#Laurent hasn’t *felt* young in a while and just

[clouseplayssims]

(I didn’t post Severin twice on accident. I did fully screw up Sia’s screenshot, so I don’t have one. But I had two of him so... tada. I’ll get her a proper profile shot later.)

So, the Bellamy family is unofficially in charge of Tenby. Sia is formerly Sia Kenton, crown princess of Ghalyvudd before the rebellion. (Before that she was a van Aalsburg ward.) She escaped while pregnant with her son, Taliesin - forced to leave behind Daega and Cledwyn, her older children. It was a difficult decision, but the escape was so hasty, there was just no time.

She knew they were being held with their grandmother Marise and prayed that Arndt wasn’t monster enough to hurt children.

He wasn’t, but that didn’t spare Cledwyn entirely, unfortunately.

Joining Quinn and the others in Tenby, Sia was the one they looked to. The one they asked questions about where to put the town well, or where to build the very homes they’d live in. She had the knowledge and had to tamp down whatever feelings she had about the strife and struggle - she was a Kenton and her people needed her.

Eventually they needed her to wed, to help form a strong front for leadership, and she chose Severin Bellamy. He was a good man, a former heir to a noble title, and like her had a young son who needed a second parent.

Over time they’ve built a very solid relationship and are rather happy together. With the stress of Tenby’s reveal they both feel the heavy tension in the air, the worry and the fear. But they know they can face whatever comes as long as they stand strong. It’s what keeps her going when she wakes up late in the night, worried of what will come next.

Severin has always felt a great deal of regret for leaving Charlemaine behind, doubly so now that he’s learned that she’d had a child (much like Sia) during the rebellion, a son he never knew. It wasn’t his choice, he knew that, but it worried him that he was a man who could leave his wife behind in such a way. They have yet to meet since the reveal of Tenby, but he knows Laurent is eager to see his mother again - and his younger biological brother. There are no hard feelings on either side regarding their remarriages, thankfully.

Though he’s older than Taliesin, it isn’t by much, and it grates on Laurent’s nerves on a regular basis. His younger stepbrother is just so smug. And hearing that Taliesin might marry some ridiculous Blumenthal princess in some half-baked scheme to keep peace maintained? It’s absurd! And no he’s not jealous, it just seems like life comes so easily to Taliesin and Laurent is just... stuck, unsure about what to do or who he is. He’s not a leader like his father and Sia, hasn’t found his calling early like Diarmait O’Niall the Younger. He’s just... Laurent. Helpful to have around, a good horseman, but otherwise unremarkable.

Admittedly, Taliesin knows Laurent is right and he’s a bit too full of himself at times. But can he be blamed? He’s one of the few Kentons left these days, and the only male heir they know of who hasn’t given up his rights to the land where Ghalyvudd stood, though Tal isn’t an idiot, only somebody with a death wish would try and march on a protecting kingdom with a hodge-podge group of werewolves and witches. But people are funny about bloodlines, something he’s learning more and more. Especially with the offer Arndt has dangled before him. (Unrelated but he rolled to be both short and bisexual and I am here for this future tiny chaotic mess.)

Amarante wasn’t exactly a surprise baby - her parents wanted to show their marriage was “complete” in the eyes of the rest of the villagers, and what better way to do that than to have a child to show all was well? But Amarante doesn’t really think about it. She’s a bit of a town bully, and one of the many, many, many jocks infiltrating my neighborhood who probably need to be stopped.

Little Aurelien WAS a surprise given Sia and Severin’s age, but they love their son and were happy to welcome him into the family. It’s a bit awkward, having so many children between them, and some so far flung, but they manage well enough. He certainly won’t want for company!

#kingdom of edirann #Sia Bellamy #Severin Bellamy #Laurent Bellamy #Taliesin Kenton #Amarante Bellamy #Aurelien Bellamy

[cpshit]

The next time Makedon sees Laurent he calls him “my boy” and claps him on the shoulder and Laurent keeps it together but BARELY

Like this is the first time since Auguste died that Laurent has been treated as is appropriate by an older man. Remember how he reacts when Damen says “you were just a boy”? He literally can’t handle being reminded of his age because it’s always been the reason (in his mind) that his Uncle took an ‘interest’ in him, and then the reason that he lost interest in him (his remark that he’s a little old to be considered atttractive), and even Torveld was WAY older than him still viewing him as this sexually appealing youth. Before that, Aleron was described as being largely uninterested in Laurent. Laurent has always associated youth with pain. But Makedon is the first older man in Laurent’s life that hasn’t associated Laurent’s youth with anything. He’s just young. Whereas the Regent used alcohol and the excuse of hunting trips as tools to abuse Laurent, Makedon just. Teaches him to drink. Wants to take him hunting. No catch, no ulterior motive. He’s young; that’s what you do with young men, right?

Makedon slams his hand into Laurent’s back and calls him things like “my boy” and “young man” but like. Laurent has never been safe enough to think of himself as just a “young man” and the first time he sees Makedon after the events of KR he has just been through unimaginable stress governing two very delicate countries and he gets called a “boy” by this man who doesn’t asssociate his youth with sexual appeal or weakness and it just hits him, like oh. Wow, yeah, that’s exactly what he is. He’s a young man.

#poor bby #Makedon on the other hand is like ‘what a bizarre young man. time to make him my drinking and hunting protégée’ #when Makedon passes Laurent weeps over his pyre and has be guided into Damen’s arms so they can light it #sorry about that #Laurent #Makedon #capri #captive prince #Makedon has no sons of his own #so he adopts this Very Odd Young Man who almost certainly did Not Grow Up Akielon #and teaches him the things that he never learned apparently??? what is Vere doing with their boys??? very odd indeed #Laurent hasn’t *felt* young in a while and just #breaks but like internally #‘you know Damianos your Laurent is a Good Kid but why does he look seconds away from crying every time I see him???’ #mine

[goldencuffs]

familial

@lamenweek day four: family

Like clockwork, Laurent arrives at eight in the evening on Friday, and the entire Vallis household bursts to life.

Sitting in the poorly lit alfresco, Damianos listens as Laurent makes his way down the hallway, room by room. In the living room, Theomedes’ laugh is loud and booming; it’s the first happy noise he’s made all week. In the kitchen, Egeria’s voice is sweet as she offers Laurent thirteen different dishes because he’s too thin.

Kastor is in the shower, but Damen swears the sound of running water amplifies under Laurent’s presence.

The night is warm and sticky, alive with the start of summer. Damen’s t-shirt is clinging to him, damp at the nape. It hadn’t bothered him through dinner, but now he becomes wholly conscious of it as he hears Laurent’s approaching footsteps.

The door slides open. “Hello, you,” Laurent’s voice is a gentle lull amongst the stars.

Damen turns, terrified and excited. His lungs seize up, because Laurent is the most beautiful, warm person he’s ever known.

He’s dressed magnificently tonight, like always. The material of his shirt is light, expensive. There’s a silk ribbon cinched around his waist, and his leather boots cost more than Damen’s monthly salary.

He hasn’t done his hair; it falls into his eyes, and when he pushes it back behind his ear, Damen falls in love all over again.

“Hey,” Damen smiles, so wide it splits his face. “You’re stunning.”

Laurent flushes. Damen can’t see it, but he knows Laurent like himself.

Laurent peers over at the garden. “Did Theomedes plant more tulips?”

“Yeah,” Damen says, still grinning, pleased that Laurent notices these things about his family home. “He spent four whole days trying to rearrange them into the colours of the rainbow.”

Laurent smiles, looking charmed. He comes and sits next to Damen on the sagging couch, close. Damen can smell his cologne, Voyage d’Hermes. Laurent sprays it on everything: his pillow, his bedsheets, his bag, the pinked skin behind his ear.

Their knees touch. Laurent reaches into his pocket, and pulls out the lighter Damen gifted him for his twenty-first and a pack of cigarettes.

The flame dances across Laurent’s face as he lights his cigarette. There’s something pale and shimmery applied to his eyelids, and it keeps changing colour.

Damen is obsessed with it—especially when he catches it flickering against Laurent’s collarbones.

Damen knows his smile is goofy, smitten. Alone like this, he doesn’t care.

When he touches Laurent’s knee, Laurent shifts a little closer, and then passes over his cigarette.

Damen doesn’t smoke, but he always does with Laurent, because the intimacy of it drives him wild. There’s something illicit about putting his mouth at the dampened end, which has been marked by Laurent’s tongue and spit.

The smoke is pungent. It fills the air around them, like a comforting hug.

In the quiet, Damen can feel grateful for his life. He’s young, in love, and has the attention of the world’s most gorgeous man.

Laurent says, “Work alright?”

“Yeah,” Damen says. “Finally figured out which kid has been writing ‘fuck’ for spelling homework.”

Laurent raises an eyebrow. “Nicaise?”

“Fucking Nicaise,” Damen says, laughing. “I don’t think I even knew that word at six, fucking hell.”

“I did,” Laurent smirks, mischievous, his eyes sparkling. It dulls the glitter.

Damen’s breath catches, and he coughs on the next exhale.

Laurent pats his back, laughing, and the sound is magical.

Damen could look at him forever.

Laurent’s smile slowly falls off his face, and he gives Damen a small, quizzical look.

The sliding door opens, and Kastor’s hulking figure comes out onto the alfresco. His hair is still a little damp, curling over his ears. His three piece suit is freshly pressed, stretching over his broad chest.

He looks over at Damen with steel in his eyes. “Cuddling without me?”

Shoving the last half of the cigarette into Damen’s fumbling fingers, Laurent springs to his feet, his smile like sunshine. He makes a graceful leap over Damen’s outstretched legs to Kastor, flinging his arms around him.

“You shaved!” Laurent sounds young, delighted, completely enamoured. “This must be a very fancy dinner.”

The ice in Kastor melts away. He gazes at Laurent with hunger, with wonder. “I told you it was.” He pushes the hair away from Laurent’s forehead. “You’re so beautiful.”

“Thank you.” The response is painfully shy. Laurent presses his painted fingertips to the tiny mole on the underside of Kastor’s chin and then his dimple. “I’ve missed these.”

Kastor kisses Laurent then, and Laurent falls into it sweetly, his moans soft and reverent in the night.

Damen turns away, dragging on the cigarette, the smoke now acrid, clinging to the inside of the lungs like tar.

Laurent murmurs something softly in Veretian when he pulls away. Damen hears the word love, and he hates it.

“Give me a sec, yeah?” Kastor says into Laurent’s ear, and Laurent goes, always willing to listen.

He kisses Kastor again before walking back inside, biting his lip on a smile when Kastor swats his ass.

Two seconds after Laurent has gone back inside, he quickly reappears in the doorway. “Shit, sorry, Damen! See you!”

Damen waves at him, stomach curling with a familiar bitterness. Laurent always seems to forget about him the moment Kastor walks into a room.

When he leaves again, Kastor assesses Damen with an equally familiar coolness.

“What?” Damen finally snaps, stubbing out the cigarette.

To his surprise, Kastor comes over to sit next to him, unbuttoning his suit jacket around the middle.

This close, Damen can feel their thighs touching, and he jerks in surprise, staring at Kastor with wide eyes.

Kastor’s expression is more open, boyish than Damen remembers. Without his beard, he looks younger, the cut of his eyebrows less severe, his mouth more pronounced.

Kastor presses his forehead to Damen’s shoulder. Damen stills in shock.

“Please,” Kastor says in a quiet voice. “Please just let me have this.”

Damen moves away, face hot. “I haven’t fucking done anything!” he snaps, his defensiveness heating his words.

Kastor closes his eyes. “I see how you look at him, Damen. Please, please don’t. Don’t pull your usual shit. I love him. Don’t take him away from me.”

Damen’s armpits are damp now. “My usual shit,” he repeats flatly.

But Kastor doesn’t rise to the bait. He looks miserable. “Yeah,” he says. “Your usual shit.”

And Damen knows. He thinks of Jokaste, Kyra, Lykaois, Erasmus, Kallias, and something unravels in him.

He swallows, turns away.

“Please,” Kastor says again. “I’m asking as your brother.”

Egeria used to call Kastor and Damen two halves of one soul. They’d been close, had remained close, despite everything. They’d seen the worst of each other, and the best like any other family would. Egeria had even joked that sometimes, it seemed like they had been split in half, because Damen’s dimple was on the left, and Kastor’s on the right.

It’s the guilt that chokes Damen—because he’s thought time and time again in these last two years how easy it would be to have Laurent, if he really tried. If he caught Laurent in a moment of weakness.

Now, he says, “Whatever,” and makes sure his tone suggests the end of the conversation.

Kastor is silent for a while. Then he stands up with a sigh.

Damen doesn’t plan on saying it, but when Kastor is crossing the doorway, he says, “He’s going to say yes. You don’t have to be worried.”

For a second, Kastor looks confused. Then his fingers press against his thigh, the place where Damen had felt the tiny box.

“Yeah, I know,” Kastor says, finally. “Don’t let it kill you, alright?”

It’s said firmly, softly: a big brother bestowing advice to his younger brother.

Damen doesn’t answer, and Kastor leaves, eager to get back to his lover.

#lamen week #lamen week 2021 #this technically is breaking a few rules #but the idea wouldnt leave my head 😭 #captive prince #my writing #my fic

[jaehyunspeachparty]

7. The first time (m)

"Okay, unfortunately the twins always eat when they want and sometimes at night too. And Sunoh sometimes cries ..." "OKAY STOP!" Mia sighed and put down all the bags. "It's not the first time I've taken care of the children." Mia rolled her eyes and picked up Kiwoo. "Yeah I know, but are you sure you want to take care of all of them here. So are the others okay with that?" You look around "The boys are all good friends with Jaehyun. Winwin is one of his best friends. They love the kids and the kids love them. Relax at home. Live it up. Nobody wants to catch you having sex again." Mia winked and you blushed. "Okay okay. Have fun then. Johanna is waiting for me anyway." You now put Geon in your sister's arms and she smiled. "Oh, are you still seeing Johanna? Is she okay?" Mia asks and you nod. "Yes, everything's fine. It's getting better every day. But she urgently needs to get something, so I'll go shopping with her until Jaehyun is home." "Then give her my regards and have a nice weekend with Jaehyun." Mia grinned and you had to laugh. You then kiss your children and quickly get out of the apartment. But as soon as you were out of the building, Sunoh looked at the door. "Mummyyyyy ..." He started crying and then ran to the entrance. "You are with me and Xiao Jun and all your other uncles today," Mia said and Sunoh looked at her very calmly for a moment, but then he looked back at the door and realized that you were not coming back. "Mummyyyyyy ..." He kept crying and he could hardly breathe because of it. "He always does that. Even when he's alone with Daddy," said Miga and sighed. "Since when? We always spent so much time together", Mia said and doesn't know what to do anymore. Miga just shrugged her shoulders and Mia realized that she hadn't been there for a long time. "What does your Daddy do then?" She asks desperately and Miga grinned. "Daddy puts him in front of the TV, but we can't tell Mummy." Mia knew that you didn't want the children to sit in front of the TV all the time, but she didn't know what to do now either. Sunoh was still sitting in front of the door crying. Louis looked at him desperately. Mia couldn't help it. She turned on the television, turned on a children's program and sat Sunoh in front of it. He immediately became calm and with his wet eyes he stared into the screen. "Wow. It worked," she said and Miga nodded. "Yes, I told you." The girl grinned and watched with her brother. But no sooner had Sunoh calmed down than Kiwoo began to cry. Mia immediately ran to him and picked him up. He didn't stink yet, so he must be hungry. She was looking for his milk immediately when the door opened. At that moment Sunoh ran back, hoping that you would come back. But it was Lucas who opened the door. Sunoh looked at him disappointed and started crying again. Lucas was very surprised and at first he didn't know what to say. "Sorry, I thought it would be easier," Mia said, looking guilty at him. "No problem." Lucas laughed and crouched down next to the boy. "Hey big guy! Shall we play something?" He asked and Sunoh suddenly became very calm and he nodded. "Up with you." At that moment Lucas picked him up and spun him around. Sunoh started giggling, and he was having a blast. After he put Sunoh back on the couch, he stroked his head. "Again!" Sunoh giggled and looked up at Lucas. "Give me a break, big guy. I'll be back later, okay?" He grinned and Sunoh nodded immediately. The boy sat down in front of the television again and was quite satisfied. "Wow you are good with him," Mia said and smiled. "I have a little brother and I think I'm good with kids." Lucas sat down with her and helped her with the twins. "Hmm ... I’m different than my sisters, I’m not good with kids..." She looked at the twins and sighed. It was quiet for a moment between the two of them because Lucas didn't quite understand. "What do you mean? You took care of them for a while." "Yeah, I thought it was easy. Sunoh keeps crying after Y/N and it got harder with the twins. I don't understand how my sister manages it all like that." "When do you tell her you're going to move out and that you dropped out of university?" Mia has spoken a lot about it with a few of the guys, but she hasn't been able to tell you yet. "I bet she'll be angry that I'll not longer study. I don't know how to tell her." Mia sighed and strokes the cheek of Kiwoo, who happily suckled on the bottle. "Because her and Jaehyun pay for it?" Asked Lucas. "No. Education is important to her. She always says that I should never become dependent on someone. But look at her. She has four children with a man. Doesn't that make her dependent on a man?" "Well, she sure meant financially." "If I continue modeling, I'll have enough money. Besides, I already make money from my looks." Mia sighed and now put Kiwoo in Luca's arms so she could feed Geon some porridge. "You look really good, I'm sure you're doing the right thing." Lucas looked deep into her eyes and Mia felt the tension again between the two. "Thank you," she says softly and her gaze stayed in Luca's dark eyes. She took a deep breath when they both heard Kiwoo making his burp on Lucas shirt. "Oh no," Mia said and saw Kiwoo spread his puke on his shirt. "Okay, no problem. I'll just take it off." Lucas put Kiwoo back down and immediately undressed. He put his shirt on the couch and then took Kiwoo back in his arms. Mia was frozen and looking at his abs. But at that moment the door opens and Xiao Jun came into the apartment with Ten. "What did I miss?" Ten asked with a fat grin when he saw Mia with a topless Lucas. Xiao Jun didn't look very happy either. "Kiwoo made his burp on me. I guess it brings luck." Lucas grinned and looked at the baby. Ten raised an eyebrow and Xiao Jun only nodded skeptically.

The children had settled in well by now. Ten was really good with Miga because she was very interested in his clothes. "And that's Gucci," he said, showing her his newest jacket. "Gucci? That's nice!" Miga grinned and her eyes become big. "And this Dolce & Gabbana." He showed her the next item in his closet. "Wow!" Miga was blown away and she tried to remember all the designer names. "And this?" She ran to a black leather bag. "Yves Saint Laurent," Ten said then. "Ik salad auren?" Miga had difficulty saying that. "No, Yves." "Yves," Miga repeated.  "Saint." "Saint," said Miga again. "Laurant," Ten spoke very slowly. "Laurant", Miga repeated and grinned. In the meantime, Hendery joined them and saw Ten practicing the pronunciation of Yves Saint Laurent with Miga. He raised an eyebrow and looked at the two of them. "What are you doing here?" He asked. "Ten shows me his new clothes." Miga was very enthusiastic about him and looked up at him. "We practice designer names," said Ten, shrugging his shoulders. "Isn't she a little young for that?" Hendery asked, sitting on the bed. "Take a look at her. She's already beautiful, it doesn't surprise me with her parents if she doesn't even become more famous than Jaehyun later on and she'll surely be covered with all the designers. She has to practice all of this early on." Ten grinned and looked at the girl. Hendery shook his head. "What if she doesn't get famous." "She will. Miga, tell Hendery what you do with your Daddy." Ten put his shoulders on the girl and turned her to face his friend. "I'm playing in a drama with my Daddy," she said proudly. "And who else is playing in there?" Ten asked further, although he already knows the answer. "Uncle Lee Min Ho, Uncle Park Seojoon, Aunt IU," says Miga. "Wow, good cast," Hendery said, looking at Ten in surprise. "Isn't it? This drama is going to be incredible and she's a part of it." Ten grinned broadly and then turned Miga to face him. "Shall we put make-up on you now?" He asked excitedly and Hendery had to laugh because Ten was so happy because Miga was like a doll to him. "But Daddy said I can't wear makeup." Miga looked sadly at the floor. "But your daddy isn't there and he doesn't need to know, okay?" Miga's mood immediately raised. "YESSSSS!"

Kun came to visit the dorm. He now lived in his own apartment with his wife, but he had the apartment next door. Since his wife was just four months pregnant, he wanted to practice with Kiwoo and Geon right away. Winwin meanwhile fed Kiwoo and Kun put Geon on his lap. "It's unbelievable how time flies. Jaehyun just already has four children," said Kun and looked at the little boy. "He cheated a bit too, with having had twins," Winwin said with a wink. "That's true, but still. Somehow I only saw Jaehyun only with girls." "I also thought that he would rather only have girls. But you can't choose something like that," Winwin laughed and watched whether Kiwoo choked. "Don't you even want children?", Kun asks him and Winwin shook his head. "No ..." He was always silent about it. Winwin was generally very silent about his family. "Hmmm ... okay." Kun nodded and stroked Geon's back. "I hope I have a girl. I think I could handle that better," said Kun then. He was pretty excited that he was going to be a father soon. The story with him and his wife was very difficult as she was not known and she was Korean. Her parents didn't want her to marry a Chinese man and there were many problems that still exist to this day. But in the meantime a lot has calmed down and they are expecting their first child soon. "I also think that a girl will suit you," said Winwin and smiled.

Meanwhile, Lucas and Yangyang play with Sunoh. Since everyone was dorky, the three of them had a lot of fun. They enjoyed the time with Sunoh so much. "I thought I had a lot of energy, but I think I'll be more tired in front of him," said Lucas as Sunoh jumped onto his back. "Yes! Children have so much energy!" Yangyang laughed and saw Sunoh not let go of his friend. Sunoh giggled the whole time and barely came to rest. "Having kids is hard then," said Lucas and something changed in his gaze. "Yes? Lucas, what's wrong?" Asked Yangyang. Lucas was a bad liar and he could hardly hide anything. "You know I have something with Yiren. So we're not together, but we're having fun. You know, right?" Lucas stammered this to himself and Yangyang rolled his eyes. "Lucas, either you're with her or she's here. It's not a big secret now." "Okay, okay. She's not getting her period anymore and she may be pregnant," Lucas admitted. "Oh, have you already done a test?", Yangyang then asked and Lucas shook his head. "Then don't stress yourself. Take a test and it will show up," he tried to reassure his friend. Lucas nodded, but still wasn't quite sure. "I know, but you know. I'm in love with ..." Lucas stopped and sighed. "You know this can't work. You would only destroy a friendship. We have talked about it so many times," Yangyang sighed, but he could understand. "I know, I know..." said Lucas and starred in the emptiness. 

Xiao Jun just came out of the shower when he was about to speak to something. "What was this today with Lucas?" He asked and sighed. Mia looked at him confused and shrugged. "Nothing." "But you've been talking a lot lately." "Can't I talk to your friends?" Asked Mia and looked at her boyfriend. "Yes, but there is a certain tension between you." Xiao Jun sat on the bed and looked sadly at the floor. "Hey, it's nothing. I only like and love you." She put her arms around his shoulders and kissed his neck. Xiao Jun smiled gently and Mia pulled him completely into bed. "Do you remember how we first met? There was an immediate attraction between us."

4 years ago: When Mia first came to Seoul, it was a different world for her. She was never really able to visit her older sister before because your mother never allowed it. But when Audrey and Victoria just took the initiative, everything worked out. It was weird for Mia, because the last time she saw you, you only had Miga and suddenly she is in the place where you have your life. And when she took care of Miga and Sunoh, she felt that she had lost too much of her sisters. She barely kept up just because she was the smallest. There was always the suspicion that she had a different father than her other sisters. Even if Edward was always there for her. She could have taken a test before, but she was afraid to know the truth. But sometimes she felt so distant from her sisters that it might even be a relief to find out that she is not a part of them. A lot of things were so strange to her, you and Audrey only longed for a family and Mia doesn’t want that. Victoria was the sister she had the best connection with, but she also lived so far away. All of the sisters lived on a different continent so it was difficult to be a family. After the children were in bed, someone knocked on the door and Mia remembered that a friend of Jaehyun's would come over. And when she opened the door, her chin fell almost to the ground. "Hi, you're Y/N's sister, aren't you? I'm Xiao Jun." The boy with the blond hair grinned and Mia blushed. She liked him very much right away. She didn't know what it was. He wasn't really her type, but she caught his eye immediately. "Yes, hi, I'm Mia." She smiled and immediately led him into the apartment. "Hi Mia. I just have to hand over the keys.” He gave her the keys and smiled gently. "Would you like something to drink?" Mia didn't want him to leave right away and she tries her chance. Xiao Jun looked around and wasn't sure. "Jaehyun comes back very late and my sister has only just gone out with my other sisters. And I'm so alone here ..." She pawed and looked up at him with wide eyes. "Well, I still have a little time." He grinned and of course he was pleased because he found Mia quite attractive.

It then became more than an hour. They both drank beer and wine and talked a lot. "Okay, let's play a game." Mia was a little drunk by now and she was trying to have a little fun. "Okay ..." Xiao Jun was still a little nervous and he held onto his drink tightly. "Then we play dare, choice or truth. You can choose." "Truth ... I guess." "Well then, answer me the question. Do you find me attractive?" Mia winked and she leaned against her hand. "Yes you are very attractive..." Xiao Jun blushed. "Good. I also choose truth." "Do you find me attractive?" Xiao Jun asked curiously. "Yes, you are hot." Mia took another long sip of her wine and grinned. "Okay. I choose dare now," he said and Mia knew immediately what she was going to say. "Kiss me," she said with a big grin and Xiao Jun raised his eyebrows. "You don't have to." She winked as Xiao Jun was suddenly on her and his lips pressed against hers. And both immediately found that it was right and it wasn't long before they wanted more. At first it was just innocent touches, their hands slipped under clothes until everything was taken off. "Do you have something to use?" She asks, looking up at Xiao Jun. He shook his head. "No, I really didn't expect it." "Okay, I bet my sister and her husband must have condoms somewhere." Mia got up and immediately ran into her sister's bedroom. Without a guilty conscience, she searched the drawers and quickly found what she was looking for. She ran back with the aluminum pack and opened it straight away. "The evening is saved," she said with a wink and already put the condom on his tip. "Oh God," Xiao Jun groaned as she pulled it over his length. "If you already like this, then I'm curious how I must feel for you." She winked and pushed him down onto the couch. She sat on top of him and grinned. "Are you ready?" She asked and Xiao Jun nodded. She lifted her hips, took his length, and sat on top of them. Both began to moan and Mia wondered how long it had been since she felt something so good. She began to move her body towards him, and Xiao Jun clutched her waist. "Oh shit," he whispered and it was hard for both of them to be quiet because Sunoh and Mia slept in their rooms. But despite everything, they let themselves go, they felt their bodies and immediately noticed that they harmonized. Their touches grew tighter. Mia felt his length and rode closer to her orgasm. Xiao Jun grabbed her too and continued to fuck her ... and much harder now. They both enjoyed the pace and knew the sex was perfect. His hands grabbed her breasts and he had to moan because it made him all more happy. They were so inwardly that they no longer even noticed their surroundings. But suddenly Miga heard a voice. "Mia?" You came into the room and suddenly Mia and Xiao Jun sat up. "Xiao Jun?" You look confused to the two and see how they tried to cover their naked bodies with a blanket. "Oh my God." Victoria came also and for both was this a stupid situation. "I hope you have prevented, Mia! Mum kills us if you come home pregnant." Audrey's eyes were full of panic. Xiao Jun quickly tried to find his clothes together. "I'm so sorry, I ..." He was completely red in the face with shame. Victoria couldn’t stop laughing and Xiaojun tried to put on his clothes quickly. "I'll go, I'll call you." He said to Mia and disappeared quickly from the apartment.

daddy jaehyun masterlist

naughty & nice 2020 masterlist

naughty & nice 2019 masterlist

#jaehyun #daddy jaehyun #xiaojun #wayv xiaojun #xiao jun smut #way v smut #nct 127 #nct u #nct 2020 #NCT #way v #nct 127 smut #nct u smut #nct 2020 smut #nct smut #naughty and nice christmas stories

[fishoutofcamelot]

Yves Montand's les feuilles mortes is Merwen as Gwen ages and becomes old, memories flitting in and out of her consciousness as Merlin tends to her last moments on her death bed, her hand caressing his cheek as she says the final goodbye. Merlin clutches into her hand tight, his shoulders tremored as he sobs, losing his last friend and lover.

Dude it’s MY job to make people sad about Merwen! If you keep this up, I’ll be out of a job!!! And I can’t afford that in this tragic fandom economy.

Ngl tho, you’re absolutely right about the vibes. Although if I might add, I also kinda get a reincarnation vibe from it too.

The scene: France, 1947. WWII is finally over. Merlin, or Michon Epinette as he goes by now, is walking down a wet cobblestone street. His face is sullen. As he walks, hands stuffed into his pockets and head bowed, flashbacks are interjected into his mind. Brief snippets of his time in Camelot - meeting Arthur, hanging out with the knights, saving the kingdom. But above all, his time with Gwen. All the memories and laughs and tears they shared together. 

The flashbacks increase in frequency the further along he comes, only now they’re all focusing on Arthur’s death, Leon and Gaius and Percival’s deaths, until only Merlin and Gwen remain. Until Gwen ages and dies too, until Merlin is left weeping over her dead body. But in none of the memories do any of their faces appear. The faces and appearances of his loved ones are just some of the many things he’s forgotten after all these years, much to his distress.

Merlin shakes his head to force the memories away, and enters a bar. It’s pretty empty. Everyone is fairly quiet aside from the clanking of glasses and occasional murmurs here and there - and on the stage, a slow, morose jazz performance.

He sits down at the bar and gets a drink, watching the performance and trying not to cry over how deeply the mournful lyrics speak to him. It’s the 1400-year anniversary of Gwen’s death, and it stings just as intensely now as it did back then.

The woman singing wears a yellow dress that is elegant yet simple, back exposed and black gloves deftly holding the microphone. Her own eyes are tearful, she herself affected by her own lyrics - Les Feuilles Mortes, now that he thinks about it - and if not for some impressive self-control then her elaborate makeup might have been running.

But looking at her face, her dark, gentle face and deep brown eyes, a most profound sense of deja vu settles into his gut. As if he should know her somehow. 

But Merlin has lived for many, many years, and has met many, many people. If he’s met her before, he doesn’t remember, and likely never will. And besides, it was probably nothing important.

Still, the clenching of his heart pulls him to her. As if something terrible will happen, as if he’ll suffer a loss worse than he can ever imagine, if he doesn’t hold her in his arms this very moment.

Instead of sweeping her up and never letting go, Merlin waits for the song to end, politely applauds, and then greets her as she sits down at the bar stool next to him. Another performer walks onto the stage in her place.

They speak in French as she asks if she’s seen him before, a puzzled look creasing her features. He says that he’s just got one of those faces, and reaches out his hand to shake hers. He introduces himself using his current alias, Michon Epinette, but his ribcage screams at him to tell the truth. To tell her that his name is Merlin. He ignores the impulse.

She calls herself Guinevere Laurent, and oh how his heart aches at the familiarity of it. Another Guinevere, just as kind and soft as his own had once been. He commends her performance, admits that it had made him cry, and she tells him it has that effect on people - especially those who have recently suffered a loss. 

Ms. Laurent asks him who he’s lost, then gets flustered as she apologizes for being so forward. He instead tells her that he lost a great deal of friends. Everyone he’s ever known and loved is dead now.

“The war?” she surmises.

“Yes,” he says, because while they’re not thinking about the same war it’s still true.

She sips from her cocktail glass. “I lost a great deal of friends to the war as well. My brother Elouan, my best friend Lazare, and my father Thomas. Normandy, all of them.”

He shrugs. “If they had to die at war, at least it was Normandy.” Then, flustering - “Oh no, I’m so sorry! That was so insensitive of me. I didn’t mean -”

Ms. Laurent - Guinevere - shakes her head. “It’s fine. You’re right, though. Normandy is...heroic. As good a place to die as any. I just...I just wish they hadn’t had to die in the first place.”

Merlin has nothing to say to that, so he doesn’t. And the two of them sit there at the bar counter, nursing their cocktails - which are, coincidentally, the exact same - and ruminate over their respective losses. Guinevere Laurent is likely thinking about the second world war, and Merlin is thinking about Camlann. And both of them are thinking about after. What happens next. Where they go from here, when everyone they care about is six feet under.

While the similarity in names is likely a coincidence, Merlin can’t help but feel drawn to this Guinevere too. She speaks and acts and feels so much like the one he lost that his chest burns with sorrow. But also, perhaps, with something else too. Something he hasn’t felt in a long time.

Hope.

Merlin ventures out his broken heart and cracks a joke, trying to lighten her spirits. For the life of him, he will never be able to remember what the joke is, but it does its job in making a tentative smile splash onto her face. 

Warily, with an uneven and rough voice, she murmurs out a joke of her own. He won’t ever be able to remember that one, either, but he laughs just as quietly and genuinely as she did.

After an hour their laughter has transformed into something loud and unending, and it fills up the entire bar with an orange, jovial mood. Other people are talking amongst themselves with more liveliness than they had before, and now Merlin and Guinevere are not the only people smiling in here. Even the scrunched-faced bartender is cracking a grin.

It feels familiar. It feels like he’s been in this situation before - laughing with someone as loudly as possible to chase away their mutual pains, until their desperation turns into sincerity and sincerity into passion. 

For one glorious evening, Merlin allows himself to exist in a fantasy world where Gwen isn’t dead, but sitting right next to him. It’s weird and wrong, for sure, but he can’t help pretending that Guinevere Laurent and Guinevere Pendragon are the same person.

The crowd raucously, drunkenly cries out to Guinevere for an encore, begging her to give them another song. She shakes her head and says she’s done for the night, and all her songs are too sad anyway, but the crowd remains insistent. 

Merlin nudges her shoulder with his own. “You can do this, Gwen.”

And for some reason, just locking eyes with him is enough for her to acquiesce.

She dusts off her dress and reluctantly shuffles onto the stage once more, and the current performer steps aside to let her have the microphone.

Guinevere discusses something with the people manning the instruments, and after a moment they appear to reach an agreement of some kind. 

As the music swells to life, she casts one final glance at Merlin. He nods encouragingly, and she nods back, then closes her eyes and begins.

“Je suis seul ce soir,” she sings in a soulful cadence.

He loses himself in the music, lets the medieval nostalgia consume him like a snake devouring a field mouse - and just as the snake’s venom strikes the mouse, so too does a heartbreaking realization strike Merlin.

He called her Gwen. He referred to Guinevere Laurent as Gwen, his Gwen.

But she’s not. She’s not his Gwen.

His Gwen is dead, and she’s not coming back.

Suddenly, the whole world flares harshly at him. The lights are too modern and bright, the music is too loud and lively, the crowd is too busy and young. And Guinevere Laurent stands on the stage, eyes closed as she sings from the heart. 

And it’s not Gwen. It’s not Gwen, it’s not Gwen, it’s not Gwen, and the reminder of this truth is a slap to the face. Gwen didn’t dress like that, didn’t speak that language, didn’t sing in French bars or drink cheap cocktails. 

Gwen died. She died in pain, and she died gasping for air, and she died pushing him away in fear because her senile mind could not recall who he was. She died afraid, surrounded by faces and places she didn’t recognize, tearfully asking for a brother who had been dead for decades.

But even despite with all the differences, Guinevere Laurent looks so horribly similar to Gwen, back when she was young and innocent. The similarities, the memories, are enough to shatter whatever shaky pieces of his heart he had managed to cobble together.

Merlin presses a trembling fist to his mouth as tears pierce their way through his eyes, clouding his vision and sapping his body of any resolve it might have had. 

He fumbles out of the bar to get away from it all, lest the agony bubble out of him like blood. The cold air stings his cheeks, but the bitterness of it provides a momentary distraction from the memories left behind in the bar.

Determined to find some other hole-in-the-wall at which to drink and forget forget forget, Merlin stumbles away, not even bothering to wipe away the curtain of tears shuttering his face.

But back in the bar, Guinevere Laurent begins to remember things. As the melody holds up her heart, as the fondness that ‘Michon’ had born within her chest lifts her ever higher, flashes of a distant life spark in her mind. 

A boy with an impish grin, stuck in the stocks but still shaking her hand. A young man with a colourful scarf, sitting on a hill and braiding flowers into her hair. A friend, back pressed to hers as they both hold swords and fight to defend their kingdom. A companion, holding her wrinkled hands and helping her get up the stairs.

The name whispers into her mind. Merlin.

But as the final notes of Seule Ce Soir  rumble to an end, as Guinevere opens her eyes in the hopes of soaking in the rays of her old friend’s presence, she finds no sign of Michon - Merlin - and instead a vacancy in his place. 

Thanks for the ask! <3

#long post #i shouldve added a read more line huh #well im too lazy to do it now so we'll just have to suffer through it #merwen #mergwen #bbc merlin #merlin bbc #merlin #bbcm #ask #fish post

[sepublic]

Belos the ‘Humble Messenger’?

           A thought just hit me, but if Lilith deflects some of the blame of her own actions onto Belos, by claiming she’s just enforcing his will, that he’s making her do this, in addition to considering what HE would do and how that influenced her initial choice to curse Eda…

           …What if Belos is the same way, but with the Titan? Especially with how he constantly insists that he’s just a Humble Messenger for the Titan… It’s not BELOS that’s choosing to hurt people, it’s the Titan! Blame the Titan, don’t shoot the messenger… I have to wonder if Belos is also being a coward like Lilith in this own way, absolving himself of what he’s done wrong, of his own mistakes in carrying out the Titan’s alleged will. Like Lilith, Belos could be operating on a “I was just carrying out orders” type of defense here.

           And given what his VA said about Belos being ‘misunderstood’ in his own way… Maybe that’s what he meant? Belos thinks there’s nothing he can do, he’s resigned himself to his own powerlessness because he really thinks he lacks the ability to make a change. That he really isn’t enjoying this… Though of course, like Lilith or Amity when she cut ties with Willow, he still bears some responsibility for the consequences of his actions, as cruel and unfair as it is. And with Belos, I imagine he bears WAY more fault and guilt for carrying out the Titan’s will, than any other character has for doing what others tell them to… Belos might think he’s choosing the path of least resistance, that he’s actually being helpful by implementing the Titan’s will in the least bloody was possible; Which, when you consider his implied genocides, says a LOT…

           But it also calls into question if Belos even IS communicating with the Titan, or some impostor, or if this really is the Titan’s will, and not the influence of Belos trying to make it be the leader and role model he WANTS it to be, the way Simon Laurent from Infinity Train felt with Grace, or how Jasper tried to mold Steven Universe into the Diamond she wanted him to be; It’s that desire to have someone who validates you, who takes responsibility for you, who comforts and knows exactly what to do… While always enabling any decisions you make and encouraging them, because you can do no wrong; You’re just doing what THEY’re saying, you have no blame in this!

           Maybe Belos is outright influencing the Titan, or at least interpreting its will in a very specific way, and has deluded himself into believing he’s carrying out exactly what the Titan is saying… Even if that isn’t exactly what it said, because Belos secretly knows what the Titan really meant and that’s why it was so vague, because of course Belos will understand the intent! So when the Titan tells him to spread the knowledge of magic, Belos interprets it very specifically as ‘Establish a Coven System’, because surely that’s what the Titan specifically meant…

          It’s like how some alleged ‘Christians’ interpret the Bible in a way that’s very tailored and convenient to their own pre-existing beliefs and bigotry, to justify their own terrible actions. And given the comparisons between Belos and Western Imperialism by fans… In addition to Dana Terrace mentioning how she was once put into a headlock by a nun, and the way some Chrstians appropriated and assimilated pagan cultures (again sounding a lot like what Belos does)… And maybe Belos has a deluded perception of reality, of projecting of what he thinks is best, and believing that everything his role model does is actually indicative of and in support of his own beliefs. Kind of like what I speculated with Boscha, thinking Amity’s actions as a bully were validating to her own cruelty, when really Amity was horrified at the kind of person she was becoming, and did NOT approve of Boscha whatsoever!

          Maybe Belos has a warped sense of identity, because he’s so convinced to himself that everything he does is the Titan’s will, he assumes the Titan’s feelings are the same as his (“The Titan will be pleased!” A triumphant Belos cries upon receiving the portal from Luz), etc. And Belos has trapped himself in his own fantasy, into thinking that he basically IS the Titan because everything he does is surely a reflection of what it believes, because it obviously agrees with him 100% and he completely understands it in a way that nobody, not even the Titan, does… Because Belos KNOWS better, he knows what’s good for the Titan, just as Odalia and Alador claim so for Amity, or what Lilith used to for Eda!

          Which, this just leads to a lack of identity, no sense of self on Belos’ behalf, just as he inflicts upon others with his cult-like indoctrination… Just as Lilith might question who she is without the Emperor’s Coven, perhaps Belos, deep-down, doesn’t know who he is without the Titan; A question any parasite would ask, because Belos can’t stand on his own. He has no will nor convictions of his own, he can’t rely on just his own reasoning to justify himself because he lacks that confidence… So Belos seeks someone who CAN justify what he does, and then warps them to fully fit that idealized image of his. And so just as Lilith realizes that she doesn’t really understand Eda, that she hasn’t figured out that Eda secretly wants to join the Emperor’s Coven but just needs time or a cursed curse to join… Belos will realize that he didn’t exactly understand the Titan at all, and probably was outright influencing and projecting onto it!

           This is going to lead to a lot of confusion, self-doubt… Plenty of denial, certainly. If Belos did accept this reality, this truth, and discern his delusions from what actually is… Then I could see him recovering in a way similar to Lilith, and maybe the two could find a very unusual solidarity in this, while awkwardly naviating how he used to be her feared boss and influenced Lilith herself, threatened her… And yet now she’s way past him in terms of growth and sense of self. Maybe Belos HAS considered that he’s been wrong about the Titan’s will in the past, but he doesn’t want to admit/explore this possibility, because he’s already done so much….

          Maybe he’s just doing what seems to be the least challenging for him, maybe Belos has legit fooled himself into thinking he too is at the Titan’s whim and mercy, he feels bad for his victims, but what else can he do? He’s already sacrificed too many people by this point, he doesn’t want to invalidate those deaths by not going through with what he (and the Titan) planned… He’s not brave enough to do the right thing and Belos is convinced that even if he tried, he wouldn’t accomplish much. To him, he’s most at his useful as a ‘humble messenger’, probably… Belos could be a lot like Krika from Bionicle, perhaps.

          Belos is certain that what the Titan has decreed WILL come to pass, it makes no difference if he or someone else carries out its will- So Belos can’t really be blamed for getting it over with, because someone else will… Or he CAN be blamed, but so what? Maybe Belos thinks he’s the best candidate to do what has to be done, the only one willing to do the dirty work, kind of like Thanos from Infinity War. Maybe he ironically thinks that only HE is the one who is acknowledging this cold, hard truth of the universe, and actually doing something about it; While everyone else is simply in denial…

          If only people could just understand what he’s doing, where he’s coming from, that Belos takes no pleasure in this, he’s trying to make this as smooth and painless as possible. It really, truly DOES hurt him to sacrifice others like this for his goals… And while he ultimately disagrees with such people, Belos can still admire witches like Luz, as he used to be like them, and he finds an almost admirable youth and naivete to their traits that reminds him of his young, foolish self, so wide-eyed and really believing it could all be that black-and-white and simple, that good will prevail… Belos can’t totally blame them for thinking that way, because he made the same mistakes, so he doesn’t have THAT much of a place to judge; But he still has a tiny place, because at least Belos had the ‘wisdom’ to realize the truth and move on.

           Of course, Belos doesn’t see what the Titan or the world is secretly getting at, because there’s nothing there. The Titan is indeed being fully transparent about what it has to say, it isn’t secretly ‘testing’ Belos’ faith… He is acting VERY contrary to a lot of people and things, but just as some deluded, alleged ‘christians’ believe that their god is secretly testing their faith, offering them temptation and false evidence to convince them to go off the right path, when really they just need to keep being stubborn and blocking out all other noise… Maybe Belos is just like THAT.

          It’s like Luz saying that she’s picking up what Amity is putting down, even though as far as Amity can tell, she’s not putting down anything (in addition to maybe being autistic and thus not understanding this kind of saying), she wasn’t suggesting that Luz challenge Boscha to a grudgby game; Except, Belos took it WAY worse, and WAY too far to an unimaginable extent… Again, as a dark parallel to her, despite being associated with a much blinding and radiant Light than Luz’s.

#the owl house #toh #the owl house belos #emperor belos #toh belos #boiling isles titan #speculation

[sometimes-i-write-4-you]

I was wondering if you could do a John B one where he is jealous of the reader and her boyfriend and wishes he would leave the friend zone. Then one night or day something happens that causes John B to comfort the reader and she sees that John B was there all along.

only one for me - John B x redaer

triggers: cheating bf (not our John B of course)

--

(y\n) and John B were always friends. They knew each other for such a long time, (y\n) saw him as a brother. John B, however, saw her in a different light. They were 14 when he realized that.

"I can't wait to see (y\n) today, I miss her" said the young boy with the brown hair. "do you like.. like-like her?" his blond best friend asked. "I don't think so, I just wanna hug her already, haven't seen her in a while" John B replied, and the third boy laughed. "dude, to me it sounds like you like-like her" JJ said, and Pope nodded. "I can't believe I'm saying that, but JJ is right" he said. "no guys, it's normal. I want to hug my friend, cause I miss her" John B insisted.

She finally arrived at John B's to hang out. John hugged her, like kids do, but then he realized he doesn’t want to ever let go.

She wasn't really a part of the group, but she hung out with them a lot, especially during Kie's Kook year, then it was her turn to branch out. He couldn't use the "no pogue on pogue macking" as an excuse really, but he did. He used every single one until it was too late, and she met Gabriel.

Gabriel was a Kook, but she met him at a beach party and they didn't know about the social status difference until later, when they exchanged numbers and his phone was the newest iPhone and her's a Xiaomi. Neither of them cared, at least not enough to ignore the connection, and they started dating soon after. Their friends did care, but love is stronger than anything, right? Wrong.

She was hanging out with Gabriel's friends – drinking, talking smoking and whatever. "so, Gabriel, how's Rosemary liking (y\n)? like, is she not worried (y\n\n) is a just a gold digger? Because I know (y\n\n)'s great, however…" Alice said, sipping on her cocktail. She was laying on the hammock in Gabriel's back yard next to the pool. "she hasn't met her yet" Gabriel replied, flipping the burgers for the BBQ. "oh" Alice said, smiling her devilish smile. "I'm going to, right? Tonight" (y\n) said, "we said I'm staying for dinner". "sure babe" Gabriel said, kissing his girlfriend of 3 months.

"you two are so cute, like Romeo and Juliet or Tony and Maria" Alice said, hiding her hatred towards the couple in her sweet tone. She liked Gabriel, obviously, but that was exactly the problem. "you know that it's basically the same, right? Arthur Laurents based 'west side story' off of Shakespeare's original story" (y\n) corrected Alice. "how do you know it wasn't Shakespeare who copied from Arthur?" Alice said, trying to prove her smarts but failing miserably. "because west side story's first production was after Shakespeare died" Gabriel replied, laughing, "Alice, you truly shock me with your brain". "whatever, nerds" Alice sighed, sipping on her drink once again.

"let's play 7 minutes in heaven" offered one of the guys. If (y\n)'s memory was correct, he was Don. Or was it Daniel? Or was Don the other Blond guy, and this was Ernie?

"Don, we're not 14, we don't need a game to kiss someone" said the other Blond guy, Ernie. (y\n) smiled at her small victory of remembering the names of her new circle. "I'm down" Alice smiled, "I'll make the notes" she added as she got up, and Ernie changed his mind. "yeah, ii guess it can be really fun" he said, scratching the back f his head. Alice rolled her eyes at the love-struck boy and took a notebook and a pen out of her bag to make the notes.

-2 hours later-

John B stood in his kitchen, staring at the nearly expired rice and tying to remember how to make it. With his dad away, he should probably learn how to make food, right?

A knock on the door made him smile. Hopefully it will be one of his friend who can make food, or even better – one if his friends with food. He opened the door almost too fast, the smile on his face turning to a look of worry at the sight of crying (y\n).

Before he got to ask what's going on, the red-eyed girl wrapped her hands around him and pushed her head against his shirts. He felt her tears being soaked in his shirt, and rested his hand on her back, shushing her softly. "hey" he said, hand reaching for her cheeks to both wipe away the tears and make her look at him. "hey" he repeated to remind her to turn her eyes to him. she finally looks at him.

"what happened, (y\n\n)?" he asked, "tell me what happened" he added. They stood at the door, quietly, still sort-of-hugging. She broke the hug to walk into the house and sat down on the couch. "Gabriel" she said, "he— we were at a house party, and then— we—well, one of the guys offered to play 7 minutes in heaven and I got Don and he tried to kiss me but I was like… no, cause you know, I'm dating his friend, but when he got Alice… when Gabriel and Alice went into the closet, they—" (y\n) said. John B sat down by her side, pulling her into him. she leaned her head on his shoulder. "I can't believe he kissed another girl when he has you" John B said, even though he could defiantly believe it. He never liked Gabriel, and now he had a good reason. Stealing the girl that was never really his is not a good enough reason.

"if you were my girl, I'd never do that" he said quietly, tempted to tell her she should be. "yeah, you're a great guy" she said, "I don't deserve to be your friend". "of course you do, you deserve everything" John said, "you're a great person, and you shouldn't let stupid Gilbert make you think differently". "his name is Gabriel" (y\n) corrected, "like the angel. His parents gave him the wrong name, he's no angel" she sighed. "but you are, so don't let him make you cry" John insisted, stroking her side to comfort her. She slowly calmed down, but he had to ask something. "so you two are done?" he asked. she nodded, "yeah, I dumped his ass right in front of his friends. Most of them laughed, but Alice seemed satisfied" (y\n) said. Her phone ringed.

Don (?): hey, now that you are single, wanna reclaim you're 7 minitues in heaven? 😉

John laughed at the text; both did. "this is ridicules" he said, "I mean, wow". "yeah" (y\n) said, "wanna help me reply?" she asked, biting her lip. The perfect payback. "uh, yeah?" John said, half-asking. She opened the camera and made him turn to her. Face to face. They were close, and John B found it hard to resist temptation, but turns put he doesn't need you. (y\n)'s lips locked with his for a split second, and she sent the picture to Don.

"what the fuck?" John said, a little pissed. His dream came true, but this is not how he imagined their first kiss to be. He had this whole thing planned out where he'll tell her to close her eyes because he has a surprise and then he'll kiss her. "I'm not a toy for Kooks to pass around, I'm done with those fart boys-" "you mean frat boys?" "-no, fart boys, because they stink" she said, making John B to laugh even though he wanted to be mad at her.

"just.. look, (y\n), you can't go around kissing people as pay back on your ex, I have feelings. Give me a heads up next time" he sighed. "don't be a baby, it's not like I was leading you on for a moment there, right?" she said, wiping away her tears. John looked at her, and she realized something. well, two things to be exact.

One – his eyes had a pain she recognized from the mirror she looked at on the way here to see how ugly crying made her. The pain of understanding the person you love doesn’t love you as much. Second thing was is beautiful, kind and he's always there for her. It was always him.

"I was, wasn't i? shit man" she laughed sadly, "good job, me". "it's okay, I guess. My bad for never telling you" he said. "no, I fooled myself, not you" she says. He looked at her confused. "let me make it up to you" (y\n) smiled, ignoring John's confusion. Her hand reached for his cheek to pull him as close as possible, and her lips crashed against his. He kissed back without questioning it, until he started to overthink.

"wait, are you just looking for something because of Gabriel, or is this for real?" he asked, pulling away. "for real, John B, as real as it gets. I'm kind of stupid for never seeing that you were the only one for me" (y\n) said, slightly offended. Her serious tone convinced John B, and led to understand she likes him back. Finally. He smiled and pulled her back into the kiss.  

#john b #john b x reader #john b imagine #John Booker Routledge #john b imagines #Outer Banks #outer banks netflix #outer banks x reader #outer banks imagines #obx #obx netflix

[rae-arts777]

Who are you?

Summary: welcome, meet ultimate despair Dorothy and Makoto

Notes: what’s this? Rae wrote her Danganronpa X GrePre crossover that’s not as dark as the last one that will never see the light of day? :000

TW: death/blood/world destruction

Again it’s Danganronpa inspire.

~~~~~~~~

Makoto stop mid monologue about how TC were hypocrites. His expression went from a face full of anger, to boredom.

Lowering the sword he yawned and looked up at the ceiling, “Jesus Christ I told you this be boring. Let’s just get on with it already. Their expressions are so plain.”

Everyone in the room looked confused. Akemi looked at Laurent thinking this was part of TC’s plan, Laurent looking at the director thinking it was some act she made Makoto do.

“Hey, bitch I know you can hear me” Makoto continued “Get on with it, or I might just throw myself out the window from boredom”

Familiar laugh to half of TC echo through the room. Laurent’s eye widen, scanning the area fractionally looking. It wasn’t in his head, everyone heard it, even Oz was looking.

The doors swung open and out she step. Flipping her white hair over her shoulders. Her blue eyes sparkling, her iconic pink lip stick vibrante as ever. But something was off. The way she smiled didnt set off any brightness or joy, it sent a chilling feeling down everyone’s spine.

“Gheez Makoto! Did you have to stop half way? I was actually enjoying your performance!!” Dorothy walked to him and threw her arms around the Japanese man smiling “ah! I could just tell every word you spoke plunge even more despair into all their hearts!! You’re such a good actor! Oh you’ve come such a long way from that kid I found on the streets!” She pulled at his cheeks cooing him.

Annoyed, Makoto pushed her off “It was boring. Their reactions were so predictable.”

Everyone stared in confusion. No one knew what was going on, how did they know each other? Dorothy was alive?

Laurent took a step towards her “Dorothy.? Is it really you?”

“Yup! In the flesh Laurie!” She smiled and grabbed Makoto’s shoulder “and you’ve all meet my little successor Makoto Edamura. Such a talented young man, is he not?”

Oz looked at his son “so this whole time...you-“

“Yes I knew.” Makoto cut him off “I’ve worked under her since you left”

“That long?!” Oz spoke in shock

“Better to teach them when they’re young right?” Dorothy laughed “again, such a talented young man. You have to admit, his performance was phenomenal!!”

Akemi spoke up “I do not understand. Who are you? What is going on?”

The one thing Laurent could agree on with this woman “what is going on.? How do you two know each other.?”

“Right I should probably reintroduce myself” Dorothy pulled out little hair pin, it was the head of a cartoon bear, the left white and the right black. She pinned it in her hair and took a bow

“Dorothy, I’m the ultimate despair. And this!” She gestured to Makoto “it’s Makoto Edmaura, my partner, and the second ultimate despair.” She patted his cheek smiling proudly.

Makoto’s expression remain blank. Everyone looking at the two like they’ve lost their minds.

Abby growled “ok virgin, enough with the games. Did you hit your head or something? Stop this.”

“You’re annoying.” Makoto snapped at her “when you were a suicidal manic you didn’t fear death. So boring. You couldn’t even appreciate the despair that came with death. People like you annoy me”

“I’m going to knock the sense into you!” Abby tried to get up was was still restrain.

However someone did take action.

“ENOUGH OF THIS.” Yao grabbed Makoto by the collar raising his fist “I don’t know what game you’re playing but I have enough.”

Makoto remained unpashed, sighing “shame, you would have been a good blacken for the game”

Dorothy nodded in agreement “well, looks like nothing can be done now.” She pulled out a remote and pressed a button.

A loud buzz was heard through the room. Before anyone knew it, spears came flying, shooting into Yao. He let go of Makoto who step back, a slight smile dancing upon his face.

Everyone looked in horror, as blood ran down the spears, Yao’s body twitching.

“T-the hell...?” He muttered “I don’t....how did you even....? You....damn....bastards...” The spears retracted, and Yao fell to the floor dead.

Ishigami let out of blood curling scream and threw an arm up to shield Akemi, who had her mouth covered in horror.

Laurent knelt down and checked for a pulse, praying this was some elaborate con Makoto set up to get even. There was no pulse. Yao was dead.

Laurent looked up at Dorothy with a pain expression “but...we don’t-“

“We don’t kill people? Old news. Old life. I can’t believe I stuck to those morals, how boring, death is so wonderful” an insane smile danced upon her lips “did you see it Laurie? That expression before he died? Such despair...ahhh!” She hugged herself laughing “such a wonderful feeling! I remember how amazing it felt when I thought I was going to die! The thrill! The excitement! Despair is truly such a wonderful thing!”

Liu step forward, his face stonecold “tell me what is your motivate here? What do you two so call ultimate despairs want?”

“It’s simple really” Makoto explained “as we speak right now, the whole world is falling apart.” He took the remote Dorothy had, making a TV appear. Switching on the channel, everyone’s face snuck into deeper despair.

The world was literally burning. People were rioting, there was death on every corner.

“No that’s not real...” Cythina spoke “there’s no way that’s real.”

“But it is.” Makoto said. “Of course we didn’t do it alone. We had some help.” He switch the board cast again.

Salazar walked away from Casano’s burning mansion, the sounds of gunfire behind him, people of LA rushing to kill each other for the name of despair.

Clark stood in front of his people giving a speech. The crowd erupted of cheers, as everyone took to the city. Fire roar, soaring as high as the planes that flew overhead dropping bombs. Clark watched with a smile as his kingdom fell into despair.

Thomas walked through an art gallery, covered in blood. He walked over to a painting, and smeared the blood on him onto the painting. He smiled recreating the painting in his image. Smiling at his proud work, he took the painting down, and walked out of the gallery. He sat on the bench waiting, and watch as the gallery exploded. People on fire running screaming. He pulled out his paintbrush and started to paint the beautiful despair that London had caught.

Cythina cried and shook her head “no! That can’t be real! Thomas would never do that! Never!”

“But Cythina” Dorothy grabbed her chin smiling “he did. Everything you see is live.”

“We almost forgot” makoto switched the channel “are special little warriors of hope”

Cohen along with the others who were sold the trading company, sat on top of piled of rumble, smiling and watching the adults demise. From their safe haven, they threw water balloons full of gasoline to spread fire below.

“If it was true why hasn’t someone come up to warn us?” Akemi said “I think we hear everything going on, and-“

“That’s cause you’re on an island.” Makoto pulled back the shades to reveal the ocean “that’s a whole other thing but it’s too boring to explain”

Akemi’s face dropped again. She covered her mouth thinking of her son back in Japan. Was he alive?

Oz growled, snatching the sword from Makoto; and pointed it to Dorothy.

“Enough! I don’t know what you’re playing but this is enough!”

“Careful Ozzy” Dorothy’s voice dropped “you don’t want to end up like Yao do you?” She gestured to his dead body.

Oz shook at the venom that dropped from her lips. Slowly lowering the sword he tried to keep a stonecold face.

“Please this isn’t real..” Laurent said stepping towards Makoto “edamame please. You got me ok? We’re even. You can drop the act.”

“If only it was an act” Makoto said “I assure you, this is all true, Laurie.” Makoto pulled out a picture and showed Laurent.

Dorothy with one hand upon a teen Makoto shoulder, and another on Miki Edmaura’s back, they were in the hospital. All of them smiling. There was a get well soon ballon along with flowers by Miki’s bedside.

Laurent wanted to believe it was photoshopped, but, something told him it was very much real.

“She was so nice” Makoto said “the one person I really cared for. But I knew in order for thing to move along, she had to go”

Everyone felt another harsh chill run through their bodies.

“Makoto....” Oz spoke “did you.....kill your mother...?”

“In a way I guess I did. The despair finished the job really. When you’re only child gets taken away to prison while you’re bedridden, it must leave a big empty hole in your heart. I think the despair killed her, not the sickness”

Abby felt herself shaking, in fear, this was not their Makoto.

“Who are you?!” Abby yelled “who the hell are you?!”

Makoto looked at her “My name is Makoto Edmaura, ultimate despair, successor of ultimate despair Dorothy.” A big smile spread across his face.

The first time they seen a smile on this despair Makoto. Makoto’s smile use to bring such brightness, and now...such darkness.

“Welcome contests!!!!” Dorothy spread out her arms smiling “to the very first killing game!!!! Broadcast live across the world!!”

Makoto laughed smiling “will you find that shining hope you think still exist? Or shall you plunge into the claws of despair?”

Anguished filled the room. Everyone stared hopelessly, their lives at the mercy of the ultimate despairs.

#great pretender #the great pretender #grepre #makoto edamura #edamura makoto #great pretender anime #dorothy great pretender #great pretender fanfic #great pretender au

[blackfemmecharacterdependency]

02. Don’t Trust Adults

Currently, I’m thinking that I want to write these as standalone pieces, even though, I’m keeping with the same AU Grace and Simon story. Takes place in the instance that they never got on the train, but crossed paths and became friends. But, for the sake of anyone who wants to view it as a series, I’ll number them. 3125 words TW: child neglect, abuse, mentions of child death

Previous 

She was 12. The past couple of years had been easier than all 10 preceding them, but she wasn’t quite aware enough to credit that to her friendship with Simon Laurent. To be perfectly honest, she was a very self centered child and that didn’t magically change when she found herself a friend at the age of 10. In fact, Simon’s attention made her a little more sure of herself. She had been working off of the idea that she was never good enough, even though she found it hard to find flaws in herself. 

She would look into the mirror and think, “She’s beautiful. She’s a goddess. how are people not seeing that??” She would look at the world and see flowing blond hair, fair skin, rosy cheeks and this was the height of all beauty. This was the height of all acceptance. It was meh, for her. She would look in the mirror. THIS is the height of all beauty. She kept a mirror on her at all times and in instances where she might be challenged or criticized, she would take a look at herself and remember. They’re just jealous. Look at you, and look at them. She would quickly get over any rudeness, alienation, or discrimination, because those people just wanted to be her, and you weren’t going to convince her of any other alternative.

Then, came along Simon. He was appealing in this "looks aren't his main concern, but he's got a few nice features" sort of way, and he always seemed to need to have his hands doing something.

The first time she saw him, when they were 10, she spent several minutes weighing out what she was seeing in front of her. A boy, her age or in her age range, a nerd? He had a backpack with a bunch of patches and pins on it - stuff that she wasn’t too familiar with, but TV and stuff would indicate were nerdy things. She had never met a real nerd, that she could remember, so that part was debatable. He wasn’t very wealthy. That was evident from the state of his pants that were ripped at one of the knees and clearly not in a fashionable way - he’d simply worn them out, and also his shoes... which WEREN’T shoes... they were sandals... and he had socks on with them... so... he had no fashion sense, EITHER, and apparently neither did whatever adult was responsible for him. If there WAS an adult responsible for him. 

It was nighttime. Her instructor had gone for a little while to finish up some things before the shops closed at 7 or 8, so it was nighttime, and this kid her age was running into this building from a gang of bullies, by himself, in the condition that he was in. There probably wasn’t an adult that cared, or realized... (in that case, probably didn’t care) because if you cared, you’d realized that your kid was a complete mess. 

And this kid was a complete mess. 

But... he seemed innocent, and he seemed nice. Grace may have been self centered, but she knew that nice kids weren’t easy to come across. After she sent the kid on his way, she thought that was that.

Whenever he came back the next night, she was convinced: This is a street kid. There are no parents. There are no adults. That must be really fun and cool! She demanded that her driver bring him home, and whenever the car stopped, she began to get out, too.

Simon seemed nervous to have her getting out of the car at his house, but what was he going to do? Argue with her? She’d just given him a ride home. He KNEW he should have gotten her to drop him off a few blocks away and pretended to go into some other house! “You don’t have to get out,” he said, anxiously. 

“Are you kidding? I have to see the adults that let you stay out past dark by yourself, and walk out of the house like that.” She circled a finger up and down his form and he blushed, embarrassed. But also... he couldn’t show his adults to her. They were always in their own spaces and he was always shut out of said spaces. She laughed and mumbled in singsong tone, “Socks and sandals.” He knew he was turning even redder and he was grateful it was dark out, though the moon did offer some light and the rest was provided by the open garage, where his dad was working.

“Dad, this is Grace. She gave me a ride home...” Simon said, shuffling his feet and looking at the ground with his hands pulling his backpack strings. 

The palest man that Grace had ever seen in her life, with blonder than blond hair, and blond flesh - if that was a thing and eyebrows and arm hairs, and just all blond colored features turned to look at her. She stepped back, but stepped on Simon’s toe and leapt forward apologetically, then reflexively extended her hand, “Grace Monroe of the Monroe Square Monroes!” She said. He had on work gloves, which he removed to shake her hand and offered a smile. It was a smile, she was sure of it, but his pale features made it a little hard for her to tell and she also thought it looked sad. 

But, his voice was friendly. He said, “Well, I never thought I’d see the day that a Monroe would be in here...” But he quickly became worried and crossed his arms over his chest, “Simon, what did you do?” He asked.

“I didn’t do anything!” Simon snapped. He had gotten into several fights in the past few weeks (none he’d started) and gotten enraged a few times and “vandalized” some things, so NOW, everybody always suspected that he did something.

“We’re friends!” Grace cheered, clapping her hands together, happy to be able to make such an announcement, whether or not it was true. This situation seemed to need some type of... nice girl talk. 

Mr. Laurent stared at her for a moment and lowered his arms. “Friends?” He didn’t say, “Simon doesn’t have any friends,” but Simon felt like he heard the statement as clearly as if he had. He shrank a little, hoping that Grace couldn’t hear it too. Instead, the man offered a smile and said, “Well, nice to meet you, Grace Monroe. Simon can tell you that I’m working on something and can’t afford too many breaks, but you’re welcome to anything in the house. You kids have fun.”

She looked confused. “I’m going home. It’s almost 10. We were just dropping Simon off because he was out...” But the man didn’t respond, as he put his work gloves back on and got back to his project.

Simon offered, “He’s kinda in the zone.”

“What about your mom?” Grace asked, excitedly. She’d never met a friend’s parents before and it was kinda interesting how different these were than her own! Her parents would NEVER be this chill about her coming home late from an unplanned appointment or event. Her driver was likely checking in with them right now, hopefully saying that there was unexpected traffic.

Simon looked incredibly sad, pulled out a luggage tag, attached to, but tucked into, his backpack of a family portrait and said, “This is her. But, she doesn’t like to be bothered. She’s probably reading or passed out. She’s my mom, but she doesn’t really do mom stuff anymore. Something happened and she’s... She has something where she’s really sad and has to try to get doctors to make her less sad, but it hasn’t worked yet, so she just stays in her room.”

Grace got sad. Uncomfortably so. She tried to change the subject and pointed to a little girl sitting in the photo, “Well, where’s this little cute thing? With a nanny, while your mom is sad-sick?” Simon’s eyebrows pushed closely together and he stared at the photo. He didn’t really talk about this. He didn’t like to, and his parents had stopped trying to speak with him about it too. Anytime it came up, he usually got really angry and scared. He tried to catch his breath, forgetting that Grace was there for a moment, but still wanting to at least hold on to some type of control.

Grace felt bad because of his face and she was worried that he was about to yell at her and tell her to leave. He was making the kind of face that her dad made right before he stripped away every inch of confidence that she had in something that she thought she did right, and he’d let her know that she had not. She stepped back and quickly tried to diffuse it. “Sorry. Sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. You’d have told me if you wanted me to know! I’m going to go. You have a good night, Simon.”

He looked up at her, and his face changed. It softened. It warmed up. His eyebrows evened out and a tiny smile fought to cross his lips. She sighed, a little bit relieved that the monster that she thought she’d woken up was gone and there was her new friend again. “You too, Grace,” he said. He tucked the tag into his bag, without looking at it, and went into the house, through a door in the garage. “Good night, Dad.” 

She looked at his super blond dad. He didn’t even seem to hear his son, but whenever she started walking away, the man said, “Good night, Young Lady!” Which... made her feel like maybe he’d purposefully not said it to Simon. She felt tears welling up in her eyes and she choked out another fake cheerful good night for the adult, because it was very rude not to reply to adults and if he was mean to his own son, she didn’t know how mean he might be to her if she insulted him.

After that night, whenever she brought him home, they just dropped him off, saw that he got inside, and left. After the recital, she wasn’t going to be having those practices anymore, though. She’d be back on a schedule at her home. She... wouldn’t see Simon again. 

The other girls went out for ice cream. They didn’t invite Grace. She was really upset about it, but whenever she heard Simon’s voice calling her name and turned to see that he had come out in, not only a complete pair of pants, but also actual shoes, she felt all of the rejection that was encasing itself around her heart just melt. She whispered, “Simon.” He smiled, a little startled and confused about whatever her tone of voice was, but he didn’t pay it too much attention and began to shower her with praise about the show. 

He admitted that he had to case the auditorium and find another way in, because he didn’t have a ticket, but that he had gotten in and had seen her entire performance. “You were the best out there!” he had said. Nobody ever told her that before. And even though it was true, in her mind, whenever Simon said it, it became a little bit more real. She felt validated and vindicated. Just like a game of Simon Says, but Simon is your friend and he knows what’s best... Not trying to make you look silly. She was gleaming... then it stopped. “What’s wrong?” 

“This is the last night that I’m gonna be here,” she said in the saddest voice that he’d ever heard come out of her. “I’m going to be at home tomorrow night and there won’t be another reason for me to be back in the city.” Simon’s face went through an array of emotions. His smile faded, then his mouth turned into a frown, then his lips quivered a bit and his eyes darkened and dampened. She was leaving? She wasn’t going to come back? He wasn’t going to see her again? She was gonna be gone... Just like... He lowered his head and blinked away tears. 

She felt her chest tighten again. “Maybe...” He looked up, hopeful and misty eyed, his face begging her for a solution to this pain she’d just inflicted on him, “Maybe we could find a way to see each other... closer to where I live? It’s far from you, but...” She shook her head, clenching her dress, “No. That’s stupid. And it’s unfair. You don’t have the means to come see me... But my parents will never let me come this far out without good reason...”

“I’ll do it!” Simon declared. “I’ll come to see you, sure.”

She couldn’t bear looking up at him, “How would you do that?”

“I’m...” He thought for a while, trying to even guess what would be possible for this, “Gonna learn the train schedule. I’ll figure out the route closest to you, and then hike the rest of the way there,” he said like it was some type of simple idea. And at 10, it seemed like one to her too. Because she looked up, in just as much excitement and smiled brightly. And that was all that Simon needed as fuel. Yes, he was going to make it work to see her smiling face. “Ummm... I can start learning tomorrow,” he said. 

“Okay, But... Do you wanna go get some ice cream with me before we take you home?” She had her dress clutched firmly in her gloved hands and hoped that he didn’t notice them, because she hated that portion of herself that did that whenever she was scared. Being scared was being lazy, and clutching her clothing to try to get over it was being weak.

“I don’t really have ice cream money,” Simon admitted, blushing in embarrassment. He had gone into his small savings just to get some decent pants and shoes, even though he got them thrift shop... they were outside of his budget. He was gonna buy himself a new figure to compose, but decided that Grace’s recital was more important, because she worked really hard and her parents couldn’t come. 

She laughed and waved a hand, “I’m inviting you, Simon. I’ve got you!” He smiled and nodded his head with a little affirmative grunt. I’ve got you. That mattered a lot to him that night. He wasn’t going to ever let it go, and two years later, he hadn’t.

.

They were 12. Grace was annoyed that she made the mistake of expressing interest in making the music she danced to, because NOW, she had to have hours of music theory, composition, and instrument practice added to her schedule, and that didn’t mean she got a “break” from dance. It only meant that she was fortifying her resume. She didn’t want to fortify her resume. She wanted to maybe watch one of those vids on the Internet, like Simon sometimes did to help him create a dragon out of household items, but like for her to create a really sick mix for her next audition... But, here she was, buried in research and scarce for free time.

Then, she heard her favorite sound in the world! Simon coming up the fire  escape stairs. He was the only person who ever used those, so she knew it was him every time. She put her work away in the drawer of her vanity, which she used as a desk, because she didn’t want a desk in her room, because it might just take up too much space, and she always had a lot of plans for the space in her room.

He climbed into the window and tossed his backpack down. She met him with a hug and asked him about what he was working on. Simon was her nice break from things. He would always be really excited to talk about the stuff that was going on in his life (his stories and models) and he always sprinkled in either something fun and competitive, or accolades for her as a person and her talents. It was perfect. She was able to get all of her praise, ignore all of her responsibilities for a bit, and most importantly, not delve too much into her private and personal matters. If she put the focus on Simon’s feelings and experiences, she didn’t have to share her own.

It wasn’t that she thought that Simon wouldn’t care about her problems, it was that she knew he would. Simon had enough problems without her burdening him with her stuff. 

Like, shortly after they met, his mom bought an emotional support cat, but she neglects it as much as she did him, so it wound up being Simon’s emotional support cat, only the cat is a TOTAL B word, and of all the things to call one... his mom decided on “Samantha.” Why on earth would anybody name a cat Samantha? Then again, the cat was a TOTAL Samantha. She knew she was smart and she was quite selfish and conceited. 

Grace told Simon that all cats are that way, but she only read that somewhere. Samantha was the only cat that she really ever gotten anywhere close to, and not often, because she didn’t go to Simon’s house. But, he always had things to say about her, and made a little comic “Tales of Samantha” that he’d post on the Internet. It had a huge following. Apparently, people who really loved cats also really loved talking a lot of trash about them and seeing them be terrible and funny at the same time.

Simon preferred talking about Samantha, grazing over his dad’s current model obsession, and occasionally venting about his mom. Like, how he stopped trying to make her dinner whenever he’d knocked on the door, as per house rules, and accidentally woke her up, causing her to have such an emotional explosion that his dad heard it from the garage and came inside to try to settle her down. Apparently, at some point in the explosion, she had confessed that it “Should have been” Simon... And he stopped at that point, in retelling the incident, and also in interacting with his mother at all. It wasn’t even that he disagreed with her. He just... Didn’t need to have to face that feeling if he thought that he didn’t HAVE to.

Grace had been exactly what he needed at the time, though. She always was. Her brown eyes were soft on him when he said out loud the most painful things that he ever thought he would have to say. She touched his shoulder, squeezed it and tousled his hair with the other hand, “It shouldn’t have been either of you. I’m sorry that your sister is gone, but I’m super glad that you aren’t. And it’s really unfortunate that it was her, but it shouldn’t have been you, either. And you constantly blaming yourself is bad enough, without additional help from the REAL villains in this tragedy. Who leaves their 10 year old and 4 year old unsupervised? It’s illegal in most states, and in those states where it’s legal, there is a time frame and she was still too young to feature in those. I read it, myself. The real problem with most of our lives is the adults.” Her face turned and she looked elsewhere for a moment, “They’re...”

“Not to be trusted,’ he completed the sentence. She smiled and looked at him again. He got it. Sometimes, it was like he was inside of her mind.

“Exactly.”

“But, they have all of the power. Even being a very independent 12 year old, if I do say so myself; there’s so many things that I can’t do without the approval or permission of one.”

“This world is rigged against us, Man.” 

“Speaking of things we read. I read that at 16, I can emancipate myself.” Simon looked thoughtfully ahead, “And I’m pretty sure that I’m gonna.” She smiled sadly and lowered her head. “You gonna come with?”

She laughed, “If I thought that there was anywhere in this world that my parents couldn’t find me and bring me back (And make me suffer for having the audacity to go), I’d have strapped on my sneaks and got to running a long time ago.” She rested her head on his shoulder. “But, you’ll still come see me, right?”

“I’m gonna leave my parents, Grace. Not you. I’d never leave you.” He wrapped an arm around her and she settled into his side, unaware that she had been so tense a moment before that needed confirmation. “We’re a team,” he whispered. She just smiled. We’re a team.

Next

#infinity train #infinity train fanfiction #Nesha Fanfiction #AU Infinity Train #fics #If They Didn't Get on the Train #Don't Trust Adults

[futuresking]

✿ - laugh

HEADCANONS  ✴ —— accepting!

LUCINA AND LAUGHING.

For all of Lucina’s intelligence, ‘Lucina has a rather [dry sense of humor, and is the least likely to get a joke out of all the Shepherds] ‘. 

While in hindsight this is...funny? It’s honestly understandable. In Garreg Mach, Lucina is hiding a lot of things. For one, the Exalt / Holy King’s diadem and Falchion whose power has been...nulled due to the conditions of the setting of our story. She will accept being called a Princess, as in the ‘past’ she is a Princess. In her present, she is an Exalt / Holy King like her Father, and such weight especially in a literally dying world, her kingdom slowly but surely falling apart if not for the survivors who came with her to guide the past Shepherds? 

It’s really understandable that she of all the future kids has the most burden and pressure riding on her shoulders. Every mistake is her fault in her mind, and imagine that tripling if not even further due to what happens. She’s their ruler, their friend, and their leader. She’s training and monitoring armies, allies, enemies and Risen. She’s watching flowers wilt and cities and villages thought impregnable fall by Grima’s claws and wings. His Grimleal. 

She has her own Mother, as mine is F!Robin, become possessed and kill her own Father, although who did it is a mystery to a girl who literally became king at an extremely early age. Meaning her short period of laughter and merriment did not last her long, if anything it died screaming. That she remains a blinding light and the embodiment of hope in her canon is...really something? But laughing? Yes, that is not something she can do so easily or rather I honestly think Lucina has been so conditioned by a storyline even by Fire Emblem standards is...unimaginably tragic and horrific if not for Lucina defying her own fate and still salvaging bits of her kingdom / halidom and guiding the original Shepherds? She chooses hope over her tragedy, which doesn’t make her simply a ‘tragic figure’. But still, it took away her laughter. It took away a lot of things. 

 She has a very dry sense of humor and is more likely to be sarcastic in the face of danger, something she’s admittedly far more unflappable than ANY person should be to cope. Sometimes her humor can be dry in the face of someone being overtly silly and ridiculous, and more likely with Cynthia, Inigo or Morgan, Owain by far is a given. She tends to laugh and joke and salvage what remains of that little princess who had to become king too fast and too young with children, as seen in her chapter of the Comic Anthology! She openly giggles and laughs with whoever you make her Mother, and giggles with friends as the supports deepen. In the hardest of decisions, as the Future Kids / Second Gen Shepherds leave, they all reunite making FUN of Lucina’s fashion sense.

They all start laughing until they burst into tears of both joy and pain at being together, at being alive, at still holding their Ylisse somehow alive in each other. Which implies it’s not only JUST Lucina who hasn’t been laughing for a long time, but they’ve been soldiers and the main and final bastion of their world for too, too long. Lucina only reinforces that as she guides Chrom and Robin with her intel about the future as its Exalt and how it can be defied and changed, how it must be defied and changed. 

I’d say Lucina openly laughs with only a few people, family, close friends, like Severa, who is arguably her best friend, Laurent, who always worries because she...is too selfless to her detriment. Although Kjelle is a contender! Owain for his oddities and her own, is a given as is Inigo! Frankly they all are her equally best friends because differences aside they are hers and she is theirs! She loves them like a Shepherd, a King, found family, and an unconditionally loving friend.

 But when she does, it’s a rare, pure, tinkling sound, kind of like wind chimes or bells ringing, something pure and untainted and kind and gentle! 

Because Lucina isn’t tainted not for plot armor, but by the sheer, immaculate strength she has as a person. That laughter probably sounds like both a protective embrace or even a dry chuckle. Either way, when she laughs it honestly depends on the situation? If she sees things repeat is it a bitter chuckle at feeling like a failure when she isn’t? Is it a happy laugh from her battered and bleeding heart at feeling what peace must have felt like before she forgot it? Is it the very hope and light she embodies when she’s genuinely, truly happy or pleased with something or touched? It really depends on the person, but Lucina never mockingly laughs at anyone. You may earn her distrust, you may not be her favorite person, and while she is insanely benevolent, she will never trample on someone else. 

She knows what it’s like to see beloved things trampled to begin with, more than anyone. So she’d never laugh. But she’s usually very cautious about jokes, knowing her seriousness can often take charge as both commander, ruler and embodiment of hope. It’s a hard thing to break when you’ve been that way most of your life, and it’s also part of your personality, while your Father, more down-to-earth and touchable, whereas Lucina has a regal distance to her, kind of like a star that vanishes? Is the one you’d go to if you wanted to joke around with him. She affectionately envies her Father for being far more lax and not care-free, but able to have moments of it. 

But yes, laughing is painful for Lucina when... you really haven’t been given any reason to laugh for years, and even more brutally, ever again. But because Lucina refuses to be a ‘tragic victim’ but a triumphant figure and leader? She ultimately will even if it’s rare, end up laughing. 

It just will take time. Even if the healing / trauma  never will. After all how could we possibly imagine what she and her flock have been through? 

#extenebris #𝙌𝙐𝙀𝙍𝙔 ✴ —— . #𝘼𝙉𝘼𝙇𝙔𝙎𝙄𝙎 ✴ —— steel for blood; mangled lilies for a heart; hope for skin. #( thanks to all who sent the laugh one! she can laugh! it's just blessed and rare ! )

[viinylspins]

◊ ♫ ◊— look what the cat dragged in! that’s ROONEY RUIZ and SHE is an around 25-year-old NEWCOMER to the store, but she’s been in the neighborhood for 6 YEARS. I think they are a LAW STUDENT and I overheard her listening to WIN by NASTY CHERRY, and, I dunno man, it seemed pretty fitting. Like, call me shallow but I look at them and think of CAMILA QUEIROZ and CLICKS OF RED-BOTTOM HEELS, DEBATING FOR SPORT, and GLOWING WITH SELF-SATISFACTION. (ooc info: garnet, she/her, est, 22)

hello, hello, garnet is BACK! with one intro post to go now. believe it or not, this is longer than Zoe’s. I really couldn’t stop writing, so if you just skim and go to the misc and wanted connections sections...I’ll understand. name: rooney constaça ruiz birthday: april 20th (aries-taurus cusp) distinguishing features: beauty mark on her cheek, highlighted hair sexuality: pansexual positive traits: decisive, loyal, straightforward negative traits: intolerant, critical, materialistic jung type: INTJ enneagram: 8w9 temperament: choleric

trigger warning(s): deportation

Rooney was born shouldering high expectations, placed both by her parents and by herself. This can only partially be blamed on her accomplished Manhattan family. Herman and Pippa Ruiz exemplified achieving the “American Dream.” After a childhood of growing up in the Spanish Harlem a few houses down from each other, they officially started dating after finding each other at Columbia University. Pippa dreamed of becoming a doctor, while Herman majored in business to prepare for a career on Wall Street. Fast forward ten years after the conferral of their Ivy League degrees, and the two were happily married and thriving in their respective chosen career fields.

If her parents could make something of themselves, their children could, too. So, Rooney, along with her sister Reed and brother Rory, were instilled with the need to become something groundbreaking in life. Unlike her siblings, though, Rooney knew exactly what she wanted to do from a young age: make a lot of money so that she wouldn’t have to compromise on the lifestyle that she had growing up. By age eleven, her career goals solidified and had taken shape. She knew that she was going to become a lawyer.

Nothing if not ambitious and dedicated, Rooney began reading about prominent court cases and state laws for fun. 

When she told her parents about this, they were thrilled. Reed more or less followed the path paved for her, but Rory was a wayward child. As a result, the parents worried about not only how Rooney would end up, but if they were as good parents as they thought they were ( which slight electric chair ). If you asked Rooney, she would have asked that they spent more time with her instead of having so many nannies in rotation, but otherwise, objectively, they were perfectly adequate at this and only slightly out of their depth.

Her opinion of her parents changed drastically when she was about fifteen. Learning about genetics in biology class piqued her curiosity about why she appeared physically different from her parents and her siblings. She first suspected that she just received all of the recessive genes, but once she presented this to her parents, they told her the truth: Rooney was adopted when she was just an infant. She was the only one adopted out of the three Ruiz children.

The news hit Rooney hard. She was furious and from that day forward, Rooney vowed that she would never forgive them. Although she does remain in contact with her family since moving out, she has firm boundaries with her parents. They don’t push it, for the most part, but I digress.

In the years leading up to her graduation from high school, Rooney became obsessed with finding her birth parents. Her father supposedly disappeared, but public records of her mother were last updated in 2000. This kept Rooney filled with hopeful butterflies, which she was very unlike her. The girl was filled with questions: who was she, exactly? Was she like the mothers she saw on TV? Did she have another family? How many siblings did she have, that she never knew about? Her parents helped out in her search to the best of their ability, but it seemed that they were searching for a woman who didn’t want to be found.

If this were a movie, Rooney would have met her birth mother at her high school graduation. But this isn’t a movie, so Rooney did not.

However, a little before she graduated Magna Cum Laude from Columbia University, on track to enter Columbia Law for Corporate Law immediately after, Rooney received a Facebook message from a Brazilian woman living in New Jersey. Despite the impulse to block and report the profile for spam, Rooney couldn’t resist opening the notification. Good thing she did; the woman claimed to be the birth mother.

Over the next year, Rooney sporadically messaged the woman over Facebook. The more they spoke, the more Rooney searched for cracks, but everything matched the information she’d collected prior. Slowly, brick by brick, her walls diminished and she accepted that, maybe, this was the person she was so desperate to find.

Eventually, the woman asked Rooney to meet her for coffee, and Rooney accepted the invitation, albeit with strict guidelines on how this was going to go. They’d meet in public, during the day time, and Rooney had no qualms walking out at any time if she felt that the woman had any sort of malicious intent.

Her “birth mother” was smaller than Rooney expected, and in person, she could see their physical resemblance. Rooney wanted to believe that this woman was her mother, more than she wanted to believe anything in her life.

[TW: Deportation] That is, until the woman needed her help. She tearfully explained that she needed an immigration lawyer, because, without one, she might be deported back to Brazil by the end of the week. Any hope that this woman would be her birth mother, Rooney very deliberately crushed. She didn’t want to potentially meet her birth child, no, she only wanted someone who would be willing to help her.

Once the older woman finished, looking at Rooney hopefully, Rooney had taken out a business card, scribbled the contact information to one immigration lawyer she networked with, and got out of her seat after handing it to her. The woman called out after her, but Rooney didn’t look back. [/END TW]

As someone not only adopted, but who studied law as long as she has, Rooney knew that the system wasn’t going to change. The best thing that she could do was make the best out of her present circumstances, even if the best thing was never reaching out to that woman again.

tl;dr: she’s a hard-ass law student who is very decisive and knows what she wants, and who also learned she was adopted when she was fifteen. and met her birth mom when she was 21, but walked away and she’s definitely not coping with that!

MISCELLANEOUS:

Rooney and her siblings were purposely given gender neutral names in order to increase their job prospects in the future. Constaça is her birth name, which her parents kept as her middle name.

She’s 5′10″ without heels. She loves being so tall.

Her favorite fragrance is Mon Paris Eau de Parfum by Yves Saint Laurent. Of natural fragrances, her favorite scent is vanilla.

Her confidence in herself is unshakeable to its core, so she is able to adapt to her current company without doubting or losing herself. She is sociable to acquaintances, but she only has a few friends who she considers being on par with her standards.

She is VERY competitive. One of the reasons that she wanted to be a corporate lawyer is because she wanted to be more successful than her siblings. Now she has to be even more successful than her parents. We love being motivated by spite.

I didn’t mention it here, but Rooney did a lot of equestrian sports (rich people am I right?) when she was younger. It dwindled around the time she entered high school but she stayed active through being on the swim team at her high school and playing water polo for fun at Columbia. 

Rooney is a family person, and one of her strengths is her loyalty. She knows this about herself but thinks she’s been dealt a very shitty hand. If you can’t tell, growing up as privileged as she has feeds into her high expectations of herself and others.

She isn’t very romantic, never has been, and as of right now, she’s not really looking for a romantic relationship.

WANTED CONNECTIONS!

OTHER LAW STUDENTS! She hasn’t graduated from law school just yet – she’s in her final year. As aforementioned she is very sociable and she’d appreciate having people who understand what it’s like to be under the demands of going to an Ivy League law school.

CHILDHOOD FRIENDS! Rooney hasn’t left New York state, so there’s a lot of potential for her to have long-term connections with people.

COLLEAGUES HER INTERNSHIP! Currently, Rooney is being mentored by Maddie Breckenridge, so she’d know a few people connected to Maddie! She’s also all about networking and, if she does say so herself, she’s a good person to know if you need to be bailed out of something. She can argue herself, and other people, out of any situation.

COLLEAGUES THROUGH SPORTS! Can’t believe I’m writing someone more or less jock adjacent, but Rooney is very active. And she knows herself well enough to know she performs better when she’s trying to outdo someone, so she’d definitely be on the lookout for a workout buddy or two.

BRUNCH SQUAD! This one sees the more light-hearted Rooney. Is it because of the mimosas? Maybe so!

AN EX! Rooney is pansexual, so gender is irrelevant. I imagine that Rooney has had only a few relationships because she’s very committed in both her relationships and she’s kind of married to her schooling. She has one ex position filled by Alexa Cox, but she can have one more. As a treat.

ANYTHING! Like this and I’ll hit you up! Or feel free to come at me with anything and we can make it work!

#( intro: rooney ) #ABSOLUTELY INSANE HOW LONG THIS IS #fr.intro

[johannesviii]

Top 10 Personal Favorite Hit Songs from 2011

22 to 23 years old. Was working in Paris and all the hours of train were exhausting. Listened to a LOT of music for that reason. It was an average year, but the songs that were good were excellent. Anything from this top 5 could have topped a list for a more mediocre year.

Disclaimers:

Keep in mind I’m using both the year-end top 100 lists from the US and from France while making these top 10 things. There’s songs in English that charted in my country way higher than they did in their home countries, or even earlier or later, so that might get surprising at times.

Of course there will be stuff in French. We suck. I know. It’s my list. Deal with it.

My musical tastes have always been terrible and I’m not a critic, just a listener and an idiot.

I have sound to color synesthesia which justifies nothing but might explain why I have trouble describing some songs in other terms than visual ones.

Finished my job training in June and worked full time. I kinda miss the campus. It was in the middle of nowhere and we had to steal wifi but we had some great parties there. Made friends, lost friends. And when I wasn’t there, I had my own appartment! My s.o and I put posters everywhere immediately, haha. We also had our first car which was basically a wreck but it lasted way longer than it had any right to.

Some fantastic albums dropped that year, like Ceremonials (Florence & The Machine), Modern Ruin (Covenant), All Things Bright And Beautiful (Owl City) and Imaginaerum (Nightwish). But the album that ruled the entire year for me was Mylo Xyloto (Coldplay). It’s my favorite Coldplay album. Hurts Like Heaven? Charlie Brown? Don’t Let It Break Your Heart? And especially Every Teardrop Is a Waterfall, which, no joke, is one of my favorite songs of all time? Incredible. Excellent. Amazing. The fact that the mediocre Paradise and the good but not great Princess of China were the biggest hits from it continues to baffle me. Really guys? But yeah. Album of the year to me.

So... some more unelligible songs, now. There’s the unexpectedly very, very good Lonely Lisa by Mylène Farmer, which would have ended somewhere in the middle of the list, but, way more tragic, there’s Alligator Sky by Owl City ft Shawn Chrystopher which has to be one of the most underrated songs of the 2010s. The key change is so visually fantastic that, no joke, it made me cry the first time I heard it. Chills every single time. Why wasn’t this a bigger hit. What happened. It’s so unfair. I’m not even sure it would have been my #1, but easily top 3.

As usual, here’s some honorable mentions.

Party Rock Anthem (LMFAO) - Badly written but still catchy.

You Make Me Feel (Cobra Starship) - Nice but not as good as Good Girls Go Bad.

Nightcall (Kavinsky) - This is the only song I kinda disliked on Kavinsky’s album, so of course it was a single. Of f█cking course.

Mr Saxobeat (Alexandra Stan) - A bit too repetitive, but nice.

S&M (Rihanna) - Clearly in the “so bad it’s good” category.

F█ck You (CeeLo Green) - Really fun but kinda killed by the overplay.

Black & Yellow (Wiz Khalifa) - Kept getting stuck in my head.

What the Hell (Avril Lavigne) - This felt like a brief return to form and it was pretty good.

Dynamite (Taio Cruz) - Who else misses this guy? Because I kinda do.

Judas (Lady Gaga) - I’d like to introduce you to this wonderful mashup. You’ll thank me later.

Last Friday Night (Katy Perry) - This has no rights being this catchy.

Paradise (Coldplay) - The very last cut from the list. It baffles me that this was the biggest hit out of Mylo Xyloto even though it might just be the worst song on it. Still nice to hear it from time to time, though.

Here comes the actual list.

10 - Jeanne (Laurent Voulzy)

US: Not on the list / FR: #99

Well that’s a mildly embarrassing pick on top of being barely elligible. This is a song about a guy falling in love with Joan of Arc after he sees her in a dream, centuries after her death. Some sentences are really strangely written, in an old fashioned way, and it gives the general impression of a young 19th century nerd falling in love with a picture in a History book even though it’s a 21st century song sung by a 60 y-o dude so this feels really damn weird to say the least, but it’s so pleasant to listen to it’s hard to say anything too negative or mean about it.

9 - More (Usher)

US: #61 / FR: #91

I know I sound like a broken record or an old idiot but where has fun music gone. Bring this kind of stuff back, please. We know things are terrible in the world, music doesn’t need to make us feel even more miserable. Please. We need more stuff like More.

8 - Rolling In The Deep (Adele)

US: #1 / FR: #2

Is there anything I could say at this point that hasn’t been said by everyone already? Uh. Well, maybe I can say that the only reason it wasn’t #1 in France was because the #1 spot was another Adele song, hahaha.

What else? Uh, well usually I don’t like slow emotional music which is why I never listened to a lot of Adele, but Rolling in the Deep has energy and anger, and that’s everything I want from sad songs, so I’ll take it.

7 - Somebody That I Used To Know (Gotye ft Kimbra)

US: Not on the list (obviously, it was #1 the next year) / FR: #4

That song took nearly an entire year to grow on me, but I’m glad it did. Like the previous one, I don’t think there’s anything new I could say about that one.

6 - Pumped Up Kicks (Foster the People)

US: #13 / FR: #44

This should be more offensive and disturbing than it actually is, even in a country with extremely strict regulations on firearms where school shootings are basically unheard of. I think it’s because the song sounds pleasant and mellow instead of threatening? I guess? Maybe? I don’t know. I’m kinda glad it didn’t come out when I was 15, though.

5 - Levels (Avicii)

US: Not on the list / FR: #63

Let us take a moment to appreciate all the bangers and absolutely wonderful songs Avicii created or contributed to create in his way too brief stay on Earth, and deeply regret his untimely departure. We already miss you dude.

4 - All Of The Lights (Kanye West ft Rihanna)

US: #59 / FR: Not on the list

Behold, the only Kanye West song I ever loved or even liked. But what a song. And what a fitting title. This song is full of flashes of light and that music video is extremely fitting and a joy to watch because it kinda looks like the song itself, down to its very colors. Just fantastic. What is that guy even doing nowadays instead of making more stuff like this. Why.

3 - We Found Love (Rihanna)

US: #69 / FR: #9

So many fantastic songs with fantastic beats and/or dance/electronic tracks at the top of this list. Rihanna is good in nearly every genre she has tried to fit in so far but obviously, as someone who kept putting eurodance track after eurodance track at the top of my 90s lists, you guessed it, my favorite songs from her are the ones where she’s basically a dance diva ala Corona project. Just great stuff all around. This is still on my mp3 player to this day.

2 - Edge of Glory (Lady Gaga)

US: #29 / FR: Not on the list

There it is, my favorite Lady Gaga song, in all its glory (HA). A joy to sing along to, a joy to headbang to, a joy to listen to it while walking, driving, painting. Makes you want to dance even if you don’t know how to dance. Not sure why this wasn’t the first single of the album, but who cares.

I put this at the top of the list at first, and then I was like oh wait, I need to check the French charts first to make sure that- OHMYGODOHMYGOD

1 - Elle Me Dit (Mika)

US: Not on the list / FR: #7

The guy I called the “new king of pop” back when I made my 2007 top ten list finally claims a top spot on one of my lists, and that feels so good.

So... Mika made a song in French. A few of them, in fact. And at first I was like “why would you do this. Your songs in English are so great, dude.” But then I heard that one when it dropped in July 2011 and I was like NEVERMIND. FORGET I SAID ANYTHING. THIS SOUNDS FANTASTIC. CARRY ON.

But it gets better. See, the song is about (and I’m quoting him there) “all the horrific things a mother can say to her son to get him to get out of her house”. Now is a good time to remind you that when it dropped, I had been out of my parents' appartment for good (and basically out of the range of my mother’s verbal abuse) for just about a year, and that entire song sounded like a double middle finger specifically targeting my mother, and, no joke, I burst out laughing the first time I heard the song.

Elle me dit (She tells me) Ne t'enfermes pas dans ta chambre (Don’t stay locked in your room) Vas-y, secoue-toi et danse (Go, get up and dance) Dis-moi c'est quoi ton problème (Tell me what is your problem) Elle me dit (She tells me) Qu'est-ce que t'as pas l'air coincé? (Why do you look so depraved?) T'es défoncé ou t'es gay (Are you high or are you gay) Tu finiras comme ton frère (You’ll end up like your brother) (...) Elle me dit (She tells me) Pourquoi tu te plains tout le temps? (Why are you always complaining?) On dirait que t'as 8 ans (It’s like you’re 8 years old) C'est pas comme ça que tu vas plaire (Nobody’s gonna love you if you’re like that) Elle me dit (She tells me) Un jour je ne serai plus là (One day I won’t be here anymore) Mais c'est quand elle me dit ça (But that’s when she tells me that) Qu'elle me dit un truc que j'aime (That she says something I like)

Catharsis is delicious, especially when it’s sung by someone as lovely as Mika. Most useful song of 2011 to me, I swear. Way too relatable.

Next up: the first of THREE top 12s in a row because Quality(tm)

#Johannes’ bad not good pretty terrible music lists #music #long post #death mention

[fionnhq]

❛ new york’s very own fionn fox was spotted on broadway street in saint laurent combat boots. your resemblance to matthew daddario is unreal. according to tmz, you just had your twenty-seventh birthday bash. while living in new york, you’ve been labeled as being austere, but also methodical. i guess being a virgo explains that. three things that would paint a better picture of you would be a tourbus packed with strangers, a black eye concealed by sunglasses, text messages left on read. & ( cismale & he/him )

so for those of you i don’t know i’m bee & i’m back with a second character because why tf not. as usual i’m a hoe for plots so hmu either on here or discord @ mercury#7589. also this is a side blog so if i’m not following you that’s because i already am on seb ok here’s what i have so far and it will probably change as i develop him but ? ? yeah

basics

full name: fionn alexander fox birth date: august 25th, 1992 occupation: musician/singer sexuality: bisexual birth place: nyc, new york nationality: american height: 6′2″ weight: 195 lbs afflictions: anxiety smokes/drinks/drugs: no/sometimes/rarely

background

fionn is the first born child to a mother and father who were household names for their modeling and film making, respectively, so it was basically inevitable that he would be thrust into the spotlight at a very early age. he was exposed to fame and wealth before he could even understand what they were

obviously, this is was a very exciting endeavor for a young child who felt like he had the world at his fingertips (and he pretty much did). rather quickly fionn came to recognize that there was a catch

he began to realize that he was different from other people, and that with privilege came people who tried to use him to gain what he had and they didn’t. everyone wanted to be around him but very few for the right reasons. he was desired, but for things beyond his control.

as time went on he came more and more closed off, various bad experiences making him distrustful and cautious. his circle of friends became smaller and smaller, despite always being surrounded by hoards of people. the bonds he formed were easily broken and he learned to be detached

little did he know the people he was being used by the most were his parents, who at as young as six years old started documenting his life for millions of people to watch on television. it all became about the views and the image and if he wasn’t interesting, he wasn’t anything

this was a lot of pressure for him. he was constantly anxious despite how well he hid it & there was a silent understanding in their home that it wasn’t acceptable to let it hold him back. he was medicated for most of his teenage years

he was fairly young when he discovered where his talents lied, which was neither in fashion or film like his parents. instead he had an affinity for music, which his family was fine with as long as he was the best at whatever he did

he had access to all the top resources and was given a vocal coach and guitar lessons and it wasn’t long before they had decided it was time for him to start making a name for himself

when he was sixteen his dad set him up with three other boys his age who he found through his various connections & they formed what would be a top-charting boyband. publicly, they were described as being friends their whole lives but the reality of it was that they’d never met each other before.

it wasn’t exactly what fionn wanted be doing, but he didn’t have much of a choice in the matter. it was fun at first but as the years went on and they gained more and more popularly fionn found that the facade was exhausting

they all had their own identities and fionn was kind of portrayed as the ‘bad boy’ because he had a bit of a temper and his introversion was taken as coldness. it wasn’t completely true but that’s what worked for him

fionn felt drained. his relationships with the other members felt strained behind closed doors and he often felt as if he didn’t quite fit in. when he was twenty-one he left the band after a big blowout with one of the other guys who had been sleeping with his girlfriend at the time behind his back. it was bad

this didn’t stop him from almost immediately jumping into a new band known as king james as their guitarist. this band had a much different sound than he was known for and it was a sound that he felt much more invested in

when he was twenty-three, his parents unexpectedly died in a car accident. fionn didn’t know how to deal with this and so he never really did. he had never been good at talking about his feelings and he wasn’t good with grieving either. he kept himself busy with work and hasn’t allowed himself to fully process it to this day. there is still a lot of resentment there tbh

he’s probably destroyed a lot of relationships for this reason, because it’s always like there’s an emotional wall up and barely anyone gets to see past that

personality/facts

fionn really likes his solitude. he’s kind of a loner and he lives with three dogs who he loves immeasurably more than most people

he doesn’t date a lot b/c frankly he has no time but he takes relationships pretty seriously. those people he holds close he does really care about

he is a neat freak to the point of obsession, like he alphabetizes everything and all of his things have a specific spot and if anything is out of place it bothers him until it’s fixed

he has a thing for control, if anything feels like it’s out of his control he panics

he’s probably kind of paranoid now like he just sort of assumes everyone is going to fuck him over which is probably very annoying to everyone that isn’t

he is a perfectionist and holds himself to an unreasonably high standard when it comes to pretty much everything, but especially his work. he can be difficult to work with sometimes because if he thinks he can do better he starts to get frustrated and moody

he hates talking about himself like he’s probably so awkward in interviews which is why he never fucking does them

he’s also a workaholic, like he has to to be busy at all times or he feels like he’s not being productive. he’s a lot tbh

he’s not a big partier. he probably got that out of his system fairly young and these days it’s pretty rare to see him sloppy

he has a lot of internalized anger??? and sometimes he snaps on people and sometimes it’s the wrong people

wanted connections are anything and everything but i’ve brainstormed a few here

#death tw #wealthyhq:intro

[thestoriesthatweweave]

Another Autumn Follows Summer

Nicaise’s first love affair is with a Veretian boy.

He’s a few months older than Nicaise, yet the edges of him are still a little unformed with adolescence, where Nicaise already looks like a man. His hazel eyes are wide and warm, velvet-soft and his sand-colored hair never seems to quite lie flat at the back of his head, no matter how carefully he combs it. His upper lip is thin, but his lower lip is so full it looks like it’s been stung like a bee.

None of these traits, taken alone, could be considered beautiful, yet their whole coalescences into something that Nicaise finds irresistible.

The boy’s name is Aleaume. They meet when the intermingling courts are at Marlas, the place that is soon to be the capital of the New Artesian Empire. Aleaume and his friends come to the practice fields, to gawk at the wrestlers and whisper and snicker among themselves, but Aleaume keeps coming to watch them even once the novelty of the naked barbarians has worn off.

He sits in the stands, weight braced on his arms in a casual sprawl, his gaze hot and intent on Nicaise’s back as he takes to the sawdust. They cross eyes, once in a while. Aleaume always looks away first, a blush coloring his freckled cheeks.

It comes to a head after weeks of this, when Aleaume walks down to the arena just as Nicaise is leaving it, shoulders squared and a determined jut to his chin “Hello,” he says, in heavily accented Akielon.

Nicaise is not sure why he’s surprised he’s being mistaken for an Akielon - here he is, after all, surrounded by the barbarians, sweat and sand clinging to him, and there’s plenty of Akielons who share is fairer coloring. The relief follows the surprise, sudden and bone-deep, that no one has connected the blue-eyed fighter in the kings’ retinue with the Regent’s pet.

If they had, the gossip would have reached Aleaume by now.

Aleaume, who has stopped, uncertain, his eyes a little too fixed on the jut of Nicaise’s collarbones, as though he both wants and doesn’t want to look lower and has only now realized that this, perhaps, was not the cleverest moment to make his approach.

Nicaise stares back at him, just as tongue-tied. He feels suddenly hyper-aware of his skin, of the droplets of sweat running down his back and chest and neck, his face too warm, his smile too wide.

Pallas, may the gods bless him, is the one who comes to his rescue. “He speaks your language,” he says to Aleaume, in his Veretian that remains thickly accented regardless of how much time he spends around Lazar. He claps Nicaise’s shoulder, gives him a little push, before leaving the arena.

Nicaise watches him go, a half-panicked, half-giddy lump in his throat. “Drink?” he offers, tentatively.

They never make it past hungry kisses and roving hands. Almost a month into their affair, as they’re hesitatingly inching towards more, Nicaise surprises Alueame as he’s pushing another young man up against a wall, their mouths frantic as they move against one another.

“I still don’t see why you can’t have him executed,” he says, sullenly. His eyes feel swollen, his face crusty with dried tears.

Laurent raises his head, abandoning the grain report he’s perusing. “Because going behind your back, heinous as it may be, does not constitute treason.”

Nicaise purses his lips, refusing to answer.

“Additionally,” Damianos says, from the back of the room, “I would say you’ve taken your revenge.”

Stealing Alueame’s jacket to rub it all over a flea-ridden dog had felt good, as had been seeing Alueame and his new lover trying to surreptitiously scratch themselves during the solemn, dragging court functions. But whatever satisfaction he’d found had been short-lived.

Aleaume and his new lover still had each other, while Nicaise had been left with nothing but a few flea-bites on his hands and wrists to show for his revenge.

“Exiled from court?” he asks, hopefully.

Damianos sighs. “Your brother is a terror,” he says, to Laurent. To Nicaise, he adds, “The first love is always painful when it ends. But you’ll look back on your memories with him fondly, one day.”

Nicaise settles for glaring at him, to dissimulate the little glow of pleasure he feels deep in his gut, when Damianos calls him Laurent’s brother and Laurent doesn’t correct him.

The first time Nicaise has sex - the first time it counts, by any reckoning he finds worthy - is also at the first games he attends as a participant rather than a spectator.

He’s nineteen, when Philias - the decrepit trainer who, if the whispers of the boys around the training yard are to be believed, has taught even Damianos’ father to wrestle - finally, begrudgingly, proclaims his form with the trident fine enough that he might participate in an official function.

The contestants from Ios are used to him, by now, but the games are an important enough occasion that contenders flock in from the provinces. One of them, an hulking gladiator from Ishtima, looks him straight in the eye and spits on the ground.

Nicaise finds himself bristling.

“If you see Philias,” he tells Pallas, who’s hovering anxiously at his side, “distract him.”

Pallas stops him with a light touch on his wrist. “Promise me you won’t do anything foolish,” he pleads.

Nicaise just smiles at him, shaking off his hand.

He’s at the tail end of a growth spurt, still slightly lanky with it, under strict orders not to wrestle anyone seriously until he relearns the balance of his body, to only focus on the trident, his primary discipline. Still, he makes his way over to the gladiator from Ishtima, stopping a few paces away to smile at him, hard-eyed. “Fancy a friendly bout?”

It’s a mistake.

His back hits the sawdust, quickly and with a force that makes his eyes water, a moment before the gladiator’s meaty arm finds his throat, pressing down violently. He’ll have bruises tomorrow, but for now he sucks in sharps breaths through his nose, stars dancing in front of his eyes. He’s panicking, terrified, arms flailing before his training wins over the fear.

He counters the hold, throwing all his weight into it, all that new height he still hasn’t quite learned how to master, until their positions are reversed, his hands steady on the gladiator’s body, his legs planted on the man’s shoulders.

He keeps the position until the gladiator raises his hand and taps it three times, in quick succession, on the disturbed sawdust. The signal for surrender.

“Good fight,” the gladiator says, once they’ve both caught their breath, and Nicaise is gingerly pressing his fingers against his tender throat. Surprisingly, the man’s words are not grudging.

“My name’s Telegonus,” he says, sticking out his hand for Nicaise to shake. “From Ishtima.”

“Nicaise,” he replies, taking the proffered hand, his free hand still touching his throat. “From Ios,” he adds, surprising himself. Usually, he claims to hail from Marlas, so no one will think twice of his Veretian name and fair eyes.

If Telegonos thinks them odd, he does not mention it. “Stop doing that,” he scolds, instead, taking Nicaise fingers in his to keep them away from his neck. His touch is warm, surprisingly gentle. “You’ll only aggravate it.”

“Philias will have my head,” Nicaise admits, “if he finds out what happened.”

Telegonus whistles. “Philias’s your trainer? He came to Ishtima once. I still have nightmares of the commentary he gave me.”

Nicaise laughs. “You get used to it. Legends has it the greatest praise he ever gave was to king Damianos, and it was that his form was passable.” If the story’s true, at the very least, it would explain why the man’s so fond of Laurnent’s arch adequates, Nicaise finds himself thinking. He smiles.

Telegonus smiles back. The expression makes his face look younger, somehow. Lighter. His features are rough-hewn, but pleasing, his mouth generous and his eyes dark and slanted. “How are you planning to keep him from finding out?” he asks, gesturing between them.

Nicaise shrugs. “I’ll just tell him I fell.”

“On your neck?”

“Why?” Nicaise asks. His smile comes slower, this time, more deliberate. “Are you planning on giving me a better excuse?”

The next day, when he appears for his match, Nicaise’s throat is purple with bruising, but so are his collarbones and his shoulders. There are scratch marks on his hips. He walks like he’s floating, a smile that he can’t quite suppress at his lips.

Philias clucks his tongue when he sees him. “The gods spare me from adolescent boys,” he laments. “Of all the times for you to have discovered the pleasures of the flesh. I hope she didn’t give you the clap, at least. It would be no less than what you deserve, but we don’t have a month to lose to you bent in two with the pain in your testicles.”

“It was a man, actually,” Nicaise says, his good humor still unshakable.

Philias doesn’t look very reassured by this. “Then I hope he didn’t give you the clap. And that you didn’t do anything that could impact your performance today.”

“No, sir,” Nicaise, says, truthfully, suppressing an childish curl of amusement at use of the word performance.

He wins at the trident, of course, and goes to the stands to watch Telegonus’ fight - short sword. He, too, sports a collection of love bites, though his complexion is dark enough to conceal most of them. Nicaise feels a sort of illicit thrill at watching him fight, at looking at the play of muscles and sinews under burnished skin - he knows this body, has felt it under his hands.

Still, he keeps his expression passably neutral, standing a few paces from the emperors as he is, and all eyes are turned to the match, anyway. He’s reasonably certain no one would’ve noticed, had Lazar not decided to elbow him in side, in the most conspicuous way possible. “Is that your lover-boy?” he asks, loudly. “A little bird tells me you didn’t come back to your room last night.”

Nicaise colors, as several heads turn to look at them. He kicks Lazar in the back of the knee, hard, where he knows it’ll hurt but do no lasting damage, enjoying, at least, the fleeting pleasure of seeing him buckle. Then, desperate to regain some of his composure, he turns to look at the emperors rather than at the arena.

But of course, the gods know no mercy.

“What is it with gladiators from Ishtima?" Laurent asks in a musing tone, slanting a sly-eyed look at his husband. "Perhaps I should sample one myself."

Damianos chokes on his wine.

Nicaise’s first serious relationship starts to fall apart just as the emperors’ marriage does.

Gregor’s native to Marlas, the son of a merchant, not quite high-born, with a sweet smile and perpetual ink-stains on his fingers Nicaise finds endearing. His kisses taste of apricots. Their lovemaking is tender and a little awkward, nights spent pressed up against each other in Gregor’s narrow childhood bed, the thin blankets hauled up over their heads to create a cocoon for themselves.

It’s wonderful and comfortable and warm and should be everything Nicaise has ever wanted. And yet, it is not.

The first year, they are happy - then, the fight starts. The misunderstandings. The endless silences.

He’s so wrapped up in his own unhappiness that he barely notices the same thing happening to Damianos and Laurent, barely registers the hushed gossip sweeping though the court, until he invites himself to Laurent’s chambers, one day, and is confronted with the reality of it.

Laurent’s curled up on an armchair, arms wrapped around his knees. He’s not quite crying, but he’s getting there. He looks up when Nicaise enters the room, his eyes shining with unshed tears, his jaw shaking a little, his lips pressed together in a bloodless line.

“Are you…” Nicaise asks, brought up short. “Are the two of you…” He doesn’t know how he plans on finishing that sentence- Are you getting an annulment? What about the empire?. All the questions that flit through his mind seem unspeakably callous, in the face of Laurent’s distress.

“Fine,” Laurent replies, his lips trembling but his voice firm. “I’m fine. We’ll be fine.”

“You don’t look fine,” Nicaise snaps. “How can you bear to be with him, if he makes you so unhappy?”

“He does not,” Laurent says. He’s smiling, just a little, something wistful in the lines of his eyes. “But no marriage is ever effortless. There are always times when it’s easier to let things end, rather than hold on to them.”

“I thought love was supposed to be simple,” Nicaise says. He feels lost, like a child in a starlit wood.

“Oh, Nicaise,” Laurent says. His voice is gentle. “No one ever tells you this, but love is not a choice you get to only make once. You’ll have to keep choosing it, again and again and again, even when it’s painful, if you want it to survive. So long as it’s worth it.”

“How do you know, then? If it’s worth it?”

Laurent inclines his head, pensive. “I know,” he says, slowly, “because any pain I feel now is like a candle to the sun, when compared to the happiness Damen gives me. And I know it’s the same for him.”

Nicaise watches, while his relationship with Gregor splinters and cracks, as Laurent and Damianos knit themselves back together. He watches the way Laurent leans over to whisper something in his husband’s ear, one night at dinner. Damianos throws his head back and laughs, too loudly, with surprise and relief.

A few days after that, he watches as Damianos puts his arm around Laurent’s waist as they walk through the gardens, his touch delicate, a little hesitant, as though Laurent is some wild, skittish bird that’d take flight at the slightest provocation.

A month later, there’s a festival, for midwinter. Nicaise watches, still, from afar, as Laurent and Damianos dance across the hall. Their faces are turned together, bright, as though there’s a flame lit beneath their skin, firelight spilling forth from within.

Something turns, unpleasantly, in his stomach. The next day, he ends things with Gregor.

He feels both lighter and heavier for it.

He meets Deianira when he’s twenty-two, newly made an imperial guard. It’s summer, unreasonably hot even in Marlas, and the emperors have decamped the court at their summer palace for the worst weeks of the heat.

Nicaise, ostensibly, is on duty, but the atmosphere is relaxed enough that he spends much of his time on the beach, bare feet sinking into the warm sand, armor discarded a few feet away, ready to be put back on as soon as he’s due on rotation.

She’s the daughter of the Kyros of Thrace. Nicaise has seen her before, once, when she’d been presented to the court at fourteen. She’d been a wren of a girl, lively but shy, half-hidden behind her sisters’ skirts; Nicaise had not spared a thought for her, then, and has not spared a thought for her since.

Five years on, the shyness has dissipated, leaving behind only the liveliness. She runs along the surf, one in a dozen of highborn Akielon maidens, naked to the waist, her skirts hiked up so she won’t be caught in them, spraying and screeching with a gaggle of children - her siblings, or maybe her cousins.

Nicaise looks at her, her tousled curls cut along her chin, her strong jaw and delicate ankles, her thick-lashed black eyes and dark brows. She’s tanned all over, in the way of Akielons who’ve never had to know modesty at their nakedness.

Desire is a surprise, when Nicaise didn’t think such things could ever surprise him again. As she leans back on her elbows, slick and dark on the rocks, her clothing sheer with water, spine arching, he finds he wants to run his fingers over the tendons in her legs, up and up and up.

He spends a few days puzzling his approach. It will be different, he thinks, to court a woman, but he cannot quite place in which way it will be different, and he has no one to ask. The friends he’s made on the sawdust carry on as though they think they know how to talk to a woman, but Nicaise has seen enough of their approaches to know they’re severely deluded in this. The only person he’s reasonably close with, who’s ever successfully courted a woman, he realizes with a twist of his mouth, is Damianos.

And even if Nicaise were desperate enough to go to him for advice, Damianos’s royalty, so his success hardly says much about his abilities - although, to be fair, he has managed to get Laurent into bed, so perhaps the man has some charms Nicaise has never been privy to.

In the end, it doesn’t matter, as Deianira’s the one to approach him.

They kiss for the first time in an alcove in the gardens, her mouth warm and wet against his. Her skin is soft, smooth as river-pebbles under his palms and he feels clumsy and awkward, unsure where to put his hands, her body foreign under his touch.

She pushes away from him, slightly. “First time?” she asks, teasing but not mocking.

“With a woman, yes,” he admits.

Her mouth twitches. “Come here,” she says, “and I’ll teach you.”

“I can’t get you pregnant,” he blurts, slightly panicked, as she puts her hand over his. “Laurent would have my head.”

“Well, good,” she says, laughing, bright-eyed, “I don’t want you to get me pregnant, either. I’ve things to do with my life.”

It’s a summer fling, all the sweeter for its briefness.

They lie together on Nicaise’s bed, a few days before parting, the sweat cooling on their skin, Deianira’s head tucked up against the hollow of his shoulder.

She’s chattering about her plans to join a diplomatic envoy to Vask, come fall. She has, not quite an intended, back in Thrace, but an understanding, and plans to be gone before their parents can negotiate further, so that her refusal not be seen as too great an offense.

“Don’t you want to get married?” Nicaise asks.

She pauses, turning her chin so that she can look at him, her eyes shining with good humor. “To Meleager? He has a weak chin and speaks of nothing but goats.”

He laughs. “No. I meant in general.”

“Oh.” She slips away from him a little, bracing herself on her elbows, though she keeps their legs pressed together. “No, I don’t think so.” A pause. “Do you?”

Nicaise is silent for some time. He thinks of Deianira, running across the surf, muscles flickering under her skin, wild with the thoughtless grace of freedom. He thinks of sweet Gregor, who could never be all that Nicaise wanted.

He thinks of Damianos and Laurent, standing more than a foot apart and yet with no daylight between them, looking at each other with bright gazes, choosing and choosing and choosing.

“Yes,” he says, eventually. “I do.”

#Captive Prince #captive prince fic #nicaise lives #Nicaise lives au #bisexual nicaise #nicaise/original male characters #nicaise/original female character #damen/laurent #My writing #nicaise #damen #laurent #pallas #lazar

[sir-pyllero]

Keeping Score

My very first Captive Prince drabble is a silly, mostly dialougue based feel-good Modern!AU in which Auguste is dating Nikandros which leads to Laurent meeting Damen and that means Nicaise might soon have four dads.

”Third date, huh? You going to tell him?”

Auguste glanced at Laurent through the mirror. “You know I will,” he replied and wiped the last of the shaving cream off his face.

“And if he’s not okay with it?”

“Then that’s it.”

“That’s it?”

“Laurent.”

“Just making sure.”

Auguste sighed. “If he’s not okay with it then there’s no point, is there?”

“But you like him.”

“I do. Which is why I really hope he’s okay with it.”

Laurent hummed. “Just a t-shirt?” he asked when Auguste picked out a black one.

“Yeah, we’re just going out for coffee.”

“Huh.”

“What?”

“He’s seen the house, right?”

“He has.”

“So, he knows you could take him to all the Michelin places in the city without making a dent to your bank account?”

“Yes.”

“Wow. Well. He just scored a point,” Laurent said, following Auguste out of the room.

“You’re keeping score?”

“Of course.”

“How many points does he have?”

“2.”

“What’s the other point for?”

Laurent smiled. “You like him.”

--

“I, uh… I have to tell you something.”

They had been sitting the in the corner of the café for about an hour when Auguste finally decided to drop the bomb. It was a shame, really, he had enjoyed this date so far, just as much as the first two. Not only was Nikandros easy on the eyes, he was also easy to have a conversation with.

Auguste really, really hoped that he’d be okay with it.

“You’re married.”

Auguste chuckled. “No.”

“Okay, good. You just sounded so serious. The last two times I was told ‘I have to tell you something’ like that were when Damen first told me he was going to propose to his girlfriend and then called to tell me she fucked his brother and he was going to move in with me.”

“Uh…”

“Right, yeah. Sorry.” Nikandros cleared his throat. “You just really did sound serious. I have a habit of… I don’t know… rambling?”

“It’s okay. So, Damen lives with you?”

“Oh, no, not anymore, all that was about a year ago. His new place is right above mine, though... Might as well have stayed with me, I guess, but it does make dating easier not to have someone much better-looking hanging around your corners.”

“He’s not”

“What?”

“Better looking than you.”

Nikandros huffed. “You’ve met Damen.”

“Yes, I see him almost daily. And I think you underestimate yourself.”

“Are you trying to make me blush? I’m a grown man, I don’t blush.”

“Of course not.”

“Didn’t you have something to tell me?”

For almost 30 seconds, Auguste had forgotten that the fast beating of his heart didn’t have much to do with their playful bantering. He took a deep breath, squeezing his empty coffee cup. “Well. I don’t live alone.”

“The house is huge.”

“Yeah…”

“And?”

“…I share it with my son. And my brother.”

Nikandros blinked. “You have a kid.”

“Yeah. He’s 11.”

“You had a kid when you were 20.” Auguste nodded. “Are you divorced? Not that that matters, I’m just… curious.”

“No, it’s uh… It’s bit of a story, actually,” Auguste admitted.

“I have time,” Nikandros shrugged. “Unless, of course, you don’t want to tell me which is fine, too.”

“It’s not a secret. His mother really wanted a baby. We were good friends and we were young and I… offered my services,” Auguste explained. “I figured I’d be the cool dad, you know? The kind that doesn’t have much responsibilities but has him every other weekend and takes him to Disneyworld and buys him whatever he wants. I practically raised Laurent – my brother,” he clarified when Nikandros looked confused. “– so being the fun parent was going to be easy.”

“But he lives with you now?”

“He does. His mother died in childbirth.”

“Oh… fuck. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah. My plans changed a bit after that.”

Nikandros nodded slowly. He didn’t say anything for a while and Auguste didn’t try to interrupt his train of thought. He knew that once Nikandros had processed everything, he’d then decide whether to stay or leave, and Auguste took the quiet moment as an opportunity to get ready for both scenarios.

“Can I just ask you something? Sort of personal?” Nikandros asked, his voice breaking the silence.

“Sure.”

“You are from Vere, right?”

“True.”

“And you have a bas… uh… a - a child out of wedlock?”

“Well… It’s not like we’re royalty,” Auguste joked. “But in all seriousness, yeah, it’s still not… preferred, though the people are not as backwards about it as they used to be. But we moved to the States when Laurent was still a kid and even my parents were too thrilled to have a grandchild to care that I didn’t marry his mother.”

“That’s good.”

“It is. And listen, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I know I should’ve made it obvious from the get go that I’m a package deal and…”

Nikandros silenced him by putting his hand on top of Auguste’s, catching him off-guard. “Don’t think you have to explain to me why you didn’t tell me about your child. I’m sure you had your reasons and I’m sure they’re perfectly reasonable.”

A warm wash of relief went through Auguste and it came out as a smile. Nikandros smiled, too, and it certainly didn’t look like he was going to bolt out of his chair and run. “Thank you.”

“No need. So, what’s his name?”

--

When Laurent opened the door, he most certainly was not expecting a man the size of a fridge to stand behind it. With a blink, he acknowledged he was an insanely good-looking man the size of a fridge.

“Uh… Am I at the right house?” the man asked, looking from his phone to Laurent.

“That depends,” Laurent said. “Are you delivering Chinese?”

“No?”

“Then I think you might have the wrong house.”

“Huh… Right. I’m looking for Nikandros?”

Laurent’s eyebrows shot up. “Nik’s real name is Nikandros?”

“Oh, this is the right house!”

“Is Nikandros out on a date with Auguste?”

“He is, yes. I have his car, so he asked me to pick him up. I’m a bit early, though. I just wanted to make sure I had the right house because… well, wow! I thought my parents’ house was big, but this is more like a mansion. Anyways, now that I know I’m at the right place, I can go wait in the car. Sorry to have bothered you.”

Laurent let the guy take a few steps before making a split-second decision and calling out: “Wait!” The guy turned around. He was smiling. He had a dimple.

Fuck.

“Auguste texted a while ago that he’s going to be late. He told us to order food. We tend to order way too much so… you’re welcome to share. You’re probably going to have to wait a while.”

The guy frowned and took his phone out of his pocket. “That’s weird, Nik didn’t… Oh. He did. Damn.”

Laurent shrugged. “My offer stands.”

“You’re absolutely sure I wouldn’t be a bother? I can just come back later.”

“It’s fine, come on. The food will be here soon.” He stepped aside to let the guy in. “I’m Laurent.”

“Damen,” the guy said. “Damn, this place is even more impressive on the inside,” he continued. “You live here, too?”

“Yes.”

“Cool. Veretian?” Damen asked, nodding at some of the decorations as he followed Laurent to the kitchen.

Damen recognizing Veretian style did not make him any less attractive and Laurent had to bite his cheek not to show how impressed he was. “Originally, yeah. We moved here when I was four, though. Hey! Nicaise, dinner will be here soon!”

Nicaise was sitting on the kitchen isle, feet hanging in air and eating chocolate sauce straight out of the bottle. “I’m having dessert first,” he said with a shrug.

“And I’m sure you’ll want dessert after, too.”

“I’m a growing boy. Who’s the brute?”

“He’s a friend of Nik’s. I invited him to share our dinner since your dad’s going to be late. Oh, and hey, you’ll never guess what Nik’s real name is.”

“Nikoangelo.”

“Better. Nikandros.”

“Nikandros?” Nicaise huffed. “Is he Greek?”

“Close,” Damen said. “Akileon. We both are.”

Nicaise frowned. “Aren’t we supposed to hate them?”

“That’s ancient history and you, smart-ass, don’t even have Veretian passport,” Laurent said. “This is Nicaise, by the way. Auguste’s son.”

“I gathered,” Damen said. “I didn’t know Auguste had a son. Nik didn’t say anything, either.”

“He didn’t know, either. He does now, though, and since they’ll be back late, I guess he didn’t run for the hills. That’s another point for him,” Laurent said, the last part directed at Nicaise.

“He’s got 4 now, then.”

“3.”

“No, Dad says he likes dogs. That’s a point.”

“He likes kids, too,” Damen said. Laurent felt a little stab in his gut but masked it with a curious ‘oh?’ “Yeah, I mean. When he talks about future goals, he wants a family. One of our friends has a little daughter and Nik just turns into pudding when she’s around. So… yeah. Auguste having a kid wouldn’t scare him away.”

Laurent felt the corner of his lip pulling upwards. “Well,” he said. “He hasn’t met him yet.”

“Hey. I am perfectly lovable.”

“Mmhm.”

“You love me.”

“I’m obligated.”

“Fuck you. I’ll get it!” Because at that moment, the doorbell rang. “Where’s your wallet?”

“The desk.”

“He uh… He’s a handful, I’m guessing?” Damen said carefully when Nicaise rushed out of the kitchen.

“He’s better when his dad is home. I’m the cool uncle, I can let a few things slide. Beer?”

“I’m driving.”

“Hm. Well, that’s a point to you,” Laurent said. “Water, coke, root beer?”

“Water’s fine. And why would I need points?”

“You never know.”

“Then I’d like to mention that I absolutely love dogs.”

Laurent’s heart made a delighted little jump. It surprised him enough that he was sure his cheeks flushed red and he turned to the fridge to take out two water bottles and a cola for Nicaise. “So…” he said when he turned back to face Damen. “What do you do? For living?”

“I’m an architect. I work with Auguste, actually. Or, for him,” Damen replied. “That’s how they met. Nik and Auguste.”

“Ah. You’re Damianos.”

“Well, that sounds even sillier than Nikandros,” Nicaise declared before Laurent could explain how he knew Damen’s real name.

“That’s rude,” Laurent chastised. “Was it the cute one?”

“Yup.”

“How much did you tip him?”

“You’ll sleep better if you don’t know.”

“Nicaise…”

“What? He’s a student with a student loan! I did a good deed! When I die, I’ll come back as a noble steed for my good karma!”

Damen laughed out loud at that, causing both Laurent and Nicaise to turn to him. “You can’t argue with that logic.”

Nicaise grinned. “See? Even the brute agrees. Can I eat in the living room?”

“Go ahead.”

Nicaise loaded his plate with a lot more food than he would probably eat and normally Laurent would have told him to leave half of it, and come back if he was still hungry after eating the first half. Now, however, he was strangely glad that Nicaise would most likely stay out of the kitchen for at least half an hour.

”You know about me?” Damen asked when Nicaise was out of sight.

“Auguste has mentioned you, yes.”

“Oh God. He’s complained about me, hasn’t he?”

“As a matter of fact, I think he’s rather impressed with you.”

Damen whooped. Laurent found it quite adorable and for that, he internally shook his head at himself.

“That’s a relief. I thought him not telling me that he has a son was an indication that I was on some sort of a black list,” Damen said.

“That’s not it, trust me. He’s just insanely protective of Nicaise. We both are,” Laurent explained.

“But you invited me in,” Damen pointed out.

“You’re friends with Nik and he’s a good guy so… Yeah, I invited you in.” Not to mention I want to stroke your hair and put my finger in your dimple. Laurent cleared his throat. “Take whatever you want. I like everything.”

Laurent was sure a guy of Damen’s size could eat a whole lot more than what he put on his plate, but he didn’t want to stomp on his subtle way of being polite. They made small talk of Laurent’s history studies and why he hadn’t taken the family route to be an architect. They touched the subject of Damen’s brother taking over their family’s company but Laurent didn’t probe when Damen changed the topic quite quickly. Nicaise appeared at some point to declare he wanted ice cream but was quickly off again with his full bowl to watch what Laurent was quite was not an appropriate movie for a boy for his age.

“I get why you’re fond of him,” Damen said.

“Other than the fact that he’s my nephew?”

“Well, yeah. I know lots of people who couldn’t give a rat’s ass about their nephews.”

“Hm. Me, too.”

“So I think it’s cool, you know. This little family unit that you have going on. You’ve clearly made it work,” Damen said, smiling.

“We have. Which is why we’re very careful about who we let in it,” Laurent said.

“Nik’s a good guy, I swear.”

“I believe you. Are you?”

Damen’s expression changed. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you already scored a point since you absolutely adore dogs,” Laurent said, quoting Damen from earlier. “And you’ve managed to score a few more in a very short amount of time, if you’d be interested to… take advantage of that.”

“You’re the younger brother of my boss,” Damen said. “We really should just stay friends.”

“Friends. Is that what you want?”

“I work for your brother, Laurent.”

“He won’t mind. If you really are a decent person, he’ll probably encourage it,” Laurent said. “Just tell me, if Auguste wasn’t your boss, would you hesitate?”

Damen shook his head, no. “I’d have already asked you out.”

“Then ask me out.”

Damen took the tiniest step forward. Laurent’s felt a thrill go through him, and that was a new, exciting feeling that he really wanted to explore.

“Will you go out with me?”

“Yes,” Laurent replied right away. “I just – I don’t have the option to hide my family from you anymore, so to speak. So before a… date? turns into anything more, I have to make absolutely sure that you are in fact a good guy. You’ll have to patient with me. I’m telling this to you now because we’ve known each other for 20 minutes and it’ll be less awkward for you to just decline and walk away. I won’t be easy. In any aspect of dating. Even this – what we’re doing now - is actually foreign ground for me.”

Laurent took a deep breath after his little speech, sure that his cheeks were flaming. Damen was smiling so that his dimple was very visible, and Laurent swore he could drown in those eyes.

“I’ll do my best to make sure you never have to doubt that I’m a good guy. How’s that sound?” he asked.

“That sounds… great. Great.”

“Good. A date, then? Dinner?”

“Yeah, that…”

“I’m home! Where are you, there’s someone I… Oh. Hi, Damen!”

Auguste came into the kitchen then with Nikandros behind him. He paused to take in the two plates on the kitchen counter and raised his eyebrows at Laurent in silent question. Laurent shrugged, but failed to keep the tiny smile off his face.

“Damen didn’t see Nik’s text until he was already here, so I invited him to share the food,” he said, opting for the truth as an explanation. “Nicaise is watching something R-rated in the living room.”

“I’ll throw you under the bus if his teachers complain about his language again.”

“Of course.”

“Anyways, uh… Laurent. Meet Nik. Officially,” Auguste said, stepping aside a little so that Laurent could shake hands with Nikandros. “Nik, this is Laurent.”

“Nice to meet you,” Nikandros said politely.

“Likewise,” Laurent replied. He did smile, but at the same time he hoped his eyes communicated that even though he was the younger brother, he’d have no problem kicking Nikandros’ ass should the need arise. To his benefit, Nikandros seemed to understand, as he offered a little nod as an assurance.

During their silent exchange, Auguste had brought Nicaise back to the kitchen. The boy was still a little small for his age and looked even smaller next to his dad, who competed with Damen in size. Quite a lot of his confidence had been left on the couch, and he pressed himself close to Auguste as Nikandros offered his hand.

“Nicaise, this is Nik. You’re going to see a lot of him from now on,” Auguste said, putting his hand thought Nicaise’s curls.

Nicaise stayed silent for a moment, eyeing Nikandros suspiciously. When he finally spoke, what he said was: “Damen’s real name is sillier than yours.”

Auguste made a sound to probably scold Nicaise, but it died when Nikandros just burst into laughter, which scored him another point in Laurent’s book.

“It is, isn’t it?” (“Hey!”)

“If you ever move in here, can we get a puppy?”

“We’ll make it our mission to make your Dad agree.”

“Okay. Can I go now?” Nicaise asked Auguste.

“Yeah. But you won’t finish that movie!” Auguste called after him as Nicaise disappeared. “He’ll warm up,” he said to Nikandros.

“That’s better than what I dared to hope. I thought he’d lock himself inside his room,” Laurent said.

“It’s a win, then?” Nikandros asked.

“Definitely,” Auguste confirmed. “Well, I guess we shouldn’t keep Damen waiting any longer.”

“There’s still food,” Laurent hurried to say. “You didn’t have dinner, right? You can finish this and we’ll… we’ll give you a little while longer? To… finish… your date?”

Auguste took the hint before Nikandros, who was frowning now, did. “Are you hungry?” he asked, and Nikandros blinked.

“I could eat.”

“Great! We’ll be…” somewhere you can’t see us “…in the garden.”

Laurent only stopped to turn the TV off (which earned him a “oh, come on!) because Nicaise hadn’t obeyed Auguste and led Damen out to the backyard and to the little secluded area behind some rose bushes where he liked to read. The bushes were also conveniently tall so that they could not be seen from the first floor of the house.

“Did you turn their first date into our first date?” Damen asked, amused.

“We’ll call this a pre-date?” Laurent offered. He was a little breathless.

“I’ve never had one. What does it entail?”

“I was thinking… if you don’t mind… a kiss? Because I think I might panic and it’s better to get it out of the way now so that it doesn’t ruin our actual…”

“Why would you panic?”

Laurent paused, realizing that little slip was quite a lot more than what he wanted to reveal to someone who was still practically a stranger.

This once, however, he chose not to turn back and retreat.

“Not now,” he said instead of fleeing. “Maybe… one day, okay?”

“Okay.” Damen pushed a strand of Laurent’s hair behind his ear. It was such a gentle touch, unlike what Laurent would expect of someone of Damen’s stature, and that in itself was strangely assuring. “I’ll kiss you now. Just push if you don’t want it.”

He was tall, so tall, but Laurent didn’t feel any fear as he closed the distance between them, slowly, giving Laurent every chance to change his mind.

Laurent didn’t, and Damen’s lips were so soft he almost moaned.

And that’s the beginning of how Nicaise suddenly had basically four dads.

#captive prince #lamen #lamen fic #capri #modern!lamen

[polvillodecanela]

Winter Craft

Hello! this is for @seablrd for the @caprisecretsanta2018 , please enjoy it.

Summary

On a Friday night is when the love potions are at its finest. Auguste knew that. Sadly, for Laurent, Auguste is not very keen of doing errands.

"They live among us."

Beep

"My niece was cursed by one of them and now all men leave her."

Beep

"We've hired a priest to exorcize the neighborhood; maybe he'll take them out, running."

Beep.

"Your total is 24.55", the cashier said politely.

"I have coupons, son"

Beep, beep, beep.

"Your total is 15.23"

The tinkling sound of small coins on the counter brought Laurent back to earth.

The market was buzzing with activity at that time of the night. The old woman in front of him was using all her pennies to pay, making them hit loudly on the counter. The cashier was busy and considerably angrier. Meanwhile, Laurent used the opportunity to take a better look at her: Plain, white hair; second-hand clothes (badly trifted) and worn shoes. She looked like a stereotypical witch herself, funny thing. Behind him, a couple was talking about a dinner with friends they will go later. Honestly, Laurent had more important things to do that being there, on an unmovable queue; also, he had four or five things to say to the now retiring old woman: 1. Yes, witches and warlocks live among you, or as his mother used to say "it's those imbeciles who live among us”

2. We are busy people, Karen, we do not have time to walk around casting curses on people. If your niece is left by all men, she must be a repellent person like you are.

3. If you call a priest to perform an exorcism, please make him go to our house so the man could try and cast out a couple of naughty spirits that Auguste let in last Monday who hasn’t let us sleep since.

The line advanced a little, the cashier directed an apologetic look at Laurent who returned the gesture. Now, a girl buying some candies. Laurent rolled his eyes when the girl used the classic I-forgot-my-money play to tried to steal some things. The cashier stopped her quickly and, politely, told her to leave. His eyes weren’t very warm though.

Finally, it was his turn.

"Let's see: Rosemary, Thyme, black tea in leaves, mint, lemons" the cashier looked at him through his red eyelashes, his eyes shining with high interest and a bit of mischief “The youngest de Vere has bought all this, today precisely on a Friday night ", then, he leaned in conspirational. “Who are you enchanting, huh? Is a she? Or, is it a he?”

Laurent felt his cheeks going a little bit pinky. If Ancel could guess what those ingredients were for, he can`t even imagine what would be of his reputation if someone older noticed that too.

"Shut up, Ancel and just tell me the price. "

The redhead giggled childishly.

"Your brother must tell me how to make my love potions more effective."

"Easy. You have to be graceful, not that plain...you've already lost. "

"And that’s why I'll charge you the non-magical fee. Its 8.50”

Laurent left the money and took everything acquired. The list wasn`t complete, though because of course, Auguste loved using Laurent’s precious full-moon Friday time as the errand boy for his next potion.

His older brother had been trying for months - M O N T H S - to have a little toss on the sheets with the guy of the vet clinic, who had come not long ago to the neighborhood. Months using his charms that, of course, would not work in a hetero guy.

But, honestly, who would dare to say Auguste the contrary, huh?

"Laurent!" Auguste had said a few days ago "I have it"

Auguste’s bright blue eyes gave Laurent all the clues to figure what was in his brother’s mind and he was sure as hell didn`t want to know. Sometimes being the smartest in the family was more a burden than a blessing

“A Brain? At last?" Laurent answered without looking up from his book.

A pillow crashed Laurent’s face.

"No, silly little brother” Auguste smiled, “a hair of the handsome Greek boy from the veterinary. He is going to be mine, finally. Nobody resists my charms”

If Laurent had a penny for every time he saw that smile… 

"Let me guess,” he said eyeing one of his brother’s pockets “sleep potion"

"It just took a few drops, no more." he lifted his shoulders as if it was not a big deal "he didn’t even fall off the chair".

Auguste did a show of stereotypical magician and from behind Laurent’s ear, he tucked out a thick tuft of dark long curly hair. He smiled triumphantly. "I'll make him surrender to my feet, you'll see, but before that… I’m lacking something, brother"

Laurent's stomach clenched. He felt the small twist that only meant that something was off as his brother gave him a bright blue look. Bad news

"No," Laurent said authoritatively, chin up.

"I have not asked for anything yet!"

"My answer is no."

"But I have to clean myself and my cauldron for the potion and you know that implies meditation and everything” he paused and did a fashion of remembering something “also, I have to get pretty for my date. So … please?”

"No, and nothing will change my mind," Laurent claimed, swearing to resist Auguste’s puppy eyes. He would die first.

Hours later, Laurent was still wondering how the hell he ended outside, on a perfect full moon night with a purchase under his arm that hasn’t even come out of Auguste’s pocket.

"I swear if Auguste makes me buy him condoms or some shit like that, I'll give him hemorrhoids and the party will be over."

 With heavy steps, Laurent walked towards the Flower Shop. A delicious smell of cinnamon invaded all his senses, that and the smell of new flowers and herbs gave the place an aura of festivity and easiness. Being a frequent costumer Laurent knew almost all the plants and herbs the crew offered there, he always found the ingredients he needed and Lykaios was nice to him, even that time when he went in the morning, the other employee (Erasmus?) were good to him.

Alright, he needed some roses and Damianas. What was a Damiana like? Were they just leaves? Did he need the flower? Many?  A few? In Auguste's chicken scrawl he could only read "a pinch of Damiana".

A pinch.

Damn it. Here is when knowing most of the herbs proved insufficient.

Laurent looked at the counter, completely empty. Probably she was doing inventory or something, he thought with a little bit of concern.

He looked around, just to confirm that he was the only one there, before reaching to his neck to extract a necklace with a navy blue crystal that seemed to hold the universe inside. He concentrated his energy and with a soft murmur said "Take me to the Damianas".

Walking through the small shop, Laurent let the small oscillating pendulum guiding him to some beautiful yellow flowers "They have to be those", he thought happily. He was so aware of the movement of the crystal that he didn’t feel a thing; a really solid bulge what was sitting on the bottom of other shelf so, naturally, he stumbled and fell heavily letting go the necklace that went to the bottom of the Damianas shelf. 

Laurent’s heart sunk as he let out a growl of frustration. The shelf looked heavy and solid and the crack where his chain passed was narrow and dark. He was ready to use a levitation spell when behind him, the thing he stumbled into went up. It was a person. Go figure.

Laurent looked up, up and up to find ... a dimple.

The young man in front of him cleaned his knees, put his hands on his hips and looked down at him, with the most sincere smile Laurent had ever seen, the leather apron resting softly on a thin hip and embracing - very well – his large biceps.

"I'm really sorry,” he said going a little bit pink “ the bell store broke this morning and I haven’t had the chance to put it back again, you were being really silent so I didn’t notice you."

"What about Lykaios?" Laurent said, recovering his voice. He was still sprawled on the floor.

"In maternity license" the other one raised Laurent taking him by the arm as if he were made of paper.

Laurent was a bit dumbstruck. To say that the new employee was big was an understatement.

"Oh, yes, I remember. She was very pregnant ", he said, abruptly. How eloquent.

“Yeah, because of that I'm taking the afternoon shift. Erasmus is in charge of the morning one. You know Erasmus?"

“Yes, of course,” No, he didn’t but maybe just maybe his brain wasn’t working good enough. It wasn’t weird if he had said that he didn’t know well the other boy since he always buys there at night. Why lie, then? Oh crap, he wasn`t being really smart at the moment. It wasn’t ideal.

The guy’s smile grew fonder if that was possible. Where on earth does one find people like this? Laurent wondered. The guy was glowing and the Christmas lights made wonders on his olive skin. And his biceps, he could perfectly wrap his both hands around one of those and still they couldn’t round them completely. Laurent checked if he had his mouth closed.

“How can I help you?" And again that dimple.

The guy’s smile was somewhat fond, weird thing considering Laurent actually kicked him while stumbling. Laurent smiled too, just a bit.

Don’t get too excited. 

"Damianas" he said. The guy’s smile turned playful.

"Here, at the front aisle" He walked to the shelf, the one where his crystal went under. "They are excellent for erectile dysfunction."

Laurent closed his eyes and counted to five before embarrassment made him turn that innocent man into a lizard.

"I didn’t know that. For the record, those are for my brother." Laurent explained, trying to sound less embarrassed that he was. 

"Oh, you should not blush. Many have that problem" he paused." By the way, when you tripped with me I thought I heard glassware. Did I break something?"

"A very old crystal from my family is under that aisle," Laurent said feigning indifference.

Without much effort, the guy pushed the shelf, flowers and all, and yielded it a few centimeters, just so that Laurent could lean and take his crystal. Okay, if Laurent was a little bit dumbstruck at first, now he was really stoned; with his eyes almost coming out of his sockets he inspected his necklace, it was intact and Laurent sighed quietly with relief. The employee returned the shelf to this original position without even breaking a sweat.

Seriously, where on earth does one find something like that?

"Hey” The guy let out an appreciative whistle “that crystal is very cute, matches with your eyes."

It was quite funny to see how the employee went from confident to goo when Laurent combed behind his ear a wild strand of his hair and put on the necklace. Laurent allowed himself to smile, just a little bit more as he curved his lips higher.

"Thanks, for the effort” Laurent got a bit closer “I'll take one of those” he signaled the yellow little flowers that were on a pot “and three roses, please. "

"Only three?" the guy tilted his head. Like a golden retriever, Laurent’s brain prompted.

"Yes."

The man went to do his work, taking a pot with him to carry the flowers.

"There we go,” he said. Dimpled smiled and all “they are 20 but since we are arriving at Christmas season, I leave them at 15. Now, a piece of advice: for whatever you are going to use them, use the leaves, not the flowers, uh sorry, for whatever your “brother" is going to do. Have a nice day"

Giving thanks, Laurent left the florist with more than one curse in mind for Auguste.  When he arrived, the smell of too many candles gave him nausea. Auguste was out of control. However, Laurent left the purchase on the dinner table and went to his room. He had been doing a study in his dream-journal and did not want to lose the connector wire.

Four books later he felt those little electronic touches of his brother's powerful magic. Apparently, whatever Auguste was doing was ready. He had completely forgotten to tell him the matter of the leaves.

"Damianas," he said as he heard a knock on the main door.

A curly haired tall and muscly man, with the expression of who prefers to be literally dead that there, found him in the entrance.

"Good evening," The strange said trying his best to sound kind or polite. Laurent frowned. The animosity was mutual.

"Oh, Nikandros, good evening" Auguste exited the kitchen with a thermos under his arm and wiping his hands with a cloth, like an older woman, his voice sounded like cheap silk. Laurent rolled his eyes. "We're leaving; I made some tea for us later."

Auguste gently guided Nikandros with a soft but powerful grip on his shoulder towards the exit.

"Laurent" he whispered, before following. "if everything goes well, do not wait for me tonight" and then, without any shame he had the audacity to wink at him.

"TMI, Auguste, TMI"

It didn’t go well. Crying, Auguste told him the next day that in his carelessness, the thermos that contained the powerful potion went to the floor spilling everything; how the potion stained Nikandros’s pants; how he almost killed him at dinner with an almond and how Nikandros had said goodbye rather coolly and with reason, honestly.

"Can you tell me how he agreed to go out with you in the first place?" Laurent said patting his brother on his head, trying to ignore how stained with mucus his t-shirt was.

"He lost a game of cards against me," Auguste admitted.

"Oh, you mean that you made him lose a game of cards against you."

"Those are meaningless details”

A week later, Laurent was heading back to Ancel’s store. The redhead was looking curious through his long eyelashes, taking note to see what else Laurent acquired to use it to his benefit. The old woman from last week was also there, taking a pancake mix.

Laurent smiled mischievously. He concentrated strongly on the package the old woman had in her hand, thought of sand, ashes, earth and finally, tasteless dietetic sugar. He felt a bit of his power leave his body as he spelled.

"I hope that thing tastes like shit". The old woman didn’t flinch. She didn’t even notice.

The line at the market moved faster this time. The old woman did her share about the failed exorcism. False, the naughty spirits were actually gone. Thank you, old repellent woman please enjoy your shitty pancake mix.

When Laurent put his items on the line Ancel let out a gasp “This is the first time I saw you buying the same ingredients twice. Did your brother fuck it up? How?”

“That’s none of your business, redhead” 

“Oof, he fucked up badly since you’re this angry. Here, I’ll give you a discount, pay me 5”

“That’s the magical fee” Laurent arched an eyebrow

“Ugh, you got me. I really can’t offer discounts”

That made Laurent Laugh.

“Nice try. Call me next time you’re doing free readings” Ancel’s green eyes shined with interest.

“Are you asking me for a reading? Is about a someone?”

“Don’t ruin my good mood, I warn you”

Ancel showed his hands in surrender. Someday he will be able to know some dark secrets. For now, he smiled and proceeded to register the next person’s items.

The bell of the flower shop worked on this occasion. Mr. Dimple was at the counter making a beautiful arrangement, wrapping in soft blue butter paper roses of many colors.

"Hello!” he beamed, once he saw Laurent. “What a pleasure to have you back, how can I help you?"

"Good afternoon, I would like again ...”

"DAMIANOS."

To Laurent's surprise, Nikandros went through the door as if his life was depending on it. His hair was a little disheveled and his expression somewhat lost. Laurent noticed a silver ring on his ring finger that was not there before, the engraving familiar to him. Auguste's sigils, probably a B plan. Bile gathered in his mouth as a headache started.

Nikandros stopped dead at the door when he noticed the blond young man, looking angry and flexing his hands with intention.

"Nik, good night,” The employee (Damianos) said, smiling “It's almost ready".

"Your name is Damianos" Laurent said, still looking at the ring. He was feeling a bit dazed, was it the cinnamon?

"You are Auguste's brother." Nikandros crossed his arms.

"Auguste?”  Damianos blurted out as Nikandros directed a cold stare at him, too late. “The guy you’ve liked since always and that always ruins your dates?"

"The what now?" Laurent directed his entire attention to Nikandros. It had to be a joke.

It wasn’t. The story took two hours in where it was clearly established that Auguste does not have the faculties to read people. Laurent was on the verge of crying for multiple reasons, all the lost afternoons of shopping, for nothing. All the "Laurent, stir the potion clockwise, not the other way" or "Laurent, do I look sexy or nah?" and "Laurent, I ran out of candles "at 2 in the morning. All because Auguste could not understand that not everyone who liked him was going to kneel and ask for his hand on a date.

He was almost dissociating when the comment reached his ears like a bomb.

"Double date, but not like a romantic double date but like a fun-with-friends double date, okay?"

"Huh?"

"You were not hearing?" Damianos said kindly. He really looked like a Golden Retriever.

"Oh, yeah sure" he lied. Without knowing he had dug his grave.

"Then" Damianos gave him a paper with a number, most likely his phone. "Text me?"

"Sure" He almost ran out of the store "Thank you, Damianos."

"Call me Damen, please.”

Damianos took Laurent’s hand gently, smiled – with that goddamm dimple of his – and winked, mischievously. Laurent heard Nikandros sigh behind him “And I’m being serious, call me."

#secret santa #caprisecretsanta #im so sorry if this is sloppy! #i was working on a ilustration that maybe next year will be posted. #merry chrismas and happy new year.