’re crispy on the outside (soft on the inside) and honestly? They don’t taste great.

“I don’t understand.” You pout, pushing one of the cookies off the plate to land on the counter. It makes a noise you want to deny later, something that gives way that it’s harder than it should be.

Nick pushes himself up from leaning his elbows on the counter, rounding to where you’re standing. He brushes his thumb over your cheek, removing a bit of flour there. There’s no teasing to his expression and there’s no pity in the sound of his voice when he speaks,

“Sometimes,” He gently turns you to face him, “And I know this might not make a lick of sense, but…sometimes, baking comes from here.” He touches where your heart is with his fingertips, “And not here.” He taps the recipe.

Your eyebrows crinkle together and…you’re not sure whether that means you’re too much in your head or what but an exasperated noise leaves your lips, “Fine, can you help please?”

There’s definitely a pout on your lips but it just makes Nick smile as he leans down to steal a kiss.

As you toss your last batch of cookies in the trash, Nick fumbles around with a few different ingredients, swapping some, eliminating others. You have…no idea how he distinguishes between the two, but his movements are so fluid, so practiced, that you don’t quite question it.

“What about the recipe?” You ask.

He smiles, turning to look at you as he adjusts the temperature on the oven. “I’m the recipe, it’s all up here.” He touches his temple, giving you a wink before restarting on the mixing bowls. “Alright—we need one dry, and one wet.”

And you settle in to listen, the sound of his voice just as sweet as any cookie.

—

When Maddie eats the celebratory cookies and has nothing but rave reviews, Nick smiles at her and says that you made them all on your own.

—

Sometimes Nick drives you crazy.

You didn’t think that would be such an admirable trait, but as it turns out, it is—in the very best, unexpected of ways.

Rarely when going to the club do you get VIP seating. It’s just…not needed? Your tight-knit circle is comfortable with finding random tables or bar stools, or not sitting at all and dancing until your thighs burn and your knees are shaking a bit. It’s always loose and fun.

Not so much what tonight is about.

You’re not quite sure why you’re here, really, given that this is something Anna’s organized. But…she’s a vague friend of Giles and that’s who’s invited you, Nick, Jenna and Lion. Anna does not seem happy about that. She’s made it a point on more than one occasion tonight to comment on how there’s ‘not enough room’ in VIP for these ‘extra people’. Your friend group knows who she's talking about.

Honestly? You know that she’s talking about you—especially when her eyes linger far too long on Nick. It’s not a secret she has a thing for him, that she thinks she’s better than you, that somewhere in her delusions she thinks she’ll be able to sway Nick in a direction that’s more ‘suitable’ for him.

She’s about as subtle as a nuclear bomb.

It’s obvious in a way she sort of hangs on him when she talks, laughs, the way she teases him into having a shot with her, the way she almost tugs him onto the floor to dance (pretending it’s a group thing, to which he declines). He sticks by your side the entire night, an arm around your waist, his fingers soothing a calming circle into your hip, as if he can sense your building frustration.

You almost lose it on her when everyone takes a break in VIP to sit on the couches. Nick takes a corner spot but before you can sit next to him, Anna and her bitchy friend group fill the cushions. You stop in front of Nick’s knees, letting out a slow breath, about to turn and find a seat near Jenna if there is one, but Nick reaches out and gently grasps your wrist.

“There’s room right here.” He says over the music and encourages you to sit—right on his lap.

You settle against him, your back to his chest, fanning your dress out so it’s not trapped underneath you. A small smile tugs the corners of your mouth as you feel him press a kiss to the back of your shoulder, his left arm stretching along the top of the couch.

You definitely catch sight of Anna wrinkling her nose and angling her body away, a scowl marring her face. Bitch. You lean further back, getting comfortable against him, Nick shifting underneath you.

You think it’s an accident at first, the brush of his fingers against your leg, but then you feel it again. With intention. You go very still, turning your head just a little, but you can’t see his face. His breath is warm on the back of your shoulder and his fingers are inching towards the apex of your thighs. The way his right arm is pressed against the side of the couch, the dress, and the darkness of the club, hides everything.

He’s…he’s really…

Oh fuck, he is.

Your legs spread just slightly to welcome his hand, his thumb brushing over the fabric of your underwear. When your back straightens, he hesitates, tugging his hand back just a little to draw shapes into your thigh.

You realize he’s waiting, asking for silent permission.

You glance around your group of friends, the others in VIP. No one is paying one lick of attention to either of you, even Anna has lost interest now that you’re on Nick’s lap. People are having conversations over the music, dancing, drinking a bit too much.

And you’re on your boyfriend’s lap, in the dark, his fingers dangerously close to prying your underwear aside.

Fuck.

A small part of you is concerned someone will notice what’s going on. A much larger part is turned on at the thought, like Nick getting you off right here, in the semi-private, dark corner of this VIP couch just adds to the liquid heat building in your belly and seeping lower.

You make a quick decision, giving a short nod—and Nick wastes no time.

He shifts, pretending he’s leaning forward for something on the table in front of you both, when really he’s just moving his hand. It slips down between your legs and right into your underwear. A strangled gasp gets caught in your throat and you spread as much as you can without looking fucking awkward on his lap—the frilliness of the dress will only hide so much.

You can feel him smirk, rather than see him, his lips skimming the back of your shoulder. It’s not difficult to wind you up, not while you’re on top of him like this—you’re already wet. He uses that, slides up your slit with his finger, rubs at your clit in even circles. A sharp breath leaves your nose and you try not to grind up into his touch, your breathing becoming slightly labored.

Then you realize Lion’s said something to Nick.

“What?” Nick calls out, sitting up just a little…but his hand doesn’t stop.

“I asked if you trained at all last week, got that match coming up.” Lion leans forward in his chair, elbows on his knees. He doesn’t even look at you, gaze trained on his friend.

Nick hums, it’s a rumble of his chest against your back. “I think maybe one…” He trails off, as if he needs to think about it. And one of his fingers slides into you. He works you open with his wrist, slowly, then—

“Actually,” He turns his head just a little, his nose brushing your cheek, “Was it one or two nights last week, Y/N?”

Asshole. You practically swallow your tongue, understanding the unspoken question. “Two.” You chew out, thanking god for the loud beats of the music camouflaging your desperation, “It was two.”

Nick smiles, adding a second finger, licking his lips. “You’re right, it was two.” He then looks to Lion, like he’s talking about the weather, like he isn’t thrusting two fingers into you under your dress, his thumb brushing your clit every so often. “When’s the match again?”

You lean heavily into his shoulder, your one hand coming up to run along the underside of your mouth. The other is attempting not to grab at him, the couch, something to give you leverage.

You drown Lion out, focusing on the cadence of Nick’s hand, the way his fingers work you, the pulse of heat coursing through your veins. And the next circle of his thumb against your clit brings you close, so close—

“Do I need to come to that?” Nick’s voice interrupts your thoughts, his question directed at Lion.

You have no fucking clue what they’re talking about now, nor do you care. But you know exactly what Nick is doing, the obvious choice of words, the way his fingers speed up.

Lion shrugs, “I mean, it’s just a pre-meet to talk money, guidelines, the usual. Probably won’t take more than ten minutes.”

Nick’s lips brush your ear, “Alright,” He says after a moment, “I’ll come.”

And you do.

You try not to bend forward as pleasure wracks through your body, your legs clamping shut, trapping Nick’s hand. His other arm moves to rest around your waist, fingers brushing over your side, a lulling gesture to coax you through your orgasm. Once you have your wits about you, slightly dizzy, you straighten your shoulders and cough.

Nick, in one fluid motion, removes his hand and shifts—like it was never between your legs in the first place. He grabs his glass of water on the table, handing it to you so you can take a few sips. A bunch of sensations suddenly come back at once now that you’re not blocking them out—the loudness of the club, the heat of Nick’s body against your own, the hardness of his cock pressing into your ass. When you turn a little to look at him, Nick’s got his lower lip between his teeth, and his eyes are molton brown, even in this lighting.

Jenna scares the shit out of you by coming from the side, tossing her arms around your shoulders. You jump and she pulls back, a soft laugh, “Babe—” She touches your cheek, “You’re all flushed, I can feel it.”

Fuck. You clear your throat, “I think it’s from the—” You motion to the bottles on the table. “Uh, liquor and all that. Might need some fresh air.”

“I’ll go with you.” Nick’s hands squeeze your waist as he helps you off his lap and thank fucking god for that, your legs are complete jello. He stabilizes you, guiding you through VIP, through the gen pop dance floor, out of the crowd and through the front doors.

Cold air hits you like a bucket of ice water and honestly, it’s so refreshing that you let out a soft moan. The breeze makes you shiver but it cools the sheen of sweat on your flustered skin. When you turn to look at Nick, he’s got his mouth open, ready to say something.

Those words don’t pass his lips before you’re throwing your arms around his shoulders and kissing him. He smiles into it, cupping your cheek, his other hand in your hair.

You don’t go back inside.

—

When Jenna makes a side comment the next day that Anna complained you and Nick were ‘practically fucking on the couch’ at the club, Nick purses his lips and volleys back, “Not quite, but almost.”

You feel your face and the back of your neck go beet red and Jenna chokes on a sip of coffee when she laughs and says, “I knew it.”

—

It’s been a while since you’ve been to the ocean, not quite on purpose? It’s just, admittedly, when you want to travel somewhere, you tend to want the cabin in the woods vibe (with less serial killers), and snowy mountain top scenes. Don’t get it wrong, you love visiting the beach, it’s just…if you have a choice? You know what flight you’re booking.

You press your nose and lips into the back of Nick’s hair, squeezing his shoulders to indicate you’re all finished applying sunscreen. A soft laugh leaves your lips as Lion practically plops ass-first into the sand as he holds onto Jenna’s hands, trying to encourage her to get up and come into the water. She’s got her heels in deep, literally, shaking her head even though she’s grinning.

“I want to sunbathe a little,” She tells him as he gets up, dusting himself off. “And look out for the beach waiters to order another margarita.”

Nick turns a little, fixing his sunglasses, “What about you?” He raises his eyebrows, “You coming?”

You hum, pretending to give it a lot of thought, “Well…I did bring a brand new book…”

Nick huffs, not taking that for an answer as he’s suddenly up and yanking you from the sand. “C’mon.”

An indignant noise leaves your lips, your feet scrambling for purchase in the sand as Nick holds onto you, “But how am I gonna find out if the enemies become lovers if I’m not reading?” It’s not really a question, you pick the same trope all the time.

Besides, the book can wait, especially where Nick’s concerned. He tugs you to the edge of the water, only letting go when you show a bit of resistance. He tosses himself backwards, into the waves, one of them swallowing his form. He buoys back up a moment later, tossing his head back and running his hand through loose curls. Somehow he’s managed to keep his sunglasses.

“Get in here.” He splashes you, the spray of water only reaching your shins.

A soft squeak leaves your lips—it’s cold, but refreshing on a hot day like this, the sun beating down on your shoulders. You look out past Nick, past where the waves stop crashing and…it’s a beautiful sight, really. All that dark blue, boats on the surface far away, the clouds turning a bit of pink as the sun moves across the sky. It’s not that you’re afraid of the water, exactly, you know how to swim but…

Your nose crinkles as a bit of a sea plant washes up and brushes your ankles. “Nah, I’m good.”

He laughs, something bright and full, looking at you a bit incredulously, “Are you—are you scared of the ocean?”

“No,” You reply, altogether too quickly. Nick smirks, rolling with the waves as he watches you teeter at the end of the sand, right where the water kisses your toes. You tip your head back, a soft laugh too, “I’m just squigged out by like—” You motion to the water, “Swimming with things in there.”

An incredulous noise leaves his lips, like he can’t quite believe he didn’t know this about you. “But…you love aquariums,” He replies, standing in the water and walking towards you. There’s a particular distraction for you on how the water curves down the muscles of his chest. “Like I have never seen a girl get so emotional over jellyfish before.”

“They were moon jellyfish,” You mumble, “They don’t have stinging tentacles like other jellies. And,” You gently poke him once he’s close enough, “Just because I love fish doesn’t mean I want to bother them in their homes.”

Nick pauses, like he actually seems to take that information into account before there’s a slow nod. “Well, we’ll use the doorbell.”

Before you can even question what that means, he’s picking you up in one fluid motion that makes you squawk out his name. You both land right into the next cresting wave.

—

A fish definitely swims by your leg, you think you inhaled some water at one point, and you had one too many margaritas (and not enough sunscreen, your shoulders are a touch red and sensitive). But as the sun dips down and you all sit on a blanket near the water, as Nick wraps his sweater around you, pressing a long kiss to the bridge of your nose before resting his forehead against your own—you’re pretty sure this is the best beach trip you’ve ever had.

—

You’re the kind of tired that seeps right into your bones, which you know is a downside of the last shot you had but…it seemed like such a good idea at the time. The ride back to Nick’s place hadn’t helped, though it wasn’t anyone’s fault. There was an hour detour thanks to some sort of accident near the exit-way right in the direction of your boyfriend’s. That detour sent you out and around and by the time Nick parks in the garage, you feel like squirming and passing out all at the same time.

You want to rub your eyes so badly but the makeup smudges would be catastrophic. Not that you’re worried about how you would look, exactly, but you don’t want the mascara or eyeshadow to fuck up your eyesight.

Opening the door, you undo the seatbelt and Nick rounds to the passenger side, holding his hand out for you to grab onto. You do, your legs wobbling slightly at being on your feet again after being stuck in the car.

He squeezes your hand, “Alright?” He asks and you nod, too tired to reply.

You follow him towards his bedroom, letting out a long sigh as you sit on the edge of his bed. Dangerous mistake, you’re not sure if you can get back up, but you don’t want to balance yourself on one leg to take your shoes off. A yawn slips out of your mouth as you undo the buckles, kicking them aside.

Nick’s disappeared into the bathroom, coming back out with…makeup wipes. Not just any makeup wipes though, it’s the specific brand you always use. The one that you kinda ranted about the other day because they’re so hard to get a hold of—they’re not sold in stores, you have to order them.

He stands in front of you, opening up the container and tugging one out. He’s got them here. In his bathroom. He ordered them for you. Your brain kinda slow blinks at this information, Nick’s eyes finding yours, a small smile tugging the corners of his mouth.

“I can do it for you, if you want,” He offers, meaning taking your makeup off, “You’re dead on your feet.”

“And off my feet,” You reply, lifting up one of your legs but you smile, nodding. That’s…that’s really sweet.

He tips your chin with his thumb and you close your eyes as he uses one of the wipes to get your eyeshadow off. His touch is gentle and he pays special close attention to removing your lipstick and mascara. When he’s done, you open your eyes, reaching to touch the pack that’s in his one hand.

“I love this brand…they’re cruelty free.” Which is really important to you when it comes to beauty products. You chew on your lower lip, “Feel like I just brought this up the other day…” But, “I didn’t think you were listening.” Not because Nick’s not attentive but because…you were just talking while he fiddled under the hood of one of his cars. Wasn’t anything important, just filling the space with conversation.

He pulls back, tossing the wipe towards his trash bin near his desk, “I listen to everything you say.”

Nick says it so matter-of-fact, simply, like it’s not a big deal. He reaches out and plays with a strand of hair near your ear before heading back into the bathroom. Except it is—it is a big deal. Because you’ve learned that there’s a big difference between listening and paying attention.

Nick, clearly, does both.

—

“I’m starting to think you’re a rain magnet,” You comment, standing in Nick’s bathroom with your arms around yourself. The cool air is making goosebumps cover your arms and legs, the tip of your nose like a block of ice. A soft sniffle sounds from you, biting down on your lower lip so it doesn’t tremble.

An amused laugh leaves Nick’s lips. He doesn’t seem as cold, though a shiver does course down his spine when he reaches to turn the water on in the shower, letting it warm up. A content sigh builds in your chest as the room begins to steam, just a little.

“I told you to let me go get the car.” He turns to look at you, “You’re going to have to pry your arms away from yourself to get your clothes off.”

You crinkle your nose, seriously debating getting into the shower with them on. Losing what little protection against the cold sounds downright awful. “You weren’t parked that far from the club and a small walk to sober up sounded nice?” Your lower lip juts out, “I didn’t know it was going to start torrential downpouring.”

“Arms up,” He mutters, lifting your elbows until he can peel the dress you’re wearing up and over your head.

“Rain magnet.” You mumble back, making him smirk. You watch as he takes off the t-shirt he had on, your eyes tracing over the firm lines of his chest and muscled back, reaching out to adjust the silver chain he has on so the clasp is in the back. “Aren’t you cold?”

He shrugs his one shoulder, undoing his jeans, “Not as cold as you,” His voice is warm, makes you want to curl into it. Into him. He brushes his thumb over the tip of your nose once he tosses his pants aside.

A soft hum leaves your lips and you step towards him, making his head tilt down to look at you. Pressing yourself up on your toes, you graze your lips along his. “Do I have to ask if you’ll warm me up?”

He smiles softly, licking his lips. His arms wrap around you, pulling you to his chest until you’re mapped along his body. He leans forward, nipping your lower lip with his own. “You never have to ask.”

Nick undoes your bra from behind with deft fingers, his hands sliding down your waist to tug your underwear over your thighs. Once clothing isn’t a concern, he leans down and kisses you, guiding you backwards towards the glass shower. He opens the door, a pleased sigh leaving your lips at the heat of the steam wrapping around your body, ending most of your shivering.

Though now you feel like you’re trembling for an altogether different reason, especially when Nick backs you up against the shower wall, under the warm stream of water, his hardening cock pressing against your abdomen. Your hand slips between your bodies, reaching for him, sliding your hand down his shaft and flicking your thumb over the head.

Nick grunts, thrusting into your touch, his kiss becoming a little bruising.

“Love you like this,” You whisper against his lips, your arms sliding around his shoulders.

He smiles, his hand curving down your side in a way that’s more loving than desperate. He squeezes your hip before tilting his head down, his lips finding the pulse in your neck. He motions your leg up, encouraging you to lean against him for balance.

His hand dips then, spreading you open, thumb circling your clit. You keen into it, a small whimper, heart thrumming heat all the way through your body. His fingers open you up, one at a time, until you’re slightly needy.

“Please,” You whisper.

Nick reaches for himself, pushing up into you, encouraging you forward until he’s fully inside. You squeeze his shoulders, head tipping back, getting used to the size and weight of him. Fuck. Your eyes slip closed and he presses the most gentle of kisses to the corner of your mouth before he begins to move.

It doesn’t take long to build up momentum, at this point you know one another’s rhythm, that molten heat pulsing in your abdomen and slipping like honey into your veins. It feels so good to be connected to him like this, like one half finding the other, like you’re not sure how anyone came before him.

You bury your face in his neck as you cum, fingernails digging into the skin of his back. Nick pulls out, making you feel utterly empty and you reach down to wrap your hand around him. One thrust into your fist, your thumb brushing over the head of his cock and he’s spilling onto your stomach.

“Fuck,” He whispers, dipping his head to press kisses along your jawline.

Both of you stand under the stream, cleaning up, your legs like jello at your knees. Nick pulls you close, stroking a hand along your back, planting a series of kisses to your cheek.

“Warmer?” He asks, voice an octave lower—it sends heat right down your spine. You can’t help but grin,

“Warmer.”

—

You’ve been told that you’re too trusting of a person. It’s not…that exactly, it’s just that you believe in the good in people. In giving second chances. There’s nothing wrong with that…even when you know that it could easily be something that blows up in your face.

You have a sister, a tiny bit older than you, but your features make you undeniably related. Though that’s where the similarities end. Personality wise? You couldn’t be more different and that’s caused several clashes while growing up. You continue to reach out, to try and build a bridge between you two, because…well, it’s your only sibling. You don’t want to grow up and not have a connection with her.

But she proves to be someone that makes it extremely difficult in making that happen.

There’s a dance that you two share in which you go through cycles of ‘closeness’ —she weaves in and out of your life when it’s convenient for her. And yet, you’re sucked into that whirlpool every time. Out of desperation, naivety or a combination or something else in-between, you don’t know.

The disappointment always hits harder, even though you should know the drill by now.

You bite down on the end of your tongue as you look at the time, linger outside of a restaurant you got dropped off at in hopes of meeting up with her. But a half of an hour has passed and there’s no word from your sister. Not a call or text about running late, not an indication that she even intended to meet up with you. She doesn’t pick up or respond to any messages, either.

The sting from this absence shouldn’t hurt so badly.

But it does.

When your phone vibrates, you quickly look at the screen, hoping to see your sister’s name. You hate that you feel letdown when it says Nick. Closing your eyes, you press the call button, picking up.

“She didn’t show, did she.”

It’s not formed as a question and you swallow over what feels like a lump in your throat of pent-up emotions. Embarrassment, for some reason, even though you never have anything to be ashamed of when it comes to Nick or dealing with your sister.

You curl your hair around your ear and begin walking down the street towards a corner so you can more easily order a car. “No.”

Nick sighs through his nose, “I’m sorry.”

“Please don’t say ‘I told you so’.”

“Hey,” He replies, voice tender, “You know I wouldn’t do that.”

You bite down on the inside of your cheek, “I know,” You tug your jacket closer around you as a breeze rolls around the corner and hits into your body. “I’m just upset.”

You hear the rumble of a familiar engine turning down the street before he replies, “Would a ride home help?”

You pause, turning towards the sound and find a smile tugging the corners of your mouth, despite how your chest feels heavy. You walk quickly towards the red McLaren, the driver’s door opening up once he parks. You end the call, sliding your phone into your purse. When Nick steps out, the look on his face makes you cross your arms over your chest, like you need a barrier to protect yourself.

“I’m fine,” You assure him because you should know better, right? You’re the foolish one here?

Nick tilts his head a little, reaching for one of your hands, running his thumb over your fingers. “I know you’re not,” He tries to get you to meet his gaze. Only when your eyes connect with his does he say, “You don’t have to pretend with me.”

Fuck—your lip wobbles and the bridge of your nose stings. You try to smile because of how well he knows you, but it just ends up making you feel worse. You hate that you’re disappointed, that you didn’t see this coming, that you continue to hope each and every time your sister reaches out wanting to form a connection.

Nick’s jaw clenches in response, eyes flashing as he reaches for you, a protective reaction to seeing you hurt, watching you begin to cry. He pulls you into his chest, wrapping his arms around you, one of his hands tangling into your hair as he holds you close. You squeeze your eyes shut, tight, tears seeping through them as you grab onto his shirt like a lifeline, something to ground you.

“I got you.” He murmurs, waiting until you’re ready to pull away to help you into the car.

—

When you’re tucked into Nick’s bed against some pillows along the headboard, a mug of your favorite mint tea in your hands, your phone vibrates against the nightstand. Nick, who’s changing out of his jeans, glances over at the screen.

It’s your sister.

He looks back at you, waiting, a silent conversation playing right on his face. You swallow, squeezing your hands around the ceramic before giving him a gentle nod. He tosses his jeans onto a chair nearby and reaches for your phone, picking it up—

“Hello.” A pause. “This is her boyfriend.” Then, a sharp scoff. “No.” You can’t quite hear what your sister is saying, but based on the tightness of Nick’s shoulders, you can guess—

Is she there?

I know she’s there.

Can’t I just speak to her?

“You know you left her on the pavement for thirty minutes?” He shifts, his gaze finding yours. “And you clearly know how to work a phone.”

Your attention wavers as Nick speaks to your sister. You know that you should probably handle this situation on your own but…you’re just so tired of having the same conversations, bending to the same promises of ‘next time’, of thinking your sister will change and actually consider you a priority.

Nick is clear-headed, only wants the best for you, and is unwavering at putting his foot down.

“You’re not understanding me,” He replies, voice icily calm. “You don’t hurt people that you claim to care about and that’s what you’re doing—hurting her.”

Your sister’s voice must raise, because you can hear her snap, if that’s so then why isn’t Y/N telling me this herself.

“Because for reasons I can’t grasp, Y/N still cares about you and your feelings.” A muscle flutters in Nick’s jaw, “But I don’t. So you’re going to stop making imaginary plans with her,” She protests at that but he speaks over her, “And if she wants to talk to you? She’ll call you.”

He then hangs up, placing the phone back on the nightstand with a calmness he doesn’t seem quite capable of right now. Your sister immediately calls back and you tap the screen to put your device on Do Not Disturb.

You let out a slow sigh, lifting your mug to take a sip of your tea, the warm ceramic comforting right now. You glance up at him, the smallest of smiles pulling at your lips. The emotion in your chest over him being protective of you nearly bursts right through your ribs.

Reaching for his hand, you squeeze his fingers, thumb tracing over a silver ring he has on. “Thank you.”

He hums lightly, “Didn’t get too carried away?” You can tell he doesn’t regret a thing that’s come out of his mouth, but he wants to make sure you’re okay with it.

You lift his hand, pressing a kiss to his knuckles, “No, it’s exactly what she needed to hear.” And what I needed to hear too.

He squeezes your hand, seeming to read the unspoken words that are weighing heavily on your shoulders, in your eyes. He dips his head down just a little, catches your gaze. “I got you, okay?”

But what Nick is really saying is: you can lean on me, I’m not going anywhere, I see you,

I love you.

And a warm, genuine smile touches your lips before you nod. “Okay.”

—

There’s gentle intimacy in something considered simple.

Sometimes Nick, when he draws you close, will bury his nose in your hair. You don't even think he realizes he’s doing it at this point, like an automatic shift. It’s something you feel like you understand completely—the way you press your nose and lips into his shoulder to breathe him in. Hints of laundry detergent and his cologne, the soap he uses, reminds you of what home should feel like.

So when you’re tucked together at this party, his arm around your shoulders, a small smile tugs the corners of your mouth when he presses a kiss to your temple, lingering.

“You do that a lot,” You comment, tipping your head up to look at him.

Nick pulls back just a fraction, raising his eyebrows until he realizes what you’re talking about. A soft laugh rumbles in his chest, “Your hair always smells nice.”

You smile, flush kissing your cheeks and the back of your neck as your stomach does a somersault. You lean further into him, squeezing around his waist.

It’s something so simple, and yet, it doesn’t feel that way.

—

There are moments where you notice yourself doing the same thing too.

When you end up sleeping over Nick’s and wake up before him, you often find him sleeping on his stomach. He’s got a pillow tucked under his one arm while the other rests lazily on your waist. You’re aware that if you move, it tightens around you in his sleep. Not that you find yourself wanting to leave his side on mornings like this.

Your eyes skitter over his form, close enough to feel the weight and heat of his body. It’s like you’re trying to commit him to memory—the way his eyelashes fan across his cheeks, the fullness of his lips, face free of worry or aggravated lines that might appear between his eyebrows during the day. You’ve noticed that on his right cheekbone, there’s beauty marks there, and you lean forward to press a soft kiss.

He doesn’t stir, not right away, but when you trace some of the line tattoos near his ribs, he shifts just slightly. You smile a little,

“I forgot you were ticklish.”

He sighs through his nose, “I am not.” He mumbles, voice still caked with sleep.

You purse your lips, walking your fingers up and down his side until—you laugh when he nearly rolls away from you. “Menace.” He teases, reaching down to grab your hand. He lazily laces your fingers with his own.

You reach up with your free hand and tangle your fingers into his curls, inching closer to brush a kiss to his forehead. He opens his eyes at that, the brown a brighter shade given the sun peeking in through the window. These moments, the stillness of them, you don’t think you’d trade them for anything else.

—

There's this old picture of your grandparents that you're obsessed with.

The love that radiates from that picture nearly makes your chest ache.

One time you asked your grandmother if she loved your grandfather now just as much as she did when that picture was taken.

She says, I love him more than I did yesterday.

You weren’t sure how that was possible—

Until you met Nick.

#nick leister #nick leister x reader #my fault london #my fault: london #my fault london x reader #matthew broome #matthew broome x reader #mccall writes things

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fandoms--fluff · 7 months ago

Text

The Perfect Dress

Flufftober, October 11th

Younger Mikaelson sister reader x Hope Mikaelson

Summary: You and Hope go shopping Rebekah's closet.

Warnings: none

A/n: I know for a fact that Rebekah has got to have a closet like London does from Zach and Cody. Oh and reader is only like a couple years younger than Hope in this. The dress explained is not based off anything by the brand mentioned, I just picked a really expensive designer for the story.

And it may be a bit crack by the end, but I find if funny and cute.

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"Ugh, I have nothing to wear to this dang party. All my dresses are so old and I'm pretty sure this is from when I was nine" Hope groans, flipping through the hanging clothing in her closet. She pulls out the small green dress that's significantly smaller than the other clothing hung up.

"Well it's a pretty dress" You tilt her head and pick it up from the bed where she tossed it. "Hah, if you like it so much then you wear it to the party" Hope teases.

"Hmm, maybe I will" you say, turning the teasing back to her. You slip off your tank top and jean shorts, leaving you in your nude bra and bright pink and yellow striped underwear.

"Isn't that the same underwear you wore when you were in like kindergarten?" She chuckles, noticing the difference between the two undergarments. "Maybe, maybe not. And they're my favorite pair nonetheless" You answer with a straight face.

You pull the green dress over your head and bring it down your body. Moving to the mirror in the corner of the room, you straighten it out. "You sure it's from when you were nine?" You ask, eyebrows furrowing. "Yeah, I know, it fits you perfectly though. That's a bit disturbing. I wore it to the mall for that picture with Santa the year you hit him in the face" She explains.

"Oh, yeah. That was a good day. Got him right in the eye" You nod, smiling to yourself in glee. "Oh yeah, the elves had a field day with that" Hope states, an eyebrow raised, not impressed.

"Maybe I should wear this" You pose with your hands on your hips. "We can see how long it takes Mom to notice what dress it is" You concoct the plan.

"How long will it take me to talk you out of that?" She asks while trying to hide her own smile.

"Um, 40 minutes, and hour tops" You nod in agreement with yourself. "Okay, go ahead and wear it" She says, not up to discussing this with you for that long.

"Yay" You say, spinning in the older dress. Hope shakes her head, a smile quirking at the corners of her lips as she turns back around to face her closet.

She starts going through all her dresses, coming to the same conclusion. "These all stink" She huffs.

"So you're done with searching for any possibilities in your closet?" You ask from your spot on her bed. "Yeah" she breathes out. She's stressed cause the party's in less than an hour and she has her makeup and hair done, except not her outfit. Which is kind of her own fault for not prepping in advance, but she was heavily procrastinating that part.

"Well come with me then" you hop off the bed and grab onto Hope's wrist, leading her into the hallway. "Where are we going?" She asks as you lead the way up stairs to all your aunts and uncles rooms.

"Our one stop shopping destination" You answer, opening the door to Rebekah's room and pull Hope in. You advance towards the woman's closet and open the door, walking in. Hope slowly follows you, not wanting to get in trouble.

"Aunt Rebekah's closet?" She asks. "Yep!" You exclaim, a smile bright on your face.

Hope steps into the closet and marvels at how big it is. There's racks and shelves and everything in between full of clothing, accessories and shoes. There's even a seating area in the center and a massive vanity to the side, and a big expensive coffee maker on a trolley next to one of the seats.

"Oh. my. god. This is a closet?" She slowly spins around, taking everything in. "Yeah, amazing, isn't it?" You say and walk over to the racks of dresses.

Hope idly follows you, still trying to register every detail. "Okay, so this is the rack where I think you'll find what you're looking for" You present it to her.

There must be dozens of dresses of all different colours, fabrics and designs just on the one rack. Hope nervously steps up to it, next to you. "Are we allowed to be in here? What happens if she catches us? I don't want to ruin anything" She says, knowing that just one of these dresses alone probably cost more than everything in her closet.

"Auntie Rebekah will be fine, and stop worrying, you won't damage the dress. But if somehow you do, all we need to do is cast a little spell to repair it, that's all" You reassure your older sister.

"Okay. Wait, how much have you been in here?" She questions. "A lot. This is where I come to hide from Mom when she's mad at me" You answer. "Which is a lot. I've memorized basically everything and have inventory in here" You tap on your head.

"Does Aunt Rebekah know about all that?" Hope smiles, already predicting the answer. All you do is bring a finger up to your lips, creating the 'shh' symbol. "Why am I not surprised" She chuckles, shaking her head humorously.

She slowly starts going through the rack of dresses, running her hand gently down all the expensive fabrics they're made. And while she does that, you walk over to the chair next to the coffee machine, sitting down. You reach your arm down to the bottom tray of the trolley and pick up the bowl of chocolate.

You watch your sister as she goes through the dresses while eating the also probably expensive chocolate. At this point, you're not sure how much everything in your Aunts closet costs, but it's probably enough to make a down payment on a really big and pretty mansion. Or maybe even just buy the mansion all together.

Soon enough, Hope pauses. The dress she came upon is probably one of the most beautiful dress she's ever laid her eyes on. It's a purple layered dress, the back longer than the front. The bodice is completely covered in crystals and the layering of the flowing fabric looks like every layer was crafted with exact precision. She's never seen anything like it.

She carefully takes the hanger off the rack and walks slowly to the big full length mirror across the basically room of a closet. Holding it against herself, she imagines it on her. You smile and put the bowl of chocolate back on the bottom tray of the trolley before going over to your sister.

She looks at the crafted brand tag on the inside of the dress. "Is Debbie Wingham an expensive brand" she asks, never hearing of it before.

You raise your eyebrows, knowing the exact answer, but you don't want to make Hope second guess herself. Come on, you saw how she reacted to the dress once she came upon it. "It's not too expensive but also not something you can find at a regular dress shop. It's unique" You lie right through your teeth and she believes every word. If you were to just say it was a cheap dress, she would never believe you because even though she hasn't been in here before, she knows your guys' aunt's taste.

"It's beautiful. You should try it on." You take the dress from her hold and carefully pull the hanger out from the straps, placing it back on the rack. "Are you sure?" She asks.

"One hundred percent" You nod. "Okay" She smile forms it's way on her face. She pulls her shirt and jeans off, folding them up. She places them on the chair you were sitting on before turning back to you. She's just in her bra and underwear now.

You unzip the dress and hold it down lower, making it easier for her to step in to. "Thanks" she says, stepping into the dress as careful as she could be.

You pull the dress up over her legs and curves, stopping halfway up her stomach. "I think this is meant to be worn without a bra" You say, noticing the structure of the bodice.

"Oh, uh, okay. Don't look" She says as she reaches back to unclasp her bra. "Like I'd purposely do so" you deadpan, making a weird face. "What kind of incest thoughts are you having?" you joke. "Oh shush, you" Hope chuckles, tossing her bra over to her other folded up clothing.

You keep your eyes plastered on her back, not wanting to accidentally get flashed while you continue to pull the dress up. Once the dress is up all the way, Hope puts her arms in the sleeves.

You clasp the top and then pull the zipper up to its secured position at the top. "There we go. It feels all good?" You pat her back softly. "Yes, thanks, Y/n/n." She smiles.

"Your boobies all secured?" You ask once she turns around to face you. "Please don't hit me" You take a step back as soon as you see her expression. She rolls her eyes playfully.

You look her up and down, taking in her appearance. "You look gorgeous, and I'm not just saying it because you're my sister. You look really pretty" You tell your older sister. "Thank you" She said, her smile growing bigger.

She walks over to you and pulls you into a hug. "Of course. I also think someone is overdue to look in the mirror" You say once you pull away.

You guys walk over to the mirror and Hope pauses in front of the mirror. She looks over the dress and how it looks on her body. It's the most beautiful thing she's ever put on.

"See. I told you." You wrap your arm around her shoulder. "You ready for the party now? No more worrying?" You ask.

"Yeah. I'm all ready" She walks with you to the door of the closet. You pick up her clothes before you guys leave. You walk back down to her room to drop off her clothing and wait for the party to start.

Not too long later, your Uncle Kol calls you guys to get your butts down there, saying people are arriving. Before you guys go down to the courtyard ballroom place, you turn to Hope when she stands up.

"Oh and by the way, if Auntie Rebekah does notice the dress, just play dumb and hope for the best. That's what I do." You tell her. "What? You said she'd be alright with it" Hope's eyes widen.

"It's alright, trust me, she'll proabbly be making out with Marcel twenty minutes into the party anyways" You tell her.

"Oh, gross" She winces. You raise an eyebrow at her. "But fair point" she says, thinking about it and she cant believe it, but agrees with you.

"Exactly. Let's go!" You grab her hand and lead her down to the party. "Wait, wait, wait. You're sure on wearing that?" She asks, looking at her old dress you're wearing.

Turning around, you send her a glare. "Yes, I like this dress. It's pretty. And plus now it's found a new home that's not the garbage or whatever" You tell her. "If that's alright with you" You tell her, remembering you haven't technically asked her to keep it yet.

"Of course it is, why would I want to keep a dress in my closet that doesn't fit when you clearly like it and it actually fits you" She chuckles. "Thank you!'' You exclaim, far too excited than she would've expected someone getting a 'hand me down' from their older sister.

As soon as you guys enter the courtyard, your Dad walks over to you guys. "Well, you guys look absolutely beautiful" Klaus hugs you both.

"See, I told you" You elbow Hope lightly. "I've never seen you wear that dress before. Is it new, Littlest Wolf?" He says, getting an embarrassed flush out of Hope. You snicker, earning Hope's glare.

"Umm, sort of" She answers your guys' dad. "Well, it's very pretty. And where have I seen this dress before?" He asks, knowing he's never seen it on you before, but somewhere he's seen it.

"Umm- Oh, hey Auntie Rebekah" You say, seeing your aunt walking up to you guys. Hope's eyes widen once she sees Rebekah as well. She really doesn't want to get in trouble.

"Hello my beautiful nieces. I love your dress, Hope, it looks really familiar" Rebekah smiles, not knowing about your guys' scheme. You see how Hope freezes at the statement and immediately jump into action.

"It's probably from one of your magazines. Oh hey, look, Auntie Davina's over there, lets go" You grasp onto Hope's arm and pull her to the other side of the room where Davina's getting a drink.

You wink at her, "Not my first rodeo" You whisper, getting a thankful chuckle and nod out of your older sister.

"Well, that was weird" Rebekah comments. "Wait a second-" Rebekah realizes something. "What?" Klaus turns to his sister.

You listen into their conversation as well as Hope. "Oh no" Hope tenses. You guys wait for the bomb to drop and are immensely surprised at what happens.

"The dress Y/n was wearing. Where's it from?" She says. "That's what I was wondering" Klaus tells her. "Hold on" Rebekah walks over to the library and grabs a photograph before walking back over to Klaus.

"What's going on?" Hayley walks over to the two of them.

"Oh, come on!" You exclaim, making Hope laugh. "How is it that after everything, you're the one who's probably going to get in trouble" Hope tries to calm her laughter down to keep listening in.

You throw your head back, a groan leaving your throat before also listening back into the conversation between your parents and aunt.

"Why do you have one of the Christmas pictures of the girls?" She asks. "Well you see, it seems that the youngest Mikaelson is wearing this dress. I knew I've seen it somewhere" Rebekah tells both of them.

"You're telling me that our fourteen year old daughter is wearing her sister's Christmas dress from when she was nine?" Hayley asks, remembering that day all too well.

"Well, our Sweetheart seems to be listening in as well as her sister" Klaus smirks, his gaze landing on the two of you.

"Oh, seriously!" You exclaim, throwing your arms up. You gain Davina's attention and she takes the couple steps towards you. "What's wrong, girls?" She asks.

"Oh, you'll see" Hope tells her. "Again, how am I getting the attntion when you look amazing...Maybe I can slip it to them...Or not, sorry" You tell Hope, seeing her look again.

"Do I even want to know?" Davina chuckles. You shake your head but then realize your parents and Rebekah making their way over to you guys. "Agh, hide me!" You exclaim in a whisper, jumping to hide behind Davina.

"Or you know what? Run!" You say, taking Hope with you. She laughs as she follows, and the night begins!

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