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harrywritingsbyme · 3 years

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The Shark Stuffie

Anonymous Said: my life’s been pretty shit recently and I’m so stressed rn and my anxiety is through the roof meaning I can’t sleep either..could you maybe write something small about harry comforting you and coaxing you to sleep with sweet coos💕

Based Off Of This Ask

And This One

A/N: I feel like I haven't written some fluff in a LONG ass time...like the last pure fluff piece I wrote was all the way back in the beginning of January. That’s lowkey due to my vibes being off, my lack of motivation to do just about anything, and the fact that my writing schedule has been rearranged too many times. Either way tho...I hope y'all like this fic, it’s rlly cute and softtt and it’s definitely relatable for many of us. Enjoyy🙃

3.5k wordss

You had a bit of an obsession with animal documentaries. There was just something about them that just drew you in and captivated you. Whenever you watched the films or shows, you were always glued to the screen and utterly fascinated with the creatures being displayed before your eyes. Whenever you watched them with Harry, he’d always tease you about your obsession and being completely glued to the screen, jokingly saying that you were more in love with the animals than you were with him. Which couldn’t have been the farthest thing from the truth of course. But in true Y/n fashion, instead of just shooting his far fetched claims down, you would always tease him back; saying that you were in fact madly in love with whatever animal was on the screen at that moment, and that if he wanted to reclaim his number one spot on your list of loves, he’d have to put in some serious work. And then over the following couple of minutes, the two of you would go on to further the banter, trying to land the snarkiest little remark and “win”...even though it wasn’t even a competition to begin with. Sometimes you two were able to go a good while going back and forth on who you loved the most, Harry or the animals and their documentaries. Other times, and most times for that matter, you two would just burst into a fit of laughs before snuggling up together for the rest of the documentary. You of course rewinding it to play back anything you missed when your attention was on Harry.

Which speaking of Harry, he thought your obsession with animals and the documentaries was the most precious and adorable thing thing in the entire world. He couldn’t (and never wanted to for that matter) get the image of your face lighting up when you watched the documentaries or discovered that a new one had come out for you to watch. He loved how happy and at ease you were when you watched the animal documentaries. On top of the fact that Harry loved how happy you got when watching the documentaries, Harry was slowly growing a little bit of an obsession with the documentaries too. And because of that, not only did he suggest making you guys’ date nights animal documentaries nights, but he also began to feed your obsession by means of plushies. If you two watched a documentary on giraffes, he’d be on the hunt for the cutest little giraffe plushie the entire week after and leading up to you guys’ next date night. And if you were going on and on about a particular animal he’d try to find the cutest plushy to get for you to add to your collection. Most times Harry was able to get lucky and find the cutest plushy for the animal you were obsessed with at the moment. But there were also times where he wasn’t so lucky. Either the animal was too exotic to be in stuffed animal form, or it wasn’t cute enough for Harry’s liking. He took his job of feeding your animal obsession very seriously.

But either way, plushy or no plushy, you were just happy to enjoy and share your love of animal documentaries with your boyfriend who you loved even more. And Harry, whether or not he’d be able find the perfect plushy, was always going to do his very best to put an even bigger smile on your face. Even if it meant having to get a little creative at times.

Now for the first time in the five or so months you’ve been obsessed with animals and watching the documentaries, you were stuck on one animal; Sharks. You weren’t quite sure as to what was so fascinating about the incredibly deadly creature but you couldn’t get enough of them. You were watching documentary after documentary on them and you even went as far as to find and watch old shark week episodes. You were quite obsessed to say the least. For the past, just about two weeks when you and Harry had your weekly animal documentary night/date night, you’d turn on something about sharks. Which prompted Harry to go out and find the perfect plushies to add to your collection. He managed to find the cutest one online the thought you’d love and he immediately placed his order so that it would arrive as soon as possible. While he waited for that stuffed animal to arrive, Harry figured you’d be onto the next animal. But no, the following week you were still obsessed with sharks. Which meant that a knot her shark plushy would be coming your way in no time. So once again, Harry went back on the “prowl” for the best shark plushies out there, spending the better part of his Wednesday evening looking for the perfect one.

After looking through the pages of plushies, hoping to find one that he could buy in-store, Harry finally found the one. It was a fairly big shark plushy, and from the photos it looked to be pretty cute, and it seemed to be very soft. All of Harry’s boxes were checked off. But the ultimate selling point for it though, was the fact that it was weighted. See, you had really bad anxiety. Your mind was constantly racing, you were constantly worrying about things and what could go wrong, and you couldn’t stop overanalyzing everything and the decision you made. It was hard for you to get rest, even when you were exhausted and in dire need of a good nights sleep. And your preexisting anxiety was only exacerbated by school. One of the things that made your mind and body all calm down in those moments where you were completely overloaded and inundated with anxiety and stress was your weighted blanket. It kind of forced you to take time out for yourself and relax, and feel comfortable, taking your mind off of the stresses that were fueling the fire of your anxiety. It was honestly like a much needed big hug and was absolutely perfect when you couldn’t exactly have Harry, your ultimate anxiety and stress reliever.

And on the topic of school, you were drowning. You were having a very rough week to say the least. Your to do list grew longer and longer as the days passed, and you were pretty sure your anxiety had reached an all time high and was on the path to reaching another record high. This week you had so many academic responsibilities you had to take care of, on top of all the things you had to do and wanted to do when it came to your personal life. You felt like every time you got one thing accomplished, two or three more things were thrown at you and demanded your attention. No matter how hard you tried to put things on a schedule and properly manage your time, a sudden wrench would be thrown into your plans and screw everything up; making your life increasingly difficult to navigate. Just the idea of school caused your anxiety to flare up. So to add everything you had to do for school this week along with your other responsibilities on top of that was quite much for you to handle. You didn’t even have the time, let alone the energy, to even have a proper breakdown and let it all out. You’d simply shed a few tears, take a deep breath, take a sip of your water, and push your feelings of being overwhelmed and tired to the side so that you could get shit done. The only things that brought you some type of relief this week were your weighted blanket, Harry’s comforting words, and you guys’ Friday night date night. And the plushies Harry told you he had for you.

When Harry spoke to you throughout the week and listened to how your week was going and how horrible it was going for you, he made it his mission to give you everything you needed when you came over on Friday night so that you can throw the terrible week you had away and have a relaxing and stress-free weekend. Once Friday finally arrived for you two, Harry spent most of the day just getting everything ready for when you came over. He went out and picked up all your favorite snacks, food, and anything else you liked, along with the weighted shark plushy and a new weighted blanket for you. You on the other hand were laser-focused on your school work and anything else that needed to be taken care of. You wanted to get everything done so that you’d have to spend no time whatsoever over the weekend doing anything besides being with Harry and relaxing your entire being. The only thing keeping you going today was the weekend Harry had planned for you. That’s it. And once you finally cleared your plate later on in the day, you dashed right over to Harry. You couldn’t wait any longer to watch your shark documentary with Harry and your new, no doubt, shark plushies.

When you get to Harry’s place, you practically break the door down and you nearly knocked Harry off his feet from how you ran in and immediately nestled yourself into him. It was nearly five minutes before the two of you even verbally greeted each other. At that moment, you just wanted to be held. Harry was the sure-fire way to calm you down when you were going through a major bout of anxiety. His presence alone made you feel safe and okay. You had your arms locked around his midsection, keeping your grasp on him as tight as possible. Almost as if you were afraid that he was going to float away from you. And Harry didn’t mind this one bit, nor did he hesitate to wrap you up in his arms and just hold you just as tight and close to him.

“Hi” You mumble into the soft fabric of Harry’s hoodie, breaking the silence between you two.

“Hi baby” He softly replies to you, squeezing you a little bit.

“Missed you this week.” You continue on, relaxing a bit more into Harry.

“I missed you too sweets. You had a pretty rough week huh?” Harry coos, continuing to hold you and stroke your back.

“Mhm…m’so tired.” You sigh.

“Well how about we get you upstairs and in a nice warm shower to get you relaxed a bit while I bring everything up. And then we can watch one of your documentaries. How does that sound sweets?” Harry proposes.

“Sounds amazing.” You agree, loosening your grip on Harry in the process.

“Then let’s get you upstairs” He then proceeds to loosen his grip around you as well before guiding you from the front door and up the stairs. Once you’re all squared away and in the shower, Harry moves his setup in the living room upstairs in the bedroom, hiding the little gifts he got for you on the floor on his side of the bed. Harry also lays out some clothes for you to throw on. You had your own drawer and everything, but even though that was the case, you still went right to his clothes. So Harry didn’t even bother going through your drawer for anything. After laying out your clothes and everything you needed for when you’re all done with your shower, Harry orders what you told him you wanted for dinner before you got in the shower. Which ends up being a good thirty minutes. It was just so nice to have some time to yourself and not have to stress or worry about something you had to get done. It was such a relief to be able to just stand under the running hot water and just not have to think. The steaming hot water melted the caked-on stress from the week and just rinsed it away, making you feel so much better than you did when you first walked through the door.

It was also a relief to walk out of the bathroom and into your boyfriend's bedroom with everything waiting for you. When you stepped out of the bathroom and back into the bedroom, you stepped into this warm and cozy atmosphere Harry created for you. The bed is all warm and comfy, and extremely inviting. He had your clothes and all your post-shower stuff laid out for you on the bed. Harry even had one of your favorite candles lit on the bedside table. The tv was even on with an array of animal documentaries for you to pick from. Up until he had to rush downstairs to get the takeout he ordered for you two, Harry helped you get all settled in bed. And when he comes back upstairs, this time with the food you (and your stomach) were beyond excited for, you were all done getting ready and tucked right under the covers waiting for him to come back.

Harry quickly shuffles across the room to sit the food down onto the bed before lifting the little basket he filled to the brim with your favorite little snacks up onto the bed, making you even happier than you were already, and hopping into bed with you. He then hands you the remote, giving you the power to choose whichever documentary you wanted to watch, along with a small peck to your cheek, marking the official start to you guys’ date night/relaxing weekend. While you and Harry watch the first documentary of the night together, you’re intently watching the screen just like always as you happily stuff your mouth with the delicious food in front of you. As you watched the documentary, Harry on the other hand couldn’t help but sit back and just watch you. He was so happy to see you all relaxed and peaceful, opposed to being all stressed out and anxiety-ridden like you were when you first came over.

By the end of the first film, you and Harry are completely done with your food and have moved on to clearing off the bed so that you two can cuddle and possibly fall asleep during the next one. Once the bed is all clear and free for you and Harry to move around, you two immediately move in closer and get nice and comfortable in each other before starting the next shark-related documentary.

“Thank you so much for all of this Harry.” You thank him, breaking your focus on the tv and shifting it to Harry.

“Anything for you sweets” Harry coos, turning his attention away from the tv as well. “I hate it when you’re going through it, especially when I cant be there to help you get through. So I just wanted to give you a nice relaxing and calm weekend for you to just feel better.” He explains.

“I love you Harry.” You hum, lifting your head up from his chest to peer up at him. You weren’t able to fully comprehend why and how you even deserved such an amazing boyfriend who always wanted to make you happy when you were sad and not doing okay, and even happier when you were already beaming. He was one of the best things in your life, and one of the few that didn’t stress you out.

“I love you too baby.” Harry whispers, looking down at you and locking eyes with yours. The same way you felt like Harry’s mere existence made everything at least feel better, Harry felt the exact same way. So whenever you were going through it and not doing okay, Harry didn’t take that lightly. He always made sure to do everything in his power to get you to a better place.

When Harry puckers his lips in your direction, you immediately lock yours with them, sucking you both into a love-filled little kiss. It was nice and soft for the atmosphere you and Harry were in, but it wasn’t incredibly slow, nor it did it feel rushed or like it was lasting forever. It was perfect.

“I got you something baby!” Harry whispers excitedly upon pulling away from your lips, tapping at your sides for you to sit up.

“You told me they were plushies.” You reply, excited to see what he picked for you this time. Harry always managed to get you the cutest little stuffed animals so you were really excited to see what he got you this time.

“Yup! And here’s the first one.” Harry says, leaning down to pick up and reveal to you the regular plushy he found for you the first time.

“Oh my goodness! That’s too adorable!” You coo, holding up and looking at the adorable little shark Harry got for you. It was absolutely amazing and you were so so so excited to see the next one.

“Ready for the next one? I think you’re gonna like this one the most.” Harry says, causing you to immediately nod your head in response. “M’gonna need you to close your eyes too.” He instructs.

Once your eyes are closed, Harry leans down and picks up the weighted and fairly big shark plushy before sitting it in your lap. He then grabs the new weighted blanket he got for you and sits it between you both before instructing you to open your eyes.

When you see what Harry placed into your lap, you could instantly feel the tears welling up in your eyes. It was like Harry knew exactly what you wanted and needed. You absolutely loved your weighted blanket and you always used it, even when you weren’t in need of something to calm your anxiety. You also loved plushies, even before you were heavily into animals and Harry was finding you all sorts of plushies. They brought you some much-needed serotonin whenever you were feeling down and they were your little cuddle buddies. So to have a weighted one, a combination of everything that never failed to calm your anxiety down was absolutely amazing and you couldn’t have been more happy and appreciative. That’s why you just couldn’t help it when you started crying. You wasted absolutely no time wrapping Harry in the biggest hug, thanking him over and over for the plushy. But it wasn’t long until you just broke down.

“You have no idea how much this means to me, I had such a horrible week.” You sob into him.

“I know baby.” He coos, stroking your back as you cried. Even though he hated it when you cried, he knew that you always felt lighter whenever you just let it all out.

“I had panic attacks every day and I didn’t get enough sleep and I didn’t eat much either and I didn’t have you there for cuddles. It was so bad.” You cry, your voice cracking at the end, making Harry only tighten his arms around you. He knew it was a bad week for you, but he didn’t know it was this bad. You only told him but so much over the phone.

“Well I’m here now baby and I’m gonna take good care of you and get you back and feeling better.” Harry promises, continuing to hold you as you cry into him. You were so vulnerable right now and he just wanted you, his baby, to feel better.

As you continued to cry, you continued to mumble and talk about just how bad your week was and how much he was doing for you helped you feel better. Eventually, you ran out of words and the energy to speak or even cry. So Harry began to whisper sweet little nothings and reassurance that you’re going to be okay and that he’s going to take care of you. And as he did this, Harry could feel your body heave less and less from the crying and the little hiccups that came along with it. Once you’ve calmed down a little and as the sleep begins to overtake you, Harry then unwraps an arm from around you and reaches over to turn out the light and blow out the candle before pulling the covers higher up over you two. He also pulled the plushy and still folded blanket up as well, just in case you wanted either of them.

“Please don’t watch without me.” You mumble, your voice all nasally and filled with sleep. You were no longer tightly wrapped around Harry, but instead resting on his chest.

“I won’t darling. I just paused it so that we can go back and watch it later on when you’re nice and rested.” Harry replies through a soft chuckle continuing to stroke your back.

“Pinky promise.” You mumble back, lazily lifting your pinky up from under the covers for Harry to hook his around.

“Pinky promise.” He replies softly, bringing his pinky in to hook it around yours, sealing his promise. “Now get some rest baby.” He whispers, pulling your still intertwined hands down and pressing a kiss to your forehead.

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nat-20s · 3 years

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Part 5 of Wonderful! Au. *boyband voice* banter’s back alright!

Also on AO3

~*~

Jon: Hello everyone, and welcome back to our regular format. If my husband being horribly soppy-

Martin:-hey!-

Jon: -turned you off the how, this should be a refreshing return to formula, though I can’t guarantee there won’t be further horrible soppiness-

Martin, performatively under his breath: -most people thought it was charming-

Jon: -as that tends to happen when one is recording with the love of their life. If last week’s episode is the only one that you like, too bad, I’m back in full form, and should be at least through the rest of the season.

Martin: This show doesn’t have seasons? Due to the whole lack of a narrative thing?

Jon: I was referring to spring.

Martin: Oh, right.

[A beat passes.]

Martin, flatly: Oh. Great goof hon.

Jon, smug: Thank you.

Jon, sincere: Also, before we get properly started, I did want to actually thank everyone who sent well wishes.

M artin: Yes! We got positively inundated with lovely messages, it definitely brightened both of our days. I would even say it was wonderful.

[Jon groans.]

Jon: I am..not proud of the energy we’ve created for this episode so far, and we haven’t even hit the small wonders. Speaking of, do you have a small wonder this week?

Martin: Mine’s bad action movies.

Jon: Really? I had no idea you even liked them, let alone consider them wonderful.

Martin: Okay, so, saying I like them is a bit of a misnomer? It’s more that I like what they can do more than the movies themselves?

Jon: Elaborate?

Martin: It probably comes as a surprise to no one that I’ve tried my hand at a fair amount of mindfulness and mediation techniques. I’ve found poetry and journaling have been helpful for actually processing life events and whatnot, but when it comes to giving your brain a hard wipe and reset, nothing is half as quick and effective as a shitty shoot-em-up. Somethings about 2 hours of cartoonish, pg-13 violence held together with the absolute loosest of plots brings me to a state of mental blankness that would make a monk jealous.

Jon: How have I never witnessed you doing this? When are you sneaking off to go see Micheal Tarantino or who ever films?

M artin: That’s definitely not the right name.

Jon: Martin, dear, I don’t care. And you’re dodging the question.

Martin, fond: I’m not dodging anything. Since apparently we’re getting into it, you haven’t caught me cavorting with a movie involving more explosions than character development lately because I haven’t been. Haven’t needed it, in recent years. Turns out when you’re not crushingly lonely and working a literal nightmare of job, there’s less of a drive to try and escape your own thoughts. Shocker, I know. Still, to anyone out there that feels like their brain is on fire, go try watching a fast and furious. Any of ‘em, it doesn’t matter. Or even better, Chronicles of Riddick. I can’t remember a single goddamn detail of that movie, which makes it perfect for what I’m talking about.

Jon: I have the strong feeling that th is is a “mileage may vary” scenario.

Martin: Well, yeah, that’s this whole podcast. Plus, I imagine that movies like this would cause more stress to someone who cares about, say, world-building or rules consistency.

Jon: I wonder who you could possibly be referring to.

Martin: It’s a purely hypothetical person, love, don’t worry about it. Any small wonders?

Jon: Yes! Particularly relevant to the last week, my small wonder is stripping the sheets from your bed when it’s been too long between washes.

Martin: How very specific. M ost people would just say ‘clean sheets’.

Jon: Well, for one, I’m fairly certain that we’ve already covered clean sheets-

Martin: Shit, have we? Thank god other people keep track of this, otherwise this show would be unbearably repetitive.

Jon: Christ, yes. I typically check the website a good three times while prepping, and every about one out of those three times I find I’m trying to do an topic we did 30 episodes again. Anyway, um, it’s just nice, I think. When you’ve been too busy or sick or away for awhile, tossing the sheets in the wash makes a room instantly seem nicer. Of all the chores out there, this one, at least for me, has the highest reward to effort ratio.

Martin: Hard agree. Especially when the y have that slight funk of having been around to long, getting rid of that is such a relief. Speaking of, we need to change our sheets soon.

Jon: We can do it after the episode. Who goes first this week?

Martin: Considering last week was only me talking, I’m gonna say it’s you.

Jon: Alright, then. My first thing this week is Martin K. Blackwood.

Martin: Absolutely not!

Jon: Oh, you can do a whole episode on me, but I can’t do one little segment on my husband, whom I love very dearly?

Martin: Not while I’m sat here, no!

Jon: So you’re saying you don’t want me to tell the internet that your resolve to be kind even in the face of indescribable cruelty is one of the mot breathtaking things I’ve ever witnessed, or how I find it incredibly endearing when you get so emotional that your voice comes out as a squeak, or even that, on a more base level, you’re very physically attractive, and I could lose entire days thinking about your arms alone?

Martin, audibly blushing, voice the aforementioned squeak: Oh my god, Jon!

Jon, laughing: Then it’s probably for the best that my actual first thing is best friends.

Martin, peaking the audio levels: Oh you absolute bastard! Do you enjoy this? Do you get some sort of perverse sense of entertainment from riling me up?

Jon: Oh, don’t you start. As if you’re not as bad as I am. Maybe even worse.

Martin: That’s not…

Jon: Yes?

Martin: Okay. Maybe it’s slightly true. Really, what is romance for if not flustering your partner with compliments?

Jon, teasing: I certainly can’t think of anything.

Martin: Hush, you.

Jon: No, I don’t think I will.

Martin: Fine. I suppose you can tell our delightful audience about the power of friendship or whatever.

Jon: I would’ve assumed more enthusiasm, considering this segment is still, indirectly, about you.

Martin: In what way?

Jon: In the way that, to the shock of all, you’re my best friend.

Martin, pleased: Oh, is that what I am?

Jon, exasperated: Yes, dearest husband, I wouldn’t have married you otherwise. Though, upon reflection, I knew you were my best friend before I knew I held romantic feelings for you.

Martin: When was that?

Jon, letting out a breath that vibrates his lips: God it was...2016? I think it might’ve literally been the day after you told me about your CV.

Martin: That early? Huh. I wonder if that’s what people were picking up when they said they we were close.

Jon: What people?

Martin: I don’t know specifically, that’s just what Daisy told me.

Jon: Daisy? When the hell-?

Martin: It...was when she was interrogating me? And, because sometimes I have to be a parody of myself, pretty much my only take away from that interrogation was “people think me and Jon are close”.

Jon: Well then. It’s not like they were wrong.

Martin, smug: No, no they weren’t.

Martin, sincere: And you’re my best friend, too.

Jon: I was certainly hoping that you’re in this relationship for more than my good looks and incredible fortune, both in the monetary and luck sense.

Martin: You say that as if you aren’t good looking, which we all know is patently untrue.

Jon: You’re biased. You’d say I was good looking if I were nothing more than some primordial ooze with thoughts about its station.

Martin: I’m being completely objective. If you were primordial ooze with thoughts above its station, you’d be the cutest ooze of them all. That’s just scientific fact.

Jon: I’m starting to think we might be insufferable.

Martin: Starting to? Might be?

Jon:…

[Jon clears his throat]

Jon: What I find wonderful about the concept of best friends is, to me, they’re the closest thing real life has to soulmates. I don’t personally believe that there’s some..grand mystic force that drives people to be tied together in the manner that narrative typical soulmates are, and if there was I don’t think it would necessarily be the kind of emotional, heartfelt bond one would hope for, but I do believe that there’s individuals that get to know one another, and because of that knowledge, they chose to stick with one another. It doesn’t have to be a romantic, which is why I say best friend rather than specifically ‘spouse’, but I would argue that the basis of a strong romance like you and I have, is very much rooted in that connection. A true best friendship is an equal partnership, and there’s a sense of..matched sensibilities and understanding that can be utterly incandescent when it happens.

I also think that having one or more best friends makes living life on a day to day basis both better and just flat easier. The dark times aren’t as dark, and the bright times shine even more. I know from my own personal experience there are events that I..that I don’t know how I would’ve made it through without you. Hell, last week my..recovery period would’ve taken much longer if you hadn’t been there.

It’s an amazing thing to have someone to share things with, both triumphs and burdens. Um, also, according to Dictionary.com, the term best friends in English has been around since the 1200s. Something about that delights me, like, yes, we’ve had this casual way of referring to a Favorite Person for roughly 800 years. That makes it a hold-out from early Middle English. I dunno, it’s one of those things that make me feel overall very charmed by humanity.

Martin, audibly smiling: No, yeah, hard agree.

Jon: What’s that look for?

Martin: Nothing. Just. I love you a whole lot, you know that?

Jon, voice soft: I may have heard you say that once or twice. Per hour.

Martin: Only that often? I really need to be more diligent about that.

[There’s a bet of silence, presumably where they’re making doe eyes at each other.]

Jon: What’s your first thing?

Martin: Oh, um, right. Rats!

Jon: The expression or the animal?

Martin: Jon, have you ever once heard me say “rats” as an expression? Obviously I’m referring to the animal.

Jon: Ah. Should’ve known, considering that what, a third?, of all your segments have been on animals.

Martin: Yeah? And? You got a problem with critters? With creatures? With lil guys?

Jon, laughing: No, no, it’s very sweet. I’m just surprised you never became a vet.

Martin: Oh believe me, I wanted to. But then I learned that it was not, in fact, a job composed entirely of getting paid to play with other people’s pets.

Jon: You had that job, though, didn’t you? I thought I remembered you mentioning a month long stint at a doggie day care.

Martin, sighing dreamily: Best job I ever had. Too bad that place was shut down after it was revealed to be a money laundering front.

Jon: Good lord.

Jon: Martin did you...did you know it was a money laundering front at the time?

Martin:

Martin: Would it make you feel better if I said no?

Jon: Martin!

Martin: I figured it out like a week in, but, like, who cares? The pay was decent and the floor was super easy to clean, which is very much a plus for even a front of a doggie day care.

Jon: That’s...rather a lot. How about instead of getting into that any further, you tell me about rodents.

Martin: I would love to. But first, we have a shoutout!

Jon: Ooo, a shoutout. Does it specify who should read?

Martin: Let me check. It...does...not…..

...

Jon: Martin?

[A beat.]

Martin: Right! Sorry, um. This week’s shoutout is from Tim, to Danny. It says, “Danny! My favorite person who shares genetic material with me! I wanted to say thank you for your podcast obsession from 4 months ago, and specifically for telling me about these marrieds. They’ve gotten me through many a dull hour at the publishing house. Also, with this shoutout, I’ve officially gotten ahead on the Superior [Last Name Redacted] Brother scoreboard, so suck it. Love you lots, and looking forward to your visit next month, Tim.”

Jon: Oh.

Jon: Um. That’s very..sweet? I think? Mostly?

Martin: Yeah, I’d say so. Uh. We have to take a quick break because, uh, someone is..at our front door! Be back with you all in, from your side of things, just a moment.

#wonderful! au #jonmartin #jon sims #martin blackwood #>:3 #shoutouts are their versions of jumbotrons btw

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dennou-translations · 4 years

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Violet Evergarden Ever After: Chapter 3

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That one was a rain of betrayal.

It started with a calm morning, the sky unfolding without any hints of being enshrouded in dark clouds. Regardless, it did not take too long for the capricious rain brought by the heavens to turn into a downpour rarely seen in recent years.

There was no longer any sign of the rain that had started to fall like gentle kisses from paradise on the black hats of gentlemen walking around town, over the backs of cats dozing under the sun or onto the cheeks of children who opened their mouths and burst into laughter. The current season was the end of summer, and it was raining for the first in a long while in Leidenschaftlich, where the skies were constantly clear in summer, but had the god that controlled weather gone crazy? With time, as if a bucket had turned over, the city was hit by a flood.

This story is about an uneventful day, which did nothing but pass, in the lives of people who worked at a certain postal company.

The rain and wind struck the entire building as if attacking it. The doorbell rang loudly because of this, a man standing in place and staring at it with unease.

Creak-creak, the door moved. Ring-ring, the bell resounded. Since it was ringing despite there being no customers, he had become concerned and found himself coming down from his residence in the top floor.

In the previous year, the building had been shot with rocket artillery, and not only had it earned an enormous hole but a fire had also occurred – however, thanks to the quick skills of workmen, the hole was now closed and the walls had been neatly rebuilt.

The man was a stylish redhead. He was the president of this company, which he had named after himself.

Claudia Hodgins had been left all alone in the empty postal office. Still, it was normal for him to be there, as it was both his home and workplace. However, since he was by himself at a time that would usually still be within business hours, no matter what, he looked like he had been abandoned.

The postal office had been in great turmoil because of the storm. Surely, so had its peers. With the deliveries stagnated, complaints were coming from the clients. Nevertheless, the transportation was not carried out by machines devoid of feelings. It was something done by humans, who had been given birth to by someone and who had families waiting for them when they returned home. In lieu of the unpreceded disaster, as the president, he had notified all employees that business would be closed for today.

To begin with, the customers had stopped coming in the middle of the day. If he had to say so himself, this might be the expected. Deliberately going outside amidst such strong wind and torrential rain was an act of sheer madness.

Curious about what was going on outside, Hodgins had approached the entrance from the side. He felt like attempting to open the large doors just a little. He wanted to see how inundated the ground was. Just when he slow and carefully reached a hand towards it, the door opened with force despite him not doing anything.

“Ow...!”

“Oh, my bad. More importantly, we’re screwed; it’s just impossible, Old Man!”

Hodgins was teary-eyed as his precious nose took a hit. He was lightheaded for an instant due to the pain, but soon regained consciousness. After all, one of his employees had come back dripping-wet. Hodgins pulled him – whole body wrapped in rain gear – by the arm, bringing him inside and closing the door. Although it was only open for a few seconds, the entrance was already drenched.

The visitor took off the hood over his head, allowing his face to be seen. He was a splendidly handsome and fine man of sky-blue eyes and sandy-blond hair.

“Benedict...!”

Benedict Blue. One of the postal company’s postmen, who had been working in it ever since its founding.

“It’s impossible – actually, it’s absurd! Working under this rain is absurd! I look like I’m in the bath already. I wouldn’t have come here if I weren’t soaked... Making the staff pull out was the right choice,” Benedict said as if angry-yelling, shaking his head in the same way that a dog or cat would and splattering water splashes at Hodgins.

This wetted most of Hodgins’s shirt and face, but he was unable to reprimand his employee, who had been doing strenuous effort. He accepted it in resignation, wiping Benedict’s face with the sleeve of his shirt. “Okay, stay put.”

“Uoh, what’s with you? Stop.”

“Welcome home. I was worried. Good thing you’re all right.”

“O-Oh. What, hum... I’m back... You were worried about me?”

“Of course,” Hodgins said, to which Benedict turned away with an obviously embarrassed attitude after a moment of bewilderment.

Outside, vases and planters that may have been at the eaves of people’s houses, as well as shop signs, had been turning into weapons for a while now, dancing around the city along with the wind. Managing to come back unharmed and safely amidst this weather, where one could not know what would come flying their way, was something to be happy about.

“I’m just fine. This job’s easier than running around shooting guns. Anyway, I was left with the letters and packages of a guy who fell from his motorcycle and came back by myself. Was best to do that, right?”

“Aah, so someone got hurt?”

“That newbie, Clark. But he only scrapped his knees. He fell lots of times when he was learning how to ride, but for real, it’s surprisingly depressing when you fall off other than during practice. He was crying, y’see.”

“Aah~.”

Knowing who the person in question was, Hodgins pitied him. He was the youngest postman to join the company as of late. It was difficult to find human resources for postmen as they were quick to quit.

“He’s young, after all...”

“You call him young but... he’s already a grown man. I wonder if he ain’t lying to us about his age... I thought he was a baby or something.”

“You can’t compare him to a city boy fresh from the battlefield like yourself. I’m gonna get you a towel and a change of clothes now, so don’t move from there.”

“Why?”

“You’d wet the floor. Don’t tell me to go around cleaning up where you walked.”

“Clean it up,” he said while laughing, to which Hodgins’s shoulders slumped. He was a reliable companion, but also a young man who knew not how to show respect for his elders.

——Well, guess I’m a so-called doting parent for thinking that’s cute – no, doting boss.

Anyhow, they needed towels, Hodgins thought as he went back to his room. He grabbed a few large towels and held a pair of trousers and shirt that Benedict would apparently fit into under his arm. Then returned to the ground floor. By the time he did so, the number of people had increased.

“Uwah... Amazing, it’s like squeezing a rag.”

There were three more other than Benedict. If they were to be separated by types, one of them had evacuated after receiving a report of work, one had evacuated after finishing work, and one had been ordered to clock out, but all had come back halfway through, as their bodies were about to be blown off by the overwhelming storm.

“Please stop.” There was Violet Evergarden, whose golden hair was in Benedict’s grasp.

“Why? You said your hair was wet.”

“You just want to touch Violet’s hair, Benedict. Isn’t that right?” Lux Sibyl, who had given up on wiping her glasses and was glaring at the empty space.

“That’s not it. Don’t say weird stuff, Lux.”

“You knooow, my hair’s just as long as Violet’s.” And Cattleya Baudelaire, who scowled at Benedict with her arms crossed.

The members who had been there ever since the founding were Violet, Cattleya and Benedict, but Lux, having joined midway, was now a skillful secretary who covered up the schedule of the employees and president and moved them around like chess pieces. As the four people whose ages were close to each other’s came together, the conversation naturally livened up.

“You—You’re that kinda thing. If I touch you in a place like this, it’d be that kinda thing. This is our workplace, so there’s all that kinda thing. Morally speaking, it’s that kinda thing.”

“What do you mean ‘morally speaking’?!”

“I wish you wouldn’t say those things even if you think about them. Right, Violet?”

“‘Public morals’...? Benedict, what am I from your point of view?”

“V, you’re like a little sister to me... Aah, Old Man, gimme another towel.”

It was a terribly joyful thing that the company’s young aces had returned to it safe and sound.

“Everyone, don’t move from that spot no matter what. Hey, Cattleya! Don’t move!”

However, wiping all the water off the bodies of those four turned out to be a bone-breaking work.

Out of kindness, Hodgins invited the four people who had gathered up at the postal company to his residence in the top floor.

The whole floor was his apartment, thus it was quite large. A family of five could live comfortably in it. The furnishings were arranged in wooden items and serene shades of dark brown and green. It was a relaxed, adult atmosphere, where was nothing particularly funny. It had a faint scent of the perfume that Hodgins always wore.

The invited four let out sighs of relief. The biggest reason for it, although there was also the fact that this was Hodgins’s apartment, was that they were able to escape the horrible situation outdoors. With the exception of Lux, three of them were tough enough to take part in the act of physically crushing other postal companies, but human beings could not win against natural disasters.

“Hey, what do we do? We can’t go home anymore, can we?”

“There’s nothing we can do. We got no choice but stay in Old Man’s place.”

“First time something like this happens, huh. But we’re all together, so... might be imprudent of me to say this, but... it’s a bit fun. Violet, are you worried about your home?”

“Yes, about the flowerbeds.”

“You should say ‘about the people back home’, V.”

“The two went on a trip, so they are away. I promised that I would take care of the flowers in their absence, which is why... I am worried about the flowerbeds. Besides, if that house were to be destroyed by this storm, this place would meet its end much sooner... We have little time left to live.”

“Don’t go from talking about your family to destroying the company, Little Violet. Hey, hey, everyone, you’ll catch a cold so get changed first. Put the towels in the laundry basket. Benedict, don’t throw the towels wherever!”

As told by Hodgins, the employees firstly decided to change their clothes.

Violet and Cattleya had just returned from a work trip of two days and one night, thus they had a change of nightclothes in their bags, but Benedict and Lux did not. Although there was a height difference between them, Hodgins had no issues with lending clothes to Benedict, who was also a man, but there was a need for careful selection when it came to Lux.

“Shirt... shirt, shirt; all I have is shirts.”

“Hum, President, I’m fine with anything.”

“Eeh... that okay?”

As a result, the boy and girl came into the scene wearing baggy clothes. Benedict looked almost the same as when he and Hodgins first met. When he was left to chance completely naked in a desert, he had borrowed a shirt and trousers just as he was doing now. He seemed pleased with it, however...

“Feels kinda naughty...”

...the problem was Lux.

“Benedict’s fine, but maybe it won’t do for Little Lux? Is this okay?” Hodgins asked everyone with a meek face.

They all had at last settled down, each seated in a place of their preference while sipping tea. The employees were relaxing as if they were in their own homes. Contrary to the peaceful state of the situation inside, there was still a sound of rain hitting the windows and a troubled noise of something colliding against the building outside.

“What is ‘okay’ supposed to mean?” Sitting on the sofa, Violet tilted her head. Being comfortably dressed in a dusty-pink nightwear gave her usually disciplined self a slightly soft and gentle air.

“Little Violet.”

“Yes.”

“Your nightgown is cute, huh.”

“The people from the household bought it for me. Well, what is ‘okay’ supposed to mean? Was there any problem?”

“Little Lux’s clothes.”

For whatever reason, they had the person in question standing in the center of the room. With everyone’s eyes on her, she seemed uneasy.

“Hum... why do I have to stand in the middle?”

“Little Lux, stay like that and don’t move.”

“All right.”

“What is wrong with Lux’s look? You mean to say it lacks adornment?”

“Why would that be the case, Little Violet?”

“You are the one who chooses attires for us Dolls and you have particularities regarding the clothing and accessories, so I concluded that you might deem the plain shirt as not enough.”

“No, no.” Hodgins flailed both hands. The things he was saying had a moral value to them, out of fear that her outfit was perhaps vulgar.

Benedict had dealt with it by securing her trousers with a belt, but as Lux had too thin a waist, the outcome was the belt falling off. In short, she was not wearing pants. Inevitably, she was dressed in nothing but a shirt. However, her short stature fortunately made it look like a shirt-dress.

As Hodgins explained his concern, everyone said, “I see.”

Showered with their stares more and more, Lux began to blush.

“It gives off a dangerous feeling when you think she ain’t wearing any, but on second thought, isn’t that the same for skirts? There’s actually an open hole in them, but it’s not visible, so they’re classified as clothes. No big deal, is it?” Benedict had been standing with his back against the wall just a moment ago, yet had suddenly drawn close to her and started examining her fixatedly.

“Don’t say ‘not wearing any’!”

“Well, I mean, you really ain’t wearing any... but that’s okay. No biggie. You’re probably not an option for Old Man, so no worries. Right?”

“That’s rude!”

“I’m saying you don’t need to worry about that kinda thing... Should I take mine off, then? I see; I’m fine with it. I’ll be the same as you. That all right? I’m gonna take it off.”

“Stop, stop, stop!” As Benedict put a hand to his belt while laughing, Lux repeatedly hit his chest with her fists to stop him. Lux was red up to her ears. “I can’t take this anymore! Violet! Take Benedict to over there!”

“Understood.”

“Owowowow, V, ouch, that’s not it; it was the Old Man who said weird stuff first. We’re friends, so I was showing that she doesn’t have to get hung up over something like...”

Caught in Violet’s arms, Benedict obediently sat on the sofa. Perhaps in order not to allow him to escape, she gripped his hands and sat next to him.

Cattleya cut through the silence, “The tea is delicious.” She was scattered over the bed. She must have been tired from returning from the Doll business trip. Her eyes were downcast. She might be sleepy.

“Cattleya, do you not have any comments to make? I want to hear lots of opinions.”

“Eeeh, me?” Cattleya joined the needless debate as if it were a bother. “Hmmm... if someone were making her wear this because it’s their taste, it’d be gross indeed, but there’s no other clothes for her... It’d also be horrible to leave her with just a towel wrap, so I think it’s valid. Speaking of which, President...”

“Hm?”

“You’re saying that even though you pick open-chested clothes for my Doll outfits? And the times you were choosing Doll attires for me, y’knooow, you were never so considerate to say ‘not this, not this either’ when discussing it with the people from the made-to-order store...”

Her manner of speech was somewhat thorny, but Hodgins did not make much out of it. “That’s because they look good on you.” Rather, he said decisively, with an earnest gaze and excessive confidence, “Because they look good on you. Is my judgement wrong?”

“E-Eh?” Being replied to so unapologetically, Cattleya’s reasoning jumbled up, to the point she found herself wondering if she was the one in the wrong.

The Doll outfit that Cattleya usually wore was composed mainly of a crimson dress-coat, so there was no mistaking that one could not wear it unless the person was remarkably stylish. In addition, there was also no doubt that it was lascivious. Whoever looked at her would find their line of sight momentarily going to her chest. Still, whoever looked at her would remember the woman named Cattleya Baudelaire at once.

“No... it’s not like your choices are wrong... but I only forgive you because you’re the boss. I was shocked when you first showed me that outfit! I didn’t use to wear something like that before.”

“Well, but y’see, an hourglass-shaped person looks more slender when the area around their collarbone is exposed, and it’s pretty.”

An evident question mark floated above Violet’s head at the unfamiliar word. Benedict pointed a finger at the tea set arranged on the nearby table. An hourglass used to measure the time it took to steam the tealeaves was lying there. Perhaps finding the similarity between it and a plump chest and dainty hips, Violet nodded as if convinced.

“You’ve got an hourglass-shaped figure with that slim waist, so I gave you a coat-dress that puts this on display. You can adjust it with the ribbon, so it’s not a pain, right? It has a wonderful line in mathematical terms, y’know? Plus, you also have a cheerful character, so it doesn’t look vulgar. That’s important. It means that outfit takes into consideration even the personality of the one wearing it. And the owner of that made-to-order store is famous not just in this country but abroad. The outfits of our Dolls are on a whole different level in comparison to other companies, aren’t they?”

“Y-Yeah.”

“I don’t want to bring this up, but they’re very expensive.”

“Eh, I’m sorry. S-Should I pay you back? Either that or you can dock my salary...”

“No, you’re my Doll, after all. Nobody waters a flower to get money off it, right? It’s fine, Cattleya. Just stay pretty. It’s exactly because I have obsessions over clothes that I don’t want to make a girl look vulgar. And it’s exactly because I like girls that I want to have them shine wonderfully. That’s also why I have a few complaints about Little Lux’s usual plain clothes, though...”

“I don’t know why you decided to run a mail service, President, but I accept that passion of yours. I’ll wear those clothes with care. But, President, I’m doing my best, so I want a new outfit. A cute one.”

Listening to the conversation of the two in silence, perhaps tired of going along with her superior, Lux looked at Violet and Benedict’s direction with a gaze that quietly asked for help. There was a gap on the sofa that seemed enough for one person to sit. Having locked eyes with her, Violet told Benedict to scoot over after a brief moment and patted the open spot. Lux sat next to them, looking happy.

“Violet, what’re you drinking?” Lux peeked at the teacup that Violet was holding.

“I wonder. I took the tealeaves that were in the kitchen. I do not know what type of tea it is.”

“Darjeeling.”

“Benedict, how did you know?”

“‘Cause that guy likes Darjeeling. All the tea cans he has are nothing but that.”

“Guess I’m gonna drink that too; my body got cold from the long time under the rain.”

“Heeey, the three of you who ended the talk before we noticed! Listen to what I have to say.” Hodgins put his hands on his hips, pretending to be angry.

“We were deviating from the main subject. We deemed that it was not a necessary conversation and took action prioritizing Lux’s rest,” Violet expressed with a clear voice tone.

“Besides, this talk’s about bedroom wear, ain’t it?” Benedict added a two-fold retort. The blond, blue-eyed duo that looked like siblings stared at Hodgins with questioning eyes.

“Ugh, I comply with you two no matter what you say when you both look at me at the same time, so cut it out. But I’m not giving up. I think she needs one more article of clothing.”

“Hum... President, I’m okay with this. I’m already thankful that I could borrow your clothes. Besides, when you make such a big fuss about it, things that weren’t lewd in the first place start to seem lewd, so to say,” Lux said, wanting to end this topic as fast as possible.

“The solution has come to me. Wouldn’t it be best if I took the shirt and trousers and had Lux wear this nightgown?”

However, Violet wound up rewinding it.

——Violet!

Lux hit Violet repeatedly in her mind.

“Ah~, that’s right. If that’s the case, I can do it too. But maybe my nightgown is too big? It’s a negligee just like Violet’s. The shoulder length might be the problem for this one...”

“Old Man, you gonna die if you don’t obsess over the stuff we wear? You ain’t. Give up.”

“No way. Days like this one don’t come by. All five of us are trapped in the company and we can’t get out. You’ve got no choice but stay here in my house, right? We’re having the best of parties, a pajama party. I want it to be a good one. But I can’t enjoy it when I’m worrying over Little Lux’s clothes.”

Benedict contemplated a reply to Hodgins’s words for a few seconds, but soon stopped. He was probably tired. He looked Violet’s way and asked, “Hey, you not hungry? I’m gonna take a look at the kitchen.

“Hey, don’t ignore me.” As Benedict stood up, Hodgins chased after him.

“Benedict’s gonna make something? Yay! You guys probably don’t know this, but he’s good at cooking.” Cattleya lined up behind them.

“I didn’t say I was gonna make anything, though... Well, if you’re hungry, I can do it.”

“I shall assist you.” Violet raised her arms, rolling up her sleeves. Her prosthetics made a creaking noise.

“V, you can cook?”

“To some extent. In the military, I used to make preparations for the cooking. Mrs. Evergarden... Lady Tiffany also trained me on it.

“M-Me too... I can peel the potatoes, and stuff.” Lux hastily went after everyone. In a trail, a big move to the kitchen began to take place.

“Lux. You don’t usually cook, do you? I can already tell by just that statement. I’ll teach you.”

“Most things get solved just by peeling the potatoes... Benedict, you’re making fun of me, aren’t you?”

“Am not, Potato Demigod.”

“Violet, Benedict insulted me!”

“Benedict.”

“Owowow! V—! Don’t poke my sides! A hit from those crazy-ass prosthetics of yours ain’t no cutesy way to poke anyone! It just hurts like it normally would!”

In the end, Hodgins was able to find a light feather-print sweater in his closet and gave it to Lux. As she put it on, with her short stature, its length became the same as that of a long cardigan, which Hodgins was awfully pleased with for how adorable it was.

The madder-red sky was not visible at dusk, the outside morphing into evening with no changes in the rainy weather.

Benedict made a soup at random with the vegetables available in Hodgins’s kitchen, which had seasonings in abundance, while Violet and Cattleya supplied it with cookies that they had brought back as souvenirs from their ghostwriting business trip. Lux brought over small candy marbles that she kept stored in her desk at the company, and Benedict, instructed by Hodgins, reluctantly took an expensive bottle hidden on the liquor shelf of the latter’s room.

“Hey, let’s rummage through the desks of everyone in the company. There are probably gonna be other ingredients in them.”

“If it’s Mr. Anthony’s desk, I think there’s definitely something in it. Mr. Anthony always gives me sweets... We’re in a state of emergency so I’m sure he’ll forgive us for it.”

“There were sweets in the reception guys’ desks. Would they get mad if we took them?”

“Definitely seem like they would. But this sweet... is one of the tasty ones... I wanna eat it.”

Lux, who was still growing, and Benedict, who had missed lunch and did not have enough with just the vegetable soup, procured more food. The sweets that the hungry thieves sneaked from the company employees’ desks turned out as what could be considered a big catch, and so, the five people trapped inside during a day of usual rain commenced a night party.

The five of different ages, genders and positions were already at a state where they could be deemed as a single family through the many incidents they had overcome and the time they had spent together. They laughed a lot, talked a lot.

“You remember when Violet brought Lux over? She went to negotiate it directly with Old Man with so much might, like, ‘I have picked up a puppy. Please give me permission to raise it here. Now, hurry’. They were holding hands and she wouldn’t let go of Lux, explaining the situation all at length as if to say she wasn’t gonna move until he gave the permission. The way Old Man acted so suspicious back then was a real blast.”

“I remember~! He was like, ‘Eh, “demigod”? Eh, “abduction and confinement”? Have you told the military police about that?’... President was so troubled, walking in circles around the two. It was the funniest thing of that year.”

“Hum... I’m sorry.”

“No, no, don’t apologize, Little Lux. You’re our main player now, so you did what you could to get where you are. You really exerted yourself in this unfamiliar land. Work for us forever, ‘kay? Rather, for me. Little Violet does some unbelievable stuff sometimes, but she generally doesn’t do anything wrong, so back then, her first-time deed shook up even someone like me, with plenty of life experience. Saying no didn’t even cross my mind.”

“I knew that President Hodgins would give you a generous treatment. If I had not concluded so, I would not have done such a thing. Thank you very much for that time, President.”

“Little Violet... Little Violet’s all grown up too, huh; you’ve become a wonderful lady...”

“Well, she’s got you as her example of guardian figure, after all.”

“I was raised by both Benedict and President Hodgins. You are my examples.”

“Eh, so I’m Old Man’s son...? Gimme the whole company.”

“No way! Actually, you’re taking a part of the company in the future, so that much should be fine, right?”

“You were serious about that? If you split the company...”

“Yeah, I’ll be the vice-president. V, call me Vice-President Benedict.”

“Benedict will be... the vice-president?”

“Violet, you haven’t been to the company too often because of work, right? I’ll stay as President Hodgins’s secretary, but some of the employees will go to Benedict’s side. That’s gonna be pretty lonely... Still, the company will be built inside the country, so it’ll be close in terms of distance. But it won’t be the same building anymore.”

“Other people... will also be gone.”

“Did I tell you that my role’s gonna change too?”

“I have not heard about that.”

“I’ll be transferred to training the newcomers. Violet, you’ll stay as you are. Well, between you and me, if we were to debate on which one should be the instructor, it’d have to be me. I’m good at looking after others.”

“Cattleya will be... an instructor...”

“I’ll be here like always. The Doll department that Little Violet and the others are in will stay in the main office and you’re largely in charge of the numbers in our Doll department, so your role won’t change.”

“Sounds like I don’t make money when you put it like that.”

“No, it’s not like that... I’ve been keeping the right people in the right places since long ago, right? I asked you to do this because I thought you could be everyone’s big sis. Besides, wasn’t it you, Cattleya, who immediately replied that you’d to it when I said your pay would increase if you became an instructor?”

“Well, that’s because I don’t know how long I could keep on being a Doll. It’s a job you can do even when you get older, but walking up mountains has been hard lately. Probably because of my high heels.”

They truly laughed a lot and talked a lot.

In their feel-at-home looks, they played card games, discussed memories of their trips and laughed holding their stomachs at silly stories. The night went on and on and the heavy rain outside gradually subsided, but no one said, “Let’s go home, then”. Days like these were a rarity. They all knew this much.

“I’m having lots of fun today. It’d be great if it were always like this.” The words that Cattleya muttered with a big smile spoke for everyone’s feelings.

Whenever a fun feast reached its climax, the loneliness towards the fact that it was going to end would cross the corners of people’s heads. That applied not only to this day that God had granted them but also to matters in the long run.

Perhaps the company named CH Postal Company itself could also be considered a feast to the people gathered in it. “May this dream, this fun time go on forever,” they wished.

The dream had begun with Claudia Hodgins. He then picked up Cattleya Baudelaire, Benedict Blue and Violet Evergarden.

“Make sure to just lick it. So, how’s that?”

They had built the company office building in Leidenschaftlich and started it together. As the postal business was a privatized one and the competitors were many, nobody could predict at first for how long this company would continue to exist.

“This stings.”

A local customer then came, earning them a large-scale contract in the delivery business.

“Eh~, you okay, Violet? You’re better off as someone who can’t drink...”

Their Auto-Memories Doll activities began to stand out.

“But everyone is changing.”

“Doesn’t that have nothing to do with drinking alcohol? I drink ‘cause I like it. If you don’t, then stop.”

“That’s right, Violet.”

“No... Major has a taste for drinking during meals, so I had been thinking of learning to do it one day as well. You are all changing one after another whenever I blink. I have started eating with other people quite often at work as well. I, too, shall adapt...”

Along the way, a girl who would later become a brilliant secretary joined them.

“I see... Then I want to try drinking too. I’m a secretary, after all. I have to eat out with other people. What kind of taste is it, if you had to compare?”

Despite the major changes in the personal life of each, all of them had contributed to the development of the company, to the point that they spent every single day being busy.

“Close to that of a perfume. In that it is hard to swallow.”

There would surely be many, many more changes.

“Hey, I can’t approve that opinion. Big Sis here will introduce you to delicious drinks. Rather than being taught by a man, you should learn from me. Lux, you can’t yet.”

Surely, their fates would twist further.

“Eh~?!”

“Benedict, bring another one. And something to crack it open with.”

For people to gather up, an encounter had to have happened. That was what it meant.

“Aight, aight...” Benedict stood up from the sofa. He had been dragged into Cattleya’s scheme, in which she had planned the conspiracy of attempting to make Violet Evergarden consume alcohol, because he himself had complied with it.

“O-Owah. Old Man. You were here?”

“‘Were here,’ you ask... this is my house.”

As they came across each other in the kitchen, Benedict had let out a brash voice without thinking. The reason might be that he perhaps was seen grinning as he walked in. Despite his nihilistic attitude, he was happy to spend time with his friends.

“I-I know. I was thinking you were taking too long in the toilet...”

“Cigar.”

With the kitchen’s small window open, Hodgins was smoking a cigar. All of the women despised the smell, so he rarely ever let them see him smoking. Just when Benedict was thinking about how he had suddenly stood up and disappeared, there he was, smoking in secret.

——He only smokes when he can’t calm down, though.

There was no better day to relax with their companions, and yet.

“Hey, take a look outside. It’s so quiet after the storm... like the wind. Even though it was so loud before.” Perhaps due to him being a little drunk, Hodgins’s face was red.

“True... Hey, need more booze. Ain’t there anything easier to drink?”

“Eh, why? You can’t give it to Little Lux.”

“Cattleya wants to make V drink some. Well, ain’t it okay? I think it’s about time she learns the ropes. Dunno when we’ll get to drink with her again... and it’s better to have people you get along with teaching you this kinda thing, right?”

“Eeh... it’s still too soon. If you insist, isn’t it enough to drip a drop of rum into her tea?”

“Can you even call that a drink? Make it a degree higher.”

Hodgins gave a strained smile. “Hey, hey, her big brother figure shouldn’t be saying this...”

“I say it because I’m her big brother figure. I mean, we’re getting more rookies. She’s the highlight of our Doll department. Eating with people is part of having a big job. Before she gets involved with someone who wants to make her drink...”

“Does this have anything to do with me telling you to be the branch manager?”

Hearing a slightly icy voice coming from the president, Benedict blinked. “No... sorta.”

“She’s still a child, and I’ll definitely always be with her in those kinds of places, so it’s okay. It’s still early to teach her how to drink. Nope, nope.”

“A ‘child’, you say... well, she’s got a childish side, but she ain’t one anymore.”

“She is – you, Cattleya and Little Lux, too, are all kids to me. Because you’re quick to do this kind of thing if I don’t keep an eye on you... My, my,” Hodgins said, blowing out the tobacco smoke. Mismatched as it was for someone with such a mature appearance, Benedict could get a glimpse of childishness in him.

“You’ll keep trying to do that from now on too? That’s impossible; face the reality,” Benedict bit out incidentally.

Silence.

Benedict’s words were not wrong. The CH Postal Company was growing rapidly as a business. The fact that the postal company led by Salvatore Rinaudo had withdrawn from the postal industry in the previous year had a major influence in this. They now reigned at a pivotal position in Leidenschaftlich’s postal service. The CH Postal Company would soon account for nearly all of the commissions from the people living in Leidenschaftlich. Other than being busy with work affairs, there were even discussions about relocating the head office because of problems with waiting areas and break rooms due to securing new employees.

“Like, you and I are gonna get damn busy. The Auto-Memories Doll department is gonna be the main organ of the head office and my place will be ordinary mail, right? We’ll be teaching people how things go, and I’ll be doing deliveries too. You’re the one with the busiest role. Anything and everything’s gonna be relayed to you. Getting to be close to your employees like until now while doing all that is just...”

It was natural for a company that had become bigger to do a corporative split-off and for one of their employees to manage the branch office. Benedict was still young but had the power to bring people together. The task would not be an impossible one if they put a veteran of the head office in charge of taking over it. They could do this, Hodgins had decided, thus he came up with the proposal.

“The regular meetings and other stuff that I take part in happen in the head office... It’s not like we won’t get to see each other.”

“Everyone will have a different post and position. We won’t get to see each other. Same for you, Old Man.”

“If it’s work, I can adjust it. I’ll do my best to administrate everyone so that the employees can get a time every now and then to relax like this...”

“Old Man, even if you do your best, V’s dating that nasty-ass military officer, so won’t they get married someday? Dunno ‘bout it, but... that’s why it’s impossible to always watch over us in the first place...”

Silence.

“Hey, don’t clam up.”

What was being thrust at Hodgins now was something that he did not want to look straight at, despite thinking about and readying himself for it. That was what he was being told.

“Hodgins – hey, Old Man.”

It was something that Benedict Blue had the right to say, exactly because they had been doing everything together from the start.

“Hey, don’t take it in a weird way. I ain’t saying this to be malicious. You left the Auto-Memories Doll department in the head office ‘cause your wish to watch over V is a big deal, right? I get it. She’s special to you.”

“That’s not it; I—”

“But she won’t be a kid forever. She’s different from back when she started working, with you teaching her everything. She’s someone who’s gonna let go of your hand one day. She ain’t your real daughter or your girlfriend. Then, if you had to say what she is, at the end of the day, she’s your employee. You’ll part ways one day. If you don’t get ready for that now, will you manage to get over it if she marries into that bastard’s family and he makes her leave the company?”

“Will you manage to get over it?” The question ruminated in Hodgins’s heart.

Benedict had shot him where it hurt without mercy. He was a gun expert. His aim was precise and the bleeding made Hodgins want to hold his own chest down.

——Will I recover if I ever have to be separated from Violet Evergarden? Hodgins pondered earnestly over the question. ——I don’t know.

He truly did not know.

Bonds were things that could not easily break off once they had connected, yet reality, time and busyness unpityingly caused the existence of “friends” to grow far apart.

——To the point that I don’t know, I...

Surely, a day like this would not happen five years from now. Their place to return to amidst the rain would be somewhere else.

——It’s not just her, but also you and everyone else.

To begin with, they might not even be working in the company itself anymore until then. More of them would fall for someone, nurture their love and move their places to be in life to their “homes”.

Twenty, thirty years from now, it might be hard for them to even work. Or they would not be alive – there was also that possibility.

The one who was more aware of this than anybody else was Hodgins, the oldest of them all.

——I’m the one who’s farthest apart in age.

That was exactly why he did not know.

“I have no idea.”

He did not want to see it. Did not want to think about it.

“I have too many things that matter to me, so I can’t make a move anymore. Y’know, you... you might aught at this, but... rather than when you’re young, getting hurt becomes scarier when you grow older. You start losing the energy to do your best and heal. It’s tiring. Still...”

Hodgins had thought that the youth in front of him, who referred to him as “Old Man” on a daily basis, was probably going to laugh, yet Benedict was expressionless.

“Still...”

He did nothing but listen. His posture of properly listening at times like these somewhat...

——...looks like Little Violet.

“Still, I know I’m the one who has to get moving the most. I’m getting everyone involved in the things I wanna do. That’s why I do what I have to. I also counted on you, because I trust you. I left it in your care. But... that and my feelings for her and you guys...”

“I get it.”

“...are different things, right? Y’know, you’re... mean. I’m like a foster parent to you, and yet... Even if you understand my loneliness...”

While Hodgins spoke as if bursting out, Benedict put a hand to his mouth as though to stop him. “I get it.”

Time halted completely.

Was he supporting the flustered figure of the one who was like a parent to him?

“My bad.”

Before he had noticed, he was carrying a load of things he must protect. Was he doing this due to realizing that he had left Hodgins to chance, thinking, “That’s because it’s him”?

“My bad. That just now was on me.”

Silence.

“I didn’t have to pick today to say this. Isn’t that right?”

“You think I’m being lame right now, don’t you?”

“Nah, you ain’t all that cool in the first place.”

“That’s a lie; I’m a generally-acknowledged beautiful young man... no, beautiful middle-aged man.”

“You might not be cool, but well, that’s what’s good about you. Right?”

Silence.

“The cool thing about my Claudia Hodgins is his uncool side.”

Since Benedict was speaking as if to comfort a child, Hodgins told him to “shut up”, slightly annoyed, yet burst into laughter nevertheless.

The rain caused all sorts of things to pour. The way that people were drowned by the drops trickling down from the sky inevitably made them think about something.

As dawn broke, Claudia Hodgins sat up, body heavy from not getting much sleep. When he peeked at his room’s bed, Violet and Cattleya were sleeping wrapped in the same blanket. On the sofa, Benedict was scattered about, snoring in a way that made him want to laugh.

Hodgins looked for where Lux Sibyl might be. He went down from the third to the second floor, and then from the second to the first floor. She was nowhere to be found.

While thinking it could not be possible, Hodgins opened the front door, and sure enough, he could see the figure of a girl walking down the street towards him.

The clothes she had put to dry yesterday were surely half-wet. What was it that she wanted to do outside so badly to the point of going this far? He understood when he saw what she had in her arms.

“Ah, President.”

Lux was holding a paper bag with a lot of bread in it. The amount was enough that the small girl’s face could not be seen.

“Little Lux... could it be you went to buy us breakfast?”

Thinking back, this young woman was the kind of person who was always quick to act when she was trying to do something for someone. That was all it took to be a considerate person, but without kindness in their heart, they would not turn out this way. The reason why Hodgins had nominated her his secretary was not just that she could do any sort of work.

“That’s so nice.”

“Yes, the bakery owner is very nice. I woke up a bit too early, and when I went on a walk to see how things were outside, the bakery was just about to open and they were getting ready... I went to take a look ‘cause it seemed so delicious and they told me to come in.”

“Ah, hm...”

“I was so touched when they said they baked bread for people who were hungry early in the morning, so I told them many thanks for selling them and bought lots of it. It’s the bakery from that street around the corner.”

“As expected of my secretary. Did you properly get the receipt?”

At those words, Lux showed him a smile that resembled a blooming flower. “Huhu, of course.”

For Hodgins, who had spent the night deep in thought about all sorts of things, that smile was a soothing one. It was like the water of a lake for someone who was feeling thirsty.

Hodgins wordlessly took the bag from Lux. “Little Lux, I’m seriously glad you came to us.”

“Only in this kind of situation, right?”

“All the time. Always. Little Lux, you’re still young, will probably keep working with us... and you’re such a good secretary... I’m the happiest CEO in Leidenschaftlich.”

“Are you going to hire me for life?”

“Eh?”

“Is that a no?”

“No, I could. But that’d mean working with me for life, y’know?”

“Is that bad? I have nowhere else to go.”

When asked with such an innocent look, Hodgins faltered.

“I won’t say the stuff Benedict does, like wanting the company for me.”

“Well, I might... end up giving it to you if you say that, so don’t ever. Hahah... Of course, keep working for us forever and always at my place. Huh, this is kinda like a marriage vow... Wanna take this opportunity and marry me in the future? Just kidding...” Upon thinking that the jest that came out incidentally was an unsavory one right after saying it, Hodgins looked at Lux’s reaction, only to find her staring back at him blankly. He had made himself into a caricature of an old man bothering a girl. “No, it was a prank! But hey. Little Lux, you might be the only one who can go along with me, so having this kind of small talk is... I-I’m not looking at you with dirty eyes, really! We’re too far apart in age, after all! We’re c-close enough that we can crack this kind of joke to each other, right?”

Lux pretended to think for just a few seconds. “Huhu, I can tell. That it’s a joke, at least. But not happening. We’re not getting married.”

And then, she flat-out rejected him.

“Ah, yes.” Although Hodgins would have been at loss if she had accepted it, his shoulders dropped somewhat.

“But President, I’m prepared to nurse you if you ever become unable to work.”

“Don’t... suddenly thrust such a cruel reality at me.”

“Eh, is it? From my point of view... this is quite a deep form of love. President, you’re the first decent adult who accepted me. I’ll devote my whole life to you.”

“Little Lux, you sure like me a lot. Gonna marry me after all?”

This time, Lux actually grinned and replied, “I’ll take that one home and consider it.”

“Amazing; that answer’s like the business talk at the company.”

“Because you’re teasing me... even though you’re well-aware that I don’t even know love yet.”

“Don’t know love yet”. The destructive power of those words caused Hodgins to regret his lighthearted proposal a little.

“Then, I’ll ask again in about five years. I should be at a nice middle age by then.”

“You say that, President, but you’re going on a trip with some hottie next week. I know it.”

The duo, who somehow seemed like they would or other be hanging together for a long time, returned to the office with bouncing chatter.

In order to make breakfast for everyone together, Hodgins and Lux stood in the kitchen by themselves.

Besides the already-baked bread, they would need drinks and vegetables. Those were merely simple preliminary preparations, but Hodgins felt that just this was somehow enjoyable, unlike doing the work on his own.

“President, you have yours with one sugar cube and a slice of lemon, right?”

“And for Little Lux, it’s two sugar cubes with milk, yeah? I know it.”

While arranging the bread on a plate, they also poured water over the tealeaves and left them to steam. Perhaps due to the scenery that could be seen from the kitchen’s small window being a blue sky with not a single cloud in it, it was awfully dazzling.

“Good morning.”

The next person who appeared amidst the morning sunlight was Violet. Her soft golden hair was just a bit disheveled. Hodgins’s hand naturally reached out to it.

“Morning... You’ve got a bedhead, Little Violet.”

“Excuse me...” Violet looked back at Hodgins as he caressed her head, seeming a little embarrassed. Her eyes were just slightly red. She might have not been able to sleep very well.

“Morning, Violet. Are Cattleya and Benedict also up?”

“Benedict was awake until a while ago, but when I got up from the bed, he began sleeping again by Cattleya’s side.”

“Morally speaking, it’s that kinda thing. I’ll go give him a warning.”

Hodgins laughed a little, seeing Lux off as she walked away while rotating her tiny shoulders. He then turned his gaze back to Violet. Her bedhead, which he had supposedly fixed with the caressing, had returned. For some reason, both of them being alone like this in a kitchen bathed in morning sunlight struck him as extremely peculiar.

Just the two of them, having such a tender time. How many more opportunities would they have for that?

They were already at it. He should talk about something. That was what Hodgins thought, but the words did not come out of him. Not because he had no topic to discuss. He could come up with as many things to talk about as he wanted, such wanting flowers to decorate the table or that they would surely have many customers today who were unable to come yesterday.

But he did not want to spoil this morning. He felt that it might crumble if he spoke even one sentence.

Violet was there. She had her blue eyes directed his way, looking at him. It was no longer awkward for the two of them to stay silent. That was their relationship.

Perhaps still sleepy, she was in a haze. He wanted to watch her standing amidst this gentle time for a little longer.

As she would usually always seem wide-awake, Hodgins believed that she was laidback to this extent due to being in the presence of people with whom she could be at ease from the bottom of her heart. That he had played a part in this feeling of security of hers.

——Will you forget one day?

One day, the position that Claudia Hodgins occupied in the life of Violet Evergarden would become smaller.

——She only gets bigger on my end, though.

Going to the hospital numerous times. Pushing her wheelchair. Giving her a notebook and teaching her how to write.

——I for sure can’t forget. These moments, days, everything like this with you.

The fact that he had not stopped her from fighting in the war. That he had thought they could use her.

——I can’t forget.

Delivering to Violet an outfit that could hide her prosthetic arms, yet that would also make her look her most beautiful.

——I’m sure I won’t forget about this morning either.

About that quiet morning, which was much like the one from before everyone was caught in the great storm and barged in.

Hodgins touched Violet’s hair again. Although she had told Benedict not to touch it, with Hodgins, she all but slightly left a strand in his hand’s care and let him take it, almost like how a cat would do.

——Aah, I want to hug you.

He was not in love with her. That would never be the case.

However, if she were his real daughter, on days like these, mornings like these, he would have easily said, “Good morning, precious” and embraced her.

“I had a dream, President Hodgins,” Violet whispered out of the blue with a freshly awake, faintly hoarse voice.

“Dream...?”

The stunning young woman, who was no longer a girl, talked about her dream like a child, “Yes; in the dream... you owned a clothing store.”

“Huhu, that so?”

“I cannot make clothes. You told me that you did not need me, President Hodgins, if I could not make clothes...”

“That’s horrible of me, huh.”

“Even when I said I could polish the shoes, clean up or do anything, you did not listen...”

Unlike the real one, the dream version of Hodgins had apparently chosen to part ways with Violet.

“Little Violet, what did you do about that?”

“I asked countless times. However, you rejected it countless times. I thought about standing in front of the shop until you allowed me in, but it started raining like yesterday.”

“Hm. And then?”

“Major Gilbert came to pick me up and told me to come home with him, but...”

“Hm.”

“I waited for President to come out of the store even as the lights went out.”

“Hm.”

“Despite waiting and waiting, President Hodgins did not come out, and at some point, a passerby told me, ‘This shop has moved’.”

“Even though it was open until just a moment ago?”

“It was a dream, after all... And then – and then, I asked where it was and went after it. Benedict and Cattleya also appeared in-between, but they seemed to have other things to do, saying they would come after me later... As for Lux, she was the only one who had been hired by you from the very beginning, so she also asked you to hire me again, but in the end, you said no could do.”

“Hm...” Suddenly, Hodgins felt so pained about everything that it was hard to breathe. “And then, Little Violet, what did you do...?” His hand reached out to Violet.

“I kept looking at the interior of the store beyond the shop window from outside.”

Not towards her head, but towards her eyes, where her golden lashes fluttered like the wings of a fairy.

“Inside it, many people – people that I know and do not know – came and left... showing how lively the shop was.”

A sea had silently formed in them, which dissolved and disappeared once Hodgins’s index finger touched it.

“Major came to pick me up for the nth time and said you had told him that my standing there was causing him problems. But, for whatever reason, I at the very least knew that if I stepped away from there even for a moment, you would never let me in... therefore, I could not comply. But I did not want to trouble you, President, so I was unable to make a decision... I attempted to ask Major for instructions, but he was also gone before I realized.”

The sea – the teardrop – turned into a pearl and slipped down her cheek.

“I... I... ended up crying.” Violet stared at the sky, the look in her eyes seeming almost as if the scene from her dream was there at this very moment. “To think I would cry like that...”

“Hm.”

“That was why President Hodgins would not hire me, I thought... And also why Major had grown tired and left.”

“Hm.”

“Then, without my notice, you came outside. You looked the same as that post-war day when you went to visit me at the hospital. You were very surprised with my appearance, as I was soaked with mud and rain. And so, you said this: ‘Guess we’ll start with how to hold a needle’. You told me that you had not invited me for the new job because it would surely be difficult with these hands of mine, so I was extremely relieved... Then, then...” Violet’s words cut off at once.

Unable to hold himself back, Hodgins pulled her into an embrace as if shoving her little head into his chest.

While being embraced, Violet said with eyes that looked as though she was still dreaming, “...with some effort, I could still be helpful. I was able to confirm this, after all.”

Hearing her let out a relieved sigh in his arms, Hodgins forgot about both his and Violet’s positions, clasping her to his chest very, very firmly. “You sure are helpful... Was there anything about me that made you feel uncertain?” Upon realizing that his voice sounded tearful, Hodgins allowed the tears to overflow at the truth.

——Aah, I’m such an idiot. Got caught up in it and ended up crying too.

As the girl whom he thought of as his own daughter, despite her being an actual adult, had shed tears, he found himself crying along with her. Almost like a child. Even though he was supposed to conduct himself as an elder in this situation.

“I do not know.”

“But, has anything like that ever happened until now...? You had that dream because you were uneasy.”

“‘Uneasy’... That might have been the case. Yesterday night, I came to know that many things were progressing while I was away, so I have the feeling that I was quite agitated.”

“Sorry; we were doing things on our own accord. Even though we’ve been together since the founding.”

“No, I am often absent, and it is only natural for some things to be decided in the meantime. I am an employee. I feel that your judgement is correct. Employees must correspond to the changes of a company. My surroundings are about to change significantly. I am grateful to you, President, for letting me be here like always. However...”

“‘However’...?”

“However, I do not know if I can cope with it. With the matters regarding Major, the ones regarding the company... with the fact that Benedict will be going to a different office building. When I think about these things...”

“It’s okay.”

“When I think about them, I realize that the number of things I should prioritize has increased too much.”

“Little Violet.”

“The order of priorities...”

“It’s all right.”

“I have to deal with situations of every kind as I live, and yet...”

——Surely, Violet Evergarden wouldn’t be alive if she didn’t do that.

Always, at all times.

She had been living through corresponding to her surroundings despite being at loss regarding its circumstances, putting everything she could do to use while looking for a place to belong and an adult who would take care of her. She was not allowed to waver. For beasts, hesitation was death.

Violet did not know unconditional love. She now had at last earned herself this warm place through her efforts, but it was about to suffer a rapid change with the course of time.

After running, running and running, Violet – previously one such beast – was watching the nest she had finally found crumble down. Even when people knew they had to prepare to start running again, there would come a time when they would be short of breath and unable to move.

Violet had gone from wild animal to person.

Her human parts and animal parts co-existed, occasionally revealing themselves. When she was the animal, she simply did not mind how much a place changed as long as she could live in it. However, it was difficult to live while holding something better, more important.

Now that she had become a person through the increasing of her emotions...

“I shall fight. I can always be of use. President Hodgins, please forget this aspect of me that I just showed you.”

...she had turned into just a girl who was a little bit scared of the future.

“Please... forget about it.”

Who had made her this way? Gilbert was likely the first, but the ones who had done the finishing touches were definitely all the people in this place.

“No way, I’m not forgetting.”

At Hodgins’s words, Violet lowered her eyebrows, looking troubled.

“Don’t make a face like that; I’m not teasing. I meant to say that you don’t need to worry about it. You indeed might’ve gotten weak. But is that a bad thing? You had nothing when you met me for the first time. Not even your brooch, right...? But now you have lots of things. You went on a journey for a long time and got more stuff to shoulder while you were at it, so it’s no wonder that you’d end up in a dilemma.” Albeit knowing that Cattleya, Benedict and Lux were looking at them in shock from the shadows at the doorway, Hodgins went on, “You know... life is a journey. Little Violet, you’ll go on this journey, won’t you?”

He had already forgotten about his anxiety. The feeling of frustration at such things and the overwhelming wish to cling to someone were now gone.

“You started your journey with a little less luggage than other people, so you’re staring at your bag now that it’s gotten a bit heavy, wondering what happened to it. You don’t know what to throw away anymore.”

He was able to think, from the depths of his heart, that he had returned to his usual self. While embracing her, who was indeed still young and confused in the middle of her journey, he was finally able to think so.

“You need clothes and money, of course, and good shoes are vital. Right, and an umbrella too. When you look into your bag and realize that you actually have nothing that you can get rid of, it’s indeed a problem. Even though it’s a hassle because it’s so heavy. What do you think you should do?”

He could still be useful.

“Train... my physical strength... No, calibrate my prosthetics...”

He was still needed.

“You’re such a fool... Either leave it in someone’s care and continue the journey or have someone take half of it.”

Even if it were only for a short while.

“Gilbert will probably take half of the luggage. I can take care of the rest that you can’t carry over here. I’ll be in Leidenschaftlich forever, after all. Little Violet, no matter where you go, I’ll stay here and wait for you to come back, and no matter when you come over, I’ll welcome you. I’ll take care of the contents of your bag with pleasure.”

——Even if you only remember me a few times a year someday...

“Listen up: whenever you’re troubled, remember that I’m here. And then you’ll be able to go on a journey again anytime.”

——...I’ll ready myself to welcome you at any time of the year.

“Am I really supposed to leave my luggage here?”

——I’m the kind of man who can do that, and you need it for sure.

“Hm-hm, that’s not it. Y’see, this is about memories. All you have to do is to know. That I’m here. This is the way to make your luggage lighter. Whenever you’re having problems, bam, remember me. If you do that, the worries you have now will definitely decrease a little. Y’know, at the end of the day... people’s place to come home to aren’t places, they’re ‘somebody’. You should know that much. You’d have gone to any battlefield if Gilbert was there, right? Someday, yes, you might quit being an Auto-Memories Doll. You might not come back to Leidenschaftlich.”

——It’ll be great if this “someday” never comes, though.

“But your current memories are with me. I’ll be a representation of them. So that you, my dear... will be able to open your memories anytime. When this moment right now becomes nostalgic to you, come see me. I’ll always be here. Waiting for you. You’re feeling ‘lonely’ right now. But... Little Violet. You have me. You’re not alone.”

——I want you to remember.

“I do not understand very well... However...”

——I’m always protecting you.

“...you have always guided me.”

——Waiting for your return.

“I never doubt your word.”

——I’ll be waiting here.

“But, President Hodgins, I have only one wish.”

——I want you to show up when your journey ends.

Deciding to deal with the sobbing coming from behind the door later, Hodgins opted for staying like this for just a bit longer. Her lover might get angry if he saw it, but he had the right to do it, at least to some extent. After all, she was Claudia Hodgins’s dear employee.

Hodgins asked with a particularly gentle tone, “What would it be, Little Violet?”

Violet blinked and looked up at Hodgins. The last drop spilled from her eyes.

“If, only if... there comes a time when you will quit the postal company and start doing something else...”

“Hm.”

“...please call me. No matter where you are, I will rush to you.”

“Hm.”

“I will definitely be of help... Even if not, should your luggage become too much, please call me when you need someone to carry it for you. I shall hasten to visit you.”

“For real?”

“Yes. I, too, will carry President’s luggage. You should know it. I am strong.”

“Huhu, yep, definitely. One day, you’ll understand what I mean by ‘luggage’. Hey...”

“Hiya, I’m Hodgins. What’s your name?”

Silence.

“This kid’s such a taciturn.”

“She... doesn’t have a name yet. She’s an orphan with no education. Can’t talk either.”

“That’s so terrible of you. She’s such a beauty. Just give a name worthy of her.”

“Little Violet, thanks for meeting me.”

Love was almost like rain.

#violet evergarden #fyeahvioletevergarden #veedit #kyoani #kyoto animation #violet evergarden ever after #claudia hodgins #benedict blue #cattleya baudelaire #lux sibyl #akatsuki kana #takase akiko #my translation #novel

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zimms · 4 years

Note

do you know that reddit post that's like "i'm in quarantine with my roommate (we're both dudes) and we've been cuddling together a lot. am i gay?" because at least to me it has big olliewicks vibes

hey dude! i’m sorry this is so late, but hopefully you’ll like it!

Ollie groggily awakens to the feeling of two strong arms wrapped around his stomach, holding him close and grounding him. He lets out a sigh of contentment before squeezing his eyes shut and burrowing his head slightly further into the tangle of bodies, pursuing the warm heat of the other person. The body beneath him shifts slightly, emitting a slight groan and disturbing Ollie’s brief peace. That’s when he realises three things.

They’re in the middle of a pandemic.

His only human contact in the past two months, other than cashiers at their local grocery store, has been Wicky.

The person beneath him is definitely Wicky. Ollie can feel it in every plane, every angle, every curve of the body he’s laying on top of. It’s in the way that Wicky’s breathing slightly stutters after every inhale. He knows it’s Wicky because every inch of Wicky’s body is unique and Ollie’s memorised all of them. So yeah, definitely Wicky.

Ollie takes a moment to just breathe and catalogue the situation. He cracks an eye open and he immediately heaves a sigh of relief; they’re both wearing clothes, which means that they didn’t do anything that either of them might regret. Well, or at least, nothing that Ollie might regret; he can’t speak for whether or not Wicky might regret even cuddling him, let alone anything else.

He cranes his neck slightly to catch sight of the TV, where the Netflix Are you still watching? screen stares back at him. Oh yeah, they’d been watching Tiger King together on the couch before they’d fallen asleep on top of each other.

Ollie braces his hands on either side of Wicky and slowly rolls off of his best friend, careful not to land on the squeaky couch spring and wake him up. He slides slowly to the floor and places his head in his hands.

Fuck.

He squeezes his eyes shut and groans as quietly as he can into his palms. He’s been doing so well at tamping down his crush on Wicky up until now, but something inside of Ollie has ignited after spending the night in such close proximity to him. He’s not sure if he’ll be able to pretend when Wicky wakes up that he didn’t savour every moment that his skin was pressed against Wicky’s, that he doesn’t know exactly what Wicky looks like when he’s sound asleep, that he hasn’t memorised the way their chests rose and fell against each other in perfect synchrony.

Ollie shakes his head before pushing himself to his feet and padding into the kitchen to get breakfast. That’s enough thinking for today.

----

Ollie shifts his weight from side to side as he leans outside of George’s office and listens to the sound of chairs scraping behind the door. Thank fuck, they’re almost done; he’s been leaning against this wall for twenty goddamn minutes and his feet are aching. He straightens up as the door swings open and he plasters a grin on his face; no matter how annoying a long wait is, scowling probably isn’t the best first impression when you’re meeting your new employer.

However, Ollie’s grin disintegrates when he sees the guy that comes out of the office and instead his mouth drops open.

Holy fuck.

Ollie unashamedly stares at the guy as he ambles down the corridor. God, every inch of him is pure perfection. From cheekbones that could cut glass, to wide brown eyes that seem to reflect and emit light until the whole corridor illuminates with this guy’s presence. From the lopsided grin that plays across his face, to the biceps that are way too big for the sleeves of his Falcs t-shirt. Ollie lets his eye’s slide to the guy’s ass; yeah, that’s definitely a hockey player.

He’s stunning.

And, the little voice in the back of Ollie’s mind pipes up, a teammate.

Ollie slumps down the wall again and groans. He’s so fucked.

----

Ollie had hoped that he’d be able to avoid all thoughts of his crush on Wicky for a while, well, preferably forever. He’s always been so careful to never let their cellies on the ice go too far, never letting Wicky kiss him on the helmet like he does every other player, never letting their hugs last for too long, never actively seeking out physical affection from him other than quick bro hugs and a slap on the back.

The universe has other plans for him apparently.

That one night of couch cuddling seems to have opened the floodgates, because all of a sudden Ollie’s inundated by a tidal wave of physical affection from Wicky and it’s just becoming too difficult. Too difficult to ignore the onslaught of butterflies in his stomach when their hands brush slightly when they’re reaching for the salt at the dinner table. Too difficult not to stare at him when they’re watching a movie next to each other on the couch and he shifts over slightly so that their legs are touching. Too difficult to even begin to process and cope with the fact that Wicky has started coming into Ollie’s room to fucking cuddle with him. It’s too difficult because Ollie is finally allowing himself to hope and he doesn’t even fucking know if Pacer, Wicky, Pace, is anything other than straight.

It’s just too goddamn difficult to be around his best friend.

Ollie smiles down at where Pacer has tucked himself underneath his right arm, eyes softly shut and a peaceful smile playing across his face, and he feels his heart breaking. If he wants to preserve their friendship beyond this quarantine in any way shape or form, he needs to stop indulging himself like this. What if Pacer’s angry because Ollie’s taken advantage of him because Ollie’s using this- this thing between them to selfishly fulfill his own wants? What if Pacer’s only comfortable doing this because he thinks Ollie’s straight? What if-

Ollie squeezes his eyes shut and curls his hand into the sleeve of Pacer’s shirt, forcing that line of thought to come screeching to a halt before it becomes a trainwreck. He needs to stop thinking like that; Pacer’s not gonna abandon him after three years of friendship and being lineys because of some no homo, bro bullshit. Or at least, Ollie hopes he wouldn’t. Pacer’s not that kind of person.

(Aww, fuck. He also needs to stop referring to him as Pacer in his head. He needs to distance himself from Wicky somehow, and he’s definitely not going to pull away from him physically, especially as they’re each the other’s only source of human contact for the next month or nine, so emotional distancing will have to do.)

He heaves a sigh and lets himself slump against the headboard, careful to make sure that Wicky’s head doesn’t fall too quickly from where it’s leant against Ollie’s shoulder. Wicky stirs at the sudden movement and his eyes slowly open, a sleepy beam playing across his face and chestnut eyes staring intently at Ollie like he’s the moon gazing upon the sun.

Ollie muffles a groan. He just doesn’t know what to think anymore.

----

The second that Ollie and Pacer Wicks step onto the ice together for the first time it feels electric. They complement each other in every way; Pacer skates slightly faster than Ollie does, whilst Ollie has a slightly more accurate pass that finds Pacer every single time. It’s like they were made for each other.

It’s fantastic.

(It’s torturous.)

Ollie finds himself spending even more time with Wicky than he originally planned for, and things just keep going from good to great.

(They go from bad to worse)

They have the same taste in films to the extent that they now have a monthly The Princess Bride rewatch. They’re both cat people and it’s slipped into their pre-game routine to go for a walk together, looking for the neighbourhood cats and calling pspspspsp to them in the hopes that they’ll come running and grant them good luck before the game. They’ve won every game that they’ve stroked a cat before, so Ollie isn’t really inclined to let go of the superstition, and, judging by the way Wicky grins at the little fuzzballs, Wicky is equally reluctant to stop their pre-game walks. The best thing they have in common is that both of their leases are up at the end of this month; who’s Ollie to pass up the opportunity to live with the guy that’s rapidly becoming the most important person in his life?

(Ollie’s an absolute fool. Living with Wicky is going to kill him very slowly and definitely isn’t the way to rid himself of a crush that’s quickly morphing into something even more serious.

Ollie is, once again, fucked.)

----

Ollie tries to pull away slowly rather than withdrawing all physical affection at once. It’s painful, but if it keeps Wicky from hating him, Ollie will gladly do it. Heck, if it was to protect Wicky, Ollie would do anything.

He starts slowly. He shifts over a bit on the couch, leaving a deliberate gap between them on the couch, so that no wandering limbs can reach out for each other. He makes sure to hold out the condiments at dinner, so that there’s no way for either of them to find an excuse for their fingers to touch, no matter how much Ollie hungers for it. He starts spending more time in his room, doing his online college courses there, rather than in the living room like he usually does. He goes to bed earlier, hoping, wishing, praying that Wicks doesn’t try to join him for a cuddle.

(Ollie ignores the little voice in the back of his mind that’s screaming to feel the press of Wicky’s warm body against his again. He ignores the wounded glances that he receives from Wicky every time he avoids eye contact. He ignores the aching pangs inside of his chest that appear whenever he spends too long gazing at Ollie.)

----

Moving in together is the best idea and the worst idea that Ollie’s ever gone along with.

Pros: He gets to spend every day with Wicky.

Cons: Spending every day with Wicky might actually kill him soon. RIP Oliver O’Meara. Cause of Death: Walking into the kitchen and seeing Wicky topless and sleep rumpled, muscles rippling as he reaches for the coffee.

Pros: He knows Wicky almost as well as he knows himself.

Cons: He now knows that Wicky is hung up on someone after one particularly drunken ramble.

(Fuck.)

----

It’s a week after the first cuddling incident that Wicky pulls open the door to Ollie’s room and marches in, eyebrows lowered and eyebags darker than ever. Ollie immediately slams the lid of his laptop shut, straightening up from where he’s slumped against the headboard of his bed. He frowns. “What’s up, Wicky?”

Wicky freezes on the other side of the room. “What’s up?” he says, voice cracking and strangled. Yikes, this must be worse than Ollie thought it was. “You’re asking me what’s up?” He drops onto the bed, like a stone sinking to the bottom of a river. “You’re the one that’s disappeared recently.” He pushes the heels of hands into his eyes. “We used to do everything together and now whenever I look for you, you’re in here.” He tears his hands away from his face, to gesture frantically around the room. Wicky appears to be manic; his hair’s all ruffled and there’s this slightly crazed look in his eyes. “What did I do, Ol?”

Ollie scrambles out of bed to come and sit next to Wicky. He stretches out a hand to comfort Wicky, but withdraws it as he fumbles for what to do or say. “You didn’t do anything, Pace,” he says softly, resisting the urge to reach out and swipe away the tears that are trickling intermittently down his cheeks. “It’s me that’s the problem.”

Wicky raises an eyebrow at him, stare stern in spite of the crying. “Really? So you’re completely fine with me cuddling you? And definitely didn’t start shutting down any of my attempts to spend time with you?” Ollie flinches and Wicky scoffs. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

“I-” Ollie trails off, eyes wandering until his gaze meets Wicky’s. The look in Wicky’s eyes isn’t scornful, no matter how much it deserves to be, instead his eyes are calm and fathomless like the earth after a long-anticipated rain. “I didn’t want to hurt you, though I clearly failed in that respect. I’m just so worried that you’re going to think less of me, especially once I tell you that-” Ollie clamps his mouth shut, as words he’s barely even thought to himself start to tumble out into the open.

“Tell me that..?” If Ollie didn’t know any better, he’d think that there was a trace of hope in Wicky’s voice. “C’mon, Ol, I’m not gonna leave you, no matter what you say.”

Ollie rubs his hand across his eyelids before stuttering out, “I’m in love with you.” Shit, that is not what he meant to say. “Fuck, I mean, I like you. Romantically.” He hides his face in his hands. “I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, so I figured going cold turkey for a couple of days might do me some good.” He pulls his hands from his face suddenly and lets them drop to his knees. “Is that what you wanted to hear? That I like you? That I might be, fuck it, I am in love with you?”

The silence in the room answers that question for him and Ollie feels a tear roll down his face and a gutteral sob tear its way from his throat.

“Fuck, Ol,” Pacer says, scrubbing a weary hand across his face, and that’s when Ollie knows that it’s all over, that he’s going to be rejected by the most important person in his life. “That’s definitely not what I was expecting, but it’s not unwelcome by any means.”

It’s not?

Ollie suppresses a sniffle as he voices this sentiment aloud.

Pacer laughs, honest to God, laughs. “It’s actually very welcome, considering the fact that I’ve been pining for you since long before you got traded to Providence.”

He’s what-?

“I-” Ollie stumbles over the words, cheeks heating, “but you’re straight? And you’re hung up on someone?”

Pacer swipes a thumb across Ollie’s cheek, tracing the trail of his blush. “Ol, when did I ever say I was straight?” he asks, his gaze intently focused on Ollie. “Anyway, it’s always been you.” He leans in closer, breathing out one final word before sealing their lips together. “Always.”

#purple-is-great #my writing #ollie and wicks #olliewicks #omgcp

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oops-prow-did-it-again · 3 years

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I’m back!

So, I kinda quit using this blog a while back. There are some notes about it in my old pinned post and probably on my fanfics, lol, but basically, I felt overwhelmed by fandom and everything going on irl and I crashed. I just withdrew from like, everything. I still logged in on Tumblr but I just liked things to later view them with the boyfriend or laugh at them again myself.

Honestly, it’s not that fun, just doing that, and not really that fair to people who put effort into their posts like art, music, writing, etc., or even just people who are very passionate about a subject and may want it to reach others that are the same. Because I know I’m like that!

But anyway, this is going to be my new pinned post. So! (More under the cut, please keep reading!)

About Me

You can call me Prowess, I’m a FtM transmasc (he/him please)! I use this space to elevate my personal works, such as art or writing, while also occasionally posting about topics I am passionate about. I realized I was trans in 2020 at the age of 19 years old, in the midst of a pandemic and college fallout, so as you can imagine, I’m still riding the rollercoaster of emotions that come with that. I’m also ADHD... so expect some posts about those sort of things.

But that is hardly the focus! I am big on art and writing. While I am mostly obsessed with Pokemon, I am a lover of stories, and so generally, I love most fiction, even the really bad stuff. Along with my Pokemon stuff, you can expect posts involving ARK: Survival Evolved, The Tales of Miraculous Ladybug & Cat Noir, animated movies (Luca, Toy Story, Spirit - you name it, I probably love it), and plenty of other stuff.

While I have too many older posts to go through and try to sort out the unclean tags, going forward, I am going to use these sort of tags: subject (whatever the post is about, for example, Pokemon), characters depicted, media (whether it’s art, writing, animation, or a mix), and any warnings that may need to go with it (for example, cussing when stronger language is involved, or racism if racism is getting discussed, etc). Memes or one-off posts will likely be tagged with simply “memes.” While this is pretty true for most any blog, this is so you know if you need to block certain tags! For example, if you hate Miraculous Ladybug, you’d just blacklist ‘Miraculous.’

I will also reblog a lot of posts asking for help or boosting awareness. I will try not to inundate the blog with these, but as I will likely have to make a post asking for help at some point myself due to unfortunate irl circumstances, I want to pay it forward in advance. These will be tagged with simply “help needed!”

Below are some projects I’m working on + what you can expect from this blog.

Pokemon Retold

By far, my biggest project to date, is Pokemon Retold.

This is an expansive written anthology of all the pokemon mainline games as far as generation 8. Red, Heart of Gold, Omega Ruby, Platinum, Black, Black 2, Y, Ultra Sun, and Sword are all intended to get rewritten and posted on both my FanFiction.Net and Archive of Our Own accounts. I may also post some chapters here, but I admit Tumblr makes that difficult sometimes.

These stories are very personal to me, as I started writing them when I was struggling in college with undiagnosed ADHD, and felt like my life was falling apart and I was alone. I started writing a retelling of Sword, but the more I wrote, the more disappointed in it I felt, so I started writing Black instead and scrapped Sword altogether.

I’ve had some rough road since, but Black is complete, Black 2 is also complete, and Ultra Sun is (mostly) complete (but with plans to be heavily altered), while Red is underway!

WARNING: These stories can get DARK, and I would rather my readers be over 18. They are not dark with the intent to squick out or upset people, however; they are dark with the intention of exploring thoughts and ideas I find too difficult to think about directly. There are more personalized warnings at the beginnings of each story. With that out of the way, please just try and move on if you find yourself disliking a specific story or part of a story of mine... If you want to give constructive criticism, you are more than welcome, but tearing into me and my writing just because you didn’t like something helps nobody. Keep in mind I write these for fun and as a form of self-therapy throughout some of the worst years of my life.

Furthermore, I edit them a lot. And I do mean a lot. My FFN profile acts as a “changelog” for what has changed in the stories over the course of the time they’ve been posted.

Pokemon Retold posts are tagged “Retold.”

My FFN Profile

My AO3 Profile

Pokemon Retold: Black has been added to TVTropes! I honestly don’t even care that this person digs into it a couple of times, I was so incredibly flattered they took the time to do that at all. (But be warned the page does have some spoilers!) I have no idea if you enjoyed the story or not upon reading over that page, kind stranger lol, but I really appreciate that you took the time to do that nonetheless! <3

Creatively Destructive

This incredibly well-titled story is an idea I have for a retelling of Miraculous Ladybug. I know, I know - absolutely never been done before /s

While I know there has got to be a thousand retellings of this show by now, based on just how.... terrible, the writing is, I want to try anyway. Because I genuinely love the premise of the show! I’m just constantly disappointed by how it seems to never go anywhere with its plot or characters.

So, Creatively Destructive will be a fanfic, and when I have more information on it, I’ll post it under the tag “creatively destructive.”

Roleplays

Me and my boyfriend love to RP a lot. From Monster Hunter to Pokemon, we do a lot of different stories. Sometimes, I really get inspired by what we come up together and I want to share it with others! Be it quick art based on a scene from the RP or a quick rundown of what occurred in an RP, you can catch these in the ‘Prow RP’ tags.

Currently, we are having a lot of fun with an RP based on the Hoenn pokemon games that I am sure I’ll be posting about!

I may also be open to RPs with others in the future :> Don’t be offended that I’m not open to them already... I’m just a very easily overstimulated person.

The Ballad of the ARK

ARK: Survival Evolved is a lot of things. It’s an amazing concept, an open-world game where you befriend dinos and fight alongside tribemates against other tribes, or work together to survive the hostile environment. But the true tragedy of this game goes so much deeper than that, and I want to explore that in writing, starting with my story, my experience, and then graduating to where I think the issue primarily stems from.

This strange memoir will be posted under the tags of “Ballad of ARK.”

Commissions

I hope to take commissions for art and writing in the future!

However, I need to figure out the parameters of what I’m willing to draw (and what I can feasibly draw), as well as what I can promise when it comes to writing, not to mention pricing.

That’s not to say I’m not open to ideas though! Feel free to message me/send me asks anyway and we’ll see if we can work something out. :)

Although I am not in a financial disaster just yet, I feel like I am not far from one. This is why I hope to try to build on commissions in the future. I know they will never support me, but I would still like to try to be useful and helpful to some. I currently live with my grandmother, having left my abusive home with my father, and although she generously allows me to live with her for the low cost of merely helping with some electricity and my own food, I struggle to remain abovewater financially due to difficulty finding work (thanks to issues with ADHD and physical problems following a bout with COVID in early January 2021).

If you would like to help anyway, feel free to subscribe to my Patreon, or make a one-time payment via PayPal. I promise no matter what or how much it is, your generosity is greatly appreciated!! <3

My Patreon

My PayPal

My Ko-fi

(Note that my Patreon is... very outdated and needs to be updated. I will do that soon!)

#new day new me!#undeadprowess #I will be changing my url #pokemon retold #retold #pin #creatively destructive #prow rps #ballad of ark #commissions #sketch #art #rb pls! :)#pokemon #pokemon trainer brendan #brendan #pokemon trainer brix #more info on those last tags soon lol

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yuzukult · 4 years

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try again, || jaehyun & reader

title: try again, pairing: jaehyun x reader genre: idol!au, angst-y (i guess) words: 2.1k prompt: you should know that I’m always on your side, please remember my answer is you. note: inspired by the song try again by d.ear & jaehyun... i tried with this one, but it got hard to finish because i forgot where i was going with it.... i guess you can call this a drabble???????? also i have not revised this my 5th time yet. lol i will probably edit this as time goes on

Every long-term relationship goes through the “humps.” There’s three separate occasions: the three year hump, five year hump, then lastly the seven year hump. Many people tackle these hurdles, some fortunate enough to win and survive, but some wistfully slip.

You and Jaehyun failed the three year hump.

The obstacle was inevitable and surviving these challenges with him as an idol, periodically on tour when part of these issues arise didn’t make it any easier. The three-year mark resulted in a mutually angry break-up, only lasting a few months before he came back to Seoul. Healed from the fall, you thought that you were strong enough to face him. It was a lie-- the moment that you saw his face, you fell in love all over again.

Getting back together was easy. The two of you even made a pact that this wouldn’t ever happen again, and preventing it would require more communication and effort. Jaehyun was your end-game, despite the struggles of dating a celebrity, and the feelings were reciprocated.

So when the fifth year was approaching, it was no surprise that you could even feel it in the air that something was different.

Coming home everyday wasn’t the same anymore. The house echoed with silence; his slippers by the door remained vacant incessantly, and his roar of laughter isn’t here to fill the rooms with warmth. Your phone doesn’t ring with a text from him asking if you had gotten home safely nowadays, and expectations for video calls have dropped to none.

Jaehyun doesn’t “come home” lately, or at least, your home, but when he does, it means arriving during the late hours of the night and leaving at the brink of dawn. The incandescent grin that stuck on his face that comes as a package with the dimples that indent his cheeks were absent from your life now. His scent hasn’t remained in the house for months, evidence to his missing presence.

Sleeping without him proved arduous. Your eyes begging for slumber but your mind wouldn’t rest with the negative thoughts that swarmed your head.

Then there was speculation amongst social media-- every possible platform, and your phone overflowed with text messages from those who were “close” to you were all of him with new arm candy, a new beau.

It’s two in the morning, and you’re fighting with your inner self on whether or not to call in sick to work tomorrow. Snatching the carton of milk in the fridge, you grab a mug settled in the cabinet before pouring yourself a drink. Placing it into the microwave and tapping a couple of the buttons on the screen, the humming of the appliance is the only sound that floods the room.

The doorknob of the front door rattles, and he comes in with newly dyed blue disheveled hair wearing his clothes from practice, dropping his duffle bag by the door and his keys thrown into the bowl on the entryway’s table. There was no greeting nor kiss as he immediately makes his way into the kitchen.

“She’s just a co-star. We’re filming a music video, and afterwards she said she was going to grab us all coffee, and I felt bad if she went alone. I mean, there’s ten of us.” His eyes hasn’t even looked directly at you, yet somehow he knew what was running through your head.

“I didn’t say anything.” You mutter, attention wavering to the beeping of the microwave.

“You didn’t have to.” He’s standing what feels like hundreds of meters away from you. The light in the room is dim, nearly as though it reads the tension in the atmosphere.

“She’s pretty,” You say before gripping onto the warm beverage before hissing at the impact of the hot ceramic against your fingertips.

“What are you insinuating?”

You’re silent for a moment. “Maybe it’s time we should talk about us.”

Jaehyun is the guy who doesn’t say much. He’s a level-headed person, soft spoken, and sensitive yet reserved, but capable of opening his heart. He’s the one you admire from afar with his breathtaking features, a radiant smile that can wipe an entire nation, with his popular group of friends, and friendly demeanor. Even when he’s trying his best not to shine in a sea of people, he’s under the spotlight. It’s impossible for Jung Jaehyun to be just a regular person.

But recently, his heart just doesn’t feel open to you. He didn’t seem to glisten in your gaze anymore.

“What’s wrong with us?” He precipitously makes his way behind you. You don’t recall hearing the creak of the hardwood floor underneath his feet; your heart skipping a beat when your back bumps into his chest abruptly.

“Talk to me.” You gulp. He’s so close-- and what it seems like have been forever since you’ve been even this intimate; the slightest touch from him sparks nostalgia. “What’s wrong with us?”

“You’re never here anymore.”

You can’t look at him, you just can’t. You shouldn’t, because just seeing his face might bring you to the brink of tears.

Your lives were so different. He was an idol with fans throwing themselves at his feet, and constantly inundated by a plethora of talent and beauty. His ambitions weren’t aligned to yours, and it’s a miracle that the relationship lasted this long. You had such an average life, working a 9-5 job, occasionally going out on weekends to meet up with friends, and spending the remaining free time by watching movies or shows. He was out in different countries, exploring continents you’ve never even been before, and meeting thousands of people almost weekly out on tour.

It didn’t help that the relationship was always a secret. There wasn’t initially any regret about it being hidden, but the insecurities eventually began to gnaw out your insides when swarms of beautiful women flirted so shamelessly with him in front of you when you’d previously gone out on discreet dates.

“I’m sorry, I’m trying to be here more. There’s a comeback soon, so the hours at work are endless.” His baritone voice vibrates in his chest against your frame, something all too familiar but hasn’t appeared in a while.

Attempting to be empathetic was easier said than done when you’re angry with someone. Turning your body around, your stare sticking to his upper torso, refraining from looking into his eyes. From your peripheral vision, he’s indisputably exhausted, dark circles residing below his eyes after removing the day’s make-up from photoshoots and filming and visibly slimmer. It isn’t a competition but you were tired too.

“If... this is taking too much of your time,” The words get caught in your throat. “Maybe we should... let this go.”

His breath hitches, taking a moment to absorb the words you’re saying albeit his heart feels like it’s shattering. “It’s not taking much of my time.”

“That’s the problem, you’re not using any of your time with this to begin with.” Practicing in front of your mirror countless times before, you thought you'd recited every possible outcome of the conversation and what you’d argue to every response he had. You were confident until standing in front of Jaehyun. It lessens your assurance on the break-up because everything about him weakens your knees.

Jaehyun pulls you in, wrapping his arms around your waist before dropping his head into the crook of your neck, pressing a warm, gentle kiss against your skin. He couldn’t face you either. “Don’t do this.”

“There’s so many women out there that are better,” You sigh, swallowing the tears. He’s too great of a guy but you’d come to terms that maybe he wasn’t for you. “Someone else who can treat you better. You can’t give me what I want.”

Grabbing your shoulders, he obligates you to look into his eyes as he knits his brows. “Those women aren’t you. Tell me what you want, I’ll do it.”

“Jaehyun, it doesn’t work like that.”

“I don’t get what you mean. We’re talking about this and I’m trying to make it work.”

“That’s the other problem, I don’t want you to make it work anymore. You have to want this, do things willingly and not because I forced you to. It’s different now. I don’t think you love me the same way I do.”

He shakes his head. “You’re wrong,” his eyes are gradually brimming with tears, and you can almost hear the sound of your heart breaking, “I’ve always loved you, I never stopped.”

Jaehyun never cries. He’s all laughs and smiles but never manifestly melancholic. He was great at hiding it but never with you. Overtime, it felt as though the only mood he had was irritation and fatigue, and only his friends and fans were given the opportunity to see the beautiful side of Jaehyun. Seeing him unsteady with your decision made it difficult to leave. Even when the relationship fell apart the first time, he didn’t even seem like he cared. He wanted to portray himself as perfect-- and he was successful at it.

His hand reaches up to push a strand of your hair away from your face and moves it behind your ear. Cupping your cheeks, he leans in, his soft, plump lips capturing yours. He fit into you like the missing piece of a puzzle, and you craved for his touch. Your mind wanted to fight him, push him off and tell him that this was over with because you couldn’t take it anymore. With him pressed up on you against the kitchen counter, he’s the cause of your foggy head and you forget what your mind tells you to do.

Letting go, saliva strings between the two of you, but neither of you are bothered by it. His eyes held despair when they linked with yours, tugging you into his embrace. “These people that step into my life aren’t here for the mutual benefits. They’re all here for my name as a celebrity, they care about who I am only when it has to do with them. They expect me to be perfect all the time, and it’s tiring.” He takes a moment to take a deep breath, nuzzling his nose into your neck, inhaling in your scent.

“When I come home to you, you don’t expect me to be perfect. And I know you still don’t, you just wish I tried. You were never persistent about me being a certain way, and I took it for granted. I just thought you’d always be by my side.”

“You know that I’m always here for you.”

“And I took advantage of that,” He responds, and there’s a sudden wetness on your neck. “That’s my flaw and it’s my fault. I want to be better for you, please let me try again.”

The emotions from the past few months start flooding back, and anger fills your bloodstream, reality hitting you in the face. “What’s going to be different from before? It’ll all still be the same.”

“It won’t.” His voice is stern, and steady, removing you from his grasp. “Come to our showings, come to our concerts, our recordings. Let’s not hide this anymore.”

You choke on your spit. “What?”

Jaehyun’s expression doesn’t change; he’s serious about his idea. “I’m sorry it took me five years, but it’s long overdue. I don’t think I can lose you, you’re my rock. I need you here. Please, think about it.”

“What are you going to be doing on this lovely Friday night?” A co-worker of yours asks, reaching up to your desk an hour before you’d be released from your duties for the weekend.

“Honestly, not sure yet.”

She raises a brow, crossing her arms against her chest as she leans on the wall of the cubicle. “Hot boyfriend hasn’t had anything planned? If not, you should definitely come by to this new club that opened--”

“Sorry, she has plans.” Startled, the both of you turn your heads to the direction of the voice. Jaehyun’s standing in the walkway between the aisles of desks and cubicles that line up throughout the office, and you’re surprised he even finds yours. “Also, I’m not her boyfriend anymore. Didn’t she tell you, I’m her fiance.” He smiles cheekily, giving your coworker a glimpse of his dimples and raising the bouquet of flowers in his hand.

His hair is slicked back with gel, the blue dye washed out and a dirty blonde comes out from underneath. He has on a white button-up, a couple buttons undone, sleeves rolled up and shirt tucked in his black slacks. Jaehyun walks over to you, handing you the bouquet before bowing at your coworker. “Sorry, didn’t mean to sound rude. It’s our anniversary today.”

“Anniversary?” She glances at you questioningly.

“Yes. Happy 7th Year Anniversary, love.”

#jaehyun #nct #nct127 #nct fics #nct fictions #nct127 fictions #nct 127 fictions #jaehyun x reader #jaehyun x oc #gyukultfics #ugh i'm embarrassed i wrote this #lol

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ty-talks-comics · 5 years

Text

The Boys Season 1 Review and Comparison

This was so cathartic.

In an age where we’re inundated with superhero media on all fronts with their bright colors, cheery jokes and positive outlooks, it’s easy to slowly become sick of it, feel the “superhero fatigue” as it were. Where Marvel ruins some stories with far too many jokes (looking at you Thor: Ragnarok) and DC is far too dreary and serious for its own good with a lack of levity, where can one turn to for a GOOD happy medium?

Well, in comes Seth Rogan and Evan Gold, the brilliant minds behind the amazing adaptation of Preacher with yet another brutal and slightly more cynical series. The Boys absolutely stuns not only by being a genuinely compelling series, but also by being one of the few adaptations that improves on the original medium in a few aspects.

Story

The story centers around Hughie Campbell and the titular Boys as they work to expose the horrific deeds of The Seven, a collective of the world's greatest superheroes, and the company that sponsors them, Vought American.

In this world, superheroes are everywhere. They're on breakfast cereals, TV shows, movies, pretty much every piece of media and entertainment imaginable while also protecting America from crime. Sounds familiar, huh? The kicker here is that, much like every asshole celebrity that lets the fame and fortune go to their heads, these heroes are massive cunts. They take performance enhancing drugs, routinely cause accidents that hurt or kill people, sexually harass people left and right and just lie to their adoring public like they’re children.

Unlike the books, however, The Boys team isn’t the well oiled machine that’s been taking down and blackmailing superheroes for years and the first four episodes are spent introducing the different team members.This is likely due to wanting to give people time to care about them individually and the limited number of episodes in the season. This definitely works in also retooling the characters themselves for TV since they may not have seventy-two issues of character development ahead of them

For the most part, the show follows the initial story beats of the comics with a few select differences before splintering off in an entirely new direction. Hughie’s girlfriend still gets blown apart by A-Train, he denies Vought America’s hush money which draws the attention of Billy Butcher and Starlight joins the Seven after the “death” of the hero Lamplighter.

This also means that there's less time to focus on smaller plotlines and teams that are referenced to in passing dialogue like the Teenage Kix, a pastiche on the Teen Titans, or Payback, the number two group of superheroes to The Seven. While seeing the team take these guys down on the small screen would have been fun, I like the idea of keeping the plot focused on just the core group of antagonists. This way, we don’t have to slog through three or four seasons of small fry and get the big bads in the last few.

After the first half, fans of the comic may start to feel a little bit of the familiar, but then things start to take a drastic turn when Billy's pride and the rest of the teams sloppiness gets them all burned and branded wanted criminals. This never happens in the books because The Boys are funded and protected by the CIA, but here they’re just another group of concerned citizens that are completely in over their heads, adding to the tension and keeping everyone guessing as to what will happen for the rest of the season and in Season 2.

Themes

The original series was written during the latter years of the Bush Administration. Tensions were high and America was still embroiled in the Iraq War. The president was a simpering fool and companies were fucking people over left and right in the name of patriotism. Reality TV and the awful personalities on our screens were on nearly every channel and all of this only fueled the anger that is Garth Ennis’ pen and Darick Robertson’s pencils. It was a product of its time and it was perfect.

We’re now in the Information Age where superheroes and social media are the only things that matter in everyone’s mind, where women’s empowerment is stronger than ever and our leaders speak bombastically with shit eating grins full of lies. Rogen and Goldberg have kept the series modern and take everything to task.

Media. Marvel and DC are everywhere nowadays with some indie companies managing to scrape up their own part of the pie. The Boys makes fun of the seemingly endless cycle of sequels and the goody-two-shoes images of America’s favorite heroes. Everything is carefully managed and curated by a media team, similar to how Disney micromanages even the smallest details of their properties to make everything so sickeningly squeaky clean.

Not only do the heroes stop crime, but they star in their own movies about themselves as well, some have sponsorships for shoes and have to compete with each other for everything. Almost everything is done for the cameras, even intimate moments whenever Vought can find a way to make it work. The heroes are never too far from the spotlight even when they want to be and oftentimes their acts can go viral without them knowing.

Sexual Assault. In the comics, Starlight is sexually assaulted by Homelander, Black Noir and A-Train in a gross scene to establish that there’s nothing good in that world. It was good for its time in its own dark way, but today there are absolutely consequences to such things as there should have been back then. In the show, Starlight is assaulted by The Deep, her childhood crush, alone.

It’s dark and makes use of the imbalance of power as The Deep threatens to have her kicked off of the team. Soon after, Starlight comes forward with what happens to her, not allowing herself to let what happened stand and unlike in the books, The Deep gets his comeuppance. Though this also unfortunately leading to him getting assaulted as well. It’s powerful and allows for Starlight to move what could have been an image of weakness, though Vought uses this to their advantage as well, painting her a feminist icon. Best for business right?

Politics. While not everything has to be an allegory for Trump, it’s hard to say that Homelander isn’t just that. He’s what the president thinks he is, a strong, blonde haired man that the entire country loves. Homelander has the people eating out of the palm of his hands and he’s only feeding them shit. He hates the common man and will just as easily let many die if it can somehow serve his interests. He’s not above a little sexual harassment himself and he is just an evil bastard.

There’s also a subplot of military application of superheroes that I feel mirrors the discussion on the use of drones in war. Drones are absolutely deadly and have caused the deaths of hundreds, even innocents when things have gone really wrong. Even President Obama was criticized for how reckless and dangerous their use could be. The world could only imagine the hell that would rain down if superheroes were allowed to duke it out over national security.

Characters

The Boys as a comic series was an unrepentantly cynical take on the superhero genre in an established universe of heroes. The creator, Garth Ennis, didn’t grow up with many superheroes and actually felt disrespected by a few of them, like Captain America. He brought on the amazing Darick Robertson and other artists to realize this horrid world of drugs, hardcore sex and brutal violence. Many of the stories are fun and hilarious, but with the unfortunate feeling of a lot of them feeling one note due to the one dimensional nature of a lot of the “heroes” and the ever escalating level of black humor to the point of being cartoonish.

Our main character cast is absolutely fantastic. Jack Quiad’s Hughie is much like his comic counterpart, aside from being like six feet tall and not Scottish. He’s surprisingly smart with a lot of awkwardness about him. He has a good heart and doesn’t see ALL superheroes as being evil, but does have a slight sense of justice that wants to see The Seven and Vought taken down.

Karl Urban’s Butcher was the absolute perfect casting choice. He’s got that wry British wit, the fury to capture Butcher’s rage against supes and can play a manipulator like nobody's business. His character arc is one of the few regressions that I can actually appreciate for how it's done, especially as things become more fucked because of him and how he chooses to blame everyone else.

Everyone else is a slight bit of an improvement over the comics versions. The Frenchman, played by Tomer Capon, is similar to his comics counterpart, but we’re given reason to care about him and The Female. In the comics, Frenchie and the Female knew each other prior, but I don’t think it’s ever revealed how they met or became close. In the show Frenchie frees The Female, played by Karen Fukuhara, from thugs that had been keeping her prisoner and he slowly gains her trust over the course of the next few episodes after her introduction. We see their friendship grow, learn a little bit of her backstory and get a better understanding of what she wants versus just following Frenchie around and being terrifyingly adorable.

Annie January aka Starlight, played by Erin Moriarty, is probably the second best change in character in the series. She starts out as a bright eyed, bushy tailed hero looking to do good, but after being sexually assaulted on her first day in The Seven, decides that it will never happen again. In the comics, Annie stays around in The Seven and takes the abuse for a little while before speaking out and fighting back against the rest of them. What makes things even better, not only does she challenge her uber Christian beliefs during an event sponsored by Vought, but she does so while also getting Vought to force her abuser into giving a public apology at the mere thought of her causing their stock prices to crash.

Consequently, Mother’s Milk, portrayed by Laz Alonso, one of the most layered characters in the comics isn’t made better, but the more ridiculous aspects of is character have been toned down. We don’t hear of his disabled mother and his addiction to her breast milk that fuels his own superpowers, nor is his wife a crack addict that makes pornos with their daughter. He’s simply a reliable member of the team that loves his wife and will give Butcher the truth when he’s acting like an asshole.

The series actually brings a lot of grey to most of these characters. A-Train never once shows remorse for his actions in the books, but in the show he's painted as kind of sympathetic, while still being seen as a monster for what he does and the reasons behind them. The Deep could go either way after his actions with a redemption arc or a full turn to villain, but is shown to be knowingly aware of how little regard there is for him. He calls himself a "diversity hire" and acknowledges his own ineptitude, but he's still an absolutely terrible person.

Queen Maeve may be one of my favorite changes that manages to be even more sympathetic than her already pretty great comic counterpart. She, much like Starlight, did want to change the world, but she let the apathy and jaded nature of the job take her over. She's an alcoholic that sees a bit of herself in Starlight. The change comes in how she reacts to what I think might be Homelander's most heinous act in the show. She shows far more remorse and guilt over what happens than she does in the comic, showing us a side of her makes you want to root for her and to see her get better.

The best character… dear Lord, is Homelander, played by Anthony Starr. Homelander is a bastard. The worst thing imaginable because of his sheer strength and power. He’s a sociopath with all of the powers of Superman and none of the goodness. In the comics he’s simply just another asshole.

He’s the most powerful of the Seven and absolutely revels in the hedonistic lifestyle that he’s accustomed to while also hating being under the rule of Vought. In the show, he’s shown as being supportive to Vought, especially it’s current Senior VP of Hero Management, Madelyn Stillwell. He has something of a mommy fetish as shown with his interactions with her and later in the series actually expresses emotions over learning of his own tragedies, but instead of trying to change for the better, he doubles down on his hatred and anger to become an even bigger monster than before.

In the comic he just wants all of the superheroes to conquer the world, but here, he just wants to hurt everyone who hurts him. He plays games like a child, threatening and revealing secrets to toy with people before absolutely breaking them. He's horrible in a very personal way and his sneering smile only makes him so much more hateable. He knows there isn't a damn thing you can do to stop him and he revels in that fact, I love it.

Pacing and Direction

Coming in at an hour for each episode, the first two to three can feel a bit slow. Getting all of the story elements to sit just right can take time, especially as new things are introduced every few minutes. This slow burn approach easily helps to build the tension before things get really crazy by episode four. By that point, the story is unfolding at a perfect rhythm, the team is mostly together, they’ve made their plans of action and it’s all so smooth.

Thankfully each episode is directed by different people to avoid each feeling so similar. The common humor and tone is kept the same, but some episodes are very hopeful almost before being met with one that absolutely makes you hate certain characters and the actions that they take. In particular, the episode where Hughie and Butcher visit a group therapy session and Butcher flies off into a rage about the weakness of the attendees as they basically lick the balls of the heroes that have maimed them was amazing. The director pulls so much emotion out of that scene and continues on as the episode moves along in a far more dramatic fashion than some of the others.

Some others lean heavier on the debauchery such as the episode where Hughie and Butcher venture into a superhero sex club and watch as these guys do some pretty amazing feats with their abilities in some really gross ways. There’s a good balance of levity and drama that makes neither feel too overwhelming.

Overall

With a great cast, impeccable acting and an unpredictability that I actually enjoyed, The Boys absolutely blew me away. I was wholly prepared to rip it apart if I felt like it didn’t do the story justice, but Rogen and Goldberg are fans and knew what we all wanted. It’s unabashedly a comic book show, but still has enough to it that people who have never heard of the series will be floored by how much they can find to enjoy.

It’s for the nihilistic and jaded comic book fan. It’s for the casual watcher who’s gotten enough of Marvel’s colorful displays of happiness and it’s absolutely for the happy person who just wants to have some fun with what they watch.

I thoroughly enjoyed this season of The Boys. So much so that I’m aching with anticipation to re-read the comic series in preparation for Season Two. It’s unlikely that it’ll follow the plot much, if at all after the ending, but with Stormfront (as a woman) being announced as the new Hero joining the Seven in the next season, I’m excited as to who else they might pull. This first season absolutely earns a high recommendation from me.

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befitandchase · 5 years

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136: “Give me back my phone! ”

Private Eyes

It starts out innocently enough. Alex sits quietly at the bar, taking a slow drag of his beer when the cell phone beside his coaster lights up with a text.

Guerin: wyd?

Alex has the presence of mind to ignore it as he puts his beer down and glances around the Wild Pony. It’s a slow Tuesday night, mostly regulars scattered around the bar as Maria flits back and forth between customers, eyeing him every once in a while before mixing another drink or opening another beer bottle.

His phone lights up again.

Guerin: Pissing the night away?

Alex has to hold back the snort that threatens to escape his body. He picks up the phone and finally opens his text messages.

Alex: Chumbawamba? Really, Guerin?

He rolls his eyes before setting the phone back down on the bar top and grabbing his beer for another sip. It lights back up immediately.

Guerin: I figured it’d be that or you’d be at home, all alone.

Even through his texts, Alex can picture the smirk on Michael’s face. He simply puts his phone down again, takes another sip of beer, and waits. Michael isn’t done yet. Not even close. The man has serious problems when it comes to texting. Once he starts, there’s no stopping him.

It’s only a matter of moments before another text comes through.

Guerin: I’m guessing you’re at the Pony taking advantage of Maira’s “free drinks for friends” special, aren’t you?

With an exasperated sigh, Alex opens his texts again and shoots back a reply.

Alex: As a matter of fact, I am. What’s it to you?

Guerin: Nothing.

There’s a little purple smiling devil emoji attached to it that makes Alex’s brows crease as he stares at the text for several moments. What is Michael really up to? That emoji means he’s up to no good, and Alex is on the receiving end of whatever mischievousness Michael has planned.

Three little dots appear on the screen signaling another incoming text. Except it isn’t a text. It’s a photo. A photo of Michael shirtless standing in front of a mirror, his curls matted in sweat, his skin glistening under the pale fluorescent lights of his Airstream.

Alex’s mouth goes dry as his eyes widen. Damn you, he thinks, suddenly wishing he wasn’t at the Wild Pony. The place was too open for these types of messages, especially with Maria hovering so close by. He swipes out of his text app and puts his phone face down on the bar top before taking a large swill of his beer.

Not long after, the faint glow of his phone lights up again with another text.

Guerin: Just finished working on my last car of the day. Thought you might like to know.

And god damn it, why does Michael have to say things like that? It’s bad enough the man has stolen Alex’s heart, now he’s stealing his breath too. He wants to put his phone down, ignore Michael’s text because he knows where it’ll lead, but he can’t bring himself to do it. Instead, Alex stares at the screen, wondering what Michael will say next.

Guerin: I know it’s getting late, so I’ll probably hit the sack soon.

Alex breathes a sigh of relief thinking maybe, just maybe, he’s been spared this one time, but he hasn’t. Those three dots appear again, and he swallows down the trepidation of what Michael might text him next.

Guerin: But first, I’m going to shower.

Images of Michael completely naked, his skin soaking beneath a spray of water suddenly invades Alex’s brain. Oh, no, he thinks. This was not how he wanted to spend his evening. He just wanted one night to himself, to his thoughts. One night of spending time with his best friend, who is now eyeing him from across the bar, brow arched as she stares at his flustered look.

Alex closes his eyes and takes a steadying breath before putting down his phone again. He signals to Maria that he needs another beer, but before she even grabs one out of the cooler, there’s another text lighting up his phone.

Guerin: I know what you’re thinking, Private.

A shiver runs down Alex’s spine. Fuck! He can barely contain the urge to slam his head on the bar top as Maria swings by with his second beer of the night.

“You okay?” she asks, eyeing him from behind the bar with one hand on her hip and the other on his drink.

“I’m fine!” It comes out an octave higher than Alex wants, earning him another scrutinizing gaze from his best friend.

“Sure,” is all Maria says before she walks away to take another customer’s order.

Alex is definitely not fine. He scowls at his phone, willing it to stop lighting up with texts from Michael, but willpower alone won’t work in this situation.

Guerin: You’re thinking about where you’d rather be right now.

Guerin: You’re thinking about me, naked.

Fuck! Alex can practically hear the seductive tone of Michael’s voice at that moment, calling out to him like a siren calls out to a sailor lost at sea. He wants to answer, wants to reply with something that’s witty and sarcastic, but he just can’t. Words have failed him as images take over his mind.

Guerin: A part of me wonders what you’d do to me if you were here right now.

Guerin: Would you be pushing me against the counter?

Guerin: How about into bed?

Guerin: Would you take my pants off with your teeth?

Alex is breathing heavily as the texts inundate his phone in rapid fire succession. His mouth goes dry as he stares at the screen. Everything Michael describes goes through his mind, the images as vivid as if he was with him right now. His jeans start to feel uncomfortable, and he tries to settle into a better position, but the friction caused by the stiff fabric rubs against him and he sucks in a shuddering breath.

Guerin: What about that mouth of yours?

Guerin: Where would you put it?

Guerin: My lips?

Guerin: My chest?

Guerin: Or would you go in straight for the grand prize?

Oh, god. Alex’s breathing falters. Michael has never been this explicit over text before. Sure, they’ve done dirty talk in the past, but it’s always been through an open line. Texting, it seems, has an even more powerful effect on Alex. He thinks it probably has something to do with his wild imagination, which is currently conjuring up images of exactly what Michael describes.

Before he has a chance to put the phone down and breath, another photo pops up, and this time, it makes Alex’s jaw seemingly unhinge. Michael laying in bed, his hand grasping the outline of his dick through his boxers.

Alex’s vision blacks out for a moment as his mind tries to process what’s happening. Some part of his brain knows what Michael is up to, but the signals to move, to grab his keys, to get in his car and drive to the junkyard can’t seem to reach his legs. So he just sits there, staring at his phone like an idiot as Maria walks past.

She stops, her eyes taking in the scene before her, the look of bewilderment etched on his face at what might have Alex so engrossed in his phone. He doesn’t notice, until it’s too late, and she’s plucking the phone from his fingers.

“Give me back my phone!” Alex practically shouts as he tries to scramble up over the bar, to no avail. Maria already has the device in her hand, her eyes moving over the screen as she reads what Michael has sent him.

“Oh, my god!” she screeches in disgust as she throws the phone back at him.

It would be funny if Alex isn’t so mortified. His face must be scarlet by now as he locks the screen and shoves the phone in his pocket. He wants to run and hide, maybe shove his head in the sand. Maria is his best friend, and she has seen some of the filthiest things anyone has ever texted him. Oh, god, this is not going to end well.

“I think I need to bleach my eyes,” Maria mutters under her breath before shaking her head and quickly composing herself. She turns to him a moment later, steely eyes and hands on hips. “Alex Manes!” she admonishes. “Here I was thinking you were above sexting, but then I had to see that.”

“Sorry,” his voice barely carries over the music, but she still hears him.

Maria looks him up and down, probably noticing just how red faced and embarrassed he is, and her features soften. She reaches over the bar and places a hand on his shoulder. “No, I’m sorry,” she says. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

Alex’s eyes shoot up to meet hers. There’s a small smile on her lips, one that conveys exactly what she’s thinking, what they’re both thinking. “You should go,” Maria adds. “Don’t wanna keep your boyfriend waiting.”

Setting a small pile of bills to take care of his tab, Alex hurriedly hops off the barstool and races toward the exit. Just as he throws himself into the driver’s seat of his car, he grabs his phone out of his pocket. By the mercy of God, Michael hasn’t sent him anymore texts. Alex decides it’s time to respond.

Alex: If by grand prize you mean riding you like a cowboy, I’ll be there in ten minutes.

Two can play this game, and Alex feels triumphant when his phone goes silent.

#malex fic #malex #roswell new mexico #chase writes new fic

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corinnejmorris · 5 years

Text

↷ CORINNE MORRIS |MAKE SURE YOU HIT HIM WITH THE PRENUP

The apartment is quiet as she overlooks the cobblestone streets of Tribeca. Alessia relishing in the fleeting moments of extra asleep, Logan at the ‘brush your teeth and grumble about manhattan’ stage of his morning routine. Yet Corinne is a silent intrusion into their way of life; mostly because Logan is her brother and he knew first hand the fit she’d throw being shut out from his life, secondly because she was a free and adoring babysitter. She stands in front of the floor to ceiling windows, softly swaying with Cain propped against her hip. As espresso heats up on the stove top, Logan can’t help but smile at his older sister. Delicate fingers wrapped around his son’s tiny fist, her face lit up like he’s never seen it before— some call it motherly glow, but in this case it was pure unadulterated love. And although he’d love to give her this moment forever, they’ll be a day late and a dollar short if they don’t get moving soon. He pulls the toothbrush out of his mouth and pipes up, “We’re leaving in 15 minutes tops, subway, walk, or car?” he asks before opening a cabinet to grab a travel mug, coincidentally with the name of his firm printed across it as if it wasn’t already obvious that he was the epitome of Manhattan finance bro.

The little moments like these were the ones that she cherished most. She couldn’t wait for the chance to do the same with a child of her own. In her very own kitchen, maybe not the one she lived in at the moment— too many tight corners and sharp edges but, one day. Maybe a house in Alexandria, along the river, with a backyard reminiscent of the one she grew up with, but just close enough to D.C. that if she was needed at the office she could make the drive. Yet it was all just a fantasy for Corinne, she was playing a game to see whether she could live vicariously through her brother or go mad. So far so good, though. Every baby being inherently cute, was a universal fact in the same vein as the concept of an infinitely expanding cosmos. But Cain was different, his teeny fingers, his cheeks chubbier, and the joyous expression in his sweet blue eyes made her heart melt at the mere sight of him. She presses her forehead against his and closes her eyes softly. She takes a moment's pause to revel in that newborn smell and whispers “good morning” in response to her nephew’s giggle. She returns the smile only to be interrupted by her brother who stood at the opposite edge of the galley kitchen. A kitchen she wasn’t particularly fond of, for reasons beyond the decorating— rather, a long, tall, strip of marble masquerading as an island that Cain was sure to split his head on when he finally gets the hang of zipping around their apartment. It’s a day she sits and waits for with anticipation, not for her nephew to get stitches but, for the day he can safely stand on two feet and run to her, shouting “Cor! Cor!” The day he’s able to express his feelings for his aunt is the day she might just keel over and die from the explosion of happiness in her chest.

She turns slowly, still bouncing Cain on her hip. She flashes her brother the smile reserved for clients and television cameras. Sweet, caring, yet unnaturally still, as if there’s no one really behind it. “Whatever you prefer,” she says softly, careful as to not allow any inflection in her tone as to not disturb the small human in her arms. She pads her way across the floor to her brother whose arms are outstretched ready to pull his son into his chest with the same bright smile Corinne had shone earlier. People often said despite the thirteen year age gap, they looked incredibly similar. If that was even remotely true, she hoped the nurturing smile her brother displayed was the same one Cain saw when he looked up at her. He pulls his son close to his chest before sticking his toothbrush in his mouth and pointing at Corinne with his free hand. “Corn, I’m ready in five minutes, We’re walkin’, and then taking the subway to his office, and we’ll stop for a coffee on the way— don’t take any of that shit that’s on the stove it’s Alessia’s and it tastes like garbage,” he says which earns him a pointed glare for Corinne. “What? You’re worried about him? He knows I swear,” he says with the shit eating grin he’s perfected over the years before disappearing around a corner. Corinne is left alone with the hum of the streets of Manhattan and shrill squeak of a stove top espresso machine.

In that very moment she remembers why she’s even in the city in the first place. It was all she could think about as Nicky drove her to the airport, all she could think about as she knocked back a martini in the airport private lounge, eyes expertly trained on the flights touching down and lifting off to destinations that weren’t her’s— places she’d much rather be than where she was headed. It was all she could think about as she met Logan at the airport and he placed the small suitcase she brought with her into the trunk of his S.U.V. But when she saw the little carseat in the back— that’s exactly when all the bad thoughts washed away. She would see her nephew, and all would be okay. But now as she stood at her brother’s front door, purse slung over her shoulder fingers tentatively play with the dainty rings she chose to accessorize with, purposely skipping the ring finger on her left hand. “You put a ring on that finger, before you’re engaged and you’ll be cursed for life,” her mother used to say when she was a little girl, sitting at the vanity table as her mom brushed through her long blonde waves with precision. Corinne even at such young age, idealized this beauty, vanity, gratuitous accessorization. The bows in her hair, and look in her mother’s eyes when her eight year old daughter applied lipstick with razor sharp accuracy. She was a doll. Her mother’s doll. When she got older, when she dressed herself, tried lip gloss instead of lipstick; her mother didn’t want to play anymore.

She’s brought back from the recesses of her memories when her brother approaches. “Go go go, I can stand bein’ fuckin’ late,” he says opening the apartment’s front door. They take the elevator in silence as he taps away violently at the screen of his cellphone. “Fucking clients whatta’ they know,” he scoffs before sliding the sleek, caseless device into his pocket— she’d prod about that later. She offers a polite wave and “good morning Stan,” to the doorman which contrast sharply from the dap up her brother gives. Clearly she was the eldest, momma would have liked the way she conducted herself and would have reprimanded Logan and that’s all that really mattered. They begin their walk down Watts St. She wobbles slightly on the cobblestone in her four inch heels. The added height does nothing as she still just a hair under Logan who claims to be six foot, but just cleared 5’11” and 3⁄4. “You look like a baby Giraffe,” he snorts and gives her the once over. “Fuck off, it’s the cobblestone,” she retorts with a playful swat at his shoulder. They turn onto Canal St. and Corinne thanks the city planning gods for pavement. “You know all that fucked up walking coulda’ been avoided if youd’ve just met the man in fucking Raleigh right, Corn?” she winces at his words as they shuffle down the steps alongside the rest of the morning crowd. “Yeah, and stay with momma? In that big ol’ fuckin’ house? Not see you? Or Alessia? Or my nephew? Ya’ I don’t really mind cobblestone streets all that much,” her tone is short as she’s squeezed between him and some other financial analyst, clearly a new guy if he’s still walking around with the banker bag.

His sigh is loud and exasperated as he and the rest of the passengers are jostled by the movement of the subway cart. They stare at one another in the loud ambience has come to know is native to the streets, and subsequent subway tunnels of New York City. “Stand clear of the closing doors please,” sounds the crummy speakers that probably haven��t been changed since the 70s. It’s only after a few people shuffle off the train that Logan opens his mouth again. Idiot, you never did know when to shut up. She thinks back to the times when he was four or five and would cry and whine to their mother if she so much at looked at her brother the wrong way. “He’s just a baby Corinne,” her mother would snap as she coddled her angel son. The origins of the rage that brindled within her at moments like that is still unknown, maybe it was because she knew he’d forever get off scot free or because she knew his fakery earned her a night in the hallway closet. “I’ll never understand why you don’t like her—” There’s thirteen years of pain you’ll never understand. “she’s not even that nasty of a person—” Not to you, she loved you. “Maybe if you called once in awhile, and fuckin’ visited you wouldn’t have any issues,” he berates her as the knuckles wrapped around the handle of her purse turn white. She wants to snap, but she’s in public and she’ll control herself. There’s also the possibility that she might get all choked up and make a fool of herself as the tears stain her face. “It’s not that I don’t like her Logan, we have opposing views and she’s unbearably judgemental.” Her tone is controlled as the doors open and they step out onto the subway platform.

Up the stairs and they step out onto wall street, where a million different men dress and act like her brother. Their conversation has been postponed until further notice as Logan ushers her along with his index finger. “The place I go to makes North American style Turkish coffee,” that just sounds like an oxymoron in itself, she thinks to herself quietly. They dodge angry callers, bird scooters and blind texters as they weave down the street. They turn into a quaint coffee shop with standing tables only, inundated by patrons too focused on their own business to even look up at the door chime. The stereotype of New Yorkers not giving a fuck, was most definitely a real one. They approach the cash and Logan greets a man— boy? who’s name is Mattias. The exact kind of person she’d picture who’d work at a North American style Turkish coffee place. Logan orders and Mattias proceeds on with Corinne who orders a simple turmeric tea. They move off to the side and sit— or rather stand at the edge of a long communal table. “So let me get this straight,” Logan starts “You and momma don’t talk, so she calls Mr.Clark who calls you, who then proceeds to call me, to ask if you can crash?” She sways her head along to the rhythm of the story, “Well I mean yeah...kind of?”

— ⟡ ▒ ONE WEEK EARLIER ▒ ⟡ —

It’s a little after 1pm on a Wednesday and Corinne strolls back into her office after having changed into her Lululemon yoga attire for afternoon yoga at the office. She sits at her desk and pulls her ringlets back into a bun, as her eyes inspect the report she’s been forwarded. The moment her hands drop from her head the LED on her desk phone flashes. “Cor? I’ve got a Mr.Clark on the phone for you, from Raleigh,” Nicholas sounds worried, as he always does when a 919 number called Corinne. He knew very little about Corinne’s family but knew that she rarely called them and they seldom called her unless it’s to return one of her phone calls. “Oh?” Her immediate reaction is one of confusion and fear. She remembers her mother’s lawyer and his office in their little town center. A stone building with a gold plate by the front door that read ‘Clark & Brennan Legal Offices’. Corinne both loved and hated that office, with all its dark wood and leather, the smell of stale paper and what a 10 year old could only define as alcohol on Mr.Clark’s breath when her mother would force her to greet him with a hug. What she did love was his secretary; Kelli, a twenty something brunette, with long legs accentuated by pencil skirts and a kind smile. Corinne always sat on her desk, ate Chupa Chups, and read Judy Blume novels. But, the only reason Mr.Clark would call her is, if something dire had happened— but surely, Logan would have called her first if her mother had died, right? “Yeah send him through Nicky,” she says leaning back into her desk chair.

“Hello, this is Corinne Jessica Morris speaking,” she answers in her most professional tone, she had a feeling he still thought of her as that 10 year old girl whose legs used to dangle off the edge of his secretary’s desk.

“Connie—“ A nickname she hates, Connie is short for Constance, not Corinne. “It has been an awful long while since I’ve heard from you, how are you doing miss?”

“Mr.Clark! It has been far too long, to what do I owe the pleasure of hearing from you?”

“Connie, Connie I know it’s been awhile but you needn’t call me Mr.Clark, please call me frank—“ she wouldn’t. “I’m actually calling on your mother’s behalf,”

“Oh, well in that case...Frank, I’m interested to hear what you have to say,” It’s gotta’ be inheritance, Logan is for sure getting more.

“It’s about your prenuptial agreement, I think some congratulations are in order sweetheart,”

“What? A prenup?” She retorts sitting up straighter.

“Yes, a prenup if you’d prefer, there’s one from ‘95 but, surely it needs to be updated to include your new home and the like?” He continues, not even acknowledging Corinne’s surprise.

“Mr.Clark, I don’t think you understand. I’m not engaged— I’m not even seeing anyone at the moment,” She reiterates.

“Is that so?” he pauses and there’s a silence on the line. “Well it wouldn’t hurt to look it over, I’m sure a gorgeous girl like you has many options.” She visibly winces at his words, you haven’t seen me in person since I was 16, creep.

“I guess so,” she says quietly— it’s not that she hasn’t thought about the suspicious lack of ring on her finger, there were other things she wanted to accomplish first.

“Well I’m in Raleigh til’ Friday but, I’ve got an early mornin’ flight to California so I’ll be out til’ Tuesday and in the New York offices until Saturday—”

Corinne quickly interrupts, “I’ll be in New York. Can I meet you on Thursday?” She slides the phone between her shoulder and ear as she grabs her cellphone to send Nicky a text. Flight to NYC. Next tuesday. Red eye. Call Logan.

“Oh well in that case, I’ll be delighted to meet you in New York Connie. My secretary will be in contact,”

— ⟡ ▒ — ⟡ ▒ —⟡ ▒ —

“And that was it?” Logan asks as he finishes the last of his Turkish cortado, which inherently isn’t Turkish coffee the second milk was added.

Corinne responds with a nod before taking a sip of her tea. Before Corinne can even open her mouth Logan starts again, hands upheld as if to say hold the fuck on— “Corn are you even ready to get married? Do you even want to?” His expression is a mix of shock and concern. Unable to meet her brother’s eyes she looks down at her left hand and plays with the ring on her index. Of course she wants to get married; she’s been planning her dream wedding since the day she kissed R-D. Was she ready? now that was an entirely different question, she’s perfected the art of living alone, eating alone, drinking alone but, rotating a colourful cast of friends in lieu of feeling lonely.

“God Logan, I think I know myself enough to know what I want. I’m just waiting—”

“When was the last time you were in a relationship,” he blurts out, cutting her off.

She counters hastily “God, what does it matter to you?”

“How do you know what you want if you haven’t been in a relationship since you were in fuckin’ college!”

“How’d you know Alessia was the girl you wanted to fuckin’ marry after banging her at fuckin’ mixer?”

Logan simply smiles back at her, and she hates it. She hates snapping at him, she hates his smug grin but most importantly she hates this conversation.

“Look, I really don’t need the lecture Logan I’m just gonna go, listen to what he has to say and that’s it,” as she finishes her sentence, his cell phone pings. “Shit its work,” he says reading the preview off his lockscreen. “Look, I gotta go, just keep walking south on Broadway you’ll be at his office in two minutes,” he hugs her quickly before heading off to his own office.

Corinne walks slowly, following the directions her phone gave her. She stops in front of a massive building, a far cry from the old stone of North Carolina. She greets the information desk attendant with her nicest smile. They give her the floor number and direct her to the elevators where she clambers in alongside a dozen or so corporates. It’s only as the numbers rise does she wonder how much business a small firm from North Carolina does to warrant a New York Office. Once the elevator chimes for the thirty-sixth floor she squeezes past those who remain in the elevator and out into a sleek reception area. As quietly as she can manage she makes her way over to the gatekeeper. “Hi I have an appointment with Mr.Clark at 8:30? I’m Corinne. Corinne Jessica Morris.” her voice is soft as she makes eye contact with the receptionist who was clearly not expecting to be bothered this early. She types at lightning speed before handing Corinne a security pass and informing her he’d meet her in conference room 5C.

She scans her pass and electric glass doors whirr open. Nice touch, we should get those. The office is quiet besides a few early risers who eye her as she walks past, heels clicking on faux marble tiles. Another automatic glass door lets her into the conference room. She’s greeted by a bouquet of flowering dogwoods, white roses and a box from Ladurée with a little note taped to the top— lovely to see you again Connie. “Thank you,” she says to no one in particular as she pops the top off and fingers hover over the rows of delicacies. With a bite she sits and sets her purse down on the table besides her.

At exactly 8:40am Mr.Clark strolls around the corner, with a younger man holding a legal pad and a stack of papers in toe. She can’t help but think of Alex who’s timeliness was uncanny and it brings a smile to her face. “Connie,” his tone is sing songy but sounds as though he smokes Cubans at least once every few days. “Mr.Clark,” she says replicating his sing songy tone. He greets her with a kiss atop her knuckles and she struggles to keep her smile from faltering. With his free hand he claps a football player sized palm on the shoulder of his companion. “This here is Garrett, he’s easily one of the, if not the smartest legal minds in the New York office, He’s gonna’ be my running back on this matter,” Garrett greets her with a simple nod and a “nice to meet you,” as he sets his materials down on the table.

They each receive a copy of her original prenup and Corinne quickly leafs through it. She wonders if her mother envisioned her marrying Ryan-Dean and that’s why she had this made. Corinne wonders if he was even still a possibility. For a brief fleeting moment she wishes she had this meeting in North Carolina, just to ask her mother about the context of this document but alas, she was going to do this alone. “You’re a very attractive woman both on paper and in person, are goal is to protect you and all your assets in the event of a separation,” Clark starts. “Let’s start with the disclosure first,” Garrett pipes up taking a highlighter to the document. “It’s my understanding that you are not yet engaged, right?” He pauses, glancing at Corinne expectantly. She returns his glance with a nod. “So we’ll just be updating the framework of this agreement and retcon any specifications in the event of an engagement,” he says nonchalantly as he scrawls on his legal pad.

It’s hard to hear of love spoken in such a calculative fashion but, she understands the reasoning behind such a thing. “Let’s begin with the disclosure of assets,” Garrett says. Mr.Clark begins listing off numbers, “Approximate net worth of eight million U.S. dollars which is comprised of property in Adams Morgan, Washington D.C. at an estimated value of 1.7 million U.S. dollars, A 2018 Audi S7 at an approximate value of 92 thousands U.S. dollars, a Roth IRA with a current value of Approximately 1 million U.S. dollars, a 15% share in Morris Consulting Ltd which roughly translates to about 3.2 million U.S. dollars and finally an investment portfolio with an estimated value of 1 million U.S. dollars,” he finishes with a quiet sigh, and Corinne looks between the two of them to see if that’s a good or bad thing. Garrett offers a simple raise of his brow as he goes back to writing on his pad of paper. “Does that sound about right to you miss.Morris,” he asks nonchalantly. “Yes, it concurs with the information I was given by my financial advisor,” her hands are crossed politely on the table. She wonders what his expression meant. One of surprise at her financial value? Commendation for her self made company? An evaluation of her?

“Well whoever the guy— or lady, may be, they’ll be one lucky son of a bitch,” he looks up from his writing and smiles. Corinne returns a bashful grin before Mr.Clark interrupts. “But we’ll make sure he’s not too lucky,” He flips to the next page. “One of the main concerns your mother brought to me was your inheritance—” I fucking knew it.”She assumed it’d be a point of contention in the divorce filings so she’d like it included in the prenuptial agreement,” Well that’s probably the most seemingly logical thought she’s had in decades. “Oh, I don’t see why that’d be an issue,” she shrugs and smiles at Mr.Clark who offers her a smile in return. Veneers. For sure. “So the clause we drafted states that your partner receives 10% of the differential between the day the prenuptial is validated and the day the divorce is finalized,” she nods. “You can always fight for less but this felt like an agreeable number,” She nods again. “No, 10 is fine,” in reality she’s lost in her own thoughts— who could theoretically receive all this money? She makes a potential husband shortlist in her mind.

CORINNE JESSICA MORRIS-??? HUSBAND SHORTLIST

???

Ryan-Dean Marks

Luka ???

Gavin Moir

The list is short with reason, yes she would if asked but, they’re all hypotheticals. They’re also all people she wouldn’t mind sharing a life with nor an amicable divorce. Which is a terrible thought to think but its a genuine fear she has. Isn’t the statistic something like 50% of marriages end in divorce? Her parents had their trials and tribulations but, lasted through it all. She knew too many couples that didn’t make it through though, and that’s what really scared her. She always quietly mentions to herself— you’ll be different. you’ll make it work. “Now there’s also alimony, which is sometimes waived but, It’s beneficial to at least set up a framework; less headaches down the road.” Garrett’s voice interrupts her thoughts, and she snaps out of her gaze and turns to him. “Do you plan on having children?” He asks. “Of course,” she replies, sitting a little straighter in her seat. “An increasing number of women are opting not to,” he says almost defensively. “When you have children, child support trumps alimony. It’d be fruitless to define the terms of child support so early on, do remember this is simply a framework.” Mr.Clark adds and both she and Garrett nod in unison.

“For alimony we’re suggesting the differential of 45% of your net income and 30% of your partners net income.” Garrett says. Is that enough? Is that too much? She doesn’t imagine herself marrying someone so wildly out of her tax bracket but it’s all about protection right? “This seems like a lot of money going out,” her voice is quiet as she inspects the papers before her. “It’ll make the process easier,” “It’s just a framework,” Mr.Clark and Garrett’s voices overlap as they both look at her and she’s frozen in place. Mr.Clark gives Garrett a sideways glance before clearing his throat. “An attractive prenuptial agreement is beneficial for all parties sweetheart, and like Mr.Howard said it’s only a framework, we’ll most definitely do alterations down the line at you or your spouse’s request, alright Connie?” He smiles again, teeth too white and too straight. Corinne returns an uneasy smile and quietly utters “okay,” and that’s how they proceed. For the next hour and a half, outlining the details of the money she’ll split with an invisible suitor. When they finish and walk her to the door, bouquet in one hand and a box of macarons under the other, she thanks them for their time and they thank her for her’s. After a hug from Mr.Clark and handing off her security card to Garrett who says he’ll take care of it she’s left alone with her thoughts.

She steps into a surprisingly empty elevator and as the doors close with a soft click, she feels a tear roll down her cheek. She uses the back of her hand to wipe it away before the elevator is inundated with more passengers. She’s exhausted, she wants to be back home in D.C. Alone in her bed, with the lights off. She opts for a taxi rather than the train and sits in silence as the financial district passes by her window. She greets the doorman with a strained smile before taking another elevator up to her brother’s apartment. In the silence of the tiled hallway she leans her head against their front door and stifles more tears before taking a deep breath and wiping her tears away as best she could. She unlocks the front door and is greeted by Alessia and her nephew. She can’t help the smile that replaces the tears. “Hey, didn’t know you were back so soon,” Alessia says as she passes Cain off to an awaiting Corinne. “We were just about to go on a walk, you down?” She asks absentmindedly as she packs a diaper bag. “Okay, I’d love to. Lemme’ go change my shoes,” she says softly as she plays with her nephew’s tiny hands. you’ll be different. you’ll make it work.

#p. make sure you hit him with the prenup #the ending is abrupt bc no one wants to see me butcher the legality of prenup for 6 thousand words #now accepting criticisms #listen this started out as me just trying to see how rich corny was and turned into this #bleh! i hate this!#read at ur own risk!!!!#abuse mention

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okimargarvez · 6 years

Text

LOVELY SIDE EFFECT

Original title: Piacevoli conseguenze.

Prompt: Luke get’s hurt, settled during 14x13.

Warning: none.

Genre: family, comedy, romantic.

Characters: Penelope Garcia, Luke Alvez, Roxy.

Pairing: Garvez.

Note: oneshot 46 in Garvez collection.

Legend: 💑😘🐶🎵.

Song mentioned: Troppo bene per stare male, Tiziano Ferro.

GARVEZ STORIES

LOVELY SIDE EFFECT

As soon as they land, Penelope runs out of the waiting room and doesn't stop until she reaches the jet ladder. She completely ignores the rest of the team and approaches the Latin agent. -Luke!- she calls him, a first time with a tone obviously anxious, but also a certain amount of reproach. -Luke, what have you done?- is a rhetorical question, because she already knows the explanation, but she needs to vent everything she has felt since she received that call.

He scratches his head, somewhat embarrassed, though also pleased, of this sudden flare of interest in him by the oracle of the BAU. -It's nothing, it's just a superficial cut...- he tries to belittle the thing, while his cheeks turn red, because they are not alone, and he can feel on himself the looks of others who are coming down now from the plane.

-It's not a superficial cut!- she blurts, silencing him abruptly. Meanwhile one by one their colleagues passing next to them, someone showing indifference, someone leaving a nice little smile declared to be painted on his lips. -Reid told me, that...- she holds back for a second, trying to reject the need to say a dirty word, but then just can't do it. When its needed its needed. -...that bitch stabbed you!- she shouts, stifling the anger she feels. Luke is even more shocked because he has never seen her so nervous, nor has he ever heard her say a non-kind epithet to anyone. But he doesn't have time to think abut it, because he feels himself being dragged by one arm, the healthy one, fortunately. -Let's go to the emergency room, c' mon.- she says, pushing him towards the parking area.

He doesn't know why he is protesting, why he not just accepting what happens, because it is nice to be at the center of Penelope's thoughts. But maybe it depends on the fact that he doesn't want to weigh on her, he doesn't want to make her waste time. For once, it's better to selfishly enjoy the situation. -But they have already settled me...- he tries to convince her, not very decisive, while they are walking briskly in the direction of a very particular car, as well as its owner. Here is the famous Esther, whom he has heard about.

In any case, she doesn't want to hear it. She stops in front of the passenger seat and opens the door for him. Luke laughs; how many times did he imagine doing the same for her? He willingly accepts her help, though he would be able to do it himself, and tries to focus on something other than the blond woman's thighs a few inches from him. Here, that little bear that hangs next to the rearview mirror is perfect for him. -Maybe they weren't careful enough. - he hears her say, as she starts the engine and goes, leaving the BAU headquarters behind. -It's better to be sure.- she adds, in a lower tone of voice. Her eyes never leave the road. For a while, he limited himself to admiring her while she drives. Why does he think this is an extremely sexy thing? But everything she does makes her sexy, damn it. Her fingers moving on the steering wheel as she takes a turn or signals, or changes gear to stop at the traffic light, and those legs, so uncovered, and yet not enough...

He clears his throat, because he feels dry, despite being practically drooling. -Penelope...- then he comes out from his mouth, nothing more intelligent, in spite of the thousand high thoughts that run around his head. He always ends up making the idiot, with her.

He sees her looking at him just from the corner of her eye, just a second. -What?- she asks, passing the tongue on her lips, a gesture that she does when is extremely concentrated, is what Luke deduces, the profiler no longer in training.

He sighs and takes courage. He must take advantage of this moment, maybe she will never be so worried for him again, he doesn't get hurt so often, fortunately, even if he would be willing to take a bullet for her... Stay focused. -Are you okay?- here, he did it again, another stupid thing. But basically it is what he really wants to know. And it's also the only thing that matters.

To his surprise, the woman bursts out laughing. But it is a bitter laugh and certainly not amused. -You ask me if I'm okay?- she answers in turn with a question, just shaking her head, her hair dancing on the shoulders, so sensual. She seems to wonder how he could have dared to say such a thing. But then she changes her mind. -Yes, of course I'm fine.- she's lying, but so clearly that maybe he should consider it a mockery. -If it were not that two of the people I love most in the world risked being killed, but... they're the professional risks, right?- Luke doesn't hear the second half of the sentence, because his brain repeats like a broken record two of the people I love most in the world. One was Rossi, who lived something worse than him, even though he didn't want to talk about it with anyone. And the second was him. There is no need to ask for confirmation.

The man gives another sigh, looks out the window, then at the bear that seems to return his look and give him the coward and idiot. -You look angry...- he ventures to say, in a low voice, a sad tone, hoping that this is enough not to make her alter even more. She rolls her eyes, before taking a left turn. Luke knows that road well, and he knows that they are almost there to their goal.

Penelope waits a few seconds on purpose, to make him anxious. -No, no, angry, why should I be?- her tone is clearly ironic, but he can recognize many nuances of a wounded person, suffering. But he can't believe it could be for him. -I don't understand how Lisa can handle all of this every time.- the woman adds, but almost in a whisper, so that he can't hear it and doesn't even ask her to repeat. He just misses an ounce of courage to put his hand on hers on the gear while she is taking the last street.

-Are you angry with me?- he merely asks, shuddering, waiting for her answer. This time she doesn't make him wait a long time, she bursts out completely, even giving a punch at the wheel.

-Yes, I'm angry with you!- she admits, but incredibly doesn't scream and this makes it even worse. -Do you realize you could have been killed?- she says, twisting her lips until them bleached. -Think if she would have hit you in the artery, or in the heart ì...- he doesn't have time to correct her, she understands alone -no, surely you were wearing the bulletproof vest, but... but she could have hit your neck!- she concludes, satisfied that she has proved the validity of her theory.

This time Luke doesn't let himself be stopped by his fears of being rejected. -Hey, hey, breathe.- he says, with a sweet and affectionate tone, while he caresses her fingers on the steering wheel, with his right hand. -It's all right, it's just the arm, I was lucky.- he adds following the same melody. Penelope doesn't answer anything, doesn't react in any way, pretends to be too focused in finding a parking space.

-Yeah.- she opens his mouth again, before putting the handbrake on. -We arrived.-

A few hours later, they go back to the car. This time she doesn't open the door and Luke resists the temptation to return the favor, because he knows that if he did it, she would blame him because the doctor said he must rest, and it would not do any good to remind her that he has two arms, and he can still do a lot of things without compromising the injured limb.

Penelope, again, looks at him as little as possible. -So?- he asks her, feeling a little more secure than before. -Are you happy now?- Luke, however, turns his head without shame in her direction, and imprints the details of her face on the retinas.

-Yes.- she replies in a rather neutral tone, something too strange for Garcia, suspicious, and even worrisome. He looks at her fingers go automatically on the radio knob, old-fashioned, very charming, like... like her. All without obviously looking away from the guide.

My dear love, I dreamed of you, tormented inundated by the sea, I woke up and I saw, it's a relief to go away, it's an offense to stay...

He doesn't let distract by music anyway, he stays focused on her, just for a change. -Mmm, you don't seem to me quiet.- he has the courage to point out.

Penelope seems annoyed, upset. -Alvez, please, try to shut up.- his first reaction to being called by surname is sadness. He is now used to being Luke for her too. But then, the malice takes over, the desire to prick her, because he loves their bickering and he missed a bit them.

...it's a crime remain closed in this dark place, a joy to find myself talking about the future... shame... rancor... refreshment... but now forgiveness, forgiveness.

He then frowns, and looks at her through the rearview mirror. -I am Alvez, now?- even the tone that comes out is provocative and flirting. She tries to show indifferent or irritated by his tricks, but a half smile escapes her, and she hurries to erase it.

-Well, the fact that you are hurt doesn't change your being unbearable.- she answers, shuts him up and clearly enjoying this quick success. In fact, Luke is not offended, on the contrary, he is in turn pleased with her ability to develop sharp and spot on answers. Another of the things he finds sexy in her. Probably (surely) even if he saw her throw a card in the trash, he would think how sexy she is. You will come back hurt seriously rather than offer a remedy and then heal... you will walk forever in silence rather than telling me even once "comes back to me"! It is for this reason if he is silent, paying attention to the words of that strange song for the first time. Too late to make it better, too better now to feel bad, I'm too good now to feel bad, I'm too better! And apparently, it's not the only one. -Look, even the radio is make fun about your stupidity!- she points out, just giggling. The man doesn't reply anything, he just smiles and enjoys that sound. Unfortunately, at this time the traffic is much little, so too early he sees the street where he lives. -We arrived.- in fact, Penelope says, parking a short distance.

Luke scratches his head, feeling that he should say something smart, at least now, before saying goodbye, something that makes her at least guess how much she impressed him and made him happy to receive her attention, so that maybe it can repeat in the future, maybe without he must get a stab... -Well, then... thanks for the ride.- but his brain, once again, doesn't want to collaborate. He curses himself, but tries not to show her own inner struggle, so as not to seem also crazy.

But Penelope still has a wild card to surprise him with. -What do you think?- she asks, looking at him perhaps for the first time in three or four hours directly in the eyes. How much he missed doing it. When he looks at her, something happens inside of him, it's hard to explain, it's not that everything around him disappears, but he can't see it perfectly. -I have to make sure you're not alone.- she says, speaking as if it were an obvious fact and he was a fool for not having understand it on his own. Luke doesn't feel like replying, but as a small personal revenge he slams the car door, still receiving a bad look. And he also opens the door. -Is Lisa at home?- she asks as they get on the elevator to reach the floor of his apartment.

He understands that this would be the right time to tell her, to let her know the big news, but then, he can't do it. -No.- he answers. -In fact...- just at that moment the doors open and he surrenders. Who doesn't know how, she is able take possession of the keys, she steals them and turns them in the lock, as if this had always been her home.

As soon as she enters, she is overwhelmed by an orange tornado. -Roxy!- she exclaims in a sweet tone, bending down to let himself be kissed. -Hello lovely!- she caresses her and makes some little cricket behind her ears. There was never a need for him to tell her that her dog loved that kind of pampering, she already knew it by herself. -Be a good girl, daddy is a bit battered...- she adds in a lower tone, but not enough for Luke, who hears it. The man trembles, feeling overwhelmed, submerged by too many emotions. Then she stands up and seems to notice some other details. -But... where are her things?- she looks at him, looking for some telltale sign, in search of the lie she thinks he will say. -Why is your house so... empty?- it's clear how she tried to look for another type of adjective, but she couldn't find it.

Luke sighs. This time it's inevitable, he has to tell her. And why he doesn't want her to know? He knows perfectly well that he will never have even a 0.000000001% of hope, until Penelope will continue to believe that he is involved with another girl. -Well, you know... we broke.- it's all he can stutter. Because he also knew that she would take it badly, certainly more than him. Because she thinks he's sad, maybe that Lisa was the love of his life... but it's not like that.

And in fact, this time no unexpected surprises, everything going as expected. -What?- she asks first, unable to conceive of it, blinking her eyes and opening her splendid red mouth wide. -When?- she adds, with the same expression on her face.

He is about to tremble. -It... it was shortly after that thing of the party at my house...- he explains, reluctantly, clarifying with his own way of making his discomfort and his intention not to add other details. She seems to give him a truce.

-And you didn't say anything to anyone?- is the third question in a row that she asks. It looks like an interrogation, but he survived to the polygraph, and it gave him less stress. -Or only to me?- she adds, suddenly, looking at him already with a wounded expression.

He can't allow her to believe that he doesn't trust her, that he was afraid that by telling her, in a while all the building would know everything, like that time with Tara's brother. -No- he is quickly to deny then -look, I...- but then he fails to add anything else, has a lump in the throat and although he is not about to cry, his eyes are still big and shiny, and she, believing that both are for the pain of having loosing Lisa, she feels the need to comfort him.

-Oh, Luke! - she exclaims with a tone so sweet, broken voice, which reminds him when he came out of the elevator to give her Lou, after... he doesn't want to think about it now. Penelope hugs him, holding him tightly against her. Nothing to do with their first hug, which he also had enjoyed immensely. But then she comes off suddenly. -Oh, sorry, I didn't want to hurt you!- she says, bringing her hands to her face, worried and guilty, although he hasn't even issued a moan of pain. -How are you?- she asks him, stretching out her hand as if to verify something, and then pulls away halfway.

He feels obliged to reassure her and once again he is forced to fight with his own fear. -No, no, I'm fine and even if it was painful, it would be worth it.- he can even add, amazing first of all himself. He expects her to laugh in his face, makes fun of him or finds a way to belittle what sounds like a half declaration, like "If I ever do become the someone...". Instead, Penelope blinks and bites her lips.

-Oh, how sweet you are!- she says, letting go to the emotion. -But then how will you do it, are you going to be ok alone?- she starts again with the concerns. If he wasn't afraid that she could misunderstand him again, Luke would giggle or at least smile. -Do you need help?- she asks him directly, and he certainly can't answer with the truth. -I don't have anyone waiting for me at home, except from Sergio, but he will survive... if I can do something for you...- again he can hardly hold back, but he feels a thrill of excitement when she, innocently, points out the fact that only her black cat awaits her, not another man, Canadian or of other nationalities.

He just shakes his head. -Uhu, Penelope, I don't know, you've already done a lot and...- it seems that without wanting to have said the right thing, he has expressed the correct magic formula. The woman lights up and returns to show decisive, as when she dragged him to her car, now a lifetime ago.

-C'mon, don't even joke.- she exclaims, only realizing at that moment that she is still wearing her coat. She goes to hang it where once there was a doctor's coat. -Now I'm going to make you a cup of tea, which is always a good idea.- it is clear that it is not a negotiable option. -Sit up, like a good guy.- she gives him a slight nudge, forcing him to execute her kind order. Then she fades into the kitchen, leaving him alone with his own thoughts. It is the first time that there are only two of them in his house. Except from Roxy, who looks at him as if she too thought he was a stupid, moreover without courage. Then he realizes that she has been away for too long and reaches her.

He sees first two steaming cups and then she, her shoulders bent and head bowed, her body jerking slightly. He has to be completely silent to catch her sobs. -Garcia?- he calls her a first time. -Garcia?- he tries again, but she doesn't move. -Penelope?- he exclaims then, in no way hiding his concern. -Penelope, are you... are you crying?- he takes a step towards her, and then another. She just turns around. She doesn't dry her eyes, like the other time, but she doesn't try to deny the obvious.

-No, yes... just a little.- she admits at the end. Luke just doesn't get there.

-Why?- he asks, stroking her shoulders and seeing her jump. -Did something happen that I don't know?- a thousand theories go through his head in those brief seconds.

-No, it's just that...- she still doubts whether to say it and then throws herself. -I realized suddenly that I really risked losing you.- she confesses, and takes a little too much to correct herself. -We risked losing you, I wanted to say.- he doesn't point out this to her, because he understands that it could only make the situation worse and risk that she could closing up even more like a hedgehog. -It'll pass.- she reassures him, but her cheeks are still red, like the eyes.

-You will not get rid of me so easily, baby.- it escapes him, without any premeditation, as it happens too rarely to him to get real results. She doesn't seem to want let him off the hook, and turns completely towards him, raising a single eyebrow.

-Baby?- she repeats, confused, but apparently not annoyed.

Luke knows that now the damage is done, then shrugs. -What, did I do wrong?- for his immense joy, Penelope shakes her head and smiles.

-No, it's just that it's... it's weird.- he agrees with her, nods. It's weird, but in a good way, it's weird because it's new, it's weird because he's not Derek and he feels more for her than the chocolate thunder. -Now we have to drink tea, before it becomes cold.- she can find a way to change the subject, grabs everything and moves to the living room, quickly followed by the man.

They didn't mention the moment when she should have gone to her house, because neither of them wanted it to come. That's why it's late-night, and she's still there, sitting on his couch, while he's gone to the room to change his clothes. -Urgh, I would like to know how the hell a person could take off a shirt with one arm only.- she can't hear every word, but especially catches his moans and his pain screams held back. -In the movies they make it seem so easy...- she gets up and stops at the door, undecided whether to knock, then the hand acts without asking permission to the heart.

-Luke, is everything ok?- she asks. -Can I go in?- but she has already opened the door, because in fact only in case he was naked she could stop.

-Yes, come in, even if I'm not a pretty picture.- Luke answers. For a moment she seriously thinks of beating him for the bullshit he said. In what condition, in which universe Luke Alvez could not be more than excellent sight for the eyes? But then she desists and only sighs, annoyed.

She notices first the sweat on his forehead, then his eyes, bright and his expression so depressed and disappointed. -What... why did not you call me?- she asks him, without waiting for an answer that doesn't really interest her, because she has her theories. -You shouldn't be ashamed of me. By now we are like brother and sister.- he can't bear this.

-Mmm, brother and sister?- he shakes his head and decides that he couldn't be more humiliated. -I don't think about you as a sister, Garcia.- he raises his eyebrows and gives her a clear and determined look. Penelope, however, is able to get out of hindrances.

-Ok, take a deep breath, courage...- she approaches and gently begins to pull out one arm, then the other and the head last, until he remains bare chested. -Huh...- even he, from the height of his ingenuity, he realizes that the moment of confusion is due to his pectorals, so he stops feeling embarrassed. -Here, done.- she exclaims, shivering, before recovering completely. -Yes.- she nods to herself. -Now we put the other shirt.- she speaks with a soft and calm tone, as if he were a child, and manages to make him perform the operation in a totally painless way. -Finished.- she sighs. Then she seems to realize the way Luke is staring at her. -Maybe... maybe now I should come back to my home.- she tries to take a step away from him, realizing that she is too much, too close him, although in recent weeks they have been very close, but not so much. But he stops her, grabs her by the arm, naturally using the right hand, the healthy one.

-No, wait.- she stops, giving herself the excuse that she does so not to make him do useless efforts. -Penelope, did... did you worry about me? But I mean really really worried?- the specification is necessary, because he doesn't want to live in the gray area anymore. He wants concreteness and security, he wants her to help him get dressed for the whole week in which he has to keep the bandage, and he also wants that she not go back to her house tonight.

-I..- she falters, feeling trapped. -...no, I was worried about Roxy and Lisa, that is, when I thought you were still with her, and then without you how I could do it, with whom I could make joke and...- she raves, and usually he loves hearing her talk, listening the sound of her voice, but he understands that there is also something else that he can love even more, so he catches her again, this time by placing his palm open hand on her back and pushing her towards him, until their lips meet, attracted like magnets from opposite poles. -What... but you were not hurt?- she doesn't ask him why he kissed her, her only concern is his health, and he almost lets himself be moved by seeing her so stubborn, but then malice overcomes because a kiss alone can not be enough for him. In fact, the hand remained on her back.

-Yes, but in the left arm, the right one is in great shape and I don't need much else to...- he winks, but then moves on to concrete facts, moving lower, slowly, just because he doesn't want to ruin everything because of the rush.

-Hey, honey, stay fresh.- here's the playful Garcia. -They told you that you don't have to force it, you don't have to make sudden movements.- she reminds him, trying to instill a little common sense to the man. Luke snorts, making her giggle.

-Imagine if I couldn't have this misfortune.- he exclaims, clearly annoyed. She keeps laughing. -But I'm not a mummy, I can still do a lot of things...- he knows it's a losing battle, but as they say, sometimes the best part it's in the journey, not in the destination. And in this case the best part is in playing with her even knowing the verdict already.

-How long have you like me?- she asks him, surprising him for the umpteenth time. The man scratches his head, for a moment, letting himself be panicked, as he would have done before kissing her. But then he remembers this little detail.

-Urgh, a question a bit too direct.- he comments, taking time and certainly not because he doesn't know the answer. -I think... since we met.- he reveals, not too embarrassed. Penelope nods, as if to say that she hadn't expected anything different, although nothing before the kiss had let him believe that she knew what he felt for her.

-Practically three years.- she points out in a decisive tone, as if she were simply quoting a case report. -You held on for three years, you can resist two more weeks, don't you think?- that's where she wanted to go.

-Ugh.- Luke snorts again, sitting on the bed with a thud. Roxy licks his hand, as if to share his pain.

-Come on, don't make that face.- Penelope affectionately scolds him, caressing his cheeks and sitting next to him. -There's always something we can do anyway.- she says, winking, before starting over where they had stopped.

TAGS: @theshamelessmanatee @arses21434 @kathy5654 @martinab26 @reidskitty13 @jenf42 @gracieeelizabeth27 @silviajajaja @smalliemichelle99 @charchampagne14 @thinitta @myhollyhanna23 @garvezz @mercedes-maldonado @shyladystudentfan

#garvez #penelope garcia #luke alvez #criminal minds #cm #post 14x13 #penelope x luke #luke x penelope #garcia x alvez #alvez x garcia #roxy #tiziano ferro #troppo bene per stare male

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nekob00 · 6 years

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Prompt: Gift- Jackie gives Marvin a gift

A/N: I got into my own head a bit but I really just wanted an excuse for Marvin to have a pet cat. >.>

(Side note: Rusty is my cat and I wanted to use him in a story too)

***

Jackie walked down the street, glancing into various store windows absentmindedly, wondrously oblivious to the cold chill that cut through his suit. Marv had gotten sick and Jackie felt like it was his fault. He had dragged the magician out into the cold and wet. As a result, several of the magician's things had been destroyed due to coughing fits causing his magic to go haywire.

Now he was on a mission to find something to give him to make him feel a little better. He had remembered Chase saying he would give his kids gifts when they got sick and it always seemed to lift their spirits some. It wasn't a far off thought to assume it would do the same for Marvin now. The question he kept asking himself, however, was what could he get him?

He passed by window after window in the strip mall but nothing really jumped out at him as something Marv would want. What do you get for someone who can conjure what ever they want? He could get him another magic set. 'I'm sure he'd love that' he thought ruefully. The others had inundated him with them at the beginning. Jackie was almost certain there were more than enough stashed in his closet untouched already.

No. No gag gifts. He wanted to give him something he would actually like.

***

Marv was exhausted, evidenced by the heavy eyelids and the dark circles under his eyes. The itch in the back of his throat had kept him up almost all night coughing and the few hours he had slept were restless and full of fever dreams. He was miserable but he refused to go see the good doctor about it. It was just a cold. Everyone got them and seeing Schneep for something so trivial seemed like a waste of time. He just needed rest... maybe a cough supressant too, but mostly rest.

...he also needed to clean up. The house was a disaster area and it was really bothering him. He simply stared at it for a few long moments. It was a lot of effort just trying to muster the motivation to pick up the broken glass from the lamp that exploded or sweep up the insides of the feather pillow that now drifted gently to the floor from the most recent episode.

His shoulders slumped and he looked around, somewhat dejected, leaning briefly on the broom before he began to sweep up the remains of the pillow and the lamp.

It took him considerably longer to clean up than it should have but at least the living room was clean again- for now. At least until he started coughing or sneezing again.

***

Jackie groaned, perusing aisle after aisle looking for... something. Anything. Anything that might jump out at him as something Marv would like. He had looked at baubles and knick knacks. He'd looked at toys and crafting supplies. Decorations and paintings. Posters, models, blankets. Nothing stood out... at all.

He reached up and rubbed his temples.

"Excuse me, sir?" It was another shopper. She looked awkwardly at the hero standing in the middle of the crafting supplies aisle and then immediately averted her gaze shyly. "You... uh... you seem frustrated. May...maybe I can help?"

Why not? What could it hurt? He was out of ideas. "I'm looking for a gift for a friend," he replied, a half-hearted smile lifting the corner of his lips slightly.

"Well..." she thought, her hand nervously pushing through the long hair. "What's it for? What does your friend like?"

Both were reasonable questions... but he could only really answer one of them. He knew what Marv liked but he had magic. It made things more difficult so he focused on the first question. "He's sick... and it's... kinda my fault," he muttered sheepishly.

"Awe," she smiled empathetically. "I doubt it's your fault."

"Maybe."

Her head cocked to the side and he could tell she was mulling over the predicament thoughtfully. "Is he your roommate?"

He shook his head.

"Does he live alone?"

Nod. "Any pets?"

Another shake of his head.

"Well... I mean, I don't know if he likes pets... but I know when I'm sick, being around my dog helps me to feel better. It's probably a stretch, but maybe you could get him something to keep him company... like a pet... or a roomba." she was trying to make a joke and he couldn't help but smile.

That did give him an idea though. He thanked her and darted out of the store.

***

Marvin had just curled up on the couch under a blanket when he heard a knock at the door. 'You have got to be kidding me' he thought, grumbling as he kicked the cover off, the effort keeping him seated for a long minute.

Another excited knock narrowed down the list of who it could be- either Chase or Jackie.

Slowly he shuffled towards the door, opening it to see the hero standing there practically bouncing with excitement. What Marvin would give to have his energy right about now.

Jackie's arms were crossed over his chest and he was practically beaming at the exhausted magician from beneath his mask. Marv quirked an eyebrow and stepped out of the doorway to let him in. He didn't know what Jackie was up to, but clearly he was delighted about something. He waited.

"I felt bad for getting you sick... so I wanted to get you something to make you feel better." he blurted out.

"Oh... kay..." Marvin was confused.

"I looked through a whole bunch of stores but I couldn't think of anything and I was talking to this girl and..."

"Breathe and slow down. Jesus, Jackie. You're talking a mile a minute."

Jackie took a deep breath, unzipping his suit a little, and furry face poked out under his chin. His little pink nose sniffed absently and the green rimmed golden eyes took in his new surroundings with an obvious curiosity.

"She said that her dog always made her feel better... so I thought maybe a pet would make you feel better. His name is Rusty."

"You got me a cat?" the irony wasn't missed upon Marv.

"He's really sweet! I thought he could keep you company. He's pretty chill too." He pulled the cat out of his suit and cradled him in his arms, half holding his breath while he waited for a reply. He hoped he hadn't made a mistake.

Marv hesitated briefly and then held out his arms for the all white ball of fur and Rusty immediately leaned towards him, pushing away from Jackie and squirming a little. As soon as he was in Marvin's arms, though, he calmed down again and began to purr softly, nuzzling under his chin affectionately.

"I got all the stuff you need too," he offered. "Do... do you like him?"

Marvin couldn't help but smile and he rested his chin sleepily in between the soft ears. "I love him! Thank you Jackie."

Jackie beamed even brighter and set up everything that Marv needed and slipped out of the house with a quiet goodbye as the magician and his new friend curled back up on the couch. Marv did feel a little better, comforted by the gentle sound of Rusty's purring and soft fur under his fingers and he found himself drifting off to sleep, curled around his new friend.

@ashphoenix06 I hope it’s ok! I really tried! /).(\

#jacksepticeye #jacksepticeye fan fic #writing prompt #gift #JBM #Jackieboy man #marvin the magnificent

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thomasblanky-moved · 6 years

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day 10: in hot water

@12daysofcarnivale

rating: g characters: harry goodsir, henry collins, jane goodsir pairing: goodsir/collins word count: 3096 read on ao3

buy me a coffee!

harry had always been the type to bring home strays. the goodsir household was large and loud and even as a child, he’d scamper home with crayfish or crabs in buckets, or holding a big orange barn cat, or a baby bird. once he had even come home, a triumphant grin on his face, clutching a live grouse in his hands.

(his mother had nearly had a conniption over it being loose in the house, and then it was caught and butchered and harry had cried for days)

he supposed in a way he felt responsible for collins. he cared for him, of course, admired his gentleness even as the man himself shook to pieces, enjoyed the way his voice curled sweetly around harry’s name, had marveled in the way that collins had been able to point out every star and constellation and name each and every one of them.

(”they’re different this far north,” collins had said, looking almost bashful about it, but something inside of him had seemed to settle and harry had smiled for it)

collins had been caught with a glancing blow from that monster out there on the ice- tuunbaq, blanky had once translated for them, and lady silence had looked small and mutinous- the impact of its great large paw cracking his ribs, claws rending flesh. the wounds were large and ugly, but survivable, and it had been lucky that collins hadn’t gone into shock or caught an infection; harry suspected that the latter at least was due to the coca wine that collins had pilfered, a mixed blessing.

harry had done his best to stitch him up and had felt guilty that out of all the men he could save, he was glad that collins was one of them.

and after, after, when they were swathed in wool blankets that weren’t threadbare and had bellies full of hot food that wasn’t ridden with lead, when the bandages that were wrapped ‘round collins’s middle were fresh and clean instead of tattered, the man will look so small and miserable that harry near aches with sympathy.

“do you have any family?” harry had asked him in his kindest voice, but collins’s shoulders had drawn up about his ears with a wince. “i could write them, if you wish, tell them that you’re safe. i’ll send the letter out with my own.”

“don’t.” he doesn’t know if collins had meant for the word to come out a whisper but it had, a rasping, sad sort of breath. “i don’t... i’m not well, doctor. in the head. don’t want them to see me like this, billy and harry and the girls. it’s not- i’d rather be dead, than come back to them like this.”

harry draws in a sharp breath at that; he had known that collins had been hurting, horribly so, but he hadn’t thought it had gone so deep to make collins value his life so little. he lays his hand over the other man’s, says, “do you have anywhere to go, once we return?”

collins shakes his head no, just the slightest movement.

“then you’ll come with me,” he decides. “nearly all my brothers have left for homes of their own, so there will be room enough at rosebank.”

that was how harry ended up walking down one of anstruther’s streets, collins near enough at his side that their arms brushed. they both looked rather ragged and disreputable, he was sure, but the streets around him felt familiar and close, inundated with childhood memories. he noticed different things, now, whether by separation or experience, and it fits strange on him like an old coat.

“that’s the baker’s shop,” harry says, pointing out the building as they pass; has done this time and time again, bringing collins’s attention to some landmark and giving a childhood anecdote. “my younger brother robert- bob, really- was sweet on one of the daughters. he’d spend all his money on pastries he didn’t like just to talk to her, and he’d blush and stutter his way through every time.”

later he gestures at the beach as they climb the hill, says, “i used to spend days out there in the sand. i would bring things back to the house- crabs, mostly- and be scolded for it, but it never stopped me. that’s what i did before, you know; i studied crabs.”

the before what didn’t need to be specified.

collins smiles a little, small, and something lightens in his face as he pauses to look out over the water. “my sister maggie, margaret,” he says, “she loved birds. she’d point out every one we saw, but i couldn’t ever remember all the names.”

harry smiles, too, and just barely touches their fingers together before they continue up the hill.

rosebank was a decently sized house, tiled roof and white-washed walls, and a fixture in harry’s life for as long as he could remember it. this was what he thought of when he had buoyed himself dreaming of home: this house, his parents, his siblings. the big garden that his mother and jane had loved; the work lab that he and john had constructed in the attic; the foul words that robert had carved into tree trunks when they were children.

“that’s it there?” collins asks, and harry nods. he is filled with equal parts trepidation and anxiety, a wanting to be there already while also wary of what he might find. “you’ve got a big house, doctor goodsir.”

he’s long given up any sense of humility regarding his titles; he is a doctor, an anatomist by education if not a surgeon by practice. a doctor goodsir in a family of doctor goodsirs. “i’ve a big family, too.”

the cobble road that lead to the house was the same as he remembered it, the bushes and flowers his mother had loved tenderly, the faded paint on the gate to the carriage house. a part of him had almost expected it to all be gone, to be changed with the way he had changed, these past long years.

“are you alright?” collins’s voice was soft, as if often seemed this days, but now out of compassion more than anything. harry runs a hand down his face, through the beard he’d grown during those months on the long march. he was sure he looked a fright, unshaven and framed by riotous dark curls, but he’d scarcely had time to look at himself in a mirror let alone make himself presentable.

they’d just have to take him as he was, then.

the flat stones that marked the way to the door were the same, grass a bit more overgrown between the cracks without a constant and steady stream of traffic to keep it trampled. the door was the same, the white wash on the walls, the creeping ivy that his mother had tried so hard for years to get rid of. he raises his hand to knock on the door, then decides to try the knob.

it was his home, after all, no matter how long he’d been gone. he shouldn’t have to knock to enter his own home.

the door was unlocked and so he pushes it open and the house is quiet, too quiet even for only two people. harry frowns and he hears collins shift closer, just the barest rustle of fabric, and he reaches back for the other man’s hand, reassured slightly when warm fingers tangle with his own. perhaps it was his experiences that had made him so paranoid and distrustful of silence, his neck prickling with awareness; he’d spent so long surrounded by a crush (and then a lessening, lessening number) of men that quiet had become foreign to him.

harry closes the door behind him because he was raised, well, here, and not in a barn, meaning that he had some sense of decency. collins is peering about, his face pinched in that perpetual expression of vague despair that has seemingly come to be his norm.

“you’re sure you lived here, doctor?” collins’s voice is pitched low, and harry would have thought it was a joke had he not known the man as well as he did. he opens his mouth to respond, perhaps a bit put out, but a creak on the stairs makes him look up, the nearly spiral staircase that always squeaked no matter the step.

harry feels something lodge in his throat. “jane?”

“harry?”

they stay at rosebank some few weeks, a season or maybe more. harry is glad for it; anstruther is a sleepy, quiet town, contained and familiar and free of painful reminders. collins, too, seems more settled, something lighter in his eyes, the set of his shoulders. he has been thinking of things to write to his family, to tell them that he is not well but that he is getting better, and that he hopes to see them all soon; harry helps him, sometimes, when the words get caught somewhere between his brain and his pen.

but there was grief here, too, empty spaces where people should have been. he would walk into the sitting room and expect to see his father sitting in front of the fireplace, or at his desk in the study; if he listened close enough, he swore that he could hear archie’s laughter. jane was the only one here, now, and he felt almost bad for her, all alone in the house.

the others visit by turn, john and robert and joseph. harry is glad for it, pathetically so. the first time harry is alone with john he clings to him and sobs like a child, while his brother combs his fingers through his hair, only a little bit awkward. robert, on his own, ribs harry gleefully about it all, but there’s relief in his voice when he says that he had sailed, twice, to find him and came home wanting.

(it is joseph that harry worries for, joseph who comes home and looks thin and sad and ill but so very glad that harry has returned, who holds his face in shaking hands as if he couldn’t believe that this was all real and pulls him into a tight, crushing embrace. harry reminds himself to ask john his thoughts in his next letter.)

he is getting better. they are getting better.

jane seemed taken with collins, which harry was grateful for, but even more than that he was relieved to see that collins rather liked her, as well. she gave him tasks, harry knew, to keep him busy: running errands or washing dishes or chopping wood or pulling up whatever crop she had decided was good enough to harvest. and then they would all sit down together for dinner and it would be cozy, and domestic, and everything that harry had been almost certain he would never see again.

so harry enjoys the little things he had previously put aside or never had time for. he goes back to studying crabs; he collects seashells. some shaggy tortoiseshell with a cropped tail follows collins home from the grocer one morning, and instead of chasing her off they decide to keep her; he names her apollonia (“polly, for short.”) and feeds her scraps off the table, to jane’s eternal vexation.

they go to the beach, sometimes, he and collins. they take off their shoes and socks and roll up their trousers to wade around in the tide pools, laughing and shouting as the cold waves lap over their ankles and sand seeps between their toes. collins says to him, “we used to do this when we lived in hartlepool, george and i.”

“george?”

“my brother,” collins says, and there’s something sad in his voice. “my twin, really.”

harry makes a surprised noise at that, glances over curiously. “i didn’t know you were a twin.”

the barest shrug of shoulders answers him. “i’m not, anymore.”

he backtracks, then, says, “you don’t sound as if you were from hartlepool.”

“never stayed in one place for more than a few years.” collins plucks a stone out of the sand, deep black and smooth, edges rounded; he tries to skip it but it falls flat into the water with a plop. “my father was navy, and we followed his postings. sussex is where me and george were born. hal and billy in hartlepool; maggie, some place in ireland; tamsin, decima, and lizzy were all popped out in liverpool, but by that time i was already sailing.”

“my family have all been doctors,” harry offers. he plants his hands on his hips and stretches his back, cracks his neck. “my father, my grandfather. john, bob, archie, and myself all studied medicine. we were all born here, too, along with jane and baby agnes, except for joseph. he was born in lower largo, but that’s only a few hours’ walk from here, so i’m not sure it counts.”

it’s the most harry’s ever heard collins talk about his family; occasionally there would be some throw away comment, something one of his siblings had said, or that his sister like this kind of chocolate or his brother broke an arm while climbing a tree. little, inconsequential things, but he’d never had names to go with them. he decided that having a brood of siblings rather suited a man like Collins.

“you’ve a good family, doctor goodsir,” collins tells him, and harry smiles. “you all seem very close.”

“we are. were.” it’s tinged with grief; archie’s loss still hurt, sometimes, like a healing wound. “and please, call me harry. i’ve told you this before, mister collins.”

“you have,” collins cedes, “but you’ve never called me henry, either.”

it is winter the first time harry kisses collins, a bit over a year since they had first stumbled up the hill to rosebank, ragged and tired and battered. and it’s very much that way, harry kissing collins, because harry is the one that fair falls forward while collins’s hands hover, surprised and unsure, and harry is the one that breaks it, too.

there is snow on the ground outside, falling in fat, crystalline flakes, and harry finds that he hates going out into it, but not nearly as much as collins, who takes up a near permanent position in the kitchen, wrapped up in a tartan by the stove as he tries to learn how to knit. the cold was in them, now, deep in their bones and dredging up old nightmares.

they stay indoors. harry sends john his papers to be published, collins tries to knit, and a boy from down the lane chops their wood.

the kiss itself is neither coordinated nor particularly good. harry doesn’t know why he dies it, really; perhaps some latent impulse. he was terribly fond of collins, though, and at this point the man knew him better than anyone else; not his past, perhaps, but his thoughts.

so, harry kisses him.

collins is watching him wide-eyed when he rocks away, fingers clutched in a half-woven glove, his mouth slightly parted. he looked utterly gob smacked and harry swallows down the hysterical laugh that crawls up his throat.

“i’m sorry, henry,” he babbles, “i don’t know what- that is, i didn’t. i’m not. i’m sorry-“

“harry,” collins says, and though his voice is small, harry stops talking immediately. it’s a rare moment when collins uses his name.

“…yes?”

collins’s hand is shaking slightly as he reaches out to brush his fingertips across harry’s cheek, light as a feather, and harry’s eyes flutter shut. his palms are rough, callouses that had cracked in the cold catching on harry’s beard, but the gesture is tender nonetheless. harry covers collins’s hand with his own.

“did you mean it?” collins asks, seriously.

“of course,” harry says.

collins smiles at that, something small and shy and unsure, but it’s a start.

“you’re as bad as john,” jane scolds harry, “and not even half as subtle.”

she has him cornered after dinner, having requested his help with cleaning up. collins had given them both a quizzical look- often he was the one cleaning up, always volunteering- but jane shoos him off and he goes, polly cradled in his arms.

“pardon?” he says. he tells himself he’s not intimidated- that he’s seen worse, done worse- but jane had always had something of their mother in her, and her ability to loom over him despite her height was one of them.

“i don’t care what you do to henry in your spare time,” she says hotly, and she has a finger pressed to his chest, a scowl upon her face. there is the just tiniest beginnings of bags beneath her eyes, and harry swallows. “or what he does to you. but you could at least be quiet about it, else your wailing is like to wake the neighbors and send me to an early grave with exhaustion.”

harry remembers, suddenly, that their rooms share a wall.

“it’s not like that, jane,” he protests, a hot flush crawling up his neck, even though it plainly was. “it’s-“

“i don’t care!”

his mouth snaps shut, cowed into quiet for a moment, and then frowns. “what does john have to do with anything?”

the look that jane gives him is pure disbelief paired with a noise of disgust, and she turns on her heel and strides from the room, leaving harry to clean up dinner alone.

collins sends a letter to his family in late spring of ’53, nearly two full years since they had escaped the arctic.

he was happier than he had been before, harry knew, smiled more and had nightmares less. he was still quiet, still shy and sometimes drifting, but he was leaps and bounds better than the miserable, haunted creature that had first followed harry to anstruther. there were things that had come back with them and things that they had left behind, harry knew, and they would never be the same as they were before it all, before all the death and fear and horror.

(he thought, sometimes, of lady silence, whether she had survived it all and what she was doing if she had, and his heart will swell and collapse inwards under the weight of it all and harry knows that this, too, will never leave him.)

collins writes only one letter, to his mother, and it takes him nearly two weeks to do so. harry walks with him to post it, and they walk close enough side by side that their fingers brush on the way home.

#12daysofcarnivale #the terror #the terror fic

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