#first eight or so minutes maybe less. and i just was like. eh. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

chaeiimimi · 3 years

Note

HEY BUBS! I HOPE YOU’RE DOING GREAT, PART TWO WAS SUCH A BOMB AS WELL ALDJAKDJA I’M LOWKEY GETTING BABY FEVER ALREADY AT THIS POINT LMAO JK AKSJAKS IF YOU HAVE TIME, I’D LIKE TO REQUEST OSAMU / SUNA / OIKAWA / AKAASHI ALDHAKS ANY OF THEM WOULD BE FINE UWU 😫

HEY BUBS I’M SO SORRY FOR THE LATE REPLY BFIWBFIWBF MY LIFE’S BEEN PRETTY CRAPPY LATELY, I’M GLAD YOU LIKED THE SECOD PART AAAAA STAY HAPPY AND HEALTHY BUBS ILY <3

Haikyuu Boys and a Single Mom Pt. 3

Featuring: Suna, Bokuto, Kenma

Suna Rintaro

despite being a professional volleyball player, Suna was still a university student, he evenly splits up his days to go to volleyball practice and university

he was always dreading to go to university, but he knew he needed it, and you, being his seating beside you in three classes, made university bearable

you had this amazing aura, always so gentle, and kind, you had a soft smile plastered on your face almost like a motherly smile, your voice was always calm and soft, you were just so breath-taking to look at

although you two never talked that much, Suna already knew a lot of little details about you, he once drove pass you walking to the kindergarten just one street away from your university, he knew that you carry a container of fruits in your bag, you always left as soon as classes for the day was over, and that was only a few among a hundred of little things about you

Suna admired you from afar, as much as he likes you so much it physically hurts him, love just wasn't his priority, his priority was volleyball and his career

or at least he thought

life surely has a great sense of humor because somehow you guys ended up being partners for a thesis paper

"I look forward to working with you Suna" you smiled

"likewise" he says with his usual blank face

Suna didn't want to admit it, but he was excited

"so, where do we work on this?" he asks looking at the notes he took for that class

"well, we can work on it at my place" you say casually while also looking at your notes

"are you sure it's okay?" he asks again to make sure, this girl, the person he's been crushing on for his two years in university is now inviting him to her place

"yeah, i can't really spend a lot of time outside, my son hates it"

and just like that Suna was having a mini heart attack, you were married? you have a son? what-

“hey, you alright?” you asked worriedly

Suna quickly composed himself

“uhh y-yeah, won’t your husband get angry?” he asks

“oh don’t worry I raise Kiro by myself” you smiled

Suna looked at you strangely, unable to keep up

you chuckled at his dazed look “I’m a single mother”

Suna almost breathed out a sigh of relief, thankfully he was able to stop himself or else you would get the wrong idea

“yeah, yeah sure, let’s work on it at your place” he snapped out of it, did he sound too happy to hear that you were single? yes, but we ain’t gonna talk about that

what was your ex thinking? he was pretty sure your kid was cute and you were so breath-taking to look at, what a stupid guy

“what does your son likes?”

“hm?” you asked him to make sure you heard him right

“what does your son likes?”

later in the evening, Suna showed up at your place with chocolate chip ice cream and the most expensive sushi he could find

you worked on your project for a good two hours, finalizing the outline of the thesis, while Kiro sat on Suna’s lap, your son immediately liked him, maybe because of the ice cream and sushi , but Kiro was very fond of him

“Kiro, baby, get off of Suna’s lap please he might get tired” you said to your son while you were keeping the things you used

“I don’t mind, he’s surprisingly light” Suna says as he bounces Kiro on his lap

“alright, if you say so, I’m going to prepare snacks” you made your way to the kitchen and left the two in the living room

“mister rin-rin” Kiro whispers while tugging on Suna’s shirt

“hm?” he answers looking at the kid, he was right, Kiro was extraordinarily adorable, it felt like he was looking at a smaller boy version of you and it was making her heart go feral, making him break his rules and try his best to get the both of you

“i want you to be my daddy” he whispers while fiddling with his fingers shyly

please this man is about to combust

he pats the boy’s head “sure bud” he said with a smile

“then can I call you dad?” he asks , eyes sparkling

“well it’s better to start early right? sure you can bud” he says, a full-blown grin plastered on his usually stoic face

Bokuto Koutaro

the flashing and clicking of cameras occupied the whole room where the MSBY Jackals were holding their post-game press conference, they won the game by the way and Bokuto was in high spirits answering questions thrown at him by the reporters

it was your turn to ask a question to the players and you stood up “Bokuto-san, your fans are always wondering why you’re always in high spirits, what is your secret?”

Bokuto has never seen you before, were you a knew reporter? because damn he would’ve noticed you immediately if you were on their past press conferences, you looked like a celebrity to be quite honest

“I’m playing volleyball, there’s no room for me to be unhappy” he simply says

it was you first day at your new job, quite frankly, you’re glad you quitted your old one, they forced you to stay behind the camera and write scripts for anchors when you finished a bachelor degree on broadcasting

“Can’t blame him, I’m also happy when I do my job” you mumble to yourself as you remembered Bokuto’s answer to your question

“mama!” you looked at your son who was in the arms of your cousin Kuroo

“hey thanks for doing this for me couz” you say as they stopped right in front of you

“mama! have you seen the game?! they were so awesome! Uncle Tetsu promised me to go meet MSBY!” your son happily jolts in his Uncle’s arm

you looked at him with a motherly smile, happy that you’re son enjoyed the game

“you coming with us?” Kuroo asked

“you two go ahead I’ll just rest for a bit” you were tired with keeping up with the game and asking questions

the two nodded “alright, just show this to the guard and they’ll let you enter” Kuroo says, handing you a pass

you mutter a small thank you as you watch them walk away

let’s just say Gen, your son, was liked by every single member of the team, I mean, who could ever dislike such an adorable kid?

“MSBY cool! Shoyo pwaaa! Boto bam!” he says while jumping up and down, while Kuroo watched his nephew smiling

Bokuto was particularly very fond of him, was it because the kid was unbelievably adorable? or was it because the kid reminded him of a certain reporter? He’d like to think both

“Gen-kun who’s yer fav’rite player eh?” Atsumu asks the kid

the kid looked at eight full-grown man looking at him expectantly, his eyes stopped on the black-and-white haired spiker and made grabby hands towards him “BOUTO! BOUTO!”

the members were disappointed but not surprised at all, kids tend to go to Bokuto or Hinata since they have the friendliest faces

“HEY! HEY! HEEEY!” Bokuto did not hesitate and lifted the boy up in the air, as they both giggle

“Tetsu?” your voice interrupted the commotion inside the room

Kuroo went to the door and opened it for you and the first thing you saw was your son giggling with the person stuck in your head for about twenty minutes now

“Mama!” your son screamed as soon as he saw you and asked to be put down to run towards you giving you a hug on your leg you looked down at him and patted his head gently

Kuroo cleared his throat “this is Y/N L/N my cousin, the mother of adorable the adorable Gen, she is single and ready to mingle, 2 in 1 you get an adorable son and a lovely wife, contact me for more details, the price can be discussed”

you deadpanned at your cousin, why tf was he selling you like an auction, you shook your head

you were hyper aware of the intensity of the owl-eyed spiker, making you blush

while Bokuto was over here thinking, damn he hit the jackpot an adorable son and an absolutely gorgeous wife? you bet he’s in and he’s gonna do everything he can to win you and make you and your son happy

“I’m sorry about him, please excuse me, my son and I needs to leave” you said politely and bowed as you take your son away

unbeknownst to you, Bokuto was in the middle of business with your cousin

“hey, how much for the details?” Bokuto whispers to his bestfriend as if they were in the middle of an illegal transaction

Kuroo looked at his friend with eyebrows raised

“I’ll pay any amount” Bokuto was very serious, which made the former Nekoma captain burts out laughing

“well, since you’re my good friend, a few drinks will do” Kuroo after his hyena laugh session

“Hey! hey! hey! thanks Kubroo!” Bokuto says in his usual cheery voice

later that night, you wondered why you were having dinner with your son, your cousin, and the former captain of Fukurodani, how he managed to get you flowers in such a short amount of time and this late at night was beyond your knowledge. But you weren’t complaining though, how could you when he looked adorable with a flushed face asking for your number after driving you and your son home.

Kenma Kozume

Kenma wasn’t fond of kids, he didn’t disliked them, he just preferred hanging out with adults who were less hyper, proceeds to hangout with Bokuto, Hinata and Kuroo

but he was a gamer and it is inevitable that some of his fans were kids, he didn’t mind it though he is thankful to each and everyone of his fans

being the twenty-eight year old youtuber/CEO that he is, he barely have time to go out and it happened very rarely, and today happened to be one of those rare occasions as he got out to get some ice cream in a very hot summer day

but he was in a for surprise, at an empty alley, he heard a ruckus

“give it back! please give it back!”

it was never in Kenma’s personality to pry, but something was pushing him to go check out what was going on

he went inside to the dark alley and saw four boys, about eight years old, one was in the middle, his clothes all crumpled and dirty, his bag empty, his things sprawled out, scattered in front of him

“you want this thing? it’s not even the latest model, you think kodzu-”

Kenma cleared his throat, already able to register what was happening

“ken” the bully continued

“you know kids, I don’t really like bullies” Kenma starts as he walks towards the little boy, picking up his scattered things one by one and putting it in his bag

“leave, before I report you to your school” Kenma says stoically which made one of the boys drop the game console in his hand as the three of them scramble to get out of the dark alley

the little boy picked up the game console and tried to open it, but to no avail, it was broken

Kenma went closer as he handed him his bag

“are you okay?” he asked as he crouch down to the boy’s level, it was obvious that he was not okay, his face had little scratches and his clothes were all dirty and slightly damped

but the little boy meekly nodded and looked down on his game console, which Kenma noticed

“I can get you a new one” he says in attempt to cheer up the little boy, he didn’t know what was pushing him to do so, but his heart broke at the sight of him broke his heart

“mister Kodzuken, can you please get this fixed for me instead?” for the first time, the boy looked at him with sad eyes

how could he say no to that face? he took the game console and looked at the boy

“is there a reason why you want me to fix it?” he asks

“my mom worked hard to get me that on my birthday, she didn’t buy her favorite coffee, her favorite bread, she patched up her shoes instead of buying a new one, she even lied to me that she wasn’t hungry when we ate out, I don’t wanna make her sad” the boy sadly said and wore his bag

Kenma was in awe, no wonder this boy was so polite and respectful

“alright, how but I’ll call your mother now, she is needed in this situation” Kenma says as he takes out his phone

the boy slowly dictates his mom’s phone number, and when he was done, Kenma was speechless, the number was already registered as his secretary’s number

Kenma shakily presses the call button

“sir?” your voice from the other line, never seize to make his heart skip a beat

“Y/n do you happen to have a son?” his voice was still calm

“yes, how did you know sir? i have a son he’s name is Eiji, he’s eight” you happily told him

“well, I kinda caught some kids bullying him, I think that you’re needed here” he says calmly

“oh no, my baby, i’ll be there ASAP sir, please do send the location”

“I’ll send the location to my driver, he’ll pick you up” Kenma says and hangs up as he send a quick messege and the location to his driver

Kenma was supposed to ask you out tomorrow, that was the reason why he didn’t go to the office today, he was going to surprise you at his place because he didn’t want you, the girl he liked to the horrible people of the internet

you were too pure, too kind, you always made sure to get him something to eat despite his resistance, made sure that he doesn’t overwork himself and even going to the extent where you do some of his workloads, of course he trusted you enough to do so and you’ve been working with him for four years now

but you had a child? did you have a husband? but you’re resume said that you were single? is it a boyfriend?

“you know mister Kodzuken, mama always talks about you when I ask her about her day, I think she’s got a little crush on you” Eiji smiled softly at him

which almost made the former setter melt into a puddle, the boy was adorable, and even if his original plan was to just date you, he was more than happy to have Eiji, having a mini you around made it all even better, he wasn’t fond of kids but the little boy infront of him was an exception

“I think, I can make that happen” he smiles softly

the day after you appeared looking distressed, talked to your son’s bullies and their parents at the school’s principal office with Kenma and Eiji seating beside you, you were now inside your boss’ house, he was asking you to be his girlfriend, your son happily jumping up and down beside him

how could you say no, when four years ago, you were only dreaming of this moment?

#kenma x reader #bokuto x reader #suna rintaro x y/n #suna x reader #kenma kozume #Bokuto Koutarou #suna rintaro #haikyuu scenarios

290 notes · View notes

matildashoney · 3 years

Note

Concept: you and Harry are exes and have to attend a wedding together (my song inspo is I Almost Do, but ofc you can take it anywhere you want!!)

Harry knew they would see each other again. It was inevitable, wasn't it?

Harry knew from the moment they decided to part ways that dreaded night that he would see her again, that this wouldn't be the end. He assumed that they would keep in contact, that she would reach out to him to let her know of the promotion that she received at her company, or maybe to congratulate him on the new single.

Harry did reach out, sort of, through their mutual friend, the one that’s getting married, the wedding that they’ll both be in attendance of. They kind of have to be, as part of the bridal party. Harry asked how she was doing over brunch, and their mutual friend – Molly is her name – said that she was doing well. This made Harry quiet, unsure of where to go. It’s not that he was expecting her to be doing poorly, he didn’t want that for her, especially not because he was still in love with her, but there was a part of him that was hoping she was even the tiniest bit as miserable as he was. That’s the selfish part of him, the one part she always complained about. That’s the reason they split, in the end. Harry was a bit selfish, is a bit selfish, and she wasn’t willing to give up her life for the touring and the music and the craziness that surrounded him.

YN’s whole life, all she wanted was to be an engineer.

YN used to tell her mother and father, “I want to build bridges and skyscrapers and all the things!” and when she was old enough to go to school and pursue her passions, that’s exactly what she was doing. Little did she know that she would start building stages for some of the biggest recording acts known to the music industry. Her career took her across the world, from Sydney to Tokyo to London, and she fell in love with what she was doing, even if she started at it by mistake. Her best friends were met through the industry, people that she fell in love with, people she grew to care for deeply and never wished to be parted from in her life.

Harry Styles is one of those people.

Immediately, Harry and YN hit it off, talking about their experiences in the music industry, the concerts they’ve seen, the stages they’ve loved and hated. They bonded over their love for artists and the way that music is unique to everyone, and how everyone’s muse is a little bit different. YN wasn’t nosey or prying into his personal life, and to be honest, she couldn’t care less. Harry was simply Harry in those moments in the office, not Harry Styles, the pop sensation. That’s how she saw him. That’s how she always saw him, even at the end of everything.

YN knew what she wanted and demanded it gets done. Harry liked that. He made that much very clear. She was pretty much expecting it when Harry asked her out for the first time. Harry asked her on their first date the night she visited the O2 Arena for their first construction of the stage, her first time seeing it live and in action. Harry had asked her on a date a bit before he was about to go on stage when he was dressed and ready and his band was making their way and she was mingling with other techs. It was quick, caught her off guard if she was honest. “Would you get drinks with me after the show?”

And before YN could properly understand what was happening in her life, she and Harry were exchanging keys to each other’s houses and staying the night and moving in clothing and going to weddings together. Their friends called it a whirlwind romance, and many of them admittedly said it was something that couldn’t see lasting past a few months – great friends they had back then – but if she was being honest with herself, which often she was, she loved every minute of it. YN loved Harry, more than she loved anyone before him, and she wanted to spend her life loving him and loving her career.

YN enjoyed going to the studio and hearing him record the songs that would never get heard past her ears. Harry loved watching her sketch out new stage plans for artists that he adored. They loved going to concerts together, seeing her work portrayed to thousands and thousands. Mutually, they respected each other’s crafts and their dedication, and it was something that bonded them more than it separated them.

Until the dreaded tour conversation came about.

Harry wanted her to come with him, to take a year remotely and travel the world with him, with her significant other, her partner. YN wanted Harry to understand that her career came first, just like his. That he didn’t like. In Harry’s eyes, YN came first, that he would’ve dropped everything for her and she wouldn’t do the same. Harry wouldn’t listen after that, and it led to a dreaded conversation in her kitchen with their keys on the table and two glasses of wine, saying that maybe in another life this was meant to be.

Eight months later, Harry is trying to prepare himself for what it’ll be like to see her again. Harry’s never stopped loving her. Hell, he’s written an entire album of songs that no one will ever hear because they’re lyrics he only wants her to hear. He nearly sent it to her, last month, all the recordings, simply to see if she would have something to say.

Always an almost. That’s how everything has been with YN, lately. Almost called. Almost sent the recordings. Almost reached out. Harry can never do the damn thing. He can never just say it. It’s always on the tip of his tongue, one step away. Harry’s always just one step away from her.

He can see her from across the room. It’s easy to notice her. YN is so fucking beautiful. He’s always said that, that her beauty is unlike anything he’s ever seen before. He notices her before he’s even made his way to the room where all the groomsmen are getting ready. Her voice travels through the tiny hallway in the hotel and Harry stops dead in his tracks, aching at the sound. He hasn’t heard her voice in so long. Way too long. He doesn’t want to disturb her, to take her away from her friends that she’s talking to, but more than anything he wants to steal her away and talk, just talk about anything, to simply hear her voice.

YN sees Harry almost as easily as he sees her – he certainly spotted her first – and walks right to him with her signature smile printed on her lips, leaving her friends behind and waving them off when they mention waiting for her. He swallows thickly and nearly extends his arm to shake her hand – now what would she have done with that – but she is too quick for him, always has been, and hugs him tightly, whispering, “Hey, H.” Harry nearly melts at the name. “It’s good to see you.”

Hugging feels intimate in the quiet hallway, and Harry stops himself a few times from breathing her in, the scent of her perfume that he knows too well bringing back memories that existed only in the furthest depths of his memory. He smiles warmly when she loosens her grip and steps away, saying something about seeing him at the aisle and saving a dance for her, something along those lines. He was too in awe of her to be paying all that much attention, in all honesty.

Harry watched as she walked away, and silently beat himself up for not saying more.

Harry’s hand was shaking against his side when YN walked towards him at the base of the aisle. He silently told his brain to ‘quit fucking around’ but it didn’t do all that much. She slinked her arm through his and smiled, nodding towards where the other bridesmaids were already walking and waiting for them. He didn’t notice that he was keeping them behind.

Green eyes are on her the entire ceremony, and she surely notices. Everyone does. Nearly to the point where one of the groomsmen nudge his arm and make him stare at the bride for even a nanosecond. Harry shrugs it off, saying that it’s nothing and that’s he’s fine, but everyone knows that he’s swimming with regret and unanswered questions.

He is fine. Harry’s fine. He’s fine until YN walks over and says, “I think you owe me a dance.”

Harry smiles his signature smile and stands, leaving his whiskey on the table and scooting his chair against the hardwood floor, taking her hand that’s stretched out for him and bravely kissing her knuckles. YN smiles, and he knows that wherever this is going, it’s nowhere near what the worst-case scenario he created in his head might have been.

“God, I love this song,” she says as soon as they make their way to the dance floor. “I’m working on their stage, right now. They have a tour coming up, this year.”

Harry circles his arms around her waist, exactly like he used to, and brings her into his chest, their faces mere inches from each other. Her hands lay on his shoulders, inching towards his neck, and the way their eyes are staring into each other’s make him know that there is still something there, even in the slightest capacity. “Busy bee, as always.”

“Have to do something with my time,” she giggles, shrugging her shoulders and licking her lips. Harry remembers that she does this when she’s nervous, and for the first time that night, it feels like his nerves begin to ease. “How are you? How’s everything?”

“Eh, well, I’m okay, I guess,” Harry says, and he believes that to be true. He is okay. He knows better than to lie to her, too. YN has a radar for bullshit. “I wrote two albums, this year.”

“Two?” YN blinks, waiting for confirmation. When Harry doesn’t say anything in return, she continues, “That’s amazing, H. I’m really proud of you.”

Harry doesn’t know how to react to that sentiment, because, although it feels painfully good to hear, it is still painful, nonetheless. “That means a lot coming from you.”

“It’s been a while since we talked,” she says softly, sliding her arms further around his shoulders and clasping her hands together behind his neck. “I’m sorry I didn’t reach out sooner. I, there were things I wanted to tell you, and I wanted to share with you, but I just couldn’t. Things felt too raw. I wanted to talk, but every time I would go to dial your number, it was like, a mental block.”

Harry nods sadly, almost like he’s agreeing with her. “I know. I almost called, I almost texted. Good amount of almost things. You don’t have to explain yourself to me.”

“H, we said we’d stay friends.”

“Am I not your friend, YN?” Harry chuckles, but she knows that there is pain behind it, an aching question that is dying to be answered unless the answer is something neither of them wants to admit. “Honestly, I just thought you’d moved on or hated me. I resigned to either of those reasons. I was okay with either, as long as you’re happy. That’s all I wanted to know.”

“Harry,” she says, shaking her head adamantly and meeting his glassy stare, “that’s the last thing from the truth.”

Harry doesn’t say anything for a minute or two, maybe more, and YN is beginning to wonder if this conversation was a mistake. His silence is deafening and there’s a moment where she thinks she’ll slip out of his grasp, only to feel his palms widen on her back and one hand slip away to take her hand and spin her around. Harry smiles softly and listens to her laugh, and soaks in the sound, very unaware of where the conversation will go afterwards.

Music still plays behind them, and couples come and go from the dance floor. Harry and YN mind their business, dancing quietly and leaning into each other and soaking at the moment that feels like it could last a lifetime. His hand is holding hers, his other splayed across her lower back, and her cheek is resting on his shoulder when he whispers, “I still love you.”

Her hair falls down her back and across her face when she turns her head on his shoulder, and Harry reaches forward with their interlocked hands and brushes it away from her cheek. His expression is neutral, calm, and she can barely tell if she was meant to hear the confession or not. “Harry.”

“I still love you.”

128 notes · View notes

lovely-necromancy · 3 years

Text

A Cure for Insomnia CH.2

Getting back to your little one story cottage, you can only manage to rush in and run about in a mad dash as you try to accomplish getting ready for work and getting something to eat. Running through choices in your head as you change and freshen up, nothing sounds good. There's not much time since your shift starts at nine and to make it to the store you need to leave by eight twenty. You got home at eight fifteen, and while Nate, your manager, has never seemed to give a fuck what you did at work you're still in your probationary period and would like to keep the easiest job you've ever had.

It's a really simple gig, seeing as the store you work at is actually a front for some illegal activity. The variety of crime you aren't sure of, but you are aware there's no way you guys do no business and yet they can afford to pay thirty dollars an hour. Thankfully just keeping your mouth shut and being nice to little Jo, the owner's daughter, is enough to keep you in the cushiest job in the world. The store's front is a regular old book store, all the books are real, the registers work, you're able to sell books and you've run to the bank to do the weekly deposits twice for Book & Nook. The front is very legitimate or it would be if the amount of customers ever equaled the sales made.

Again you don't ask questions, because for thirty dollars an hour you get to goof off for a couple hours a day, plus you get a bonus when you watch little Jo at the shop. She's a real sweet eleven year old, she's got tourettes and took a shine to you the first time she saw you tic. While you both might not suffer the same disorder she finds the common ground nice, like it's not just her. It's not even hard to watch her or enjoy her company, she'll come bouncing in with her excited chittering and hands clapping spilling all the latest gossip that comes with being in middle school. And boy is there a lot of gossip.

It's really nice seeing that Jo has friends at school and is even considered a “popular” kid. You remember how tough school was because no one understood you and teachers never cared enough about your personality to bring up the fact that it was clear to most faculty members that you had Autism. You excelled academically so what did it matter if you got picked on for oversharing information or for finishing assignments the minute they were handed to you. As bittersweet as the parallels are you're so glad Jo doesn't have to go through that. Never would have thought a southern school could be so accepting, much less a middle school at that.

Tearing through the kitchen you honestly can't find anything that you want to eat right now. And even after a long night of hiking/dissociating you don't think you're that peckish at all. Figuring it's best to at least take something to quell any future nausea you grab a Pedialyte Pop from the freezer. As fast as you entered your home you left, and not before ensuring twice that the door was locked and secured. While living on the outskirts of town saves you from many potential robberies, and worse salesmen, there's still the chance of some lunatic with an ax hiding out in a closet to murder you. Better safe now than sorry later.

Pulling into park behind the shop right at nine is a blessing. You run into the shop to clock in blurting out a quick 'Morning' to Nate, who was carrying a particularly large box, as you passed by him. In a flash you were back at your car retrieving your newly prized deer skull. Lungs burning a bit from the all out sprint you just did you took a little extra time to close the trunk and lock your car up to catch your breath, and avoid any light headiness you might get from the empty stomach workout. Eager to share the wonders of death with your best work friends, and by that you mean Nate your manager...and only other coworker, you rush back into the building.

The shop was quiet as usual as you made your way through the door though you were in the back room where only employees could roam you had the slightest suspicion that the front of shop was just the same. It's there you find Nate, now lugging a medium sized box around to a side table. He did this a lot you suspect some type of smuggling but hey plausible deniability and all those legal matters. The taller dark haired man sees you and just as he's about to wave you over, notices your prize with a raised brow.

“The fuck d'you bring in the store?” he doesn't seem amused by whatever it is he thinks you're up to. “Deer skull.” Lifting it up in one hand and pointing at it, “Found this guy on my hike last night...or rather this morning actually.”

“YN, we talked about this, you said you'd get some sleep last night. No adventures remember.” he's only two years older than you and yet he acts as if he's ten years. He must be an old soul, or enjoys the role of care giver...or you're making him go gray prematurely, anything's possible.

“Eh, I remember saying I'd 'try' and get sleep.” for someone who's body is running on fumes your cheekiness is astronomical, “operative word being 'try', remember.”

It's a long silence as Nate decides if he wants to deal with your bullshit at this moment. After a minute or so he concedes leaning back on the table behind him. “Let's hear it.” and you perk up immediately.

“Cool, so I was walking along the tree line and spotted him, tried to find more but seems there's only one piece. Judging by the size of his antlers I'd say he was nearly fully grown. Now my plan is to do whatever treatments taxidermists do to bones and,” you continue to word vomit at the tired twenty-six year old in front of you, about the joys and wonders of taxidermy and the likely hood of ever finding a skull so nicely preserved.

“I can do that in here right?” even though it's been phrased as a question, you aren't asking permission, you're just being polite and letting Nate know the storage room will house your creepy deer skull antics for today...maybe the week you need to find a taxidermist book to figure out what you need to do.

Nate gives up and leaves with his box of new books to let you have full run of the back to do your weird vulture culture shit. He figures he's just too old to understand the new obsessions with the macabre. He hopes his cousin won't take to shit like this, the kid's weird enough as it is, no need to put another target on her back. Nate sets off to take down the Harry Potter sets in favor of this new comic series little Jo wanted.

Already taking his silence as the go ahead you place your found skull on the table and rush off into the store front to find a book on taxidermy and hopefully more specifically about bones. The set up and organization of the store reminds you a lot of the scene in Brendan Fraser's The Mummy 1997 where Evie is on the ladder and somehow causes all the book shelves to fall like dominoes. So unsafe, yet all book stores and libraries seem to have this set up. With the tall shelves it makes it difficult to accurately get a read on the spines. You don't even know what section taxidermy actually falls under, education maybe?

“Nate, where do you think a book on taxidermy would be?” you called out as you passed by him.

“...hobby?” that didn't sound right but you'd give it a shot anyway.

This should be fun, the hobby section was so disorganized and it took up nearly half the store too, Book & Nook had everything from fishing, to crochet, cooking, the art of film making, hell even had a cryptid hunting book a book that you may have to look into a bit later. You closed your eyes and let your intuition guide you, when you looked up you saw a thin black...vine, no whisp? It undulates in less than rhythmic movements nearly like a snake but it has no head, and not unlike a tentacle but without suckers. It's another hallucination so you were keen to ignore it until it stretched past your head, giving you an added auditory hallucination where you swore you could hear wind rushing past your ears, it swirled around you until it flew to the shelf and tapped on a book. Cautiously you walked over to it, it's never good to play into these delusions. Once you got close enough the black shape was gone but on the shelf was a creme colored paper back titled “Manual of Taxidermy: Complete Guide of Preserving Birds and Mammals.”

Walking to Nate with the book in your hands you asked him to read it and make sure you weren't having an episode and making everything up right now. You'd have to try harder to go to sleep tonight if that were the case.

“Oh you found your book huh?” he said looking down at the title.

Well this is getting weird fast, but you nod nonetheless. Might as well thank the weird hallucination gift right. Leaving him to do whatever it is he plans on doing the rest of the day, you go to the back. And just as the book instructs you set to cleaning the skull by setting it in some water and changing it as many times as the water runs murky. The book is quiet helpful to a beginner like yourself but it does seem a bit outdated from the bits of information you know from taxidermists blogs and vulture culture posts on the internet. Reading it in between water changes is a great way to pass the time though, not like you guys get any real customers anyways.

The bell rings as the front door opens and closes alerting you to someone's arrival on your third water change. Needing a little bit of mental stimulation you walk out into the front where Big Jo and Little Jo are talking to Nate. Little Jo sees you and skitters away from her father to rush you, she stops about a foot away and holds her arms wide open. She's a hugger but upon meeting you had never even thought people could be touch adverse so keeping in mind that you might not want to be touched she's learned to invite you into hugs and it's your choice to allow it or not. Placing a hand on your bicep you give a squeeze, checking your tolerance you find the thought bearable. Placing your arms outstretched at your sides Jo rushes your torso for her hug.

After she nearly body slammed you into the wall, and let her death grip go she was off on a tangent about so many things. Her excited rapid blinking tic, one she developed after meeting you, triggering your own.

“Ok so you remember how last week I told you that Jessie Kinsleton said that Micheal Saleisa told Gigi B, not Gigi S. that Meghan,” you had no clue the lives of eleven year olds had gotten so complex, from the gossip you heard from Jo it seemed that the school's sixth graders were plotting for a war with an ice cream parlor up the street. No clue why, maybe just to fuck the system, kids are weird, preteens are weirder...and angry.

But you nod to Jo listening to her every word, and trying to calm your eyelids so you could actually open your eyes. After being told the sequence of events that would happen in the Tween Armageddon, something to do with Marco Salvator ordering three dozen donuts and a flock of geese, your eyes finally gained their ability to see back. Black whisps, much like the one from earlier, wandered all around your vision, it looked like a dark smoke had settled eye level within the shop and was snaking through the isles.

Catching the movement of your eyes Jo looked around the shop too. Seeing nothing she turned back to you concerned, “Hey it's okay, nothin's there.”

Hearing the drop in volume of the normally chatty tween, Big Jo and Nate pause their conversation to turn their attention to you and follow you're gaze.

“Kid, you ain't sleepin' again?” Big Jo can already gauge by the bags under your eyes but he's a polite man so he feels the need to ask rather than state his assumptions.

“Day 6.” You answer simply, ever since you've started at Book & Nook the whole Cowell family became acutely aware of many of your disorders. By their record your longest time spent awake was ten days, you however adamantly say that you were an hour's mark away from ten full days so the longest you've been up is nine days in a row. And those are just the cases they know of since you've moved to Kepler.

Big Jo shook his head as a stern father would, which he is, “I have half the mind to send you home to rest.”

“That won't work.” you really don't mean to sound so coarse but it's so irritating having to go over this at least once a week.

“What about those gummy things Dia got you?”

“Long term that kind of stuff has no effect, sure it'll make me drowsie for an hour or two but even if it made me sleep one night I can't use it all the time. And before you ask the same questions again, caffeine has no real effect on me so limiting my intake will do nothing and weed doesn't do a thing for me either.” you state plainly, monotone as you present facts that everyone in the room already knows.

Looking at the stern face of Big Jo's and the exasperated face of Nate you continue, “I know it must be frustrating for you to not be able to help, but I'm content living like this. I like my late night adventures and when I do sleep it's really pleasant.”you threw in a smile for added comfort.

“Kid tha's not the point, there's somethin' wrong with you, medically I mean.” he's pinching the bridge of his nose, probably counting to ten to calm himself from raising his voice.

“Tons of people suffer from insomnia and there isn't anything a doctor could do for me except look for underlying conditions.” Big Jo's about to retort when you continue with, “Plus my dad and uncle both have insomnia as well so my case is due to the genetic lottery I lost.” You say with a hint of finality of your situation, you had to come to terms with this condition all the way back in high school. Having a decade to get used to your strange condition and the limitations it places on you from time to time. Whereas the Cowell family's only had two months to process this information, and you understand it'll take awhile before they stop being concerned. Same thing happened with you parents and friends back then too.

For now you're only met with more head shakes as if they were saying 'what are we going to do with you'. Leaving your medical issues aside Nate and Big Jo continue to talk shop, when the set up Nate just put on display catches Jo's eye.

Like lightening the tween was away from your side and by the new display shelf it looked like it held graphic novels. That's a first since you've been here, you walk over to join Jo knowing the second you do she'll start on about what's got her so excited. Most people might say you over indulge the child and coddle her but you actually just think it's really important to take interest in what makes kids happy. It helps them find their voices and also shows them that it's normal to get excited and like things.

“We got the TAZ graphic novels in?!” you hate rhetorical questions but smile and nod at her anyway.

“Have you read them? No, well you've listen to the podcast...what omg! Ok so there's these three brothers and their,” Jo begins regaling you with tales from the podcast known as The Adventure Zone and how fun they've made dungeons and dragons seem with their amazing story telling and funny characters.

You aren't sure if a show where the main group of heroes being called Tres Horny Bois is exactly age appropriate but when you look to Big Jo he kind of just shrugs it off. Turning you attention back to Jo who's now monologing about mongooses you just smile at the weird family you've found yourself in.

Let it be said that a tween with a slightly unhealthy fixation on something can find anyway to drag it back to that fixation. The day flew by with Jo explain the inner workings of dungeons and dragons, fifth edition, to you, her father, and her cousin after you mentioned why she didn't play. Apparently she'd love to but wanted a story fitting for her friend's to adventure. So being the good older cousin, father, and weird family friend you all were you came up with a story plot for her to use with her campaign.

The Jos had a lot of fun bonding over this little workshop and you guys even had food delivered so you and Nate could stay later. What was meant to just be a quick workshop turned into a mini family game night after you made several nearly impossible puzzles that wouldn't be used in Jo's campaign due to no one at the current table understanding how to solve it even after you showed them several times.

Overall it was fun and you think you might actually be tired enough to go to sleep tonight. You tried to stay and help clean up but Big Jo put his foot down and told you to go get some rest, he'd seen the way you occasionally look around the room as if something was moving behind them all. You may have started off as a cashier two months ago for him but his daughter has opened up a lot since meeting you and discovering that tics aren't so uncommon and there are people who wouldn't care or make a big deal out of them. Because of that you've earned your keep in his family, he already has you down on the list for Christmas cards.

Knowing you can't fight the six foot four man you roll your eyes and bid everyone good night, little Jo coming in to steal another hug from you and thank you for helping with her game. Checking on your skull you see the water's clear and dump it in the sink of the break room before leaving the skull to dry overnight, it's for sure gonna make Nate scream tomorrow, you can't help but chuckle at that.

Leaving through the back door and into the dusk colored parking lot you notice your trunk is popped open slightly. You definitely heard it shut earlier this morning. You blink before your head jerks to the right, unsettled by possibility of a break in and not risking it you head back inside.

“Hey, I think my car may have been broken into.” you stand awkwardly in the door way unsure of how to proceed.

Big Jo and Nate are out of the door as fast as they can. They find your car unlocked with the trunk popped, you know they weren't trying to brush you off when they asked several times if you did in fact lock your car this morning. After hearing your affirmative response each time, they began to inspect your car checking to make sure all wires are properly secured under the hood, Nate even retrieved the jack out of his own car to take a look under the car, ensuring the brakes hadn't been messed with. They started the car up just fine and it didn't appear tampered with. Even though nothing looked out of place and Nate's car, sitting in the same parking lot, hadn't been touched you appreciated them checking to make sure you were alright.

Knowing you're perceived as a woman by most, even outside of this small town, makes you uneasy when it comes to terms of abductions and violence. You know the chances and hear the stories whether it's from the victim's mouth or a podcaster's telling the story the dead can't. Nate offered to follow you home and make sure you were ok but you declined and said you'd call them both when you got home. Big Jo said to just call his home phone because Nate would be coming over tonight anyway, and if they didn't make it there before you called Dia was already at home and would pass the message along. You'll probably still try and give the shop a call if Dia answers, it wouldn't sit right with you if you wound everyone up just to not and at least try to settle their nerves.

With one final check of you car, the men even going so far as to lift seats up and feel under them, they sent you off. You drove carefully on the road tonight, ready to pull off into the shoulder at the slightest hint that something was wrong. Not even the radio was on something that you really didn't like driving without, but if there was the chance for you to catch a shift in tone of the machine you wanted to. Eventually you did end up making it home in one piece and you had called the Cowell family home, from the safety of your car, and got a spazztic eleven year old asking if you'd made it home alright. It took a little bit of coaxing but Little Jo calmed down and shouted to her parents that you were on the phone and alright.

“Kid,” looks like Big Jo took the phone away from Little Jo, “Everything ok on the drive.” Big Jo could hear the movement and shutting of your car door, he'd have to say he was relieved you waited until you were on the phone before exiting. He knew you lived out past the quiet zone in Old Lydia's house. A fact that did little for the unease he felt when he thought you were being watched.

“Oh, yea drive was fine, too quiet but fine.” you said simply as you began circling the cottage. Nothing seemed out of place on the outside, even looking above eye level where people tended to get sloppy in stalking or home invasion cases, everything seemed fine.

“Hope you don't mind if I keep you for a bit.” You had just unlocked your door and stepped in.

“Nah, kid 's fine.” you give a hum of acknowledgment as you look through the kitchen in cabinets, under cupboards, and even under the table.

“You're a smart kid.” he's taken that fatherly overtone that makes you roll your eyes. You understand the sentiment of parents and parental figures having pride in their child or ward but it's always been so weird to you when they feel the need to bring it up. Especially when they bring it up in situations that are dangerous, like can you not make it sound like someone's about to die.

Finding nothing in the living room, hall closet or bathroom you make sure all the windows are locked and dowels are in place to keep them from opening. And you double check that both the back and front doors are secured. You can hear the hushed whispers on the other end of the line, Dia must have just found out about your car, as you rustle through your kitchen utensil drawers taking out two forks before you make your way to your bedroom.

Once in your room you checked your closet and under your bed. Finding nothing you went to the window in your room, the one right by your bed, you checked the lock, secured it in place with two dowels, and then covered it throwing a thick blanket over the curtain rod to ensure no one would be viewing you in your sleep or the precautions you were about to do. Turing around and locking your bedroom door you then jam one fork into the closed door crease, right below the locking mechanism, and jammed the other fork perpendicular through the prongs. You attempted to open the door with all your weight but only could get an inch in before the forks would stop more movement.

“Kid you alright over there?” it's rushed, he probably heard the commotion with your make shift lock.

“Yea, just had to add another lock to the door.” you trust the Cowell's but you understand how stupid it'd be to let them know exactly how you were defending yourself. Even if it wasn't them there's no telling if the person who broke into your car was outside and just good at hiding. You could also be too jumpy from your true crime shows but you figure it's better to be safe.

“I think everything's good Big Jo.” taking a final glance around your room eye's landing on the bed, “Think I'm even ready to go to sleep tonight too.” a small half laugh leaves your mouth.

“Alright kid, you call if you need anything got it.” it's an order not a request.

“Got it, good night.” Big Jo might think that'd been rude coming from anyone else but from you he can only roll his eyes at the brevity and the dial tone he's met with. He has his own sweep to do, if they were targeting his employee there was a reason. He hasn't had any problems since coming to Kepler but someone always eventually comes along who can't take a hint.

Even combing through your home with Big Jo on the line you didn't feel safe having your bed by the window anymore and moved it away and in front of the closet door. You'd rearrange your room later but for tonight this would have to do. By some grace of god you were actually able to shut your brain down tonight and rest. Maybe it was the excitement and merriment from hanging out with the Cowells or more likely the situation you find yourself in of perhaps being a target for something insidious.

Whatever the case may be you are off to the land of dreams before you know it. And unbeknownst to you the same eyes from this morning watch your home. They may not have seen what you did in there but they'd be sure to catch you when you come out. They'll wait all night to catch you if they have to.

#creepypasta fanfic #proxies x reader #proxies #masky x reader #masky x hoodie #hoodie x reader #ticci tobyx reader #timothy wright x reader #brian thomas x reader #masky #hoodie #ticci toby #ticcitoby #timothy wright #brian thomas #reader insert #reader #readerinsert

62 notes · View notes

tedturneriscrazy · 3 years

Text

Okay, here we go, time to gather my rambly thoughts about Echoes of the Past!

Huh, from the trailer I figured this version of Eda was a lot younger.

More studious Luz, please. Also that doodle is so anime, I love it.

Lilith for Titan's sake put your glasses on

Why is Lulu and Hootcipher so good, tho? 😭 (yes, Luz, it is nice that they're friends)

Ooh, invisibility glyph! Em and Ed can never know about that one (though realistically they can probably already make things invisible considering their track)

"Don't ever do that again!" "Do that again!"

Also, King seems to have a shaky grasp on object permanence.

So Lilith's a history nerd, interesting...

That black eye really just came from the high five, huh? And yes, I am still stuck on that high five, it's so good. I'll need to find a gif of it at some point.

Let's not sleep on that roast from Lilith, though. You can tell Cissy has fun with lines like that.

Raving about tyrannical rule immediately followed by Luz cooing over King with belly rubs. Yep, this is The Owl House.

Jesus Christ, Lilith, you didn't need to be so savage

Luz's turn to be mom, I guess

"Hootrageous!" Dammit, now I want to see Hooty cosplay as Brave and the Bold Aquaman.

Oh hey, Hollow Knight and Piplup!

It doesn't seem like King should be able to grab the staves so casually, but eh.

You can tell Hooty has been waiting for a long time to be allowed to go somewhere. Also him detatching from the door is apparently as gross and horrifying as everyone was led to believe.

Hooty has no right to look so adorable in that little portable house, especially with the pulsating organs!

"Oh, no, not again!"

Okay what the hell is that bathtub thing, Eda?! You had that this whole time?!?!

Very convincing "aw," Lilith. 10/10.

This episode's gonna have some lore.

Hooty really just decided to be Lilith's bodyguard, love that for him.

Luz seems especially dedicated to indulging King this episode so far.

Hooty does have a point about the graffiti. It is quite nice.

I don't know why I keep being surprised by Lilith being cute, but I love it.

"With all the sugar I eat it better be!" More mounting evidence for @nikkydash 's moss mouth Luz theory.

I see Lulu and Hootcipher have reached the "sharing a single brain cell" stage of their friendship.

So apple blood really is just booze, huh? And they serve it to children in schools? Damn, the Demon Realm is hardcore.

Luz, no! You of all people should know not to split the party!

At least high fiving a dessicated corpse wasn't Luz's first instinct?

To quote Strong Bad: "Gross! I hate you! Gross! Gross! I hate you!"

I do love Eda's potion bandoleer. Very reminiscent of my artificer in D&D.

And nice to see Lilith's big sister instinct.

Backstory time!

Am I the only one who got film noir vibes from Eda's narration?

Boy, that curse does a number in the span of eight years, huh?

BABY KING HHEIKWKWJWHWG

So that's what happened to his horn!

Holy shit that's Dana voicing baby King, isn't it?!

I know Eda lied to King, but her telling the stories to King looks so cute.

Welp, that's heartbreaking.

Also, Alex Hirsch is a good voice actor, who knew? /s

"Is this what regret feels like? I HATE IT!" Future meme material.

Oh hi, guilty Luz. Haven't seen you in...*checks watch* five minutes.

King is so...shattered. 💔 (Bravo, Alex)

"Special delivery! P A I N"

I love everything about Hooty bazooka...Hootzooka!

Putting those invisibility glyphs to work. Very nice.

(Oh god I just realized that fanfic writers have been given a dangerous tool)

Hmm, maybe those "delusions of grandeur" weren't so delusional, after all...

Okay, creepy moon flesh thing, I hate you less now.

Ooh, future adventure hook!

Everyone looks so done with Hooty about that.

So that thing's name is Jean-Luc, huh. Bet I won't see any TNG references in the fandom. Nope. Not at all.

"All out of kisses." Amity will be so disappointed...

So. Many. Questions.

Final thing to note: this means King is only 8-9 years old, which means that younger sibling energy he gives off with Luz is justified.

Well, that was a great episode! Emotions and lore galore! I'm eager to meet Mama Clawthorne next week! Then again, considering what people have speculated about her, maybe I shouldn't be?

At any rate, I'll be chiming in once again next week!

#the owl house #king of demons #toh king #luz noceda #eda clawthorne #lilith clawthorne #toh hooty #echoes of the past #toh s2 spoilers #the owl house s2 spoilers #the owl house season 2 spoilers #toh spoilers #the owl house spoilers

106 notes · View notes

charlies-gillespie · 3 years

Text

it’s okay not to be okay | charlie gillespie

paring: fem!reader x charlie gillespie

summary: reader is having a bad mental health day so Charlie tries to do what he can to help her

length: short to medium

rating: PG

warnings: mentions of anxiety, an anxiety attack, some angsty content (but also some fluffy content)

!! NOT MY GIF !!

MASTERLIST

authors note: may is mental health month. i wanted to write a little something to maybe help someone understand what they can do if someone they know is having a bad day or struggling with their mental health. and if you’re struggling, please know that it’s okay not to be okay and to please ask for help if you need it

Your alarm screams at you to wake up. You sigh, rolling over and turning it over. Once it’s off, you roll onto your back and stare up at the ceiling. You think about the day ahead and lose motivation the more you lay and think about your day.

You have virtual interviews with all day with your boyfriend and Julie and the Phantoms co-star, Charlie Gillespie. He’s supposed to be here any minute. The thought of him knocking on the door sends your anxiety skyrocketing. Interviews are not your strong suit. You try to avoid them as often as you can, or you get someone you’re comfortable with to do them with you. Today, even the thought of doing an interview makes your hands shake.

It’s about eight in the morning and you can already tell that it’s going to be a rough day. You can’t even get out of bed this morning and you’re already feeling unmotivated. All you’ve done is turn off your alarm and your hands are sweaty.

There’s a buzz that comes from the table that makes you jump. You see Charlie’s contact pop up on your phone and you grab the device. You answer it, putting the phone on speaker and resting it on your chest. “Hey,” you sigh.

“Hi,” Charlie says. “I just pulled up to your house. Is everything ready to go for interviews today?”

With a nod, you say, “Yeah. I turned my stream room into a little studio. My streaming gear has turned into interview gear.”

Charlie says, “I’m on my way in. Can you come open the door? I have breakfast for us before our first interview in a little bit.”

You swallow and say, “Yeah. I’m on my way down now.”

The line goes dead. You push yourself to get up out of bed. You rub your face and walk down the stairs. Your first interview is in about 30 minutes and you’re nowhere near ready.

When you open the door, you see Charlie standing at your door with his laptop in one hand and a bag full of iHop food for breakfast. He looks you up and down in your pajamas and says, “We have a Pop Buzz interview in less than 30 minutes and you’re not ready?”

“Yeah,” you mumble, not being able to make eye contact with Charlie. “Sorry.”

Your boyfriend walks inside and he says, “Let’s go get you dressed, eh?”

You close the door and say, “But you brought over breakfast to eat before the first interview.”

Charlie puts the iHop bag down on the coffee table in the living room, as well as his laptop, before he says, “We can heat it up after the first interview is done. One thing at a time, Y/N.”

He laces his fingers with yours and walks you upstairs. You blink as you walk with him, slightly confused. You walk into your bedroom and walk to your closet. Charlie sits on your bed, looking at you as you raid your closet for something you can wear.

In the end, you find a Sunset Curve t-shirt and sweatpants because you don’t feel like getting dressed up. The t-shirt is white with black writing and it cut to look like a crop top. The sweats are black and loose on your body. You’re pretty sure you stole these from Charlie because they’re huge on you. You tie your hair up into a messy bun and turn toward Charlie.

“Look at you,” your boyfriend says. “You look very comfortable and very cute in my sweatpants.”

You say, “So these are your sweatpants.”

Charlie laughs and kisses the side of your head before saying, “I was looking for those all over my apartment. You can keep them though. You look cute in them.”

The two of you head downstairs. You walk into your streaming room. Charlie follows you inside. He’s been in here before but he’s never learned how to use any of this stuff.

You sit in your gaming chair and Charlie pulls up another chair to sit beside you.

“Zoom?” you ask, turning on your PC.

He nods and pulls out his phone. “The code was sent to our emails,” Charlie says. You log into your work email and find the code. The interview starts in five minutes. Your heart races and your hands shake as you type on your computer.

After getting Zoom up on your PC, you stare at the mouse hovering above the “join with video” button. Quickly, you turn to Charlie and say, “I can’t.”

Charlie looks at you and asks, “You can’t what?”

You can feel your breathing speed up as you say, “The interview. Charlie, I can’t.”

He realizes what’s going on and he takes your hands in his. “Y/N,” he says softly. “You can do it. It’s just having a conversation, okay? You can have conversations. Don’t think of it like an interview and think of it as a conversation. I’ll be right here and you can hold my hand during the whole thing. You know Owen, Jer, Madi, Sav, and Sacha will all be on the screen in front of you. You’ll do amazing.”

With some reassurance from Charlie, you nod but stay quiet. He gives you a reassuring smile before he takes over, clicking the button to join the call. You scoot your chair closer to Charlie. “Where am I looking, by the way,” he asks.

You point at the little camera in front of the ring light that you have on. You and Charlie join the Zoom. Owen says, “Look who showed up thirty seconds before the interview starts.”

Charlie quickly hushes his best friend and the interview starts. Throughout the whole thing, you’re rubbing your hands on your sweats and constantly looking over at Charlie. The interviewer thinks it’s cute that you keep looking at Charlie, but the interviewer doesn’t know it’s because you’re right on the verge of another anxiety attack. The smile on your face is very obviously fake but no one questions it. Charlie does most of the talking.

As soon as everyone says their goodbyes after the interview, Charlie quickly presses the “leave meeting” button. As soon as you’ve both left the meeting, you exhale the breath you’ve been holding in for most of the interview.

Concerned, your boyfriend asks, “How are you doing?”

“I hate it,” you admit. “But it’s part of my job.”

He stands up and says, “You did really good. I know how anxious these interviews are for you but you did it, Y/N. I’m so proud.”

A little smile forms on your face and you ask, “Can we heat up the iHop now?”

Charlie laughs and nods. You stand up and take his hand.

***

After several more anxiety inducing interviews later, you finally get about two hours off. You find yourself curled up on the couch with your chin on your knees. You have no idea why these interviews are so anxiety inducing today. You love acting, you usually love talking to people about acting and singing. You have to push yourself through every interview, you don’t look as good as you probably should for these interviews.

Your boyfriend finds you on the couch but your mind is so busy, you don’t notice him as he sits beside you. “Baby,” Charlie says, trying to get your attention. “Hey, Y/N.” You look over at him and he brushes something away from your cheek. “Baby, why are you crying?”

Confused, you say, “I’m not crying.”

Charlie blinks at you and says, “Your cheeks are wet. Talk to me.” He rests a hand on your knee and looks at you.

With a sigh, you say, “I’m frustrated. I’m frustrated that I have days where I have to push myself to do things. I’m frustrated that doing my job gives me anxiety. When I have these days, I contemplate why I’m an actress when talking about my job, while part of my job, gives me anxiety.”

He listens to every word that you say before he begins to talk.

“Y/N, baby, you’re an actress because it’s what you love to do,” Charlie tells you. “It’s the same reason you’re a singer. You love to do it. You’ll have these days sometimes, and that’s okay, but Y/N, I know you. You are the strongest person I know. Whatever’s going today, you’ll get through it. I’ll be right here if you need me.”

This is the man that you fell in love with. This is the man that you hope to marry one day. He doesn’t run when you’re having a bad day. Charlie is the person you go to when you’re having one of these days and he’ll come over to help you through it.

You scoot closer to Charlie and rest your head on his shoulder. You close your eyes and you say, “I don’t deserve you, Charlie.”

Charlie kisses the side of your head and says, “You deserve the world. After these last two interviews today, you and I are having a movie night in bed with lots of cuddles and kisses.”

“Cuddles and kisses?” you repeat, looking up at Charlie.

He presses a soft kiss to your lips before he says, “Lots and lots of cuddles and kisses.”

You press your forehead to Charlie’s cheek, closing your eyes. Charlie wraps his arms around your curled up body.

The day gets just a little bit easier after Charlie promises kisses and cuddles after the interviews are over. You love and appreciate that Charlie doesn’t run from the relationship when you’re sad or anxious. He embraces it and helps you through the rough days.

That night, after all the interviews are over for the day, you do lay in bed and you watch The Space Between Us on Netflix while cuddled up with Charlie. You’ve been like this for a few hours now and a thought has been on your mind.

“Charlie,” you say, looking up at your boyfriend.

He looks down at you and asks, “What’s up? Need something?”

You move until you’re on your stomach against Charlie’s side. You say, “I don’t want you to go.”

Your boyfriend says, “If you want me to stay the night then I will. I don’t have any plans tonight.”

“No, I mean I don’t want to have to say goodbye to you in the morning,” you say. “I want to fall asleep beside you every night and wake up beside you every morning.”

Charlie pushes a piece of hair out of your face and he asks, “Are you asking me to move in with you?”

You say, “I don’t want to call you to come over when I’m having a bad day when you could already be here. I have half a closet and half a bed that aren’t being used, plus lots of room on my bathroom counter.”

He laughs and says, “Yes, baby. I’ll move in with you. I wouldn’t mind falling asleep with you in my arms or waking up to your cute face every morning.”

A soft laugh escapes your lips and you say, “Good, because I would love it if I could fall asleep in your arms every night. Starting tonight.”

“Starting tonight,” Charlie assures you. You smile and snuggle up to your boyfriend. He securely wraps his arms around your shoulders and you close your eyes, feeling at home and safe in Charlie’s arms.

#charlie gillespie imagine #charlie gillespie x oc #charlie gillespie x reader #charlie gillespie x y/n #julie and the phantoms imagines #jatp imagines #jatp imagine #imagines #imagine #fluff imagines #angst imagine #fluff #angst

124 notes · View notes

inkandpen22 · 3 years

Text

Permanent Chaos (1/?)

Pairing: MGK x Female!Reader

Warnings: Swearing

Word Count: 2.8k

Part Summary: Y/N is a newly famous actress from a popular TV show and she’s willing to do everything in her power to maintain her perfect image as “America’s Sweetheart.”

Masterlist

The limelight is a hard place to be under. It’s draining to constantly be on display. Day in and day out I feel as though I’m always looking into a mirror. However, a mirror is replaced by people’s eyes. I see myself through other’s eyes. Being sat on a slippery plastic stool while being watched by millions of Americans before they head off to work is an excellent way to start my day. Perhaps if I keep telling myself that I’ll eventually believe it. Savannah glances down at her cards then continues with the interview.

“Let’s go back to a year ago, if someone approached you and said “you’ll be the most sought after girl in America,” would you had believed them?”

I shake my head “not all.”

If only she knew how absent I am in the current moment. I’ve answered similar questions a million times these past few months. All the exact same questions within the same routine.

“Now, being as famous as you are, how do you cope with your newfound fame?”

There it is, famous. A better-sounding word than popular. After all, adult life is nothing like high school… right?

“I don’t particularly like the word “famous.” When people say “you’re famous!” What they really mean is “a lot of people know you!” At least people think they do.”

She studies me, intrigued by my honest answer, perhaps too honest. “You’re saying America doesn’t know the “real” you? Including your fans?”

I shrug, I can only imagine Nicole’s face right now. My usual bubbly and charmingly excited personality didn’t wake up with me at three this morning.

“I believe they know whatever version of me they’ve created. For some, I’m that girl from the cover of that one magazine they saw in line at the grocery store. For others, I may just a name without a face. That’s the thing about being so-called “famous.” I’ll never have the chance to meet every single person who has ever read an article about me or has seen paparazzi videos. They’ll only see those tainted versions of me. They’ll never have the opportunity to know me personally and make a valid judgment for themselves.”

Savannah hums, her eyebrows scrunched up. “How do you feel about that?”

I sigh, the words settling within me. “It’s disappointing.”

If only they all knew the truth, the reality of it all.

______________________________________________________

After the interview for the show, I fly straight back to Los Angeles from New York. My schedule has been worse, but I never miss the chance to complain to my manager. Thankfully, Nicole is a mother of tween girls and a ten-year-old boy so she knows how to take my childish whining. Once we’re landed in LAX I countdown the minutes until I can return to my bed.

“I don’t understand why you insist on wearing heels on the plane,” Nicole nags me.

“Because you never know who you’re gonna meet! Best to dress nicely just in case!”

It’s been a rule of mine since I first discovered my style and began to wear makeup, never go out in public without looking and feeling confident. I’ve learned that people can sense when others don’t feel confident and take advantage of that.

“I doubt your Mom would like it,” she nags.

“Well she’s not in California is she?” I fire back but snicker slightly.

My momma’s absence was bitter-sweet, in the beginning, now it’s all sweet. When we have our luggage, Nicole leads me through the airport to where the car is picking us up.

“You may want to put on your sunglasses now. We’re about to cross the line,” she warns.

I grab my glasses out of my purse like she instructed and slide them on. She was right, as soon as we cross over that taped line it’s a free-for-all for the paparazzi.

“Y/N!” “Y/N!”

“HEY! SHOW US A SMILE!”

The yelling doesn’t bother me as it used to in the past. Now, it’s the clicking. The clicking from their cameras. A constant *click* *click* *click*, from each of the thirty cameras. Nicole attempts to create a path for me by walking ahead.

“HOW WAS YOUR TRIP TO NEW YORK?”

“Good, thank you” I reply politely with a smile toward the tile floor.

I try to manage a balance when it comes to paparazzi. They have their job and so do I. Following me, taking pictures or videotaping me is their job. As long as they respect me, I will respect them. Nicole says it’s good for my image. My image wasn’t the first reason I was nice toward them, I was being myself. Nowadays, I’m hardly myself. I have my name, Y/N Voss, but it no longer feels like my name. The paparazzi are not used to getting easy responses out of people because there’s a long pause before the next question.

“WHEN DOES FILMING START BACK UP FOR THE SHOW?”

The question comes from a different voice but that doesn’t keep me from answering.

“In two days!” I gleam, looking forward to returning to set.

“CAN YOU GIVE ANY INFO ABOUT THE NEW SEASON?”

I chuckle a little but think it over. I agreed in my contract not to give out spoilers but there is a little info I was told I can let out. Plus, I’ve only seen the script for the first episode so I don’t know too much.

“I can say that Hollyn will have a bump start this season but no worries,” I answer vaguely but with interest.

Nicole and I manage to reach outside and she guides me down the sidewalk to where the car is supposed to pick us up.

“RUMOR HAS IT YOU’RE DATING SOMEONE! CARE TO COMMENT?”

“I’m very much single,” I laugh, finding the topic humorous. “Not enough hours in the day to share them!”

There are always rumors that I’m dating someone though none of it’s true.

“YOU LOOK GREAT TODAY Y/N!”

“YOU ALWAYS DO!”

“Thanks, boys!” I give my appreciation.

The driver gets out of the front and pops the trunk. Nicole informs me to get in the car and let her worry about our things along with the driver.

“WHAT ARE YOUR PLANS FOR THE SUMMER?”

I open my door but pause to answer the last question. “Work, of course, but I also want to have some fun.”

“HAVE A GREAT SUMMER!”

“SEE YA LATER Y/N!”

They all hurry to get some last shots and I grant them a couple of seconds.

“You too! See you guys later!” I wave goodbye then climb into the car.

Nicole gets in a minute later and gives the driver the address. “You did great back there,” she compliments.

“Eh, it was nothing. I was only answering their questions.” I remove my glasses and get settled in as best as I can for the hour drive home.

She pulls out her binder full of scheduling material for me.

“Yes, but you were willing and kind. The public and media appreciate that! You’re becoming America’s Sweetheart!”

I would never admit it to Nicole but that title she keeps pushing makes me anxious every time I hear it. None of this was planned, it was thrown at me. Please don’t misunderstand me, I’m grateful for what I have but geez! When everyone is telling you a whole country adores you, how are you supposed to handle that? Especially at eighteen. It was no more than a year ago I was back in South Carolina and just another girl in high school. Now, I’m supposed to be “America’s Sweetheart.” I’ll play the part but it doesn’t make the job any less intimidating.

__________________________________________________________

My best friends/co-stars, Sam and Penelope, meet up with me for dinner to celebrate my first night back in town after the press tour. The three of us have been dividing our time around the country working on various projects between filming the show. Any time we can all get together is a gift.

Ever since I’ve known Sam Merka, girls flung themselves at him. Even I’ll say it, he’s a good-looking guy. If Grant Gustin had a younger brother, it would be Sam. I don’t want anyone to get the wrong idea, we’re just friends. A sibling sort of bond. Since he’s eight years older than me, he likes a big brother.

Though Penelope is older too, one can’t tell since I tend to act more mature. I’m jealous of her sun-kissed long blonde hair and dark brown eyebrows. We all kinda got thrown into our friendship. Having to play life-long friends an hour after meeting for the first time was, to say the least interesting. Five years later, and we are like three peas in a pond. A mini family to have each other’s back in the big city.

For dinner, we agreed on The Nice Guy, an Italian place in West Hollywood. The most important aspect of the place is the amount of privacy it grants. The interior is a lounge, super lowkey, with booths, couches, and coffee tables but there are no photos allowed. Since no photos can be taken that means the three of us and others can enjoy ourselves in peace. Sam called dibs on being designated driver as per usual as the “bodyguard” for us girls. The paparazzi tend to hang out around the restaurant because it’s a well-known spot for celebrities.

“Maybe we can slip past them,” Sam says optimistically as we exit the car.

He meets me around the front and Penelope joins us after getting out of the backseat.

“HEY! HEY! HEY!”

From in front of the restaurant, a ripple of cameras begin to take notice of us.

“IT’S THE KIDS FROM THE SEASONS OF LIFE!”

“Yep, we really snuck past them!” I tease Sam playfully.

He huffs, annoyed with the situation. Sam loves his job but hates the lack of privacy aspect. He isn’t a fan of crowds either which I can understand. However, he’s great at masking it behind his charming smile. It’s what we were trained to do. Yet, Sam is better at managing a crowd mentally overall than I am. He understands how they affect me sometimes. The swarm of photographers rushes up to us. Sam leads the way toward the restaurant door. Penelope remains close, keeping a hand on my forearm to stay together. The cluster follows us down the sidewalk to the building.

“SAM! SAM! HEARD ABOUT THE GQ PHOTOSHOOT! CONGRATS ON GETTING THE COVER MAN!”

Sam chuckles next to me, “thanks, dude!”

“PENELOPE! RUMOR HAS IT YOU’LL BE SWITCHING OVER TO THE BIG SCREEN!”

“Exactly, it’s a rumor!” She replies a matter-of-factly.

The *click* *click* *click* and the flashing lights in the dead of night never fail to overwhelm me. Though, Nicole has told me I never appear overwhelmed when I interact with them. I force on the brave and confident face. I’m not me when I’m in front of cameras or important people, I’m Y/N Voss. I’m two very different people.

While I’m lost in thought, I get stuck when one photographer gets too close to my face with his camera and blinds me for a second. Sam and Penelope don’t notice my absence amongst the chaos until another photographer barks at the other to back off. Then, I feel Sam’s hand slip into mine and he protectively escorts me toward the door with determination.

“ANYTHING YOU TWO WANT TO SHARE ABOUT HOLLYN AND ELLIOT FOR NEXT SEASON?”

Hollyn and Elliot are Sam and my’s characters from The Seasons of Life, the show we star in together. Our characters have been on again off again for the past two seasons. According to the last season’s finale, the two are currently together, but of course, the season ended on a cliffhanger so their relationship isn’t very stable.

“Sorry guys, can’t share anything!” Sam answers, sounding a tad irritable.

“ANYTHING IN REAL LIFE? YOU TWO WERE BOTH IN NEW YORK THIS WEEKEND!”

“That’s true, but we never have the chance to meet up!” I reply nicely.

Press events for last season have come to an end and work officially begins in no time! Downtime for me is filming and it couldn’t come at a better time. I’ve missed being home in Los Angeles. Living out of a suitcase and sleeping each night on a plane isn’t the best way to live, at least for me. We finally reach the doors and I thank the heavens.

“Oh my gosh! There’s no way!” I hear what sounds like girls squealing and I slow down to see where it’s coming from. My hand slips from Sam’s as he goes on. When he’s determined to get away from the paparazzi, he can ignore the voices. Yet, when he notices that I do not follow he finally stops.

“Excuse me!” A girl calls amongst the clicking and shouting.

The paparazzi move aside a tad and create a path for me to see two young teens jumping up and down. They must be around fourteen I’m guessing, younger than me at least. I approach them to see what’s the matter. I can hardly see anything with all the bright lights.

“Hi! How are you?” I greet but once I get closer and cover my eyes with the flashing lights, I recognize them. “Sarah! Emma! How are you two?”

These two have been some of my biggest supports. They run a Youtube channel and create content about their reactions to episodes of the series. Somehow they manage to make appearances at any events relating to the show. I’ve met them numerous times at events, so have other members of the cast. Besides being two of the sweets girls in the world, they’ve created a fan page for me on Instagram and Twitter.

“Good, good!” Emma replies eagerly.

“It’s been so long since we last saw you!” Sarah adds.

“It really has! When was the last time we saw each other? During the press tour?”

They nod in unison as though they’ve rehearsed it.

“Well, group hug!” I hold out my arms and they gladly accept.

“Can we get a picture?” Emma practically begs, bouncing on her heels.

“Of course!” I take Emma’s phone and hold it out to the crowd of paparazzi. “Could one of you take our picture by chance?”

Many of the guys offer and I select a random one in front of me.

“Squeeze in tight!” I tell the girls as I stand between them and we wrap our arms around each other.

“One, two, three!” The man takes a couple of shots and hands, Emma, back her phone.

“Thank you!” The three of us say together.

We all hover over her phone to check out the pictures.

“So cute!” I awe at the photos.

“Y/N...” Sam places his hand on my back to usher me along.

“Oh, my-” Emma covers her mouth.

“Sam!” Sarah’s jaw is to the sidewalk.

“Hey girls!” he charmingly smiles.

He’s had the chance to meet them a few times while on the press tour and at other various events. I was there to introduce them which was one of the most entertaining moments of my life. I thought the girls were going to faint!

“Can we ask a quick question? It’s for our channel!” Sarah nervously bites her lower lip.

“Yeah, yeah, anything for you guys!” I answer without hesitation.

Sam wraps his arm around my waist while we’re talking to the girls and I don’t think much of it but the cameras begin to go nuts. The men behind them don’t say a word since we’re occupied but there they go *click* *click* click*.

“Is there any hope of you two getting together IRL?” Emma questions intently without hesitation.

I press my lips together with amusement and turn my head to Sam. He has the same look of pondering the question. He squints his eyes at me and then the two of us turn to the girls.

“Just friends,” we answer in unison.

“Best friends!” Sam adds playfully.

“Best friends forever ever!” I one-up him.

The two girls laugh with us, but it’s clear they’re a little disappointed.

“Well, I still bet on you two,” Sarah confidently points out.

Sam and I get a kick out of it. Our viewers want us together too.

“We better get going, our moms are waiting,” Emma informs us.

“Okay, quick hug!” I order and the four of us group hug.

We say our goodbyes and when the girls disappear the men behind the cameras start yelling.

“YOU’RE GREAT Y/N!”

“HOW DID YOU KNOW THEM?”

“Their names are Emma and Sarah. They run a popular Youtube channel, Twitter, and Instagram accounts for the show. Super sweet girls those two!”

“DO YOU KNOW ALL YOUR FANS?”

“I try to! I know a good amount!” I grin proudly.

Sam guides me into the restaurant and his hand never leaves my back. All of it is platonic of course, nothing more. As I told the paparazzi before, there isn’t enough time in my life for me to share any with someone.

________________________________________

Masterlist

Tags: @canyoubuymetoast

#machine gun kelly #mgk #mgk smut #fanfic #mgk fanfic #famous #colson baker #colson #mgk aesthetic

114 notes · View notes

inforapound · 3 years

Text

The Devil Inside - Part 1

This was written to celebrate @fuchsiagrasshopper 200 followers. Congrats to you. This is not high literature, just a tiny-bop reader insert style romance.

Warnings - sexually explicit, hints of dub/con, possessiveness, love

Pairing - Ivar x Reader Prompt in bold.

There they were. The same unimpressed brilliant blue eyes. It was the second time that week you had seen them in the back parking lot at school.

The student car park was behind the main building where all those who either drove or smoked cigarettes congregated at lunch to sit in their cars, pump music, and yak. You didn’t smoke but had a car so hung out all the same. Students from neighbouring schools occasionally pulled in to visit, always staying in their cars and keeping a distance as these types of schools were full of rules and someone was always watching. That is where he fits it. The dark-haired guy with the cold eyes and the nice flat-black Camaro. Whether or not he was putting on airs, he looked dubious and the kids always hanging about his car were the shadier bunch in the school.

He had been coming around for a couple of months now and you had locked eyes with him once or twice. Maybe more. He always broke the contact first as if looking at you had been in error. Probably dealt drugs or something similar but honestly, you didn’t know. What you did know, with your sharp eighteen-year-old senses, was to keep to your side of the lot. Maintaining your flawless grades was your first priority with socializing a not to distant second. Plus, you had been single for less than six weeks so boys were not exactly a draw.

So… you thought nothing of it when Mark Hasting approached your locker when the end-of-the-day bell rang. Standing with your closest friends, Kim and Amanda, you were deciding on whose house to meet at after supper. Mark was one of those smoking-out-back-leather-jacket-wearing types but he was friendly with everyone so it wasn’t that out of the blue for him to stop by your locker and chat.

“What’s up ladies,” he smiled, looking rather fit for a guy who had never played sports. “Any plans tonight?”

Kim carried on loading her binders into her locker and Amanda gave a breezy ‘not sure’ shrug so you spoke up as Mark was a nice guy.

“Might meet up with some of the others at the beach by my place after dark. What are you up to?”

“Me and some of the guys are going to meet behind Macdonald’s at 9 pm. Go from there. Some boys from Claremont are coming. You should join?”

“Clairemont, eh?”

It was the other private school in the district, prestigious like yours but with the reputation for being wild. Amanda’s brother had transferred there a few years back for their higher-profile basketball program and she had bitched that her parents were playing favourites ever since.

“Yeah, okay, maybe,” you answered not sounding convinced.

“You gonna be driving?” he asked which surprised you as you were the only one with a car. Kim had one that she supposedly shared with her brother but you had maybe seen her with it twice.

“Well, I won’t be getting a driver’s license in the next 6 hours,” Amanda laughed.

“Fair enough,” Mark smiled. “So maybe see you there?”

Hmm. That was interesting and you wondered if Mark or one of the other outbackers were interested in one of your friends. The crowd you ran with were the popular sort; the academics, preps, and jocks. Not the smokers who hit the bong on the weekends but at your school the cliques mixed well. Unlikely hookups weren’t that out of the ordinary but you certainly weren't interested. Hell no.

----

The evening air was a bit sharp so you were glad you wore your white denim coat and blue jeans. It was nearly dark and you were with a group of eight or ten of your friends standing between parked cars at the playground not far from your school. The closest street lamp was out so the only light came from the radios playing in the cars lined up in a row. The music was just loud enough to hear but not grab the attention of the tidy homes across the street.

If you were being honest, you were bored and the night was shaping up to look like the previous few weekends. Deciding to have a drink, you grabbed a cider from the full box in your trunk, passing your keys and responsibility over to Kim. ‘No problem’ was her reply that came in the form of a quick nod. You had been driving her around for years so she didn’t mind.

The headlights of two vehicles rolling past and pulling in made you all turn and look and you immediately recognized both. It was Mark’s white van and the low-slung Camaro tailing close behind. Blue eyes was in there. He had to be and it wasn’t immediately apparent but you had some reaction, nerves maybe or just feeling a bit on the spot for brushing off Mark’s earlier invitation.

“Guess nothing was happening at Macdonald’s,” Kim laughed.

“Shocking,” Amanda added sarcastically, taking a drag of her cigarette and blowing the smoke in the opposite direction.

“Cause hanging out beside the jungle gym is so much cooler,” you droned, squinting at the now parked cars, noticing that the Camaro looked full of people.

Not letting your sights linger, you turned back to your friends, taking a few long pulls of your drink, and heard car doors open and close. The sound of footsteps crunching over gravel came towards you.

“It’s Amanda, right?” a girl’s voice called and in unison, you all spun around.

“Yeah, that’s right,” Amanda answered, in her overly cheerful voice.

Before you was a tall blonde girl, a little older than you with very distinct features; a small narrow nose and the largest eyes you had ever seen.

“I graduated with Lani last year at Claremont,” she explained.

Lani was Amanda’s older brother, a year and half older, popular but a total prick unless he needed something.

“I’m Torvi,” she smiled and you all nodded your hellos.

“Hey, we are headed to my boyfriend’s if you want to come? Have some drinks. Can’t blow the doors wide but you girls are welcome to come.”

“Yeah, sure, okay,” Kim and Amanda’s mixed replies came at the same time.

Knowing the plan was set, you took a few more drinks of your cider, finishing it off, wondering who exactly was in that car.

The tall blonde turned and began to head back but stopped and looked in your direction.

“You’re not driving, I take it?” she glanced at the empty you were returning to the box in your open trunk.

“For once, no,” you replied quietly.

“Ride with us,” she jerked her head in the direction of the Camaro. “The girls can follow,” she smiled and you felt caught-off-guard.

“That’s okay,” you smiled back. “We’ll see you there.”

“No,” her smile widened and she took a step closer, offering her arm for you to link up. “I insist.”

The Camaro was nice. Really nice. Classic with a black leather interior. It had the faintest smell of cigarettes, beer, and leather. A total guy car and not the BMW SUV’s you were used to. You like it far more than those. But the atmosphere was anything but nice. For you at least. A tall, rather serious guy had opened the door, folding the seat forward for you and Torvi to climb in. Her boyfriend, you assumed, by the way he smacked her ass when she slid past.

Mr. Blue-Eyes was the driver and when you settled back in the seat, you realized those nerves earlier had nothing to do with running into Mark. It was him. As your mom would say, ‘trouble with a capital T’ and being that close to him made you feel.....funny.

The ride was quick and the house you were heading to turned out to be only a few minutes away but it felt like a different neighborhood. They were mansions; the original estates in the area before it was all chopped up into lots and sold. The gates on the driveway were open and you drove up a long driveway to a beautiful Tudor style home set well back from the road. It looked about 10,000 square feet from the driveway and if it hadn’t have been for those cold blue eyes glancing up at you in the rearview mirror, you would have turned around to make sure your friends were still following.

Inside the house was equally as amazing; soaring ceilings and a gracious front entry, an incredible kitchen with a large family room off to one side. You settled with Torvi on a large leather couch and from where you were sitting, you saw that the French doors on the other side of the pool table led out to a massive back-lit pool. Homes like this weren’t that uncommon in your world but you still appreciated its elegance.

There wasn’t a parent in sight and no mention of one which struck you as normal. It was always the wealthy and unsupervised doing the most scandalous things. But no one there was doing anything scandalous. You were just there for drinks. Right?

Torvi handed you some type of boozy beverage and you were unsure as to why, yet relieved, that she had taken you under her wing.

Entering the room and walking with the help of some customized crutch, the Camaro driver headed straight for the leather chair on the far side of Torvi. He didn’t make eye contact with you or anyone else but you still felt noticed. The way he hustled made you think that you shouldn’t watch and you wondered if that crutch was the reason he always stayed in his car at school.

Dropping it onto the hardwood floor, he sank into the seat, immediately raising his hand and accepting a bottle from Torvi’s boyfriend who walked in behind, carrying a case of beer.

“I haven't introduced you,” Torvi raised her hand. “This is my boyfriend, Ubbe, and his brother Ivar,” your eyes flitted over to your driver but he was gazing at something, nothing, off in the kitchen. “And their other brother, Hvitserk is just outside having a smoke with his girlfriend, Margrethe.

Your eyes shifted to the French doors and you could see the outlines of two people kissing on the patio.

Okay, realization struck you. They were the Lothbroks! You had heard of them. Definitely. Just couldn’t recall what but you knew it wasn’t good and you probably shouldn’t be there. Where were your friends and why hadn’t Torvi told them your name? As if on cue, Amanda and Kim and the long-lost Mark Hasting strolled in, cheerful and boisterous and thankfully taking the pressure off you from having to talk.

Someone had turned on music and the other brother and his blonde-haired girlfriend came inside to join. A game of pool begun and you stayed on the couch with your friends and Torvi. Ivar remained slumped in his chair, giving the impression he would have preferred to be anywhere but there.

It was awkward. Torvi and your friends gabbed about the differences in schools and universities and you quietly finished your drink but, in a flash, it was replaced with another.

As always Mark was the most animated in the room, and Ubbe, who then seemed far more at ease, was listening intently to the details of how Mark’s father made so much money selling appliances. Kim was a good sport despite not drinking and joined in the conversation knowing many of the same people as Torvi.

You could have sworn Ivar scoffed when you rolled your eyes at Amanda who went outside to smoke weed with Mark and Hvitserk but when you glanced over, he was back to staring in the opposite direction and picking the label off his beer. It felt strange….. sitting in a room with lively people and you and he were the only ones not joining in. You weren’t anti-social but for whatever reason that night, or in that house, the atmosphere felt… heavy. It wasn’t the alcohol though; you were almost sure it was him. Ivar. Every bit of your focus seemed to be spent on ignoring him and for some strange reason, you felt he was doing the same.

“Whereabouts is the washroom?” you whispered to Torvi and she raised her hand to point down the hall.

“It's just down the...”

“I need another beer,” Ivar interrupted, his voice so much different than what you expected. It was smoother somehow, breathier. “I’ll show her,” his eyes flicked over to you as he grabbed his crutch and pushed himself up out of the chair.

Your instincts from before seemed right as his body language told you he did not enjoy people walking behind him. He moved with a distinct limp but it was still agile in a way, his crutch obviously an extension of his body. But his mood seemed troubled.

Christ, you thought, as you followed, he could have just told you where it was.

Through the kitchen, he moved down a long hallway lined with closed doors and you were almost certain one of them had to have been a bathroom. Just as your feet slowed assessing where you were going, he glanced back and jerked his head for you to keep moving. Ohh-kay……

Opening the door at the very end, he walked in, not looking behind. Stopping on the threshold you surveyed the room and there was no question it was his. It had the same dark wood floors and wood trim, a neatly made bed with navy linens, large windows, fitted with wooden blinds, bordered by matching navy curtains. The room was lined with furniture; a dresser, desk, shelves loaded with books but it was the framed picture hanging above his bed that held your attention. Behind glass was a charcoal drawing of a scraggly, long-haired, bearded man who seemed to be missing an eye. Nice room, you thought, but the art was a touch dramatic.

As he dropped down onto a couch and stretched his legs out onto a low coffee table, he pointed at an open door which you assumed was his private bathroom. Ohh-kay…. you thought as you tiptoed past him and into the bathroom, closing the door. Again, it struck you how clean everything was, even smelt good like some faint cologne and you hoped the thick wood door with muffle the sound of you peeing.

After washing your hands, and a lip gloss touch-up, you opened the door, not sure he would still be there. He was…. lounging on the couch, watching the tv on the adjacent wall. There was no acknowledgment when you re-emerged so you mumbled some sort of ‘thanks’ and crossed the room, heading for the door.

“Are you afraid of me?’ he spoke at your back making you stop and turn around. Aside from the glances in the rear-view mirror, it was the first time he had looked at you directly. And holy shit, was it ever direct.

“No,” you lied trying not to sneak a peek at his tight white shirt stretched over his muscular chest and arms. You definitely didn’t want to be caught staring at his perfect hair, styled in that ‘perfect hot guy way.’ Holy god, he was striking, incredibly hot with his square jaw and smooth tanned skin. You hadn’t fully taken it in until then…. when his piercing blue eyes held you frozen in place.

The angle of his chin shifted just slightly, and he subtly squinted making you think he was somehow pleased with himself. A sweep of goosebumps spread over your skin and you crossed your arms as if suddenly feeling a breeze. Was your stomach suddenly upset? Or, maybe it was your nerves clawing out your insides.

“Then sit,” he said casually, as he looked away and you detected the slightest hint of a dare in his tone.

Why? You wanted to ask but didn’t, wondering if he was trying to intimate you. One thing you did suspect was that his aloofness was only to draw you in. Funny, you thought. Wouldn’t work. You had to get back to your friends….

“Okay,” you instead answered and walked over, slowly sitting down, your body sensing the two inches of space between you. Great, it was a love seat.

Like the force of nature he felt like, he somehow read your thoughts.

“Get me a beer,” he said, nodding in the direction of the bar fridge next to the tv. What teenager had a bar fridge in their bedroom, you wondered, only realizing then that he had ordered you instead of asking.

If your eyes hadn’t scanned his crossed legs extended out on the coffee table, his crutch on the floor below, you might have told him to get his own…. but…you didn’t. Did he not want to get up? Was he in pain? Was it his legs or his back that hurt him? Maybe a knee? Was it from sports? Or, had he been in an accident with his car? The blank one. It looked fast and he looked like he drove fast too.

Slowly but with no attempt to conceal it, he let out a long sigh, snapping you out of your analysis and you realized that perhaps you were a bit drunk. But out of the corner of your eye, you saw him smirk.

“Get a beer for yourself,” he chimed as if offering a token reward for your obedience.

That was likely the extent of his chivalry anyway. Returning with two beers you handed him one not expecting and not getting any sort of thanks. His eyes stayed glued on the tv.

“Do you even like beer?” he asked, and it somehow felt like a dig.

“Yeah,” you answered taking a small sip.

God, you hated beer.

For a few minutes, you both stared at a music video, some ethereal, whining song, about a hunter in the night sung by an emo looking guy. It suited Ivar perfectly and the longer you listened the more uncomfortable you felt being there… alone in his room……essentially two strangers.

Mentally, you cleared your thought. “My name is…”

“I know your name,” he cut you off sounding annoyed.

It was getting even stranger and you wondered if your friends would eventually come find you….

“Pray to your god, open your heart, whatever you do, don’t be afraid of the dark.”

…the song played on and it felt like the tension was building but what could you say? You didn’t know him and weren’t going to make small talk. Just as the air seemed to be getting sucked out of the room, you shifted on your seat making him look over at you.

“What?” you said sounding defensive.

Without a word, he just stared at you. The skin on your cheeks began to warm and you felt embarrassed.

“Well, this was fun,” you pushed your hands down into the couch to get up but he grabbed your forearm. Gasping, your eyes locked with his blue ones, his brows pinched and his eyes narrowed.

“I thought you weren’t afraid of me,” he whispered and you noticed how much closer he was all of a sudden. Jesus, those eyes…. they were clear and cold yet somehow dark and felt bottomless. You just stared back as if hypnotized but it was the quick flutter of his lashes and a look of uncertainty that flashed across his face that had you come back to the surface.

“My. Arm. Please,” you articulated through clenched teeth, and you knew you sounded scared.

Tilting his head, his lids blinked again and he began to chuckle, flashing a forced smile and releasing your arm. Smoothly, casually, he leaned forward and grabbed the TV remote off the table as if picking it up had been his plan all along. Slamming your beer down, you stood and rushed for the door. You were fucking done with Ivar Lothbrok.

“See you at school, beautiful,” he called in a patronizing voice.

As you rounded the corner, the volume of the tv rose and the last words of the song felt foreboding.

“Cover your eyes, the devil’s inside.”

Next chapter

@youbloodymadgenius @whenimaunicorn @ceridwenofwales @sweeneythots @funmadnessandbadassvikings @redama @mdredwine @didiintheblog @londongal2810 @fields-and-fields-of-poppies @oddsnendsfanfics @youbelongeverywhere @blonddnamedhandz @hecohansen31 @naaladareia @gearhead66 @flowers-in-your-hayr @lisinfleur @geekandbooknerd @xbellaxcarolinax @edythofhastings @ivarsgoddess @shannygoatgruff @where-beauty-goes-to-die @zuxiezendler @punkrocknpearls @snatcherheart @xbellaxcarolinax @lordsexmachine

#modern ivar #ivar au #ivar the boneless #ivar lothbrok #ivar ragnarson #ivar smut #ivar and sarah #ivar and reader #ivar imagine #jealous ivar

120 notes · View notes

tundrainafrica · 3 years

Text

Title: Lovebug (7/12)

Summary:

“It might be a bug.”

“A bug?”

“Sometimes the developers of this application make mistakes. This is our first time meeting I’m sure so…Isn’t it a bit weird that we just met for the first time and it rings like this? And for two strangers to coincidentally ring each other’s alarms?“

Levi is the developer of the Love Alarm App and Hange is married to Zeke.

Link to cross-postings: AO3

Other Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6

Notes: Feedback is very much appreciated :D

They all called her Hange. But they said her name like it was a title, like it was something that had to be said with as little chance of a slip of a tongue as possible. It was a practiced phrase, a relished sensation.

That was the first thing that came to mind when Levi started to give a little more thought to his surroundings. There was a bigger picture that could have explained such reactions. Hange was walking next to him. More importantly, next to her was Zeke, the owner of the two hectare complex housing both a sixteen floor hospital, a medical arts building and two parking lots.

And that was just one of his hospitals. Levi liked to remind himself of that, as he followed behind, a little more perceptive than usual of the stares, the whispers and the returned smiles.

Zeke was charismatic. Hange was charismatic. When they walked straight ahead, their strides confident, Levi could only gape, slowly becoming more self conscious of his own inability to keep his back straight. Suddenly, he was aware of his own inability to greet every single one of the workers by name, greet every single stranger like he had known them his whole life.

Maybe Hange did know some of them. “Hey, Hange that one patient you just talked to, is he regular or something?” Levi asked.

Hange shrugged. “No, I just met him.”

Levi hadn’t been close enough to hear the conversation but the grins exchanged, the confident tone with which Hange navigated the conversation. They had all seemed just a little too natural at first glance. She didn’t seem at all exhausted by multiple interactions in a row.

Hange had stopped just a few inches in front of Levi before turning back at him. “You seem stressed,” she commented.

Zeke went ahead, still chatting with a balding man in a business suit. He gestured in the same manner, chattered with the same confident tone.

Yes, after staring for a little longer than what could have been comfortable. Levi had to admit to himself, he was a little more stressed than usual. “I’m fine,” he said, turning to Hange, forcing his gaze on her. Averting eyes would only make the process of being stressed, more stressful.

“It sucks Erwin couldn’t come,” Hange continued.

“Erwin doesn’t know much about how the application actually works so I’ll just document what’s needed in our proposal and we’ll just need his take on prices and on budget allocation and that’s enough,” Levi explained.

“Maybe, they’ll do it over another game of golf,” Hange mused. “If we do play golf again, would you join?”

Levi raised one eyebrow at her. “Why waste your time playing golf again?”

“To close important business deals.”

“You can do it in the office.”

Hange chuckled. “You’d be surprised how many businessmen have closed deals on the golf course. Investors don’t work eight to five jobs in the office you know. A lot of them like to play a good game of golf then go into the office and sign the actual paperwork there. It builds camaraderie.”

“Is that why you know how to play? For business purposes?”

Hange nodded. “I’ve learned golf, a few gambling games to mingle. Besides, people like to know how their business partners and their fellow investors think and what better way than watching them over a few games right?”

“I’m not a rich businessman, I wouldn’t know,” Levi muttered. He walked ahead of Hange and surveyed his surroundings. There were patients, nurses, doctors and visitors. They all had their own conversations Levi would most likely never figure out the meat of. His own disconnect from them, his much closer connection to Hange and by extension to Zeke, had made him aware of the fact that he was painfully poor.

There was a wry smile plastered on Hange's face, as if she was starting to sense the discomfort herself. “Yeah, to be honest, it is a rich man’s game. Most businessmen who play golf, have shares in private golf courses or memberships and it’s customary to invite fellow business partners for a game in your home country club.”

“How much are these shares?” Levi enunciated those words just a little slower. It was an unpleasant thing to ask that only served to aggravate his own self consciousness. Somehow, he was feeling a little masochistic at that moment.

Hange shrugged. “Depends on the club. Maybe a few tens of thousands of dollars a year, sometimes a hundred.” It turned out she hadn’t noticed his discomfort or maybe he was just too good at hiding it.

Levi still attempted a light response. “Figures why I never learned how to play then.”

“Yeah, well to be honest, although I have played as a kid, I only got to play a lot more when I got together with Zeke. His family owns shares in country clubs in a lot of countries.”

It was a question of transitivity, one Levi quickly answered. And the large numbers he was starting to lose control of in his mind, had manifested as a cough, an almost painful, raspy one.

“Are you okay?” Hange asked. It had only been a week since the drowning incident at the beach. It subsided quickly after and Levi surmised that it wasn't the fault of his own poor health. It had been his own inability to fathom numbers, to comprehend wealth and his own blatant poorness that had frozen time for him.

Hospitals. Real Estate. Resorts. Country Club Shares. Although it was only a small aspect of it, his mind was also back to tasting the free flowing tea in Zeke’s private airplane.

“I’m fine,” Levi said. I just tried to mentally calculate the amount of money your husband earns and spends on a yearly basis. A mental note he added just for himself.

Zeke would obviously have a lot of money. He would obviously be faced with the problem on how to spend the money. Those were facts Levi grappled with as he took a deep breath just to clear the remnants of burns in his throat.

And those facts only made it more difficult to move as Levi stumbled closer and closer upon a burning conclusion.

Zeke was filthy rich. Zeke was powerful.

Levi was a meagre employee who made a meagre annual salary which was probably less than their pocket money for one trip to Europe.

Zeke had proven to be abrasive, just a little bit of a bastard. He proved to be somewhat unpredictable.

Levi was under his mercy, under Zeke’s very flamboyant whims. He clambered for solace elsewhere, back to Hange who had caught up to him. Hands behind her back, she continued to walk through the hospital like she was strolling through a park.

She was a good reminder that he wasn’t alone. Hange would help him through whatever whims or threats that came with taking up the business venture of a billionaire as a typical employee. As he studied Hange’s distracted expression, Levi had to admit, he wasn’t so sure where Hange stood in that whole relationship.

Zeke loves Hange. Hange loves Zeke. But how much help would Hange be to him? Even if Hange was helpful, even if she was supportive. Until when? For how long?

He soon concluded, the only thing he could be certain of was uncertainty. What would determine the success of the application, could be Hange or it could be him. The only thing he could predict or he could control would be his own actions.

It wasn’t motivation that had him moving faster. It was discipline. “Where are we going?” Levi asked, his voice more mechanical than a second ago for sure.

“Zeke’s office is on the top floor,” Hange answered.

Levi feigned understanding. Hange had said it like she had answered the question moments back. Maybe she did and he was just a little too unhinged at that moment. Besides, they were taking too many pit stops towards the office, only prolonging the grueling journey.

Hange and Zeke were talking to everyone on the way up. After a while, Levi tuned them out, willing himself to focus on something a little less stressful like how much the finishings on the hospital could have been, how much the tiled floors below him could have cost to not gather dust from his shoes so easily.

And he thought again to every single person being paid by Zeke to even be there. Time went incredibly slowly but as soon as they arrived at the front of the room, Levi could have sworn time passed way too quickly.

“Managing a hospital costs a lot of money, Levi,” Zeke explained as he stood outside the door of what could have been his office.

“I’m perfectly aware of that,” Levi responded, mustering as much ‘professional’ as he could with that sentence.

“Well, you look a little astonished, surprised? Or maybe that’s just your natural face.” Zeke said it like it was a truth that could be easily brushed off.

Somehow, that pushed a few buttons for Levi. He clamped his mouth shut, scolding himself for not even noticing that for a good few minutes that it was wide open.

That was more bait for Zeke. “Difficult to fathom eh? Just imagine some of these machines cost more money than most people would ever see in your life.”

And Zeke had multiple hospitals, more hospitals than Levi could even count with both hands and both feet maybe, and that monkey was completely aware of how much he actually had. It was in his demeanor, his approach towards others.

The door opened with a loud click and a grating creak. “It’s been a while Mr. Jaeger, Hange,” the woman on the other side greeted.

Everyone called Hange, Hange. Levi noted once again. It only seemed natural that Hange would have preferred that anyway.

Zeke went ahead inside the office confidently like he owned the place---since he owned the place. Hange gestured for Levi to follow behind and Levi used that last few seconds to spare a glance at the small girl with black curly hair, sleepy eyes and a very mature looking face.

“You’re Levi right? Zeke and Hange told me a lot about your application and we’re very much looking forward to seeing it in action.”

Levi subtly patted the phone in his front pocket, not for anyone to see. It just served as some reassurance that he hadn’t completely forgotten it at home or it hadn’t fallen off. When he spent too much time calculating numbers, calculating assets he would never own, and maybe never even fathom, he was aware that he may have been distracted enough to forget why he was there in the first place.

“This here is Pieck,” Zeke waved his hand with great flourish. Really though, when Levi was completely aware that that man most likely owned half the country, any gesture he did could be described as something overly flamboyant.

Pieck nodded at Zeke then at Levi. “I handle the psych wards here. Hange’s been requesting permission to test here and Zeke, he’s been raving non stop about your application,” she said with wonder in her eyes.

Zeke? Talking wonders about my app? Levi attempted to sneak a glance at Zeke, withdrawing it at the last minute after noticing, Zeke was looking right at him.

“There’s a lot of potential for that application,” Zeke answered. He had shifted to a more professional demeanor.

Hange nodded. “I mentioned this over email but Levi and I have been doing a lot of testing on it. This type of technology can be used to improve the accuracy of diagnosis, the effectiveness of treatments in psych wards…”

“Yes, I read your email and Zeke and I have been discussing this already.”

Hange’s eyes widened. She turned to Zeke. “You have?”

“I’ve been working with the other doctors here on getting volunteers among the kids. We currently have an emotional management program for kids and this would be a great opportunity to see the application. We could set a date for testing the application…” Pieck looked down at her tablet, sliding her finger over it.

From Levi’s own position, he couldn’t clearly see what she was fiddling with, his own tech savvy instincts though were hinting to a calendar. He continued to watch her finger slide over it, sliding across weeks or months he supposed.

More than enough time to get an application ready for testing.

“What about sometime this week? Would Wednesday do?”

“Wednesday? To test the love alarm app?” I thought we’ll be doing it now. He turned to Hange who seemed visibly confused as well.

Hange furrowed her brows. “We could test the love alarm now,” she suggested.

“Oh yes, definitely. But what about the test build of the application we requested?” Pieck asked.

“You have a test build already right?” Zeke turned to Levi. “If I remember correctly, you mentioned working on something… Hange, you’ve been neck deep on that proposal right?”

Levi opened his mouth to speak. It’s not ready. That was a lie. There was no build but Levi couldn’t even allow himself a sliver of confusion in his expression. It was a professional meeting. He was supposed to have everything under control.

“I have been working on something…” Hange started.

But it’s far from ready. We barely have anything out.

Pieck seemed too expectant. She turned her ipad over to him, clear enough for him to see. “We’ve informed the doctors of some free time around this week. It would be best to have it before most of the younger kids go on summer vacation. The cycle of our emotion management program ends this week and the doctors are already very familiar with the kids---”

“When does the next cycle end? We could get something available by then,” Levi said.

“We won’t be holding them during the summer unfortunately. We’ll be using that time to process data and results… So would December do?” Pieck turned to Zeke.

“What do you think Hange? This is one project you want to do right?”

Try another hospital. Another group of kids. Another program. Levi’s mind was racing with too many alternatives.

“Yes, but I don’t think the test application will be ready by then,” Hange argued.

“Where are you two now in the process?” Zeke asked.

The planning stages. Levi couldn’t even bring himself to say it.

“We don’t have anything worth presenting yet,” Hange said.

“Well, we’re not asking for a perfect product.” Zeke wasn’t addressing it at Hange. HIs blue eyes were fixed on Levi. When Levi found himself unable to even force a hint of indignance out of his mouth, he started to realize, those weren't just eyes. They were millions of dollars worth of investments, billions of dollars worth of assets in one long stare.

Levi tensed up on his seat. They weren’t asking for a perfect product but with that much money on the line, he didn’t have much room for his own decisions.

“You could do something right? Take some code from the love alarm just to get something ready?” Zeke suggested. They were reasonable suggestions Levi could easily expound on himself.

“What do you have in mind?” Levi forced himself to meet the man’s eyes.

“You’re the developer. I’m merely an investor.” Merely. The word, the way Zeke had emphasized it with an almost mocking tone, implied the complete opposite. “Tell me Levi, If he put his mind into it, what do you think a developer can do?”

They didn’t test the love alarm that day. Levi left the hospital two hours earlier than planned and went directly to his office.

***

He couldn’t have gone there any slower. The train couldn’t have run any slower and of course, he probably wouldn’t have wasted so much time fiddling with the key over his door knob if his hand hadn’t been shaking.

It was as if the whole world was trying to slow him down. He had two days---less than 48 hours--- to get something for testing. With the amount of work needed, the mountains of code needed to be written, copied and pasted, tested, Levi wasn’t seeing it in days, he was seeing the countdown in his head. When he stared at a clock, he was seeing numbers moving backward, sweet sweet time, pulling away from him.

Time was a precious asset, a precious resource and somehow, such a prospect had Levi clumsier than usual. He fell into the chair on his desk with a thump. He had leaned far back enough for a split second, that he had almost expected his chair to topple backwards.

He didn’t have the time to recover from such a terrifying prospect. While his hands were still shaking, his breaths coming out ragged, Levi forced himself forward. He turned on the computer, allowing himself a brief respite while it booted up.

His work computer was still one of the fastest of his kind and had only allowed him less than a minute to catch a breath. He typed out his username, password. He opened up the server manager.

Anger. Sadness. Happiness. Levi said aloud. That was what Zeke had promised them. As quickly as he repeated those requests to himself, Zeke’s other words echoed in his head, an unwelcome visitor.

You can break down the love alarm into that right? We’re not asking for a perfect application.

He took a deep breath, letting it out as a hard firm huff more than an exhale. As if the force in his chest would be enough to wake him up. The work was overwhelming. He should be calling someone else in to help out.

There were other factors pulling him back though.

For one, it was a Saturday. He saw himself working all the way until Monday. Just recalling Zeke's face, his question had Levi’s head spinning, his hands hovering much more quickly over the keyboard.

It was a challenge from Zeke to him. And he concluded for himself, he didn’t even wanna get Hange involved.

It would be nice to have her here---. Something inside him attempted to argue.

To cheer you on? It was a selfish proposition so Levi scolded himself and concluded that a good punishment would be to just focus.

He did first what he knew best. He copied the necessary code from both the frontend and backend. He worked efficiently. While importing data, he was copying and pasting code. While booting a phone up, he was opening necessary tabs on Github and Stack Overflow.

By the time the sun was completely down, by the time his eyes started to get just a little too crusty and a little heavy, he had a sorry excuse for an interface, a sorry excuse for an API on the server.

He looked at the clock at the lower right of his computer. Eleven in the evening. How long had he been staring at a screen? It was a waste of time to calculate that, so he quickly calculated something a little more pressing.

He had far less than forty eight hours until he needed to submit something.

He had finished a framework in only a few hours but he had more than enough experience developing the love alarm to know, the hard part wasn’t in the actual building. It was in the data loading, it was in the actual testing.

He didn’t allow himself to relax. Around three in the morning, after spending hours cleaning the interface, he fell back dead on the backrest of his seat and he allowed himself a few minutes to close his eyes.

Few minutes turned into hours in a split second. He had forgotten to set an alarm. “Fuck,” Levi hissed. That word hadn’t been enough though to carry the frustration that had bubbled inside him since hearing those words from yesterday afternoon.

What can a developer do if they put their mind into it?

Hange’s words were a savior in their own way. Levi, I’m in no hurry. Take as much time as you need. They were comforting but they didn't do much to stop Levi from sitting up and going back to work.

Had it been for Zeke? Or had it been for Hange? Or had it been his own pride that had him pushing himself to restart the boot up the idle computer.

Zeke was the important stakeholder. He held the funds. Hange was just a benefactor of the funds. Ultimately, Zeke made the final choice.

He took one deep breath, letting out a shout at the exhale. He pulled himself to a kneeling position and pressed the power button on the computer. Pulling himself up by the base of the chair, he walked sluggishly towards his white board and wrote out three words, right next to each other.

Happy. Sad. Angry.

He had no time to make an algorithm. But he could make estimates. He wrote out the basic model under each word.

“When numbers are above this line, the alarm rings,” Levi muttered to himself. When he was speaking out loud, he seemed to make some sense.

It wasn’t as easy as that though. A machine learning model after all relies on probability, it relies on prediction and the only way to get the machine to figure out probabilities was to give it data to mine from.

He turned back to the computer and typed a query. Exporting the data would take a while. Another opportunity to rest.

He used that moment to take a glance at his phone. A notification from Hange was at the top of his lock screen. He immediately unlocked his phone.

5:34 AM

Ping me if you need any help.

It was just 6:30. Hange sent the message an hour ago.

5:35 AM

Sorry for checking in late. Zeke took me out for dinner

Maybe Hange had sensed the slight irritation Levi would feel at seeing the first text sent more than twelve hours since they separated at the hospital.

5:35 AM

He wanted to spend the night with me.

5:35 AM

Just the two of us.

5:37 AM

No Phones

Out of spite or out of exhaustion, Levi kept his reply stone cold and professional.

6:36 AM

Complete the table below:

Happiness: Endorphins, Serotonin, Dopamine, Oxytocin

Anger: Adrenaline, Cortisol

Sadness: ??????

Hange’s reply came before the data export even finished

6:50 AM

Sadness: Lack of neurotransmitters.

It was a shitty reply. So Levi gave a shitty reply in return.

6:50AM

?????

Lack of neurotransmitters? Somehow, Levi didn't trust Hange to reply on time. A quick google search later and a few hours of stress later, Levi had derived the sadness model form happiness model. The models were done, they just needed to be coded.

That did nothing to placate the turmoil inside him. For some odd reason, he thought looking at his phone could pacify him somehow.

8:28 AM

Sorry Levi, Zeke took us out golfing. I’ll try to be there before lunch.

8:37 AM

Zeke’s calling the shots today :’) I’ll still try to be there before lunch.

Levi kept his reply minimalistic.

10:36 AM

Technically, it was already ‘before lunch’ so Levi wasn’t expecting anything. They haven’t seen each other in a while. He whispered to himself, just to placate whatever irritation had settled within him, manifesting as an almost permanent grimace as he started to code again.

Lunch came and went quickly with a half finished burger and fries and just a passing thought that Zeke and Hange were probably having a feast at whatever country club they were in.

“Be here before lunch my ass.” Levi said those last two words with bitter burning venom, loud enough to echo in his small office space. It would be nice if somehow she could hear it wherever she was. “My. fucking. Ass. ” He repeated, channelling all the irritation, the exhaustion, the impatience into three words. In another space, maybe she could have heard it. “Fuck me in the ass.” He let out another taut swear, enjoying how that at least sent a splits econd long wave of euphoria through him.

Maybe it could count as therapy if he typed out the words ‘my fucking ass’ or ‘fuck me in the ass’ to Hange’s message box. He didn’t have to send it though.

2:37 PM

Zeke wanted to go shopping. I swear I tried to leave.

Fuck me in the ass. Levi typed. Under it, he typed something else.

Lunch time. My. Fucking. Ass.

It would have been nice to send out. For at least a few second, it sounded like a good idea to send it. Levi had enough self control though and he had enough forward thinking skills not to send it. The profanities on the message box were enough to at least calm him down.

No, you haven’t seen your hubby in a while. Take your time :-)

Was the sarcasm apparent? He focused for a little longer on the smiley face at the end.

4:35 PM

No, you haven’t seen your hubby in a while. Take your time :-) :-) ;-)

Then he added two more just for authenticity's sake. And he went back to coding, assuring himself that the burger and the regular fries would be enough to last him until he finished the damn application.

7:30 PM

Levi! You want anything for dinner?

Levi saw that message in between reviewing a hundred compiler warnings all on the same line of code. He ignored it. Instead, he decided sending himself a pull request and reviewing the code himself as a mental exercise was a better use of his time.

8:47 PM

Hey, I might be a little late. We went out to dinner but I bought you take out. :D How are things going?

Despite the compiler warnings, the code managed to compile, so Levi allowed himself the luxury of a quick break.

10:10 PM

Fine.

After replying, Levi sat up from his seat, shifted his weight to his legs one by one. The window was a good few feet away but he saw that as a good chance for exercise. He opened the window, allowing the fresh air in, first as a weak wave only thin enough to fit through the peek. He opened it a little wider, popping his head through the gap, noting how the streets were completely empty. He stared back at the clock on his computer screen.

Ten on a Sunday evening. Typical.

He sat back on the chair, with a loud and firm plop, freezing for as long as it took for the chair to stop shaking. He leaned back and pulled the test device from his drawer. A part of him was tempted to close all the Stack Overflow and GitHub tabs.

He wasn't ready to call it a day though. He didn’t trust his ability to code anything accurately with that short of a time frame.

A few minutes later, the APK file was loaded. He booted up the application, stifling a cringe at the shitty interface.

The shitty title screen with the shitty plain white background flashed on the screen.

ALAR

He wasn’t particularly good at front end and UI engineering so he closed his eyes and begrudgingly whispered to himself Zeke's words. “It doesn’t have to be perfect.”

Really though, it would have been nice to submit a perfect test application. Just to show up Zeke. Just to impress Hange. It would have been great and Levi allowed himself a grin as he leaned back on the chair and stared at the ceiling.

A good few hours later, he started to test. Soon after, he started to theorize something else. Maybe he jinxed it. Maybe he shouldn’t have been so hopeful.

Suddenly, he was scolding himself for just being a little too ungrateful at the shitty user interface. His mind continued to wander, his threads of imagination continued to wind, interweaving against one another, tightening to uncomfortable knots in his brain. And suddenly he was scolding himself over the hundreds of compiler warnings he ignored.

The application should alarm when someone angry, sad or happy holds it. That was how he programmed it.

Or at least, that was how it was supposed to work. When his brain was muddled with confusion and eventual frustration, heavy with tension, he took a quick break to stare at his phone.

11:58 PM

Zeke got a little drunk. I just have to bring him home.

Levi decided then, (and he was certain of it), he’d rather not have Hange there.

11:59 PM

No need to come here. Go take care of him.

His phone volume had been set to the lowest level. Just in case, Levi put his phone on silent as well.

He turned his attention back to the test device. “Come on, fucking hell. Work.” Levi hissed as if the code, the computer understood anger, as if it understood frustration.

“It’s the exact same fucking code. I just changed the algorithm,” Levi said louder, as if the code understood verbal arguments.

All to no effect. So he went back to the compiler warnings.

1:38 AM

Just tucked Zeke in bed. I’m taking a cab now. I swear, I’m really on the way now.

Levi had conveniently checked his phone around the time Hange texted. He had been checking the phone anyway in ten minute intervals.

1:39 AM

No need.

He started to use his own phone for testing, just in case a diffeent device suddenly made everything work. Besides, he liked to see the notifications there. He liked her messages. Yet at the same time, he didn’t want her there. Frustrated and confused, he slid his phone towards the end of the desk and it hit the wall with a resounding clatter, loud enough to make Levi wince.

He slipped out of the chair and onto the floor with a crash, loud enough to rival the impact of the phone on the wall just a second ago. His back was sore, but still he couldn’t help but entertain the thought that he would have been willing to experience that again, just to get the application to work.

You’re angry now right? He asked himself, as he held the test device in front of him.

The alarm didn’t ring.

You’re sad? Right? He was sad. He was sure his eyes were red rimmed from lack of sleep. His eyelids were a little crusty for sure. And as the application stayed silent, stayed inactive even when it was right in front of him, even when he had dropped almost painfully on his face, the phone remained silent, still.

Maybe his application was an idiot. Maybe it fell for fake smiles. So he forced a smile then, as he pressed his back on the ground, stretched his legs forward and stared at the ceiling above him.

Silence.

He broke the silence himself, with one grunt as he slammed the phone on the floor next to him. “Fucking hell.”

The one curse had him reflecting. How angry was he? Who was he angry at? And why wasn’t the alarm going off?

Anger was a negative feedback loop. The more he let his anger take over, the more frustrated he became. Then the more the device should have rang but it didn’t. Then the more frustrated he became.

The frustration should have been enough to make it ring. If it had been working correctly.

Eventually, the anger became strong enough to take control elsewhere. It pushed him to turn towards the desk, push himself up, just high enough to be able to stretch his hand up and pull his own personal phone back down with him on the floor. He lay back down on the floor, raised his phone on front of him and booted it up. He turned on the application and looked through it again.

No response.

Happy. Sad. Angry.

No response for any of them.

A banner appeared, falling over the application.

1:59 AM

Levi, I’m here, where do I go?

No need. He willed himself to type it again. He didn’t want her there, but he did. Conflicted feelings had him frozen on the floor, the phone just above him, his eyes fixed on the screen.

If Hange came, then she came. Who was he to stop her?

2:00 AM

Do I go to your office??

2:05 AM

If you don’t answer, I’ll just assume you’re in the office.

2:07 AM

Even if I waste my time, It’s my fault anyway.

2:07 AM.

I’m sorry.

Hange wasn’t in any obligation to be there anyway. She was an investor, not an employee, he reminded himself. He was watching the banners shift like he was watching paint dry. The former though was far more interesting. More than interesting. It was a relief. It was a consolation.

It was home. In the dim room, all alone, he wanted her there. By god, he wanted her there.

There were footsteps and they quickly got louder, the sound of a bag hitting the door, then the sound of the rustle of belongings.

He had left the office door unlocked at least and she was impolite enough to barge in. He liked her impoliteness, it had just made everything flow much better.

He followed her with his eyes, as she slipped through the crack of the door. He watched closely as her face shifted from that of pure surprise, worry… Then pity.

Was that pity? Did he look that pathetic?

“Hey, are you okay?” Hange asked.

“Tired,” Levi answered. He gave her a once over, allowing himself a sliver of a smile at her cocktail dress, the jacket over her, the light make up on her face, the golden studs on her ears. God she was beautiful. “Fun night?”

She nodded. “Zeke wanted to have fun tonight. I humored him by tagging along,” she said lightly.

He’s a lucky man. “Must have been fun.”

She put a hand to his face, and gave him a light slap. “I brought takeout, some sandwiches. Did you have dinner already? We can have it for breakfast.”

She had slapped him hard, not hard enough to leave him burning definitely, but still, he felt some heat resonate from his cheeks. “I tried,” he muttered.

“Tried what?” Hange asked.

“Building the app.”

“Levi, don’t kill yourself over it. You could have asked Petra, Gunther, Eld or Oluo for help right?” It was just like Hange to mention their names like she knew them her whole life.

“They’re on leave.” It was a natural excuse and that had been one reason why he refused to ask for help. He surmised that maybe some of it had been more than that.

“I tried to ask for an extension from Zeke,” she said.

“How did that work out?” It was a half assed response at best. He didn’t want the extension.

“He said no. He expected a lot from you. Besides, he promised the hospital already… Without consulting us.”

"Without consulting us?" Levi repeated. He slammed his fist down on the floor. "Fucking hell."

"Yeah, it's our fault. Zeke did that. I should have helped you and I know I made you wait…" Hange's voice was warm, it was a melody to his hears. ".. .so when I was stuck with Zeke, I made a few calls, picked this up from a good friend of mine." She pressed something cold into his palms.

He didn't even have the energy to crane his neck.

"It's a USB, with data from previously made research, on neurotransmitters, responses from people who've taken tests. I thought it would help build the app so I made a few calls and --"

"I'm done."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm tired."

"Hey, we could cancel tomorrow. I'll just tell Pieck. We can rebuild the app, focus on getting something out."

"Hange, I'm done."

"You're giving up?" There was a crack in her voice, something that sent a twinge to him

He let out a soft chuckle. "No. I managed to make something.”

Hange's eyes widened, a smile curled up her lips. “You’re kidding.”

“But it barely even works."

"What makes you say that?"

"It doesn't ring."

No matter how angry, no matter how sad, no matter how happy, it didn't ring. The algorithm was broken. That had been Levi's conclusion. The same conclusion he had come across when they had tested the love alarm again a few days back.There were just too many compiler warnings maybe?

Hange wasn't a developer and maybe that's why she had been a little hopeful. "I'll test it out, send me the file?"

One APK file later, a few clicks on the phone, and the alarm rang in the dim narrow room.

It made his head pound, but still, it was music to his ears. He had been too tired to even let out a strong exhale, a sigh of relief. "Are you happy? Sad? Angry?" He whispered.

"It says here, I’m happy," Hange answered.

"At least we know it works," Levi said.

"Why don't we try yours again?" Hänge pulled his hand up, guiding the phone back in between his finger tips.

"It didn't work the first time," Levi argued.

"Again." Hange was insistent and at that moment, she was much stronger than he was.

He unlocked his phone, and opened the application.

"Turn on the alarm," Hänge said.

He didn't need guidance, he made the application after all. Her voice had been coaxing, she had made everything go smoother in her own way.

He dropped the phone on his chest, stared up at the ceiling, frozen as the phone vibrated in his chest. "What does it say?"

Hange let out a short laugh. "This application can read multiple feelings at the same time? Is this expected behavior?"

"Why?"

“It says you're angry."

"I'm tired. Of course I'm angry."

"And sad," Hange added.

" Oh really?" Something started to sting at his eyes.

"And guess what, it also says you're happy."

"Am I?" Levi asked. All he could feel then was relief, relief that in the end it had alarmed. "I guess that means we're at least kinda ready for tomorrow…" He could have said more, if his voice didn't crack.

"Hey, rest. It doesn't look like you slept well."

"I slept a bit last night."

"People need at least six hours of sleep at night… and really, Levi you don't look so good."

He didn't need to see it to understand. His eyes were heavy, his rims were prickling at one another and one cheek was wet, and it brought the 'wet' all the way down to his chin, in one straight trail. A few more soon followed.

Sad. Angry. Happy. But he liked to think he was just exhausted. That feeling loomed far above the others anyway.

It rang for no reason then. He concluded. Maybe it was a bug. After all, how did something just start magically working after not working for hours before that?

Hange spoke up again in the slience. "Hey, are you crying?"

He only noticed it when she asked. His mind was quick to explain it. "Sometimes, people tear up when they're sleepy right?"

***

Hange was there when he woke up and he was glad to see her. Her eager presence was a reminder enough that she didn’t have to be there.

“Happy Monday!” Hange chirped joyfully, as if that had been the best thing to say while Levi was still getting used to his surroundings.

He never completely got used to it. The back of his head was throbbing from having fallen asleep on the hard wooden floor. The front of his head pounded. He couldn’t even lift his head without feeling some protest from his back. A light prickling sensation had settled on his fingers, all extending from an ache in his wrist. “Happy Monday,” Levi muttered. Was she mocking him?

“Sorry, I didn’t think it would be a good idea to move you,” Hange said wryly.

Not moving him might have been the better option. He barely got any sleep at night. In the small office, if it were between falling asleep sitting down on a comfortable chair, falling asleep on a floor, the floor won by a little more.

The phone sat on his hand, cold and hard. Levi pulled it up to his face to check the time.

6:30 AM. Work starts at eight. Fuck. He forgot to deploy application changes the night before.

“You should take a leave.” Hange could have been reading his mind or the stress could have just been apparent in his heavy eyelids and his voice, a hoarse whisper.

“What makes you say that?” Levi asked. He had hoped to use that moment to prove how okay he was. Sitting up was enough to leave him wincing, dealing with his exhausted body that had protested such a simple movement.

“You don’t wanna take one?”

“I forgot to deploy the changes. We’re supposed to do a sanity check today,” Levi said.

“Do it over breakfast?” Hange suggested, pressing a brown paper bag on his hand. "I brought sandwiches from last night."

“You know you can go home now. We can meet later at the hospital.”

“I wanna have breakfast,” Hange said, her voice firmer than a second ago.

“Go have breakfast with Zeke.”

Hange’s face was like that of a wounded puppy. It came quickly as a flash before shifting to something a little more sly. “I’ll take you out to tea? You never had your tea time at the country club.”

It could have been tea or maybe it was the efforts Hange had taken to insist. Sometimes, insisting was more than enough. Particularly then, when he was overwhelmingly and unbearably tired.

“What do you have in mind?” Levi asked.

“We can see what’s open,” Hange answered.

He let out a sigh, as if deciding to take a break was the hardest thing he could have done. All for the sake of one Hange Zoe. On the contrary, it was a surprisingly easy decision to make.

Levi opened up the messaging application on the phone, running his mind through quick calculations. Three hours. Just enough time for quick tea, enough time to get home and shower and get back to the office by ten.

Running late. Deploy fixes to production. We sanity check when I get to the office at around ten.

He sent over that message to the group chat of his own team, making sure to tag Eld and Petra.

He felt a little guilty but something else won over. A weak suggestion, heavily supported by his sore back, his swollen eyes and his trembling hands. Maybe he deserved a break.

***

They moved the goalposts. Levi was in no shape to brave the public transportation crowds on a Monday morning with a total of less than six hours of sleep the past few hours while his mind was complete mush at having coded an entire application himself.

Hange had alternatives. “I could have called a car to pick us up.”

Alternatives Levi wasn’t completely in good terms with. “No thank you, I’d rather not impose on your dear husband.” On top of that, he wanted his tea now.

The only shop which sold tea the least painful walking distance away was the convenience store just outside the building grounds. The convenience store had enough variety that he could be at least a little creative with his breakfast.

Paper tea cup in hand, Levi popped open the cup, He had asked for an extra large cup for one reason.

The green tea bubbled inside the container and Levi was a little adventurous that morning and maybe a little crazy. The past two days were crazy. He reminded himself, obliterating the guilt and the fear of risking his own health and sanity.

He poured ten shots of espresso onto the cup of green tea. He couldn’t be too sure how it would taste. Then he remembered, no one actually drank caffeine for the taste anyway. He drank half of it in a gulp. It could have been the bitterness that burned, or the actual heat of boiling water. When he was still making a conscious effort just to be aware of the streets in front of him, just to stay sitting up on the pavement, he couldn’t be too sure.

He took a big bite of his sandwich to drown it out. Then another. Then two more before crumpling the brown paper bag and pocketing it.

Hange humored him, sitting down next to him on the pavement just in front of the convenience store. She was still in her cocktail dress, a jacket over it. The corners of her eyes were still a little darker from the make up from last night. She looked ridiculous, like an overgrown teenager out on a wild night and had failed to get home on time.

His mind was running on too many scenarios, a total waste of brain power. The espresso would kick in eventually. And maybe it had been the espresso that had him suddenly laughing like an idiot.

Or maybe he was going crazy.

“Are you okay?”

He probably was going crazy. At that point, Levi was already skimming the stages of acceptance. “Where the fuck did you even go last night?”

Hange sighed. “Drinking, a little gambling. Zeke wanted to celebrate the new deal. ”

“And that’s why you played golf that morning. ”

Hange hummed in response. “Zeke and Erwin played. I probably would have invited you but yeah, with the application… Would you have had time?”

Somehow, Levi was slightly offended that they hadn’t even invited him. He blamed the caffeine. “Really? Well, fuck it. I don’t even play golf.” The caffeine continued to bubble, the irritation followed suit. “I’m sure they had a good sleep the past few nights,” he added.

“Well, they can’t do what you did.”

“Who cares? I’m at the mercy of money--- Zeke’s money. Rich people like to throw around orders then money, as if money’s just magic. As if developers --- employees are just bunnies or trick monkeys.”

Hange put up her hands in surrender. "You have every right to shit on rich people."

Levi dropped his shoulders and leaned back on the wall. “What can I do when millions of dollars are on the line?”

“You could have said---”

“Said no? And what? Risk losing this deal?” Risk losing you?

“I told you before, this is my pet project. This is my timeline. I can decide how long it takes. Zeke just wants---”

"Wants what?" Levi challenged.

It was a challenge for Hange but it looked like the world was on a mission to accept it. "Hange, what are you doing here?"

It took Levi a few seconds longer to put two and two together. After all, imagining that big ham of a voice within proximity of a place that sold teabags by the dollar was preposterous even for him.

"Zeke, what are you doing here?" Hange asked.

"Just need to drop a few legal documents at Erwin’s office. I saw you two on the way here, in a convenience store parking lot of all things?" His voice was judgemental, as expected. Still it was softer than that of two days ago.

It was easy for Levi to surmise that the blonde was most likely nursing a hangover. He relished the view of Zeke struggling to approach them. Misery loved company after all. Zeke’s gait was a little slower and if Levi squinted, he was sure the ungraceful wobble would have been more laughably noticeable.

“Right, you had the lawyer look over it already?”

Zeke nodded. “I’ve set up a post dated check.” He turned to Levi. “You’ve finished developing a build for testing?”

Levi managed a nod, closing his eyes as he did, to alleviate the pounding. And of course the irritation.

Zeke had been professional about the question. Levi couldn’t help but sense entitlement in it. When he was in a bad mood, any request reeked of entitlement. He spent a good few seconds after, reminding himself, Zeke was paying millions for it, and deserved every right to ask questions and expect.

“Zeke…” Hange sounded, almost breathless. “This is more money than I expected.”

How much money? Levi didn’t wanna know but from the tremble in her hands, her wide eyes, Levi didn’t think he even wanted to know.

“Think of it… as compensation for forcing you to delay your PhD,” Zeke said. “That was your plan before we got married right?”

PhD? Now that he did think about it, Hange mentioned something about delaying a PhD, all to marry Zeke.

“Yeah, if this study… this testing goes well, I could publish it for my doctorate degree,” Hange said, a ghost of a smile on her lips. A ghost of a smile for just a second. It soon got wider.

Levi only noticed a second later, his mouth had gone the opposite direction as realization dawned on him.

Right, Hange wanted to do research.

Right, Hange wanted a PhD.

And Zeke was the one who had put everything together for him at that moment. “This is your dream right?” He pressed the cheque deeper into her palms.

Hange nodded. Was that the first time he had ever seen her struggle to find the right words?

The hints were all there. The pet project. The doctorate. Hange Zoe who was just a little too interested in neuropsychology.

Why didn’t you tell me this was your dream? This was your PhD? It seemed most criminal that he couldn't even put two and two together. Levi would have wanted to scream back then. He wasn’t in any position to break anyone’s good mood though. Hange’s smile was too wide, her eyes too bright.

“I have a meeting at nine. Breakfast?” Zeke asked.

“I had something to eat already,” Hange said. “But we could get a quick brunch.”

Zeke turned back to Levi. “You’re free to join us.”

“No, I have work at ten,” Levi said. “I’ll see you two later, in the hospital.”

“I’ll see you later.” Hange gave Levi a softer smile, one just for him. He couldn’t read too much into it then. Still, he continued to stare, as she turned back and got into the car.

Zeke stayed outside for a second, leaning on the door. His eyes fixed on Levi’s.

Tired eyes on tired eyes. Levi though wasn’t sleepy enough to hear those last few words.

“Levi, thank you,” Zeke said.

Levi was taken aback for just a second at such a seemingly uncharacteristic expression. Fortunately, pleasantries were basic and automatic if he just put on the right facade. “You’re welcome.”

He watched Zeke get into the car and he stood still for a second longer, watching the car get smaller before it turned the corner of the parking of their building. He started to reflect while recalling the interactions until then. He should have been somewhat grateful for the pleasantries exchanged. After all, the man was worth billions and there weren’t many who did receive the honor of being personally thanked by billionaires.

Somehow, that exchange had only made him sadder. Hange being there next to him suddenly going absent had only made him lonelier. He gulped the rest of the concoction of a while ago, coughing out the bitterness, shaking his head to feel that last buzz.

He checked his phone. 8am. He needed a shower before work but his legs were deadweight.

So he called a taxi, not bothering to calculate the cost. After all, he did deserve a break.

#levihan #levihan fanfiction

32 notes · View notes

thelibrarbian · 3 years

Photo

Rating: T

Chapter word count: 2384

Read on Ao3

or below:

---

Movement on the upper floor made Papyrus look up, just in time to see the door to Sans' room open and his brother step out. Sans shuffled up to the banister and leaned against it, looking down into the living room. When his gaze landed on the two skeletons on the couch, his eyebrows shot up, but all he said on the matter was a small "huh".

"did he wake up? thought i heard you guys talking."

"He did - well, somewhat." Papyrus glanced down at Fell, who appeared to be deeply asleep once again. It was less alarming now he knew that Fell wasn't Falling Down, but it was a strange sight nevertheless. He didn't even twitch in response to the talking right next to him, and Papyrus got the distinct impression that he wouldn't stir even if somebody broke down the door and started supplexing the couch. He made sure to keep his voice low anyway. "But I think he will be alright." Eventually. "For now, I suppose he has earned his rest."

Sans gave a vague hum of agreement, leaning heavily against the railing.

Papyrus looked his brother up and down, frowning slightly. "Sans… I know this is a rare thing for me to encourage, but I think you, too, should try to sleep a little. It's still the middle of the night, and while I may not need to nap for such an excessive amount of time, I do believe you're used to your eight hours of snoozing."

Sans chuckled and shook his head before pushing himself back from the banister. "eh, it's fine." He began to shuffle down the stairs. "you keep telling me i should find hobbies other than napping, right?"

Papyrus raised an eyebrow. "That may be true, and far be it from me to curb your enthusiasm! But maybe we should postpone these plans to a time when you don't look like you're going to pass out standing up?" His quota for passed out skeletons this night was already filled.

"you mean i look bone tired?" Sans winked.

Papyrus let out a huff. "Do not attempt to distract me with your perpetual punning! That one was low even by your standards." He sighed. "But I suppose I can't be too hard on you today. How is Red?"

"still sleeping." Sans reached the bottom of the stairs and leaned against the banister. "and snoring like a chainsaw, that's why my napping's on hold."

Instead of pointing out that Sans usually had no trouble falling asleep even in the noisiest environments, Papyrus waved his brother over. He couldn't exactly give him a hug with Fell on his lap, so he settled for the closest alternative, placing a hand on his shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze.

Sans raised an eyebrow. "you okay, bro? i mean, i'm not complaining about unprompted cuddles, but…"

Papyrus straightened himself. "Of course! I, the Great Papyrus, master of first aid and healing magic, am perfectly fine!"

Sans didn't look entirely convinced, which was absurd - after all, what reason did Papyrus have to not be okay? Everything was fine. Or would be fine very soon. No, Papyrus was more concerned about his brother - and he would have asked if he really was alright, but he already knew the question would just be shrugged off with another pun.

Setting that aside, though, there were currently two unconscious skeletons in their house, and even though everything was certainly going to be just fine, their unexpected guests would need something to help them recover both health and magic when they woke up. He shared the thought with his brother. "And as much as I would love to volunteer my culinary expertise, I am a little stuck here at the moment," he added. "So if you don't mind lending a hand again…"

"i gotcha, bro." Sans pat Papyrus' hand that was still on his shoulder. "and by that i mean, i'd get grillby's, but-"

Papyrus sighed. "But it's two in the morning," he finished the sentence for him. Grillby, too, belonged to the majority of monsters that slept at night, and therefore couldn't keep his establishment open around the clock. "Fortunately, because I can not in good conscience subject our guests to anything that comes out of that greasehole."

Sans chuckled faintly. "hey, you did like the milkshakes last time."

"The milkshakes are an exception! And do not distract from the issue at hand, brother! No Grillby's! You will need to make do with what we have. Such as…" Papyrus paused, mentally going through the contents of the fridge. Which was a rather small selection, now that he thought about it. Had he known that they would have visitors tonight, he would have moved his weekly shopping trip forward by a day. "Well, aside from your empty chips bag - which I am only tolerating because it's in your half of the fridge - there should be some spaghetti left over from yesterday…"

"oh. uh…" Sans looked aside, rubbing the back of his neck.

Papyrus was still waiting for the day when his brother would speak his honest opinion on his pasta, but today was not the time to have that conversation. He decided to rescue him. "I see what you are thinking, brother! Reheated pasta is not an appropriate meal for our recovering guests. It will be much better fresh, so we shall hold off on the spaghetti until I return with the groceries tomorrow."

Sans' shoulders visibly sagged in relief. "sounds great, bro."

"In the meantime, I believe we still have tomato soup in the freezer."

"nice." Sans gave an appreciative nod, the corners of his permanent grin rising up a little higher. "leave the tomato stuff to me, i got it."

"Thank you, brother." Papyrus gave Sans' shoulder another squeeze before letting him go.

It took a good minute before a realization struck him. "Sans!!" he whisper-yelled after him. "You are not going to put ketchup into that soup!"

All he heard in response was his brother bustling about in the kitchen.

---

It was hard to miss the exact moment when Red woke up. There was a thump and a muffled curse from the upper floor, then the sound of displaced air from a shortcut right next to the couch as Red appeared there, kicking a tangled blanket off his feet. The tension was practically oozing off of him, his eye lights darting once around the room before settling on his brother.

"is he…"

"He is going to be perfectly alright, yes." Papyrus made sure to inject as much sincerity as he could into the statement while still keeping his voice quiet. "He even woke up a little while ago, and I'm sure he will be on the mend in no time at all."

Red only gave a nod, his eye lights still fixed on his brother. Papyrus couldn't blame him.

"How are you feeling, Red? We were worried when you suddenly passed out - as comfortable as our carpet is, I do not think it was intended-"

"'m fine," Red interrupted him. The hollow tone to his voice, the dim eye lights, and the tense set of his shoulders told a different story, but Papyrus didn't press.

"My brother is making soup for all of us," he said instead. "Unless he has fallen asleep in the kitchen, that is. Which, while hardly surprising, would be rather ill-timed, not to mention a fire hazard…" He craned his neck to try and peer into the kitchen, hoping that Sans wasn't really asleep at the stove…

"nah, i'm soup-er awake over here," a familiar voice from the kitchen reassured him.

Red didn't even react to the pun. Instead, his eyes suddenly locked on the skeleton in Papyrus' lap with increased intensity, and Papyrus followed his gaze down.

Fell's sockets were open again. Maybe it was just Papyrus' imagination, but his eye lights looked a little brighter than before, even if he still didn't seem entirely aware. He wasn't trying to move, but the impression Papyrus got was more of a grouchy monster whose sleep had been disturbed rather than anything he really needed to worry about.

Red cracked a grin that was still looking strained. "heh. lookin' pretty cozy there, boss."

The only response was an unintelligible grumble and what seemed to be a weak attempt at a glare, although Papyrus couldn't tell for sure from his position. However, he didn't miss the way Red's shoulders sagged and his expression turned into something less of a tense grimace.

"Would you like to join us, Red?" Papyrus asked.

Red shook his head. "nah, 'm good. don't think ya two cuddle bugs have left enough space for my bony ass, anyway."

The pillow rustled as Fell lifted his head just slightly to look at his brother, and whatever Red saw on his face, it apparently made him change his mind. With a cautiousness Papyrus had never seen him use before, he shuffled over and perched on the very edge of the couch next to Fell's feet, settling a hand on an uninjured part of his leg. "there. happy?" he asked, the gruff tone to his voice not quite matching the care with which he was moving.

Fell gave a vaguely affirmative grunt and snuggled back into the pillows on Papyrus' lap, letting out a soft huff as his body relaxed again.

Red was watching his brother with a rare soft expression on his face that Papyrus had the strong feeling he wasn't supposed to see. He quickly looked away, occupying himself with rearranging the blankets.

There was a brief moment of silence before Red spoke up again. "y'know, i'd say sorry for dumping this on yer doorstep, but…"

Papyrus quickly shook his head. "Oh no, we're very happy to have you as our guests! I mean, I do wish we had you as our guests under different circumstances, but given the situation, I am very, very glad you came here!"

Red shrugged, leaning back against the arm of the couch. His hand remained on his brother's leg. "wasn't like we had much choice." His expression darkened slightly. "'t was either you guys or the doc, and who knows what she woulda…" He trailed off.

Before Papyrus could ask what the issue with their world's version of Alphys was, there was a familiar rush of displaced air as Sans appeared next to the couch, balancing a tray of soup bowls in his hands. "mornin', sleepybones," he greeted the latest arrival on the couch.

Red grumbled good-naturedly, grabbing a bowl before slumping back into his end of the couch, somehow without jostling Fell's legs in the slightest.

Sans unceremoniously plopped down on the ground with his own bowl after handing the third one to Papyrus. "bone appetit."

That particular pun was about as tired as Sans looked, but Papyrus still awarded the attempt with an eyeroll. He carefully took a sip - and yes, there was the unmistakable sweet tang of his brother's favorite condiment. "Sans…"

"'sup, bro?" He let his skull roll back against the couch, innocently grinning up at Papyrus.

"You know exactly what is 'up', brother." It didn't even taste bad, if Papyrus was completely honest, but it was a matter of principle.

"what, not a fan of the soup-prise ingredient? i think it tastes soup-erb."

Papyrus took the bait. "That's three times that you've used 'soup' in the span of five minutes!"

Sans shrugged. "what can i say, it's a classic. though i soup-pose i should ketchup on some new material…"

Papyrus let out a long-suffering sigh and turned to the other Sans in the room. "What about you, Red? Are you enjoying the soup? We can get you something" – he side-eyed his brother – "less ketchup-heavy…"

Red shook his head and gave a thumbs-up at the same time, emptying what appeared to be half the bowl in a single gulp. "nah, soup's perfect. gotta condiment yer cooking, comic."

"Don't encourage him!"

A snicker came from the ground next to the couch. "thanks. gotta admit, i've been stewing over it for a while, so i'm glad at least someone's relishing it."

Papyrus groaned. Quietly, of course, even though Fell seemed dead to the world again… no, that was a bad one.

Red's face suddenly split into a sharp-toothed grin that filled Papyrus with dread. "but ya know, i wonder if we could spice it up-"

"Please do not wonder!" Papyrus tried to cut him off, but it was already too late.

"say no more." With an equally wide grin, Sans got up and disappeared into another shortcut. He returned a second later with a suspiciously yellow condiment bottle and tossed it at his alternate on the couch, who expertly caught it.

"Do not think I don't see how you're fully exploiting the fact that I can't get up right now!" Papyrus whisper-yelled.

Red made full eye contact as he uncapped the bottle and, teasingly slowly, turned it upside down above his bowl. Somehow, his grin widened even further.

Groaning, Papyrus threw an arm over his eye sockets (albeit slightly less dramatically than he would have done without a sleeping skeleton on his lap) so he didn't have to watch him squirt an ungodly amount of mustard into his soup. "Why??" he lamented. "Why must I be plagued by the only two monsters in existence who will ruin a perfectly good tomato soup with condiments?"

He sensed more than saw the bottle flying past him and back to Sans. There was another squelch of mustard being squeezed into soup.

"I swear, you're only doing this to torment me!"

"hey, don't knock it 'til you've tried it, bro."

"I don't need to try it to know that mustard has no place in a tomato soup!"

"nah," Red chimed in. "i think ya just haven't mustard up the courage fer it."

Papyrus buried his face in his hands.

"what's the matter, creampuff? can't take what we're dishin' out?"

Papyrus let out a perfectly silent screech to keep himself from smiling at the horrendous puns. Not to smile at the two Sanses' laughter that rewarded him proved more difficult, though. Playing along with their jokes was comfortable, familiar - and just for a little while, it was easier to pretend that everything truly was alright.

#undertale #undertale fanfiction #papyrus #sans #underfell sans #underfell papyrus #(although he's unconscious for most of the chapter)#platonic edgepuff #hurt/comfort #my writing #out of action fic

17 notes · View notes

ill-skillsgard · 3 years

Text

His Mistress - Series Finale

Warning: 18+ smut, mentions of cheating, coarse language, mature themes.

Author’s Note: I am terrible at ending stories because I never want them to end. The ending I initially wrote wasn’t good enough, so I started again until I felt it was right. I’ll keep it brief, but I want to thank all the readers who fueled this crazy fire and inspired me to flesh out a dark love story that I’m proud to say I wrote. I’ll miss Mr. Deaver and all the smutty, angsty, drama of his life with his mistress. Thanks for tolerating the never-ending POV shifts and filling my inbox with love and support for the story and for me. You guys are the BEST. I’m forever grateful!

I hope you enjoy the 9K series finale. It’s been a slice!

Henry X Mistress Masterpost [x]

Henry's company held an office party to bid farewell the building that had brought them growth and success over the last few years. Once again expanding, the company added a brand new customer-relations department, a slew of employees fresh out of university and interns to fill in the gaps. The celebration took place on the evening of their last workday and boasted live entertainment and enough luxurious fare for each employee and their loved ones. They rented a bouncy castle and ball pit for the kids and set up an open bar next to two seminar tables' worth of catering.

It wasn't only a farewell party for the company, but the first time Henry showed off his girlfriend in front of his colleagues and employees. Word of Henry's divorce had already made its rounds, his colleagues begging for gory details after the documents were signed and filed. Rumours fluttered in and out of ears and mouths, but never while Henry was in the room—Henry had cheated on his wife with a coworker, Henry screwed the cleaning lady and his wife caught him in the act, Henry picked up a venereal disease, and poor Mary. The speculation rose tensions, but like all rumours, faded into irrelevancy once news of the company move surfaced. People forgot all about Henry's ugly divorce for the next round of gossip. Word of his mistress died down.

Although the tension had mostly evaporated, she felt eyes crawling on her when she showed up on Henry's arm. Of course, everyone recognized her—she was the secretary for a time, the only line to get an opening with Mr. Deaver. She had spent months parked next to his office, taking his appointments, booking his days, answering his phone. They remembered, and they leaned into the nearest ear to whisper, "I knew it all along."

If Henry noticed the curiosity, he chose to ignore it, but she couldn't. She felt every woman in the place wringing her silently, scrutinizing her moves, her hand in Henry's. People who knew Mary tended to side with the older woman, and the nattering reinstated in hushed exchanges. She was alone at the party save for Henry, but he could only guard her for so long before his colleagues whisked him into conversations littered with business jargon that lost her attention.

Still, she clung to his hand, and once in a while, Henry would break from stock discussions to turn in for a kiss. He surrounded her ears with his fingers, tilting her face up so he need not crouch just to show some affection. When he buried her mouth with his, she savoured the taste of wine, the power in becoming the first lady, the stares from Henry's subordinates.

Henry pulled back an inch, staring drunkenly, though he'd only had one glass of pinot noir, and nipped her bottom lip. "Having a good time, sweetheart?"

"Sure. I love catching all the cattiest office workers glaring."

Henry smirked as though he too tasted a dollop of satisfaction from the envy. "You know what I say to that?"

"What?"

"Fuck them," Henry whispered.

She feigned a gasp, swatted his shoulder, and he pulled her even closer. "Gosh, you look beautiful. I want to undress you later and do all the things they're thinking about me doing to you."

"My, my, Henry. You better take it easy on the vino."

"I'm not tipsy. I'm excited."

She checked his pockets for bulges, hoping Henry's intentions weren't to propose in front of all these near-strangers. The lines of his suit were smooth, and when she hugged him, she only felt his cellphone, wallet and keys, no ring box. She sighed with relief and sweltered under another one of his long kisses. He moaned against her, stroked her neck and back until she interrupted him to say, "Jesus, Henry. What's with the PDA?"

"I'm sorry. I just don't care anymore. Let 'em look."

"Easy, tiger. You're the star of the show. People want to talk to you without lipstick all over your face."

"Mm, I'd fuck you right now if I could," said Henry.

She squeezed his shoulders, holding him off for a moment before he swooped in for another peck. "Okay, okay, I'm done. For now."

"Don't make me spank you when we get home," she warned, mouth curved in jest.

"I'll behave," he assured.

With children running about, the catering service making rounds in the nearly empty office space, more employees and their significant others piling in by the minute, it was easy to get lost in the bustle. Henry's colleagues whisked him away into a conversation she had no business understanding, leaving her stranded, drink in hand, smoothing out the wrinkles in her blouse to distract herself from her friendless reality. None of Henry's employees came to talk to her. She stood alone, a flag on a pole reminding everyone that Henry had upgraded in every way. Some people went by, nodding respectfully, while others bypassed her like a piece of furniture.

Just when she felt the pressure behind her eyes saying she was tired, Frank stepped out of the elevator with his wife and two boys. The children bolted for the bounce house, leaving their bickering parents in their dust. Frank travelled through the crowd rolling his eyes and sneering at his wife, who looked upset about something, but retracted her frown as soon as a colleague's wife greeted her. The loud businessman honed in on Henry, and she watched her helpless boyfriend go limp when the man slung his meaty arm around his shoulders, thumping his back with a ham hock fist.

She mused over Henry's embarrassment as Frank launched into a story designed specifically to draw attention to him in the worst way. Frank's baritone floated above the music, and soon, others gathered to listen to the man tell the story of how Henry got too wasted on sake on a business trip to Japan because he didn't want to seem rude to the host and didn't know how to decline.

"This fuckin' guy—pardon my French—is rolling on the floor in his hotel room, has ten minutes to get dressed and downstairs for the conference, but can't even hold his head up straight. How many did you have, Henry, seven? Eight?"

Henry blanched, shaking his head. "Eight, yeah, I think that's about right."

"You've never seen a guy so drunk in your life! He did the conference, slurring the entire time, stumbling over his shoes, but the folks loved it! Didn't they, Deaver? You really got their attention when you started hiccoughing between every word."

"Different times. We were younger. We were boys."

"Ah, yeah. Young and dumb. Now, look at you! Much older now and just as dumb, eh?"

The gaggle surrounding Henry burst into laughter and carried on as Frank surrendered his grip. She tried to picture Henry staggering, too drunk to string together a sentence, but couldn't imagine him as anything less than poised. The image reminded her of the conversation she had with Mary in the parking garage. Before the divorce had been finalized, Mary told her Henry had done questionable things abroad with his colleagues. Frank's story, although comical and meant as a harmless jab, filled her with suspicion.

Henry had denied the accusation that he cheated before that night he invited her up to his hotel room. With desperation on his face, he vowed on his love for her that he was never unfaithful, barring their affair. She believed him, with reluctance, and stowed it away in her mind with the rest of Mary's dubious claims. Now that stories of shenanigans and unprofessional conduct were in circulation, she tried not to let her suspicions gain traction.

The night played on, and as more of the families left to put their hyper children to bed, the heads of business brought out the top-shelf Scotch and sat around picking at sandwich trays and hors d'oeuvres. Frank caught Henry's assistant-turned-girlfriend in his cross-hairs and approached her with a drink in hand. Red-faced and loud as ever, Frank asked her why she wasn't enjoying herself.

She cleared her throat and offered her best smile. "I am having fun. I just don't have a rich enough history with the company to offer any entertaining stories."

"Oh, come now. You were Henry's assistant for months! You don't have anything to share about banging the boss?"

Frank's announcement only fell on her ears, but it was enough to make her blush and want to escape. He apologized and sidled up to her, clinking his whiskey tumbler with her wine glass.

"Gotta get you a refill, Whaddaya say, toots?"

"I'm fine for now," she said. "I offered to drive home."

"That's right. You two live together now in that little condo."

She blinked, unsure of how anyone might think of the condo as little, then realized she was standing among wealthy men whose homes spanned acres, who owned Summer cottages bigger than the average townhouse.

"I gotta say, Deaver's got that colour back in his face since he started on with you, doll. What do I gotta do to get me a woman like that? He's a whole new man. Is that all it takes is a nice, young honey to roll back the decades? I bet the old bastard gets it up just fine. Just fine."

"Thank you, Frank. I'll try to sift through that to find a compliment," she scoffed and sipped her wine.

"Aw, I mean it with love, darlin', you know that. Ol' Franky just talks, right? I don't mean any harm. Maybe I come from a place of envy, who knows? Not every day a dry old fella gets his hands on something pretty as you. I can see you're good for him. He sure smiles a helluva lot more! Christ, can't chisel the grin off that face. Loopy as a damn circus clown since you came around."

"Really?" She tittered.

"I'm serious. Shit, when Henry was with Mary, you couldn't pay the guy to crack a joke. Now, he's nothing like the shlub I met all those years ago."

She ran her finger along the glass rim as Frank droned on, her eyes on Henry across the room. He had been having a good time, his cheeks aglow with cheeriness. She'd never seen Henry interact with his coworkers for more than a quick trip in and out of the conference room to deliver him a printout or progress report. Tonight, Henry hadn't complained about people talking his ear off. Even after Frank's unflattering account of one of his rare blunders, he hadn't whined or wished they could sneak out unseen. Henry was at ease.

"He's planning on proposing to me soon," she said.

Frank cocked his head and rose his glass. "Here's to hoping he makes the right decision, and quick, before you realize you can do better!"

She clinked glasses with Frank once more, and while he drained his whiskey, she set her glass down on a table nearby.

"I was wondering what his coworkers might say about him remarrying."

"Anything to get him away from that soul-sucking ice queen of an ex-wife."

"Frank? Can I ask you something and get a sincere answer?"

Frank read her serious tone, shifted his brows and angled in, unaware of his alcohol-laden breath fanning over her face. "Anything, love. Franky tells no lies. That's what they say. With me, it's pure honesty."

"I heard a rumour about Henry in Thailand. Somebody said he cheated on Mary. Do you know anything about this? I'd like to know what I'm getting myself into, being young and all. I don't want to end up wasting my best years with a man who might cheat on me down the road."

Frank scoffed, slapped his leg and howled. She waited for him to wipe an invisible tear from his eye, hoping nobody asked what was so funny.

"Oh, doll. You can't believe all the rumours you hear in this place. Thailand... Shit, that was so long ago. I can hardly remember what happened. It's true, we did some partying, but when in Rome, right?"

She grimaced as Frank went on, "Ol' Deaver never left his hotel room on that trip. Me 'n a couple of our work buddies cruised around, got ourselves into a little trouble, but not Henry. He spent the whole week hunched over his laptop, putting last minute touches on some PowerPoint crap—never was good with computers, myself. And don't get me wrong, there were offers made during dinners—generous offers. You know the type. They like to show their hospitality. But Henry was the professional. We call him Dad since he's always keeping us in line. Even us old guys, eh? No, no... Company is rock solid 'cause of him. We told Deaver a million times to drop the ball 'n chain, but the kid stuck it out, he really did."

"Am I stupid to marry him?"

"Doll, I think if you want someone to treat you right, it's my man, Henry Deaver. The Kid can't contain himself. And who could? He's a lucky man, really fortunate to have a dish like you."

"Oh, stop," she gestured at the opposite corner of the cleared out office space where the wives gathered. "You know, if I marry Henry, I'll have to join the wives' club and stand over there with Phyllis and Dorothy."

Frank beamed at her. She decided not to loathe the man for his praise, both for her and Henry. He was a bumbling idiot at times and unfiltered, but she had seen much worse. Before the corporate job with all the nice clothes and gadgets she used to pine for while browsing fashion websites, she worked her food service job. With every type of asshole and gentleman coming through the hotel bar, Frank was the loudmouth who'd changed her mind on Henry Deaver.

"You're a different kind, ain'tcha? I bet Deaver has his hands full with you."

Warm, wine-drunk confidence slid off her tongue, "Oh, I keep him busy."

"I'll kill him if he doesn't marry you, kid."

"I'm sure you will."

"That's Frank's Guarantee."

She tipped glasses with him once more and excused herself to use the washroom. The night was drawing to a close, and she enjoyed the quiet of the bathroom and its 3 stalls. Many times she had retreated to the washroom to text Henry while he was in his office. She couldn't risk getting caught exchanging dirty messages with the boss, so when she wanted to make him blush, she snuck off to the lady's room. Many nude photoshoots happened in the safety of the last stall on the right, and all of them fed to Henry's phone at inopportune times—mostly during meetings or video calls with clients across the world. Now, she laid her head against the cool metal and thought of marrying Henry.

Back then, falling in love with him was forbidden, tingly, like a shot of alcohol at an inappropriate hour that she hoped nobody could smell on her breath. Now, it was pure. There were no more walls, no need to hide in the stall to talk to him. Henry was hers, and everyone knew it.

Henry waited for her by a stack of chairs. Behind him, the catering company was clearing away serving trays, stacking cups and folding tablecloths. The band had long since packed up, and anyone with children had taken them downstairs to the shuttles the company had arranged to drive them home.

"Hey," she greeted him.

"Hey, indeed. How're you doing? I thought I saw you getting along with Frank." Henry chuckled. "What was up with that? I thought you hated him."

"I don't hate him. Maybe I wasn't keen on him hitting on me back at the hotel, but I think he's smartened up. As uncouth as he may be... He has your back and cares about the company."

"He's the drunk uncle of the business."

"You'll have to teach him some manners, though. One day, you'll have a female big-wig to schmooze, and she might not take kindly to pet names."

Henry's eyes bugged as he nodded. "Frank doesn't get to talk to the women in the industry, and don't worry, I'll whip him into shape."

"Hm, is that why they call you the company dad?" She asked, tracing one finger down Henry's lapel. "You just keep everyone in line, don't you? Lay down the law. Tell all those silly men how to act."

Henry shivered as her hand travelled lower, coasted over the front of his pants while nobody was looking. He puffed his chest, a crafty look taking over his visage. He snatched her wandering hand and stepped closer, eclipsing her as he slouched over to whisper in her ear.

"Yeah, I'm the Daddy around here."

"Is Daddy ready to head home soon?"

"Let's say our goodbyes, then we'll get out of here. Come on."

Henry gave her directions that took them in the opposite direction of home. When she questioned him, he patted her thigh, assuring there was a surprise waiting at the end of the line. She tried to pry it from him while they cruised the highway in the dark. The radio played low while Henry tried changing the subject.

"Where am I going?" She asked.

Henry pointed ahead. "Get off at the next exit."

The roads narrowed, and the street lamps spread farther apart outside of the city. She slowed the car, flipped on the high beams and guided Henry's BMW over gravel hills. There were houses along the quiet strip of country line, but they were hidden behind spruce and maple trees.

"Henry, we're so far from home. I'm tired. Please tell me what we're doing."

He pointed at a driveway tucked behind a line of birch and a dented metal mailbox standing crookedly on the side of the road. "Down there. It's close now, don't worry."

They curved through a loose gathering of evergreens and pulled up to a sprawling ranch house with a double garage and topiaries along the sides. The place was dark, but a motion light illuminated the paved driveway as she pulled up and parked. Henry pulled a set of keys from his pocket and exited the vehicle. He waited for her to catch up, breath turning to vapour in the crisp night air.

"Care to explain what we're doing at some random house?" She asked.

Henry took her hand and guided her toward the front door. In the dark, she sailed by the realtor's sign and stepped onto the first stone slab leading to the front door. She watched Henry fiddle with a key, shove it into the lock and turn the handle. The door opened with a whoosh, the scent of fresh paint and lacquered wood spilling out of the massive wooden door. Henry hit a switch, and fractals of light exploded from a chandelier on high in the foyer.

"Check this out. It's so open in the center, you could drive a truck through to the backyard. And the kitchen! Oh, you gotta see the kitchen. It's lovely," Henry said as he grabbed her hand and led her through the house. "All stainless steel and marble. The island is bigger than our bed! And come this way, down here."

They journeyed down an echoing hall, footsteps casting off the hardwood floors and glass light fixtures. Henry threw open a door and ushered her inside a furnished bedroom. A sleigh bed domineered the far end of the room, all dark wood, plush duvet and pillows.

"I know you're not keen on beige, which is fine. We'll paint it. But, look at this bed! And this window overlooks the backyard—Well, I wouldn't say 'yard.' It's more of a...field. Look, look, look!"

"Henry, what is this?" She asked, peering out the window at the blackness beyond the dim orange halo of the bedroom light.

When she turned back around, Henry placed his hands on her hips, excitement simmering. He smiled, wry and lustful, and bent down to kiss her.

"Isn't it obvious? This is our house."

"What are you saying?" She gasped. "You bought this place?"

"Mhm. I've had my eye on it for a long time."

"And just how long exactly were you planning on keeping this a secret?"

"Only until I bought it."

"Henry!"

He jingled the keys in his pocket. "Well, you can't just walk into a place that's not yours."

Suddenly, she realized Henry had put this in motion weeks before, masked it under the search for a new office building. Realtors had rung Henry's phone off the hook, and she had answered them all, oblivious to his underlying motive. When it clicked, she dropped her jaw and swatted him playfully.

"I can't believe you. Right under my nose!"

"It was good timing."

"But...why? What's wrong with the condo?"

Henry guided her to the room's centre beneath the carnival glass light fixture that had to go, along with the drab paint job. "Nothing is wrong with the condo. It's just not ours. There are too many memories preventing me from letting go of the past. I want to let it all go, but I can't when I look around and remember where I was just a year and a half ago. It served me well as a place to escape, but now, I don't need to hide. I want new memories. I want to walk outside with my coffee and see you in the backyard, doing whatever you want—gardening, reading, lounging. I want to pull up after a long day at work, see this place, and know that you're inside, all of our things, our memories, our smells."

"And what if I hate it?" She asked, stifling a giggle.

"Then I'll sell it, and we'll find a new place."

"I don't hate it, Henry, but...This was such a risk."

"It paid off. I knew you'd like it. It's the perfect combination of vintage and modern. The structure is old and strong, but the renovations give it that modern class. It's like that chalet we stayed at in Sweden. Remember?"

"Of course, I remember. We didn't leave bed for two days."

Henry smiled fondly at the memory and stroked her hair back, smiling with her in his arms. She laid her cheek on his chest and breathed in a contented sigh.

"There are two offices, one for me and one for you. Two other bedrooms. One for guests and one for a kid."

She looked up at him, and all the playfulness fled from his eyes. He kissed her to avoid the inevitable questions. When will we see a doctor? What is the plan if we can't conceive? They didn't need answers, only trust that whatever battles stretched on, they would meet them hand-in-hand.

"I can't wait," she whispered. "I love you. And I love this house."

"There's one more thing," Henry cleared his throat and stepped away from her. "It's kind of important."

"What is it?"

"I'm old, babe."

"Henry, you're not that old."

"I'm an old man. I'm head of a multi-national company, y'know. I wear suits and talk to people who hemorrhage money day in and day out. I like to style myself as a professional."

She cocked her head, wondering where Henry was going with his monologue.

"It's awkward when people ask me about you, and I have to refer to you as my girlfriend. Guys like me aren't supposed to have girlfriends. It just sounds creepy. Plus, you're so much more to me than that. You're not my girlfriend; you're the love of my life. My soulmate. My queen. I want you to be my partner."

"Henry—"

He cut her off and fetched something from the table next to the bed. When he rejoined her in the middle of the room, he bent at the knee and presented her with the ring box she had already seen, yet she fluttered as though it was the first time.

"Baby... I could have flown you to a tropical island or put this in a glass of champagne. I could have done this in front of everyone at the party tonight, but all of that seemed silly. Don't get me wrong, I still want to take you to every corner of the world and give you all the nicest things, but I wanted to propose to you in our house, just you and me. So... Will you quit being my girlfriend and become my wife instead?"

Henry separated her ring finger from the rest and slid the band down to the knuckle as she blotted her sobs with the other hand, nodding and fighting joyful tears.

"You think you're so clever, don't you?" She asked as he rose to his feet and clamped her in a bone-cracking hug.

"I know I'm clever! You thought I would propose to you in front of all those people? No way."

"You hate being the center of attention."

"That's right. And although I want to shout it from the rooftops, I thought you'd prefer me asking you to marry me someplace quiet."

She gazed at the stone glittering on her finger, and a fresh wash of tears wet her cheeks. "I'm marrying you... You're going to be my husband."

"If you don't mind, I'd like to skip fiance altogether and get right to the wife thing."

"You're my husband."

"You're my wife!"

"We're getting married!"

"That's right," Henry beamed. "And we move in next month."

Breathless, she ripped her eyes off the ring and looked up at the man who gave it to her. She threw her arms around his neck, pressed her face into the column of his throat and breathed in the scent of old hotels, of pastry and coffee and drying ink on newspaper. She had a vision of him seated at a table across the room, smiling in her direction, tapping his silver pen on the spine of his planner. Two eyes, one green and one brown, drinking her in like fine wine, full of secrets and passion, indulgence and guilt. Her good Christian boy who was anything but pure or chaste.

"I'll worship you until I die, you know that, right?"

"Henry, I can't. You're making me cry. There's probably mascara all over my face!"

"I don't care," he pressed the words to her temple, swaying in languid step. "You'll never be rid of me. Think about that."

"I believe you, Henry."

His eyes flooded and no amount of squeezing suffocated the tears. The streams met the cuff of his suit jacket. He questioned why he still wore the suit and slipped out of it as her hand tugged his tie. Leash in hand, she pulled his face to her level and touched the tears coasting his cheeks, brushed her thumb over the scar two inches from the lips she kissed.

"Are you sure you want to marry me?"

"Shut up."

"I'm serious."

"And I'm telling you to shut up, Henry. Don't ask those kinds of questions."

"I just can't believe you're mine."

"That's right. So stop wondering if I'll change my mind. I've had many opportunities to reconsider. I stuck it out through times I should have walked out, and now we're standing in this gigantic house, and there's a ring on my finger... And you still think I'll back out?"

"I hope not. You're everything I've wanted my whole life. I have it all. Now I can spend the rest of it happy."

"I love you," she whispered against his bottom lip.

Henry crouched, circled her hips with his arms and carried her to the bed, murmuring, "I love you, too, baby. So much."

"Are we gonna fuck right here?"

"Right here, right now," said Henry, perching her on the bed so he could work open the buttons of his dress shirt. She lifted her legs, slipped off her heels, then wrestled her blouse off. The struggle to undress ended with their tops off, Henry standing with his knees pressed into the plush mattress, between her legs. He ran his hands up and down her thighs, nylon sighing between skin as he stroked.

"I didn't think I'd make it out of the office without fucking you. Gosh, you looked so good in that outfit. All those guys were looking at you... Especially when you dropped your phone and bent over to pick it up. That fabric stretching over your ass. You should've seen 'em staring."

"You think they're jealous of you?" She asked as Henry bunched her skirt around her hips, revealing satin and lace panties pasted to her crotch with arousal. His palm traversed her thigh, paused at the edge of the panties. He sent out two fingers to stroke the stitching along her groin, satin running like water across the tips. Henry wanted to take his time, but she was restless. He subdued her with a kiss.

"Don't get ahead of yourself. I'm in control tonight, and I want to feel and lick and taste every inch of your body before I even get my pants off, understand?"

She returned his sly look and rolled onto her stomach, parting her legs so he could admire the shiny material ruched between her cheeks.

"To answer your question... Yes. Of course, they're jealous."

"Oh, yeah? How do you know?"

Henry snickered, like a bully cornering his prey. "Those old bastards can't keep their mouths shut. Even when you were my employee, they'd hound me for details... Ask if you were single, if I was tapping you, if I'd thought about it. I'm not one to boast, but they all knew. Henry Deaver doesn't kiss and tell, but then you'd come in and smile at me like just an hour before I was balls-deep in your pussy... Like my cum was still dripping down your thigh. They knew. We weren't as covert as we thought."

"It's that naughty little smile of yours that gives it away. You flashed me that same smile a few times at the hotel, and I just thought maybe you didn't realize how seductive you looked. But you know, don't you? You know what you do to me. How hard you can make me with just one look."

Henry lifted her leg over his shoulder and kissed her ankle as he squeezed the sole of her foot, admiring the coloured polish on her toenails peeking out of the semi-opaque stockings.

"I do enjoy getting you worked up, sir."

"Let's not tonight. I'm supposed to make love to you, not treat you like my office pet. I'm marrying you, for fuck's sake."

"Then make love to your future wife. That doesn't mean I can't be your slut anymore."

"Oh, my God," Henry growled.

"Look at what I'm wearing for you. I know how much you love the way my pussy looks wearing this fabric. Thigh-high stockings aren't practical, but I figured you might fuck me in your office one last time, and I wanted to torment you."

"Not so predictable now, huh?"

She simpered and ran her toe in a line down his chest and didn't stop until she grazed his belt buckle. "Yeah, and you've been thinking about filling me up all night."

Henry grasped her ankles and pulled her to the edge of the bed to meet his groin. He gathered her up in his arms, pressing his entire weight on her frame as he kissed her desperately. When her legs grew weak, he clamped them around his hips and undulated. Hardness strained against her crotch, pulsing from the heat between her legs.

"You're right. I've been aching to fuck you. How long has it been? Gosh, this week has been so busy, I've hardly had any time alone with you. And you've been occupied with your new job. It's been a while since I've come."

She made a coo of sympathy. "Aw, my poor baby. You're probably so sensitive."

"I want you to do something for me," Henry muttered, adjusting his crotch, then giving up and undoing his belt and pants altogether. "I'd love it if you sucked my cock."

"Oh, Mr. Deaver asking for a blowjob? A rare sound to my ears."

He shook his head, grabbed her hand and pulled her off the bed to kneel on the floor. With feet spread wide, his fingers tangled in her hair, Henry waited for her to make the first move. His view of her from on high was angelic. In the prismatic light, her eyes twinkled, and he thought of whiskey in a glass, poured by a dangerous woman he'd grown to admire. She always wore a smile, but for the right person, that smile turned luscious and dim. Her eyes would relax on him, soothe him, delight if he made small conversation instead of only demands.

Henry did not demand, but as her smiling lips tightened around the midway-point of his cock and sank, he couldn't help aiding the way to her throat with one firm thrust. "Oh... Oh, Jesus fucking Christ," he droned.

"You can use my mouth, sir."

"Just suck that dick like a good girl. Do your magic on me, baby."

With free reign, she slathered his shaft with her tongue, side-to-side, up and down. She met his eyes and smiled, the tip nestled between her puckered lips. Her grasp on the base sent waves of hot blood pumping through the veins, filling him out entirely.

"I can't wait to feel this big cock pumping my pussy full of cum."

"Oh, I know, baby. We'll get there. For now, I need your mouth. All over me, please. Balls too. Come on... Eat that cock, you hungry little slut."

She chased Henry up on the bed where she could kneel between his legs in comfort. Henry enjoyed the position, too—back against a mound of pillows, his long legs spread to the lower corners of the bed, her crumpled form nestled between his thighs while her lips and tongue worked in a circuit on his length. He leaned his head back, arms thrown over the pillows. In this position, Henry bucked his hips a few times to touch his tip to her tonsils. Each time she brought up a wave of saliva that coated him and made it easier for her to slide down.

"What about that ass, big boy?" She asked after popping up from a harsh series of head-bobbing. "I know how much you love it when I play with that pretty hole of yours."

Henry sucked air in through his teeth, chin dimpling and lashes fluttering. "Mmph, not tonight. I want that pussy. Yeah, I wanna taste you."

They flipped positions. Henry pulled her onto her back away and snatched one of the pillows to wedge under her tailbone. With both hands, he hooked the back of her knees and spread her thighs wide, elevating her pelvis until his breath stroked the front of her panties. Henry nipped the fabric, pulled it into a tent and let it snap back against her lips. He nuzzled it, faint stubble scratching the delicate fabric. She let out a gentle sigh, a whimper of lust. Henry kissed the satin once, twice harder, then a third time like he'd met her mouth in a fevered touch.

She watched his long fingers sneak the fabric away, how he made shapes with his mouth like he wanted to say something but lost his voice. Henry bit his lip, kissed where he knew her clit was hiding, then prodded her folds with a long lick. He repeated the motion on the right side, along her labia, and again on he left side.

For a while, he would only meet the crest of her entrance with light kisses and whispered promises.

"Do you like it when I tease your pussy? Giving you just enough to make you wet, but not as much as you need?"

"Henry, please," she begged.

"Please, what?"

"Please give me more!"

"More of this?" Henry asked, ghosting his breath over her clit.

"No more teasing."

"You sure?"

She clutched some of his hair and pouted. He chuckled, laid his cheek on her thigh and brought his hand up between her legs. "What if I'm not done teasing? What if I want to torment you a little longer?"

He spread open her lips, applying pressure on both sides. She could almost grind against his fingers if he didn't have her at his mercy, arched over a pillow, thighs splayed wide and vulnerable. Henry tapped her clit with three fingers, stippling with gooseflesh from the wet noises the pads made on her vulva. "Oh, I love that sound," he sang. "You're so wet for me."

"Please, sir. I need your mouth."

"Is that right? Well, you've been so good and helpful. I'm sure I can give you what you want... but you have to promise me something."

"Yes, yes, I will. Anything."

"Promise you'll tell me before you come?"

"Uh-huh. I promise."

"Okay, I trust you. Don't get too close. I have other plans for your pussy."

She groaned out loud, relieved when he finally licked her clit. His tongue was a warm blanket, weighted and placed perfectly on top. He undulated the muscle, coaxing out the sensitive parts for adoration. That's how she described his attention in her mind. When Henry ate her out, it was like he'd infiltrated her head and knew the precise amount of pressure, the proper motions, when to flicker his tongue and when to envelope her clit between his lips. He kissed, sucked, lapped and moaned like a symphony, only opening his eyes once in a while to catch her staring in awe between her legs.

"Mm, baby," Henry moaned against her slit. "I can feel you getting close already. Don't go over the edge."

"I'm sorry, you just look so good eating my pussy."

Henry pulled off her, smirking, letting her glimpse his full lips shining in their glory. She couldn't stop herself from lunging for him. The taste of her own fluid on his mouth set off a carnal urge to feel his cock too. She told him to fuck her hard, to spank her ass and make her squeal like a knifed animal. She wanted that deepness, the full stretch as his thighs bounced her up and down. They laid on their sides, and Henry entered her from behind, arm hooking her leg up so he could gaze over at her exposed breasts, her glistening clit forgotten for a moment too long. In his clutches, she was helpless, and Henry used his advantage to squeeze and rub her until more of her liquid soaked between their groins.

"Can you come like this?" Henry puffed next to her ear. "If I rub your clit like that and keep fucking you, can you come?"

"Yes," she peeped. "Yes, keep going."

"Yeah? Gonna come like a good girl all over this dick?"

Again, she nodded, biting down on her lip in concentration.

"'Cause I'm gonna shoot so much fucking cum inside you, but only after you get all tight around me."

She begged him not to stop, to never stop being hers. Henry rushed his movements until she bucked once, legs fighting to fold inward.

"Is that it? That spot right there?" Henry asked. "Keep rubbing you just like this?"

He didn't need an answer; it was written all over her flushed face, denting her lip where her teeth bore down. Henry exerted every inch of stamina he had in his body until her muscles seized hard enough to snap. Mewling as she came, Henry didn't stop pestering her clit with his fingertips or pull out after he emptied as deep inside as he could fit. He gathered her up in his arms, locking fingers and lips, breathing each other's air. Pieces of his hair clung to his sweat-dampened forehead while he pulsed and shivered.

"I need you to get your panties on right away. We can't leave a mess behind."

"Are you serious?"

Henry nodded his head, unperturbed by the alarm in her tone. "Well, it's not our stuff. It's staging furniture. I just convinced the realtor to let me surprise you tonight. She probably didn't think I'd be fucking you in any of the bedrooms."

"Henry! I'm not sure where you slung my underwear."

He pushed into her one last time and grunted. "Aw, honey, mm. That's where my cum belongs."

"You're such a bad man," she giggled.

"I know I'm dirty."

"Come on, husband. Help me find my clothes. We should get back before we both fall asleep and someone finds us like this."

They gathered themselves, sighing and stretching the tension from their muscles as they dressed and took one more look around the property. She saw the house in a warm light now, as a place they could fill with memories, starting in the master bedroom where Henry proposed. He held her hand as they drove to the condo and flung themselves into bed, drained from the night's givings but wrapped in each other's arms.

The next morning, she woke to the smell of pancakes cooking on a griddle. Henry was up, two coffees deep, and buzzing from cupboard to cabinet, humming under his breath. He lit up when he caught her motion in the corner of his eye and went in for a long hug.

"Good morning, wife."

"Morning, husband," she replied, cheeks and chest prickling.

"Pancake buffet?" Henry gestured at the kitchen island.

"It's not even Christmas!"

Henry scoffed. "Who needs a special occasion to have a pancake buffet?

"I suppose I can't complain," she said.

She sat at the island, studying the foreign object around her ring finger every once in a while. When she made a fist or spread her hand, the rock sparkled and delighted her eyes. Henry caught her staring at the ring and smiling as he launched into the day's trajectory, his plan falling on deafened ears.

"Hello?" Henry waved the spatula. "Are you home?"

She sat up straight and folded her hands. "Yes. Sorry. I was distracted."

"I was saying I have to go into the office today, but only for an hour or two. Are you okay with hanging around here by yourself while I take the car? Can you believe the Beamer is still in the shop? They say take the damn thing into the dealership, we'll fix it up for free, but we'll keep it for half the week."

"Oh, well, I was supposed to pick up groceries, but I can wait."

Henry's eyebrows popped up. "Oh, no. No, no, honey. That's all right. I'll find another way there."

"Why don't I drive you to the office? Unless...You're not actually going to the office?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Henry asked.

"I don't know...You could be exacting another one of your famous covert plans and covering it up by saying you're going to the office. How do I know?'

Henry tipped his head back and laughed as he tended the food sizzling on the stovetop. "Oh, sweetheart. No. I promise, no more tricks for a while."

"Sure," she said with a sly edge on her tongue.

"You can drop me off and take the car. It's nothing secretive, I swear."

Henry piled the last pancakes onto a plate, turned off the griddle and wiped the counter clear of flour and coconut flakes. They put together an extravagant array of dressed-up breakfast food, dousing their plates in maple syrup, chocolate chips and heart-shaped strawberries as they talked and sipped coffee. Henry sat across the island holding his hand out for her to touch every once in a while. He didn't need her to hold his hand, though, subconsciously, he always reached out for her in case she wanted to feel his skin.

The morning melted seamlessly into early afternoon, and the couple ventured from the condo after a quick round of energizing couch sex. Henry thumbed the ring on her finger as they walked onto the main floor from the elevator.

"Mr. Deaver and Madame, good morning!" Johnny, the concierge, greeted them.

Henry held up their conjoined hands. "It's Mr. and Mrs. Deaver from now on, Johnny."

The tall man behind the desk made a small gasp and bowed. "Apologies, Mr. and Mrs... Might I say congratulations to the happy couple?"

"You're the first to hear, officially," Henry said.

Johnny touched his enormous hand to his chest. "What an honour, sir. This position never loses its magic."

Henry twisted his mouth. "I have some other news, Johnny. My wife and I will be moving soon. We won't be seeing you every morning."

"Ah, that's all right, Mr. Deaver. Moving up and up, I hope?"

"Yes. It's a ranch house in the country. No neighbours."

"Beautiful. Well, I wish you both the very best and look forward to helping you out until moving day comes."

"Thanks, Johnny," she said with a smile.

Johnny rose his finger as they meant to leave. "One more thing. A package arrived for you, Mr. Deaver."

The concierge ducked under the desk with a set of keys and opened the security box dedicated to the Deaver property. He pulled out a bulging manila envelope and turned it over with a dutiful grin. When her eyes glanced at the writing on the front, a knot formed in her throat. Henry's name adorned the front in practiced, sweeping hand. Henry. Not Henry Deaver or Mr. Deaver. Just his name written in black ink with flourishes on the capital H and a hand-drawn filigree beneath. She watched his shoulders stiffen as he nodded to Johnny.

"Thank you, Johnny. We'll see you later."

She followed Henry to the parking garage, staring at the envelope in his hands. Henry looked ahead, his bright demeanour trampled upon by the object he carried. When they got into the vehicle, they looked at each other, then down at the package.

"What is that?" She asked.

"I think it's from Mary. That's her handwriting."

She swallowed the knot in her throat, but it had doubled in size and refused to budge. "What now? She's not supposed to bother us anymore."

"I know," Henry breathed. "I can't... You open it."

She tore into the envelope and pulled out a letter accompanied by a DVD in a flat jewel case and photocopies of ruled paper scrawled with notes. Henry nodded at the letter, signalling her to read it aloud.

"Dear Henry... I know there's little chance of getting a private audience with you now that we're legally separated, and the company is in the process of moving. You probably have your hands full and do not wish to hear from me either way. I understand your need to stay away, hence the letter and no phone call. What needs to be said cannot be summed up in a brief call, so I will try to keep this to a few pages.

I wanted to start off by apologizing. It's too late for apologies, and you must think I'm off my rocker to have even considered coming to you with this. Still, I'm not looking for acceptance, sympathy or anything but the need to fill you in on the blank spaces that must have driven you crazy over the last couple of years. The way I scorned you was wrong. A wife should respect her husband in all forms, and answer to him when he calls. I ignored you and purposely drove a wedge between us in order to distance myself from you and our collective failure.

By now, I'm sure your new girlfriend told you what I told her. It should come as no surprise that when I say "failure," I mean our inability to have a child.

When I received the news, and you were nowhere to be found, I felt the clutches of the Devil himself reaching for me. God does not make mistakes, which is how I know we were being punished for our sins, and since the results indicated you were the weaker factor, I can only assume the punishment was meant for you, and by extension, me. I know you have berated me in the past for my strong beliefs, but I cannot compromise my relationship with God for anyone's comfort. I know in my heart, his word is law, and if we couldn't produce a child, lying together would be straying down the path of temptation.

There were things you wanted me to do that I could not, in good conscience, provide for you—sex acts no married couple should have an interest in performing. If I'd have known of your devious tastes early on in our relationship, perhaps I wouldn't have married you. You resisted His word and acted on selfish impulse, spoke of wicked things with your colleagues, and Lord knows what other things I didn't catch wind of. I had to escape your sin yet remain your wife through the bad and the worse, as I pledged before God until death.

I do not judge you, as you are no longer my husband, and I know God will assess your choices in his divine eye. I don't have to worry about the unclean thoughts that live inside of you—they have no power over me; they aren't a reflection of my heavenly worth. If anything, I hope you are happy and have all the freedom one who strays from God can expect to have in this world. I pray for your soul each night and hope you do not meet the eternal fires.

I should have told you, but I was stricken with unbearable grief. I hated you. I fell out of love. I can't describe how, but I felt if I touched you, knowing what I knew then, God would punish me. Please understand everything I did, I did in the name of the Lord and with concern for my immortal soul. Call me selfish. I was and am, to this day, a selfish woman. But you were good to me, up until a certain point.

I cannot forgive your infidelity and can only pray you to seek repentance for your sin, though I will admit I did not care to make it right at the time. My silence was meant as punishment, but only God can dole penance, and in shutting you out, I acted in his name when I shouldn't have. I will spend the rest of my days begging His forgiveness and praying for you, Henry.

This package includes the evidence I've compiled of your cheating. You should know now I no longer seek vengeance. I simply want to scrub my life of all traces of you, and figured you might want to gaze upon your transgressions. Or throw them out. It's up to you now. Sincerely, Mary."

Henry was quiet for several minutes as he digested the contents of the letter. She found a pamphlet for the Evangelist Church of God among the pages and scowled.

"Wow, religion really makes people say some crazy stuff," she muttered, hoping to get a sound out of her fiance. Henry pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. He motioned for the letter and gave it a half-hearted scan before crumpling it in his fist.

"Fuck that woman. Fuck that life."

"Sounds like a story."

He puffed, scoffed, burned a hole into the letter written in Mary's graceful hand.

"But you don't have to tell me."

"She's right," Henry said. "I was different back then."

"I know you were."

"How come you've never asked?"

His question nipped the skin on the back of her arms. "The same reason I don't ask other people about their religion. That's their business. You were raised a certain way, but you changed. I know you were put in a cage, Henry. You made a mistake, but it's not the eternal damnation Mary says. Your marriage was practically over. Unless... You cheated before us?"

Henry whipped a look at her, gaping and wordless. She shrugged as a platitude and coughed over a laugh. "Well? How can I not suspect? Mary says you cheated, Frank says you didn't, but I don't trust either of them as far as I can throw them, Henry!"

"Look, I know!" Henry barked, and she pressed her back to the door. "You've gotta believe me, sweetheart. I'm trying to prove to you every day that I'm not this monster she wants me to be!"

"What's on these discs? They don't have labels. Am I going to watch this and find out something you don't want me to?"

His jaw set like he was about to explode. Air escaped his nostrils, and he glared forth at the wet cement wall beyond the hood of her car. Above, the building's pressure crushed out all sound, and Henry became aware of his breath, the tension in his windpipe.

"No. I don't know. I have no idea what's on those DVDs. If she got her private investigator to film me, it's probably just you and I making out in the car. What would be incriminating about that?"

"Did you lie to me that night in Paris?"

A dissonant, heavy silence fell over the man in the driver's seat. His skin turned sallow, and her eyes eclipsed to see the sickly guilt on his face.

"That night, you told me you left her. You said you asked for the divorce, and she just gave up. Was that a lie? Did you say that just to get me to go?"

Condemned by another bout of silence, Henry hid the colour of his ears behind hunched shoulders. "Baby, I was in love. I am in love with you. It's only ever been you! I needed you with me so bad. She knew we were done. She knew it. Divorce was not a foreign word."

"Just tell me straight. Did you put it in stone that night? When you flew me ten hours to Paris to be with you?"

"No. I didn't. I went home, said goodbye to her, she gave me the cold shoulder, I cursed, and she got angry with me. I told her I was finished, and then I left. Maybe I didn't flat out say I want a divorce, but it was implied."

"I'm curious to see what's on these discs," she said.

"Sweetheart, I will watch them with you, totally confident there's no evidence of me with any other woman."

"Good," she nodded. "Because you're mine. Maybe I'm the bad one for not caring. If you're bad, I'm worse. I don't give a fuck about you cheating on her, and this is the first time I've ever admitted it out loud. You're mine, Henry. You belong to me. She knew what she had and uses faith as an excuse for hiding a horrible secret from you!"

"Good Lord, I don't want to cry about this again," said Henry.

"Fuck it, Henry, just like you said. Fuck her and fuck the life you had. Your ass is mine now," she stuck her ring finger in the air. "Like, forever."

Henry pouted and melted into her lap. She quickly ran her hands through his hair as he moaned against her knee. "But what about our family?"

"We'll figure it out, babe. I promise. Until then, just keep shooting loads inside of me, and we'll see what happens."

He burst with laughter and lifted his rosy face to kiss her. "That's such a you thing to say in a time of crisis."

"I told you last night and back at the hotel... I'm with you. I'll back you in everything you do and make sure not a day goes by you wish you were somewhere else."

"I have absolutely no doubt of that, sweetheart. Goddamn it, I love you... Wifey," he giggled.

"But how hot would it be to have sex while watching DVDs of us hooking up in the Beamer and touching on patios and shit?"

"So hot. I've been thinking about it, and I've concluded it is very fucking hot."

"All right, hubby. Let's put this shit behind us forever and get busy getting married and having babies. We have places to go!"

"Yeah," Henry grabbed her hand and nodded. "Let's get the fuck out of here."

#henry deaver x mistress #bill skarsgard #bill skarsgard smut #bill skarsgard fanfiction #castle rock fanfiction #henry deaver

109 notes · View notes

general-kenobi357 · 3 years

Text

Someday Soon-Chapter 5

Pairing: JJ Maybank x Fem!OC

Summary: John B creates a plan to get the Pogues back together to find the gold. At Midsummers Iz takes a leap of faith that she might regret.

Note: Can anyone tell me why I struggle to much to write a two sentence summary that makes sense, meanwhile I can plan out and write a book in a week. The math is not lining up. Also on an unrelated note, I wrote in that Iz is wearing JJ's Mom's dress they found, since I figured that we haven't seen JJ's Mom so she could be the same size as whoever you imagine Iz to be :)

Word Count: 4k

🔅🔆🔅

All morning I had been pacing around my room, I hadn’t slept all night. John B was MIA, JJ had been arrested and I had no idea how to help either of them.

Suddenly a sharp knock on my window dragged me out of my thoughts, as I practically jumped out of my own skin. Realizing it was JJ and John B, I made my way over to the window.

“Jesus, you two. You scared me half to death.” I told the pair as I opened my window.

“Sorry, Sweetheart.” JJ apologized with a smile on his face, as I got closer to him I noticed the fresh bruises on his face that he hadn’t had yesterday. I didn’t have to ask where they were from as my stomach turned just thinking about Luke Maybank. “We’re getting outta here, you coming?”

“Uh yeah.” I replied, grabbing my bag before climbing out my window. No one else was home but I knew that the cops who were staking out John B’s house were probably also watching the front of mine.

“John, Iz, hurry up. Come on, come on, come on.” JJ rushed us as we all wadded through the water to reach the HMS Pogue.

Once we had all climbed in, John B turned the key, starting the engine and we were off. I sat catching my breath as we watched the Château fade into the distance.

🔅🔆🔅

“First, I almost get strangled to death by Kooks, and now I'm on the hook for 30 grand.” JJ explained bringing John B up to speed on everything he had missed. “We should just dip.”

“Okay, where do you wanna go?” I asked half on board, other than my Mom and Emmy I wouldn’t be leaving behind much.

“Yucatan.” He answered confidently.

“Yucatan? Seriously?” I asked, slightly less on board now that I realized how serious he was.

“No, I'm dead serious right now. Surf all day, and then we can just live off lobsters we catch with our bare hands.” JJ reasoned.

“You just wanna leave 'cause you got your ass beat?” John B spoke up.

“You didn't see the photos.” JJ shuddered.

“Think about it. They're willing to kill for the gold, then it's gotta be out there.” John B said, still holding out hope.

“Have you lost your mind?” I asked, I couldn’t believe he still thought we could find it.

“One hundred years, man. One hundred years, people have been tryin' to find this Royal Merchant, and no one succeeded. And you think you are gonna be the one that actually finds it? When will you get it in your thick skull? If you keep goin' down this road, you're gonna end up just like your dad!” JJ demanded, his voice getting louder as he moved closer to John B.

“I can't give up, you guys!” John B explained, his face full of guilt at the mention of his father.

“What happened to your dad wasn’t your fault.” I spoke softly, resting a hand on John B’s shoulder. We all knew about the argument John B had had with his father before he disappeared, hell I had heard it from my house.

“It doesn't matter whose fault it is! Do you not understand that? I can't give up on the hunt, you guys. I don't care who's out there, who's gonna try to kill us. Do you understand that?” John B told him. “Look, I've got a plan. You comin' or what?” he asked looking between us. “Four hundred million, JJ. How much do you owe in restitution?”

JJ looked back at me before following John B back to the Pogue where he began explaining his plan.

🔅🔆🔅

‘This is an awful plan’ was all I could think as I rang the doorbell at Kie’s house. John B had explained to me that I would go to Midsummers with Kie and make sure JJ got in fine, so that he could deliver a note to Sarah Cameron. I had asked why I couldn’t just deliver it if I was already there to which John B explained I would have to distract Kie so that she wouldn’t find out Sarah was involved. I was about to ring the doorbell again when Kie’s mother opened the door.

“Oh, Isabella.” She said, the smile dropping slightly from her face. “How are you?”

“I’m good thank you. Um Kie invited me to join her at Midsummers tonight, so I’m here to get ready.” I explained holding up the old dress we had found in JJ’s attic, I assumed it had been his mother’s.

“Oh really?” She asked, pasting a clearly fake smile on her face. “She didn’t warn me.”

“Well, she asked me weeks ago, maybe she forgot to tell you?”

“Of course, come in. Kiara’s in her room.” She said opening the door wider.

I walked through the huge house and towards Kie’s room, I wasn’t over here much but it always reminded me of the house my parents used to have which was just down the street from here.

“That’s not a party face.” I teased as I walked into Kie’s bedroom where she was sitting at the end of her bed. She looked up with a scowl before realizing it was me.

“What are you doing here?” She asked, pulling me into a hug. “Here to break me out?”

“Unfortunately I’m here to break in.” I responded.

“Kiara, you didn’t tell me that you had invited Isabella to join us.” Kie’s mom said as she walked into the room. “Here, we ordered a couple extra hair pieces, I’m assuming you just brought the dress.”

“Oh, yeah. I didn’t know those were a requirement.” I answered with an awkward laugh.

“Well, we're leaving in 30 minutes.” She said leaving the room again.

“Hair pieces?” I asked, I couldn’t help but smile as I turned to Kie who was laughing at my question.

🔅🔆🔅

As much as I didn’t want to be there, I was amazed at everything I saw as we entered the club. I couldn’t believe that the Kook’s were spending their nights dancing without a single worry meanwhile my house still had no power or hot water going to it.

“Oh there’s Pope.” I pointed out to Kie as we made our way outside.

“Excuse me, sir. Do we have to shuck these ourselves?” Kie asked in a terrible English accent. “'Cause it might mess up my costume.”

“We wouldn't want that now, would we?” Pope responded, playing along once he realized it was us. “That accent was bad.”

“It was.” She agreed as we all laughed.

“You ever seen this many Kooks in one place?” I asked, looking around the crowded club.

“Yeah. Last year.” Pope informed us. “We're in the lion's den.” He stated, he was still pretty shook up from his last visit to Figure Eight. “Hey, have you two heard from JJ?”

“Uh yeah, he should be joining us shortly.” I told them cryptically. “I’m gonna do a lap.” I said before I left to give the two some space.

I made my way over to the bar hoping that they would be willing to serve a minor.

🔅🔆🔅

The bartender that the Kook’s had hired didn’t seem to care who she served and had poured me a rum and cola without a second thought. I had already downed one and was now taking a second drink with me as I walked closer to the dance floor to watch all the Kook’s. As I finished my drink I noticed someone walk up beside me.

“You know somethin’ tells me you aren’t 21.” I heard JJ accuse as I set down my now empty glass.

“What?” I laughed while he took my hand and led me to the middle of the dance floor. “They would never serve a minor, that might tarnish the clubs perfect reputation.”

“You look beautiful, Sweetheart.” JJ complimented as he spun me around before pulling me back to him.

“Yeah you clean up alright.” I teased him. “What is this a clip on bow tie?”

“Yeah John B made me wear it.” He explained looking down at his feet.

“I’m just teasing you, it’s nice.” I smiled. “I wasn’t sure how long I’d survive without you here.”

“Eh, you woulda been fine. I’m sure the Kook instincts that you’ve suppressed, would kick in eventually.” He told me, I couldn’t stop laughing at everything he said but I figured that was because of the two drinks I had just downed.

“I’m so happy to see you, I could kiss you.” I confessed boldly, after we danced in silence for a minute.

“Why don’t you?” He asked, a smile playing on his lips.

So I did, before I could think about the repercussions or about what would change. I closed the gap between us as our lips met. For that one perfect moment everything seemed alright as I melted into the kiss.

But as I pulled back it all shattered, JJ’s face had a look of shock written over it as his arms dropped from around me.

“I have to go, find Sarah.” He explained turning to go search the rest of the dance floor, while I stood watching him go. Immediately I regretted what I had done, I wondered if I had just lost my best friend as I watched him disappear into the crowd.

After snapping myself out of the trance I was in, I pushed my way through the crowd looking for Kie, hot tears threatening to spill over onto my cheek. I had just kissed JJ, something I had wanted to do for years and yet it felt like the biggest mistake I’d ever made. I found Kie after a minute talking to some Kook I didn’t recognize.

“You’re gonna have to excuse us.” I apologized as I pulled Kie away and towards the edge of the party.

“What’s up.” She asked once we had stopped, the smile dropping from her face once she finally looked at me.

“I kissed JJ.” I answered, my voice quiet.

“What.” Kie blurted out, shocked.

“He showed up and we were dancing and he was complimenting me and I had just been drinking and so then I told him that I was so happy I could kiss him and he said <why don’t you> so then I did and then he ran away.” I rambled.

“Oh honey.” Kie muttered, pulling me into a hug as the tears finally left my eyes, trailing down my cheeks and onto her shoulder. “JJ is dumb, okay and I’m sure he has no idea what he did. You said John B had a plan so he probably just had to do that, right?”

“Yeah.” I answered unsure. “But what if this messes up everything?”

“It won’t. I promise.” Kie reassured me as she wiped away my tears. “Come on let’s go get something to eat.”

Kie led me back through the crowd, her hand never leaving mine as we went back to the table her parents were sitting at.

🔅🔆🔅

Sitting next to Kie, I was eating some kind of fancy food that I had forgotten how to pronounce when we heard shouting from behind us. Turning to see who it was, we saw JJ being escorted out.

“Look... look, man, I can walk myself.” JJ tried to explain. “I got legs. Can you see that, brother? Come on. I really appreciate what you did back there. Let me just walk out by myself.”

“What the Hell?” I heard Kie’s Dad mutter from behind us as JJ was pushed past our table.

“It's okay, everybody! Do not panic.” JJ addressed the crowd. “Leave it to the men and women in uniform. Let's hear it for them. Rose! You look like Lady Liberty.”

“Let go of him! You can't boot him! I invited him here. I'm a member of this club.” Kie told the guard as we both stood up. But the guard continued to lead JJ through the crowd away from where we stood.

“Hey, mandatory power hour at Rixon's, Kie, Iz.” JJ pointed to us. “Pope, you as well, all right?”

Kie looked at me with a smile before grabbing my hand.

“No. Kiara! Hey, Kiara!” Kie’s parents yelled as we ran off to join the boys.

With all of us ditching the party, the Pogues were reunited.

🔅🔆🔅

“Hey, guys. So, like, my dad's already gonna kill me.” Pope told us as we gathered around the fire John B had made. “So what's this mandatory meeting about?”

“Might as well tell him, man, before we're gaffed.” JJ said to John B.

“You ready for this?” John B asked looking at us all. “So, the gold never went down with the Royal Merchant.”

“Oh, my God. Here we go again with this.” Kie rolled her eyes from her spot beside me.

“No. All right, wait. Hear him out, okay?” I said, hoping John B would get on with his explanation.

“It's been here the whole time.” John B told us. “It's on the island.”

“I'd like to voice my skepticism.” Pope spoke up.

“I'm sure you would, Pope, but can I please present you with my evidence, sir?”

“Proceed.”

🔅🔆🔅

“Okay, so, guys.” Pope began after John B explained everything he had learned. “What's the plan?”

“Good question.” John B answered. “Sarah Cameron's coming tonight. She'll bring an original survey map…”

“Hold on.” Kie stopped him, I could feel her tense up beside me. “Sarah? Wh-why Sarah?”

“Um…” John B started, stumbling over his words.

“This is gonna be good.” I muttered.

“Sarah, um, she... she got me into the archives in Chapel Hill yesterday, and that's where I got the letter.”

“You were in Chapel Hill with Sarah Cameron?” Kie asked, shocked.

“He was mackin' on her.” JJ told us.

“I wasn't macking. I wasn't macking on her, okay? I was using her for access. I was trying to get into the archives.” John B attempted to explain.

“There was access all right.” JJ muttered.

“Is that a yes?” Kie demanded. “You let a Kook in on our secret? What about Pogue Lyfe?”

“I was just using her for information.”

“Why don't I believe you?”

“I'm trying to make us filthy rich here. Okay, so that we can pay off a boat, or... or, uh... send you to autopsy school to study dead bodies, or move to Hawaii. Look, you guys know me. Do I look like the type of person to fall for Sarah Cameron?”

“Uh... Do you want us to answer that, or…” I asked him.

“Look, you don't know her yet. I do!” Kie explained. “You can't trust her.”

“What did she do to you, exactly?” John B finally asked, we all were curious, she had only told me pieces of the story before.

“She's like a... like a spitting cobra. First, she... she blinds you, and then…” She stopped as Pope poked holes in her analogy. “Listen to me! Whatever we get, she's gonna try to take.”

🔅🔆🔅

The lights of the van turned on as we stopped at the Hawks nest, waking me up again, it felt like days since I had last slept well making it easy to doze off.

“All right.” John B said, turning off the van. “So, uh, I think I'm gonna do this one by myself... tonight.”

“Really?” Kie asked, shocked.

“What?” John B asked as if he had done nothing wrong. “I don't want to spook Sarah with the peanut gallery.”

“I just don't understand why we're involving her at all.”

“Kie, we're not involving her, okay?”

“Promise me nothing's happening between you.”

“Nothing is happening, Kie.”

“That was really believable.” I spoke up sarcastically from the back of the van as John B climbed out.

“A hundred percent believable.” Pope said, backing me up.

“Anyways, um... I'm gonna take care of business.” John B concluded before closing the door.

“We'll just sit here…” Pope started.

“...in the hot-ass car.” JJ added.

“Kiara, holding onto your grudge is like drinking poison and thinking Sarah will die.” Pope informed Kie after a few minutes.

“Exactly.” JJ added backing him up. “You alright back there?” He asked me.

“She’s great JJ. Really doing awesome thanks to you.” Kie responded for me, which brought a smile to my face as I drifted off to sleep again.

🔅🔆🔅

I woke up again when the rest of the Pogues started to scramble out of the van, which is when I heard Sarah Cameron screaming for help. I got up with my friends and we all went running to go see what had happened.

Everything was a blur when we finally found them.

John B was lying on the ground as Sarah cried over him. He was moving but barely as Pope rushed back to get the van and get him to a hospital. After we got John B to the hospital a nurse told us to go home and that he would be fine. After some convincing we all finally left. Pope drove us all to our houses, the ride was silent.

🔅🔆🔅

When I entered my house it was dark and everyone else had probably been asleep for hours, I went straight to the bathroom to get ready for bed. As I walked back into my room from the bathroom, I heard a knock on my window. But from inside my dark room I couldn’t see anything, I figured it was just the wind until another unmistakably human knock shook the window. Grabbing the flashlight which was my only light source I crept closer to the window, worried about who might be knocking.

Once I got to the window though, JJ’s golden hair lit up on the other side of the glass. I pushed open the window before taking a step back so he could climb through.

“What are you…” I started to ask before he interrupted me.

“I um, I wasn’t sure where to go. I’d rather not be at home right now.” He explained, looking anywhere but my face.

“Oh, yeah. You can stay here.” I knew he didn’t want my pity but I couldn’t help the sad expression my face held.

“Listen, Iz. I’m really sorry, I shouldn’t have run off after we kissed. I just-I wasn’t sure what to do.” JJ began rambling, this time it was my turn to interrupt him.

“Can we not tonight? We can talk about it later.” I was too exhausted to have a serious conversation. “I just want to go to bed.”

“Oh okay.” He responded, I walked across the room to my bed before I watched him take one of the blankets off the bed and begin laying it out on the floor.

“JJ, what are you doing?” I asked, rubbing my eyes.

“You said you wanted to go to bed. I’m making myself a bed.” He explained confused.

“You’ve been beaten up how many times this week?” I asked. “I’m not making you sleep on the floor when there is more than enough room in my bed.”

Without another word he stood back up and made his way to the other side of the bed. Once he was under the blanket I turned off the lamp before turning so I was facing him. I could barely make out his features, the only light coming from the bright moon outside, but I knew he was there.

“Can you tell me a story?” He asked, I smiled, his question reminded of when I would help put Emmy to bed.

“About what?”

“Hawaii, tell me about what it’s going to be like.”

“What are you moving with me?” I joked.

“Well, if you’ll have me.”

“Of course I will.” I stated before pausing to think about what our life would be like if we could move to Hawaii. “We could buy a big piece of land, with a waterfall and a path that leads right to the beach, and we could build a little house right beside the waterfall.”

“You mean I could build us a house.” He interrupted, trying to be realistic even as I told him a story about our imaginary future.

“Hey I’m the one telling the story.” I complained. “And besides I’ve been getting good at holding tools, I could probably identify upwards of five different tools.”

“Okay, proceed.” He stated, impatiently waiting for me to continue.

“We could spend all day surfing and get a hammock, the best that money can buy.” I continued, adding random details.

“Do you think our friends will visit?” I heard him ask sleepily.

“Yeah, we’ll have a little guest house on the other side of the waterfall for them. John B can bring Sarah, I’m sure they’ll get married as soon as they possibly can.” I said, imagining all our friends grown up.

“Oh definitely, he’s already in love with her.” JJ added.

“And I’m sure that they’ll have a herd of children that follow them around everywhere they go like little ducklings. And Kie and Pope will be together.”

“That is if Pope ever works up the courage to ask her out.”

“That or Kie will just give up waiting and ask him out.” I joked before going back to my story. “I don’t know if they’ll have kids though, I think that they’ll just be the really cool uncle and aunt for awhile.”

“What about us? Are we gonna get married and have kids?” JJ asked after a minute.

“Well that depends if you ever propose.” I pointed out thinking about our future.

“Maybe I’m waiting for you to propose to me. Ever think about that?”

“No I hadn’t.” I paused for a minute before I kept talking. “JJ Maybank will you…”

“Hey, hey, hey. I’m only sixteen, at least take me out on a date first.” He interrupted my question.

“How do you know that I was proposing you didn’t let me finish.” I explained before asking the question again. “JJ Maybank will you, pass me some more of the blanket, you’re really hogging it and I’m getting cold.”

“Oh that was just cruel.” He pouted, as I laughed at my dumb question.

“What you didn’t even want to be proposed to yet.”

“Well I wasn’t going to say yes but I would have liked you to ask.”

“Oh my gosh.” I shook my head at him before I continued to talk about our family. “I think we’d have three kids and they would all look exactly like you. A girl, who is ridiculously smart and kind and helpful. And twins, boys, who are absolute terrors.” I paused looking at JJ whose eyes were beginning to close. “But every night, just as they fall asleep. They look so peaceful and you remember why you love them so much.”

Once I had finished talking I turned so that my back was facing JJ before I finally started to drift off to sleep. As I closed my eyes I felt a warm arm snake around my waist and pull me closer while JJ nuzzled his face into the back of my neck.

“Jade, Jesse and Jacob.” He mumbled, his breath fanning across my neck. It took me a minute to realize he was naming the kids that I had just described.

“Of course you would want all of their names to start with J.” I smiled, on the brink of falling asleep.

“It’s the best letter of the alphabet, Sweetheart.” He responded just before I fell fast asleep.

🔅🔆🔅

#outerbanks #outer banks #jj maybank #jj obx #obx #jj x oc #jj maybank x oc #jj x reader #jj maybank x reader

22 notes · View notes

lifeofroos · 3 years

Text

Part 48. I like Ariadne.

In short: Nico gets therapy from Dionysus. In this chapter, Nico takes a minute to talk to Dionysus’ wife, Ariadne. The rest of the story can be found on AO3, FanFiction.net and in Tumblr tags like Dionysus, Nico di Angelo, Fanfic etc.

This Might Be Crazy: Chapter 48: Rosemary Tea

I lit a small incense stick. The smell of pinewood filled my cabin. Just when I wanted to begin praying to get Ariadne’s attention, I already got it. One moment, I was in my cabin, the next I was on Olympus, looking out over a massive vineyard.

‘Nico di Angelo.’

I turned around. ‘The lady of the house, I assume.’

‘Yes. You called on me?’

Barely. ‘Yes. I, well…’ I shrugged. I wasn’t entirely sure. I didn’t think I’d get this far.

Ariadne put her chin up. ‘I can’t say I wasn’t expecting you one of these days. Why don’t we talk?’

I mean, that is what I had in mind. I nodded and she gestured that I could come into the palace.

Dionysus’ palace was big. It took a good twenty minutes to walk to a sitting room on the other side. In the meantime, Ariadne chatted about the decor for a bit. It was clear she had been responsible for most of it (it was way too stylish to be done by Dionysus).

We sat down in two comfy chairs, with a coffee table in between. Ariadne snapped her fingers. A pot of tea appeared. ‘Sorry for the long walk. The west flank of the palace is not under control by the headmaster, so I had to bring you there.’

Zeus. ‘Eh, I get it.’ So. Now that we sit and we’ve got tea, I was kind of curious about how you managed to live with Dionysus for thousands of years.

‘Lets get the obvious question of your mind: You are wondering how I managed to live with Dionysus for thousands of years.’

I nodded, a little perplexed, but mostly glad I did not have to open the conversation.

She poured out two cups of tea and picked up her own. ‘I don’t read minds or anything, it’s just what they always ask. The short version is that he helped me when I was going through a hard time, the same way he is helping you now. The difference is that he somehow fell in love with me.’ She took a sip of her tea. ‘And, after some more time, which he gave me, I felt the same way. Got married, stayed together, end of story.’ She picked up her cup. ‘Yet, you probably already guessed that there was more.’

‘Well, Yes. I would say that the support he gives you goes further than with me. He once, kind of accidently, told me about the bond.’

She nodded. ‘Accidently? Oh well. Yet, yes, we have a bond. I’d say it connects us quite well.’

‘Quite, quite well, I’d say. For thousands of years.’ I picked up my own cup. ‘Hephaestus told me Dionysus treated him like a regular human… or god, whatever. Like he was more than a tool or a piece of garbage. That is basically how my therapy works. ’

Ariadne nodded. ‘We share that sentiment, you, me and Hephaestus, among others. We feel like we are worth something. Like someone does care about us. That is how it made me feel.’ She looked at the ceiling for a second. ‘Cared for, and like I was finally free to do and go where I wanted, gods! That means something after constantly being bound to something, either my chambers in the palace, or the island, or the men I was with. I still don’t know how I did confinment for twenty years.’ Her expression soured. ‘I do know why I went with Theseus. It meant... a change of scenary, at least.’

I sighed and slouched in the chair a little. ‘Ah, yes, sons of Poseidon.’

She raised an eyebrow. ‘Sons?’

I looked up. She didn’t know? ‘I thought Dionysus would have told you. Anyway, I was in love with one of those too, once. He just wasn’t a piece of garbage about it. Did not abandon me somewhere, at least, or bully me for it. He might have been a little confused, but, you know. I get that. He seems confused about most things, actually.’

She shifted. ‘It must have been Percy Jackson.’

I took a sip. ‘Yes. And, eh, sorry.’ Didn’t want to rub it in your face. I wanted to ask what she thought of Percy, but maybe that wasn’t…

‘I do not have anything against Perseus Jackson, if you were wondering about that.’ She raised her eyebrows. ‘I think Dio has more problems with that than I do.’

‘I think you might just be right.’

She sighed. ‘Oh well. Yet, I did hear you were accepted like you are in camp, son of Poseidon as your first crush or not.’

‘I was! Camp overall is pretty accepting, actually, that is nice. They even learned to trust Hades kids. And idiots who fall in love with sons of Poseidon. It took a while, but they accept Annabeth now.’

She chuckled and pushed her hair out of the way. ‘So many more things are getting accepted these days, even amongst the gods. There is a shift in their behaviour. I don’t know what the trigger was, after thousands of years, but I am glad it is this way.’ She twisted a curl around a finger. ‘Sorry, entirely different subject, but how did your talk with the elder gods go?’

‘It was weird, but it went good enough. Over the last few days, I have heard less and less of the voices from Tartarus, and more and more from the voices of where the Elder Gods are.’

She smiled and nodded. ‘Luckily. You know, admitting the elder gods is a central part of becoming immortal. Because of previous lives, something, something, even the lord of the heavens is not really sure, I had to talk to them.’ She sighed. ‘Basically, part of me is also an older god, which meant that I was supposed to fill this role as a goddess right now.’ She rolled her eyes. I snickered. ‘I hardly understand what it means.’

I adjusted my jacket. ‘Still, that must be strange, though, to know that part of you is just…’ I waved my hands around. ‘Somewhere in superheaven.’

‘You get used to it.’

‘Still, it seems weird.’

‘To me, it seems weird that you visit the Underworld so often.’ She shuddered. ‘For me, it wasn’t a very good place. After I was killed, I was sent to Elysium. My father, king Minos, kept trying to control me and I missed Dio terribly. I would have chosen rebirth if Dionysus hadn’t taken me out of there.’

‘Oh yes, bringing people back to live, the thing he tells me is unhealthy to do.’

She gave me a mellow smile. ‘The difference is that he is immortal and you are not.’

Maybe. ‘Not yet. And I met king Minos, too. He was a nasty piece of work, sorry not sorry to say it. He tried to control me into his evil villian plans.’

‘I am not offended. He was a bad king, a bad husband to my mother and a bad father to his children.’

‘And a bad partner to raise the dead with.’

‘I am going to pretend I did not hear that.’

‘Thanks. Although my therapist is already aware of it.’ I took a sip. ‘Then we can both agree that he was a huge dirtwad.’

‘We quite certainly can. I still do not forgive him for marrying off my youngest sister to some old king who died not even a year later. She was then forced out of the palace to make room for the new king and queen, just so Minos could get the bridewealth payments.’

‘Oh yes, that is a very dirtwad thing to do.’ We both sighed.

Her expression grew dark. ‘I used to think my mother was better. She tried to protect her children, even Asterion. Yet, that was before she tried to take my labyrinth and use it against who I am. What she did a few years ago, raising it without my permission…’ she clutched her fist. ‘She had no business doing that and getting me wound up in it again. Before that, the labyrinth was a memory, safely far away from the human world. Now...’ She looked at her teacup.

I nodded. ‘Eh… my sister was the one who handled Pasiphae in that encounter. I think she is gone, now…’

‘She isn’t, Nico, and she never will. She harnesses too much power to just be gone.’

I fell silent for a second. ‘I think I believe that,’ I whispered.

‘I hope you do, but I also hope you don’t have to deal with her in your lifetime anymore.’

I was fifteen. On average, there was a lot of lifetime left to meet Pasiphae a second time. But I did not want to think of that right now.

‘If there is anything you take away from this, let it be that women in mythology, and not uncommonly men too, often fled, because the situation at home was chocking them.’ She had a flicker in her eyes, which suddenly left. She shook her head. ‘You probably don’t want to think of that right now. Say, have you ever tried this tea before?’

Now she was just trying to change the subject. I played along. ‘I recognise it. Rosemary?’

‘Yes! We grow it in the garden, actually, or better said, my garden. His garden is more or less... taken.’ She smiled again and looked out the window, at the vineyard that spread all around the castle.

‘Guess that makes sense.’

‘I wouldn’t mind more flowers. But hey, I knew what I was getting myslef in to, back when I moved here.’ We kept looking out the window. I noticed a few panthers lazily roaming about. Ariadne didn’t even blink at seeing them. Just a regular day in Dionysus’ palace, apparently.

‘I don’t know if I will tell Dionysus about this encounter.’

‘I think he already had a hunch it was going to happen, because I did. Bond and stuff.’ I nodded. ‘If you already told him you were in love with Percy… well, that is an easy link to me, I’d say.’

Maybe. Ariadne studied me, before she stood up. ‘If your finished, maybe you should get back. They might begin to miss you.

I looked up at the clock and jumped up when I saw it was already past eight. Ariadne telling me the clocks were mad and did what they wanted did not calm me down.

While we walked back to the mystic Zeus-free west flank, she said: ‘I am glad I could finally meet you. You seem like a nice, smart young man.’

‘Thanks. Eh, also, thanks for the talk and thanks for the tea. It was good tea.’

‘I’ll give you some. I am kind of proud of it, actually. It is one of the only teas that isn’t brewed by Demeter.’

A/N: My first draft of this felt clunky, it is better now. Still, I find it strange that it turned out the way it did. That Ariadne of all people is the goddess who keeps her distance for a bit, aside from the things she has in common with Nico.

As I said before: I need more Ariadne fanfiction I am being denied my RIGHTS the first hit when I google it is my own fanfic of two years ago and one chapter in Weezl’s drabble doc.

Legit, Ariadne is the ‘mistress of the labyrinth.’ Don’t know how RR missed that. Be prepared because this fact WILL come back in a later chapter.

23 notes · View notes

realityhelixcreates · 3 years

Text

Lasabrjotr Chapter 79: The Rites of Blood and Knowledge

Chapters: 79/?

Fandom: Thor (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe

Rating: pg 13(Blood)

Relationships: Loki x Reader

Characters: Loki (Marvel),Thor(Marvel) Wanda Maximoff, vision, Bruce Banner

Additional Tags: Post-Endgame: Best Possible Ending (Canon-Divergent), Party Time, In Reference To Blood Mixing Mentioned In The Eddas

Summary: The great ceremonies begin.

The dreams were powerful that night, whisking you off to far away places, off to the increasingly familiar form of the gargantuan space artist. There was a strange nostalgia out here that you were slowly coming to recognize as being not your own. How could it be? You had never physically been here, only visited in dreams.

With green and blue sparkling at your right and left, you drifted along in their orbit, yet another asteroid in a primordial star system.

First Wielder.

The concept filtered through your mind, trailing a warm and wistful longing behind it.

Peace. Eternity. Creation.

Before battle. Before separation. Before imprisonment.

Before all.

The star system was strange: every time you came here, the sun was a little different. A variable star, its brightness oscillating, it was still young and new.

There was only one planet in this system, located fairly close to the star. The presence of the colossal giant perturbed the asteroids and gas around the star, but their great mass prevented them from coalescing.

Comets formed in great numbers from the gas and ice beyond them, whizzing past them, inspiring new drawings. Asteroids clumped up against them; a brush of their great hand sent them flying, to collide into one another, to spin away from their unstable orbit, and join the comets on their cross-system journey, to crash into the singular planet.

The colossus watched with the patience of true immortality, as the planet burned and erupted, filled up with water, and clouds, and sky.

Thoughtfully, they regarded an asteroid they held in one hand, then, with their color-stained fingers, they began to draw.

The wistfulness and regret reached their peak, and you woke up in the empty bathtub, with a thought ringing in your head.

The Wielders always came to a bad end.

******

Loki was somewhat disgruntled to discover that you'd been having these dreams without him. He didn't scold, but his concern was clear. You described them in as much detail as you could, but, to your dismay, he didn't have any explanation for what you'd been seeing while you slept.

It would just have to remain a mystery. The upcoming day was going to be far too busy to dwell on it.

Both you and Loki had dressed in your absolute finest, your armor polished bright, your skirt covered in embroidery, your chest and neck festooned in beads of carved gold and pearl. You still felt a little bit like you were so buried in finery that you became invisible, but you tried to carry it with pride. All of this had been put together especially for you, and that hard work deserved to be shown off.

Loki was so magnificent in his fur-trimmed cloak, and elaborate helmet, you had to firmly tell yourself not to spend the whole day just staring at him all moon-eyed.

Maybe just a few hours.

Today, the Second Feast, was really the main event, as far as this Buridag was concerned. At noon, you would participate in the Blood Taking ceremony, wherin you would 'mingle blood' with the royal brothers, in order to be formally adopted into Asgardian high society. This would cement your status as high enough to advise Loki as one of the most important members of his personal entourage. And before the evening feast, you would perform the ritual that would confirm you as an official Seidkona.

But before that, you would have the time to run around and enjoy the festival.

It was set up like a combination job fair and reenactment fest. Stalls lined the streets and filled courtyards, peopled by the crafters of Asgard. Smiths, armorers, and carpenters, goldsmiths, lapidaries, scrimshanders, and glassblowers. Weavers, spinners, leatherworkers, and dyemakers, artists, musicians, chefs, academics, mages, stonemasons, construction workers, scribes, dancers, and cheesemongers. All the sights, and sounds, and scents, and flavors that made up Asgard were being demonstrated and celebrated.

Your Father and Tara joined you in the streets, and Loki reluctantly released you into their care, having some preparation left to do.

Tara, flouncing around in an apron dress and domed brooches very much like your usual style, gushed over how beautiful you looked, and your father, rather sheepishly dressed in an Asgardian greatcoat and cowl, agreed openly.

“You look like a princess.” he said. “A real one. You...You walk different now. Talk different. You look so strong.”

“Is it me, or are all these people following us?” Tara asked, not very quietly. A few chagrined people in the crowd that flowed in your wake down the street peeled away, and wandered in different directions. The rest either had less shame, or had orders to keep watch over you.

You spared the group a glance. There appeared to be a solid mix of Asgardians and humans, several of which had their phones out. You surmised there would be a new wave of photos of you on the internet over the next few days.

“Keep your cowl up dad.” You advised.

“Want me to run them off?” he offered.

“Nah. I don't really mind if they take pictures of me. Can't really hurt anything.”

“Wasn't so great last time.” Tara pointed out. “I spent a lot of time stanning for you.”

“Well, last time was sensationalized bullcrap. This time is a nice festival. I mean, check out that guy!”

That Guy was a glassblower in his stall, spinning a huge, bubble thin amphora of rose pink glass. You had seen its like before, but never seen one made.

“Oh, they age crystal mead in those! The pink lets in the right wavelengths of light that give it it's shimmering quality.”

“What's crystal mead?” your father asked.

“Don't try more than a few sips, if anyone offers.” you warned. “Asgardians have iron guts. Their booze is way too strong.”

“Yeah, they warned us about that on the plane.” Tara said. “And yesterday, it looked like they had everything divided up by species, so no one got the wrong thing.”

You took them around to various demonstrations: spinners spinning yarn, brewers preparing several of Asgards many alcoholic beverages, apothecaries showing how basic medicines were made, a cobbler putting together a nice pair of boots.

“So, Asgard's really advanced, right?” Tara asked. “Why is everything like Ye Olden Times?”

“Asgard's never had that big a population, even at it height. There just isn't that much demand for mass production. Most things are bespoke, or self-made. Quality depends entirely on the maker, so that, of course, becomes a competition. And that, in turn, becomes a matter of cultural pride. Also, they have thousands of years to get good at what they do, so Asgardian made goods are super high quality, and they judge personal worth by that. I don't think they'll ever automate; it would go against a lot of what they stand for.”

You snagged the three of you a traditional Asgardian snack; fat sausages, wrapped in savory pastry. You thought it might be good to have something else in your stomach before the first ceremony.

Tara called them Asgardian corn dogs, which you couldn't wait to share with Loki, if only to watch his nose wrinkle with disdain over the undignified term.

“So when do we have to let you go?” Tara asked.

You checked your phone for the time, stuffing the last of your sausage into your mouth.

“Eh, I've got a few minutes left. Better start heading over though.”

Your winding path through the courtyards took you past minstrels, impromptu dances, and games, to a large, tall dais that had been put together as a temporary mirror to the throne room. It towered over the City Hall courtyard like a ziggurat. You'd be up there soon enough, but currently...

“Who's that?” your father asked, pointing at a man standing at the top. “Doesn't look like Thor.”

You squinted up at the figure, his bright armor shining in the rarefied sunlight.

“Ah, That's Heimdall. He's the Guardian of Asgard, and god of...uh, sight? I think? Vigilance? It's not quite that neat and simple, you know? The whole 'God Of' thing is a bit more complicated than that.”

“So that's a god?” your father asked. “How can you tell? Are they all gods? What does that even mean?”

“All good questions. Mostly because they are very hard to answer.”

Your father and Tara jerked at the sudden new voice, and, not for the first time, you found yourself amazed at how easily a man of the sheer size and importance as the king of Asgard could sneak up on people.

“Your Majesty.” you said calmly, inclining your head. Your father and Tara dipped into awkward bows, a little awed by the mythical figure before them. Thor didn't necessarily demand obeisance, but he didn't exactly discourage it either; he let people act as they felt appropriate.

“Not every Asgardian is a god.” Thor explained. “Those that are go by the term 'Aesir', a common name through most of the realms for beings of that type. You are born Aesir; you cannot become one by outside influences. However, Aesir nature doesn't always become apparent at birth, it often doesn't manifest until adolescence. As for what it means to be Aesir...that doesn't have so straightforward an answer. I leave it to the philosophers, who, incidentally, are in booth seventy-eight.

Anyway, I have come to collect your daughter for the ceremony. There isn't much time left, so we'd all better get in place. If you go through those two poles there right now, you can get very good seats.”

“This could get a bit weird.” You warned. “It's a ceremony more ancient than any recorded human practices, so it's probably going to seem archaic.”

“Oh, it's not so bad.” Thor said. “It's been updated and refined over all those years. For instance, everyone remains clothed now, and there are at least seventy percent fewer entrails used.”

Your father coughed, and you rolled your eyes. Thor's sense of humor was difficult for you to understand, considering how serious he was about everything. The thing about Thor's jokes was that he might have been joking about something that had really happened, or he might have been joking about something he'd completely made up, but he would never specify which.

“On that note, I've got to go.” you said. “Entrails to sort, and all that.”

Your father coughed again, Tara patting him compassionately on the back.

“Good luck!” she called to your receding back.

******

“Now, you've been fully briefed on what will happen during this ceremony, correct?” Thor asked, as the two of you loitered near the back stairs of the temporary dais. People were filtering in to seats and standing room around the courtyard, waiting for things to start.

“I think so.” you said. “If I've got this right, there's going to be a special dance-”

“The Alignment of the Celestial and Worldly bodies, yes.” Thor said. “It symbolizes everything that must come together to bring the 'adoptee' to the greater 'family'. In this case, it will tell the story of how you came here to join our family.”

A soft warmth crept up your neck, and heated your ears beneath your helmet. You knew it was all socio-symbolism, but the notion of 'joining the family' hit differently now that you were on intimate terms with Loki.

“And then all the braziers will have some kind of incense thrown in, and in the smoke, we'll all go up the stairs like we're magically appearing. Honestly, it sounds like it'll look really cool.”

“All ceremonies contain a bit of theatrics.” Thor agreed. “Perhaps that is the most important part. Or that's the part that makes it important. I wish we still had some of the traditional ceremonial incense, but we just don't have access to the materials anymore. You would have liked it; it was much more floral than most of what you have here. We did manage to get some lavender though. That should be nice.”

“Maybe one day, when the Bifrost is more stable.” You said. It did sound very nice. “Loki said that you, and he, and Heimdall will sing a blessing song?”

“Yes, a divine blessing from a trio of Aesir. It's got to be three. And then...”

“Yeah. And then.” Loki had told you about the bloodletting. He had been very frank about it. “I know. I'm nervous, but not afraid.”

Thor nodded. “Sometimes there are unforeseen effects, but never anything bad. You'll be perfectly safe.”

“I know. The nervousness just comes from knowing it'll hurt. Even if just for a short time.”

You buckled under Thor's hand when it came down on your shoulder, enveloping the whole thing.

“Loki would rather slice out his own guts than draw your blood, trust me. He's been trying to figure out how to get around it for weeks. Unfortunately, the blood is the most important part of the magic. It carries all of the power. It's very old magic: according to him, this is practically the only part of the ritual that has remained unchanged from the beginning.”

“Did there really used to be entrails and naked people, or was that a joke?”

“Ehhh, well, yes and no. This ceremony originated with the Vanir, and they are not opposed to nakedness under certain circumstances. In this case, everyone who attended was expected to leave the clothes they came in at the door, and wear a special loincloth instead. This was actually to prevent violence, by barring hidden weaponry from being brought to ceremony grounds. So rather than pure nudity, everyone was dressed as scantily as was possible.

As for entrails...unfortunately yes, that was also a part of it. A seer would perform a divination using the entrails of a slaughtered animal. That practice was going out of fashion, even before the war, and I don't think anyone today even remembers how it was done.”

You shuddered. Yes, it was a different culture, and a long time ago, but it still grossed you out.

“I'll have to remember to thank Loki for trying to get me out of it, even if he wasn't successful.” You said. He really did put in a lot of effort behind the scenes. If only he were more open about some of that effort, so you could appreciate it more.

“He was adamant about the bull.” Thor said. “Demanded a private ritual the night before. Put your helmet up on the pillar, then sacrificed and butchered the beast himself. Insisted on it. Did our ancestors proud, but you know he knows his way around a knife.”

“I wish he'd told me. I was really stressed about that whole thing. I'm glad, in the end, that he was thinking of me, but I really wish I'd known. I wouldn't have lost so much sleep!”

“It was a little last minute.” Thor admitted. “I approved it the instant he explained, but we had to do it pretty much immediately afterwards. He really should have told you, but I fear my brother is usually more invested in the making of plans, rather than what to do once they come to fruition. I feel you will be a positive influence on him, though.”

Even though he was wearing his eyepatch, rather than the mismatched prosthetic, his one blue eye was open and sincere.

“I think so too.” you said. You already were influencing each other. It was impossible to live so close, to sleep in the same bed, without doing so. But Loki did have a bad habit of assuming things, a by-product of his upbringing as a leader, you supposed. You would simply have to speak up more.

Perhaps you had gotten too comfortable. But perhaps you wanted to be too comfortable. It might be a holdover from your year of struggle, but having someone who wanted to do so much for you was very tempting. You knew it would be better to strive for a balance, but you also knew that, unless Loki somehow diminished himself severely, the two of you would never truly be equals.

But you admired that greatness, and somehow, those all too common flaws in him made him easier for you to love. They made him so real.

An ambling drum beat started up, accompanied by the brassy ting of zills, and a flute. Loki joined you and Thor in peeking out around the dais, just as a group of dancers spread out around the courtyard.

You'd been told that the dancers represented personages from history and legend. You were pretty sure that the three women who orbited the dance stage equidistant from one another must be the Norns, and you assumed the cluster of people standing beneath a glittering tree branch and clanging their zills were probably meant to be the ancestors of the royal family.

The dance told a story of a woman dressed like you, and a man dressed like Loki, wearing silver bells at their wrists and ankles that jingled with every step. They made everything look so much more graceful and sensual than it really had been: Holding hands like the rune branding had been on purpose, dancing circles with each other, like everything had been friendly and not at all awkward from the very beginning. How elegantly 'you' swooned into 'his' arms, while the assassin was caught. How triumphantly 'you' defended 'him' against the Huldra. And how beautifully 'he' clasped 'you' in a romantic, yet properly chaste embrace.

There was none of the blood, none of the fear, or anger, or petulance, or confusion. No loss, or loneliness, or uncertainty.

But that was how it worked, wasn't it? None of those things could be shown to the general public. This was ceremony. This was spectacle! This was what would be remembered.

The pair danced away, out of sight, the ancestors retreated, and the Norns raised their arms in unison. All around the courtyard, attendants dumped incense into the torches and braziers, sending thick smoke and mysterious perfume wafting over the entire area.

“Show's on, darling.” Loki said, grasping your shoulders, and leading you up the stairs. A new wave of anxiety washed over you as you rose above the sweet smelling clouds like a legend. Heimdall stepped aside to let you pass, Loki and Thor leading you right up to the edge of the elevated platform, where waited a podium, upon which rested a brass bowl. An unfamiliar rune was stamped on its bottom. So that was where the magic would happen.

Thor held his hand out over an unlit brazier just in front of the podium and concentrated. Scarcely a moment later sparks danced between his fingers and jumped to ignite the fuel. The light illuminated the clouds of incense, obscuring the audience. Cut off thus from every other person out there, you didn't flinch as the trio of gods each placed a hand on you, and began to sing.

You couldn't help but wonder if they had done this before. It was a complex song, with rising and falling harmonies, parts layered over one another, something that couldn't have been easy to learn. As their voices dipped and flowed, you felt the power rising, just like out in the camp, months ago. Why could you sense divine power? Was it because of your magic? Was there anyone out in the crowd that could feel it too?

Thor's good eye had begun to sparkle with crackling white energy, the power of the blessing he was singing into you. You assumed Heimdall, behind you, was lighting up orange, and when you turned your head to glance at Loki, you were suffused with the gentle glow of the blue light from your dreams.

All of the anxiety drained out of you at the touch of that light, your arms dropping to your sides as relaxation took over.

Everything was all right. Loki was right beside you. Thor and Heimdall were with you, their voices reverberating through you, their blessing upon you. The rare winter sun filtered down over you like a blanket, as the last notes of the Aesir's song filled your head.

Loki gently took your hand, gazing earnestly into your face as the calming light faded from his eyes.

“Forgive me, my love.” he whispered.

A sudden, painful jab, ripped you out of your cocoon of sunny calm. With a sharp cry, you turned to stare at your fingertip, pierced deeply by the tip of one of Loki's knives.

Loki held your hand over the brass bowl, letting the blood drip, enough to cover the rune at the bottom. Then he tenderly bandaged the tiny wound, lines of regret around his eyes. Thor held his hand out for a slash, and then Loki turned the blade on himself. Blood slowly filled the little bowl, as a light throbbing started in your head. Every drop that rippled its surface was like a giant heartbeat within you.

Once it was full, Thor and Loki began singing again, lifting the small bowl between them. They held it up to the sun, and then poured it onto the burning brazier. The fire sputtered, sizzling, sending a huge cloud of smoke directly into your face. You gagged on the scent of burning blood, practically bathed in it, a layer of death-scent on your skin. The song cut through it, thrumming in your ears, an echoing promise of cherishment and fidelity.

The blood burned down into nothing, the smoke slowly clearing. All of the people in the courtyard came back into view, the upturned faces solemn. The dancers below picked up the chorus.

And you understood them.

Loki took your hand and lifted it up, flourishing to the crowd. They cheered, while you stood there, stunned. You understood what they were saying, their enthusiastic calls, their songs. The blood smell lingered in your nose, the throbbing swiftly receding from your head.

He led you to the stairs down as you wobbled, but you never made it all the way down. Dizziness overcame you, and you collapsed into Loki's arms.

#lasabrjotr #loki (marvel)#loki x reader

14 notes · View notes

shinobis-of-ninjago-au · 3 years

Text

Shinobis of Ninjago

Episode 1: Rise of the Snakes

Prologue Pilot 1 Pilot 2 (Episode 1, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3), Next Episode

((Tw: Violence))

Months later, the world of Ninjago seemed more at peace. Not many knew of the Dark Lady's existence or the fact that she had left the realm, but it was a strange coincidence that everything seemed to calm down. The hectic elections had ended, domestic disputes seemed less, and gang violence was low, even Skylor seemed more relaxed. This also meant that the four shinobis were very, very bored.

Skylor and Jay had moved into the Monastery, leaving the weapons-smith shop to be maintained by the neighbours and farmers. They had been renting it out to people, making a steady income every month.

Jay had healed up well, his bandages were gone and he was now able to leave the monastery by himself (Skylor had made sure he was always in her sight). He now wore bracers on his forearms, something that their mother would often do. Before he had moved, he spoke little Ninjargon, but he had improved quickly, speaking only occasionally in broken sentences. The only change Skylor noticed in him is he was tired most of the time and would spend the days in his room sleeping or reading.

It was now early Winter, meaning the heat-lamp in the dragons' stall had been set up and there were candles lit around the monastery to keep it warm. The fireplaces were alive with burning wood and crackling with the approaching holiday season. The ninja were also excited to have their new winter yorois, or what they called a 'dragon riding suit'. It was almost the same as a regular ninja-yoroi, but it was water and wind resistant and the ninjas wore thermal clothing underneath.

Today was a warmer day, as it was still early in the season. There was the faintest amount of snow on the ground at the base of the mountain, but lots piled on top of the monastery. The ninjas sat together playing video games, Jay was nestled in his room reading, and Mystake sat in front of her incense sticks, meditating.

Soon, the shouts from the kunoichis reached her ears, disrupting her meditation. It continued for a few more minutes until Mystake stood up, having had enough of the shouts coming from the game room. She wandered the halls of the Monastery, looking at the sparse decorations Seliel had put up for one of her countries' holidays.

Mystake stopped outside of the game room, the shouts from before now louder and more clear. Sighing, she pushed them open and was greeted by a bright blue light from the television. Pop bottles, candy wrappers, and pizza boxes lay around the room, the ninjas seated comfortably in beanbag chairs and the overstuffed couch.

"Fantastic! I'm outta lives." Nya complained, hitting more buttons on her controller to get back in the game.

"But the lesson lives on." Pixal said, holding her controller at an awkward angle. "And I am getting the hang of it!" Though she had spent months with the others, she still wasn't very good at video games, unlike Skylor who had picked it up right away.

Mystake moved through the room unnoticed, surveying what they did in their free time and frowning. Suddenly, the lights turned on and the screen went black. The kunoichis looked around in confusion before spotting Mystake with the remote in her hands.

"It took us three hours to get there!" Seliel exclaimed, throwing down her controller and sinking into her beanbag chair.

"Why would ya do that? Why!?" Nya demanded.

Mystake put down the remote on the wrapper-strewn coffee table. "Just because a Lady Misako escaped through a vortex, doesn't mean she won't return one day for the Golden Weapons." She lectured.

"But Master Mystake, ever since she has been gone Ninjago has had nothing but peace." Pixal stated.

"Yeah. Peace is borin'. There's no one ta' save, nothin' ta' do." The scout added, stretching back and putting her hands behind her head.

"Yeah, we can train tomorrow." Seliel said, reaching for another slice of pizza.

Mystake kicked the box away, ignoring Seliel's gasp of betrayal. "Never put off till tomorrow what can be done today."

"Well, I was going to call that cute boy I met last week." Seliel said, reaching for her phone. "If that's the case—"

"No dates for you." Mystake said, plucking the phone from the girl's hands. "You four will spend the rest of the day in the indoor training room until supper, and then meditation until lights out."

"Uh, remember when we did a little thing called the 'Tornado of Creation'? I thought that was pretty cool." Skylor reminded her.

Mystake sighed, looking around at her students. "You four have merely scratched the surface of your full potential. There are still so many secrets you have yet to unlock. You haven't even begun to tap into what powers your weapons hold."

"Ya wanna talk secret powers?" Nya asked. "Check this out. Pix, do the thing." Pixal nodded and picked up her Golden Weapon. Extending her whip, she flicked it against the TV. The black screen flickered to life and the four picked up their controllers, re-starting the game.

"Don't get your robes in a bunch," Skylor assured her, "we'll be ready when she decides to show her face."

Jay appeared in the doorway, a piece of paper in his hands. "You need to stop jinxing self." He turned to the rest of the girls. "Lady Misako spotted approaching Jamanikai Village." As soon as he said the words his eyes widened and he looked down at the paper in his hands in disbelief.

The four girls blanked. Then the room erupted into chaos. There was swearing, grunts of pain, and shouts as they scrambled to find the tops of their yorois, weapons, and hoods.

Once everything had been located, they rushed out of the room, stumbling down the halls until they reached the staircase along the western wall. Their footfalls echoed through the narrow staircase as they raced down to the Dragon Stalls. Soon, they were hit with a new wave of heat from the lamp nestled in the top of the cavern.

The Dragon Stalls had been carved into the mountain, long before Mystake recruited the ninja. There were eight red doors, each one painted with the symbol of the element represented by a weapon. The doors of Fire, Time, Sound, and Earth remained vacant.

The dragons were sprawled about, but once they heard their masters coming down the stairs, they got up and went to stand in front of their respective doors.

The ninja burst into the cavern, and Nya, having the dragon closest to the wall, ran over and pulled on four separate levers. Saddles dropped from the ceiling, supported by chains. They were lowered onto the dragons' backs and the ninja unhooked them and began strapping the girth under their bellies.

Pixal's dragon, Byte, let out a roar as she pulled it too tight. Seliel swung her leg over the saddle. Hearing the clang of metal, she looked down, seeing her staff on the ground.

Jay walked up to Skylor, who was fastening a bag to her dragon's saddle. "Can I help?" He asked hopefully.

"Sorry, Jay Bird. Where we go danger abounds. I don't want you getting hurt, especially not by her hand." Jay let out a sigh of disappointment, even though he knew his sister was only trying to protect him from what happened last time. Skylor threw her leg over the dragon's back, only to pause. "Uh, a little help?" She asked, bending down and making grabby-hands at the reins.

Jay bit his lip and handed the reins to his sister. Pixal turned to Mystake and nodded. Mystake, who was standing by the levers, pulled the biggest one and the doors fell forward. The kunoichis cheered and took off, leaving Jay and Mystake to watch them fly off.

"Will they ever reach full potential?" Jay asked.

"In time," Mystake replied. "Maybe long time, but in time."

—————————————————-

"Just like old times, eh, Misty?" Seliel said, patting her dragon on the side of the neck. They hadn't been out riding their dragons in days, leaving the beasts to become very restless.

"You guys believe what Sensei said about our full potential?" Skylor asked a few minutes later. "I mean, we have the weapons, the skills, what else could there be?"

"We've never had ta' use the weapons, besides for our own personal gain. I wonder wha' they do." Nya said.

"I for one, look forward to the future." The kanchō said. "If there is more for us to accomplish, let it be."

"I don't know about you ladies, but is anyone else a little excited about facing Lady Misako? I've been looking forward to trying out some new spinjitzu moves." Seliel exclaimed. "'Could be the perfect opportunity."

"Ha ha, race ya'll there?" Nya challenged as she surged forward. She heard shouts behind her as her teammates struggled to catch up. They soared above the clouds and kept an eye out for Jamanikai Village, not wanting to fly past another village like they have in the past.

Jamanikai Village was located close to the Monastery, not more than a fifteen minute flight. Nestled in the South-Eastern Mountain Range, it was a quiet village, maybe only two hundred people. But it was a popular tourist spot in the summer, especially for those who lived in cities.

Soon enough they spotted the village through the clouds. Pulling their dragons into a dive, they raced forward, crashing into a deep snowbank just outside of a small cluster of shops and houses. Climbing out of the snow, the four brushed the snow from their yorois and began digging out their dragons. They then sent them on their way to fly around the village until called upon, a way of keeping them warm.

Skylor watched her dragon, Amber, take off before turning to her teammates, throwing a fist up in the air. "Yo fui la primera!" ('I was first!')

Nya whipped towards her. "No, no one was faster than me."

"Nuh-uh! My feet were down before yours."

"You are all disillusioned, it was clearly me." Pixal argued.

They were reminded of their reason for being there once they heard a scream from within the village. Putting their argument on the figurative back-burner, they got out their weapons and made their way into the village.

All the doors were closed tightly and curtains were drawn. The village almost seemed like a ghost town, empty except for the occasional face that would appear in a window. The ninja knocked on a door, hoping to get any direction to where Misako would be. A brave man pointed to the next mountain over before wishing them good luck and closing the door.

The ninja set out through the village until they reached the bridge that connected the to the next mountain. The next part of the village was even quieter than the last, if that was possible. The ninja slowly made their way down the cobblestone streets, keeping an eye out for any suspicious activity. They stopped in the heart of the village where a fountain was located.

They paused when they heard a little girl's giggles. Immediately getting into a fighting stance, they turned, facing the fountain. A small figure emerged from behind, dancing along the fountain's outer ring and singing softly.

"...Don't wake up or else you'll find a spider in your mouth." The figure paused, looking up at the four kunoichis. She stood up straight and smiled. "Finally, another human." She threw her hands up in the air. "I demand all the candy in town!"

Skylor dropped her stance, sliding her sai into their scabbards and placing her hands on her hips. "Uh, who's that?"

"Harumi Garmadon, Misako's daughter." Seliel groaned. "Looks like she escaped Darkley's again."

The doors around the small village began to open up, faces peeking out curiously. Harumi smiled at the bigger audience. "Give me candy or else I'll release the Serpentine on you!" She pulled out a can and after struggling to get the lid off, held it out to the street before her. A few rubber snakes jumped out, landing weakly on the ground.

"She's going to have to do a lot better than using an old bedtime story to scare people." Skylor said as she picked up one of the snakes. She let it drop as Seliel stepped forward to go get the young girl.

"The Serpentine are real, Skylor, and they are not something to joke about." Pixal informed her.

"¿Serpentina, real?" Skylor scoffed. "We're talking about the ancient race of snake-people who once ruled Ninjago and were supposedly locked underground."

"Sealed in five different tombs to separate the warrin' tribes, and insure they don't unify to exact their revenge on those who put them there." The teisatsu babbled.

"It's an old wives tale to teach kids not to poke their noses where they don't belong." Skylor said, waving her hand. "Don't you think it's a little suspicious no one's ever found one of their tombs?"

"That's because you'd be a fool to look for one." Seliel said as she walked back to her teammates, a screaming girl thrown over her shoulder. "If there was anything I hated more than dragons, it was snakes. Rubber or not."

"Bow down to me, or suffer my wrath!" Harumi threatened, pounding her fists on Seliel's back. "I'll give you the count of three! One! Two!"

"What are we supposed to do with her?" Skylor asked.

"Two and half--"

—————————————————-

Harumi screamed, struggling against the cloth that bound her to a chair inside a grocery store. "You've just made me your nemesis! Mark my words!" She glared at the ninja who were picking up groceries for their own home.

"Relax, young one." Said the one in purple. "Your boarding school is sending someone to come pick you up. You can wait here until then."

Harumi huffed, turning away. The ninja paid and left, but the orange one remained, walking over towards the girl. She pulled something out of one of her pockets, holding it out to Harumi. Harumi turned to her, looking down at the lollipop that was being held out towards her. The orange kunoichi removed the wrapper and gave the girl the piece of candy.

"Crime doesn't pay, niña. Next time try paying for your candy."

And with that, she was gone.

8 notes · View notes