#I think this is a postcard/photo but I invite you to tell me which one of them is keeping it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

themand0lorian · 3 years

Note

You are amazing. What do you think about Marcus pike x FBI agent!reader fake dating/idiots in love at high school reunion? Dealing with old bullies?

Ah, an anon after my own heart--I was thinking of the same recently!! I had so many ideas for how this would go, but tried to make this coherent--not thrilled with how it came out but I cant keep looking at it tbh

Most Likely

Summary: Marcus convinces you to attend your high school reunion--it does not go according to plan.

Pairing: Marcus Pike x F!Reader (no Y/N)

Rating: PG-13 (Swearing, bullying)

Words: ~8000 (Read on AO3)

Tags: friends to lovers, fake dating, high school reunions, there are a few nondescript punches thrown, bullying

Notes: This fic deals with bullying, but not about looks--at one point someone asks if Marcus is her brother, but more to be a jerk than because they look alike. If you are dealing with people like these, I am so sorry--this fic came from somewhere personal for me, too. If you ever want to chat, my inbox is always open!

--Elizabeth was much too embarrassed to say a word. After a short pause, her companion added, “You are too generous to trifle with me. If your feelings are still what they were last April, tell me so at once. My affections and wishes are unchanged, but one word from you will silence me on this subject—

You’re ripped from the world of Mr. Darcy and Longbourn as the book nestled softly in your lap is pulled out of your grasp from behind, up and over your head. Suddenly, you’re back in the FBI offices, in modern-day DC; long gone are the declarations of love and the grand balls, replaced by the clicking of computers and your forgotten leftovers sitting next to you on your desk, lunch break since passed. You crane your neck back in your office chair to find the culprit, but you’re unable to see who grabbed it, instead reaching up for your book as it’s held above your head.

“C’mon, I know you can do better than that,” a familiar voice teases, holding the book just out of reach, and you spin in your chair to find Marcus Pike, your closest friend and most mischievous coworker, holding the book up over your head.

“Marcus! It was just getting to the good part! Mr. Darcy was about to—”

“You’ve read this thirty times,” he replies good-naturedly as he leans onto your desk with a smile.

“And it’s still good every time!” you insist, watching as he slips your bookmark into the book in his hands. He had kept your page with his thumb, and when he’s done, he looks to you again, placing the book in his lap.

“I have something for you.”

“I hope it’s a new bookmark,” you crinkle your nose at him, noting the tattered edges on your current one. You love this one—a touristy photo of Washington, DC that shifts from day to night depending on the angle, which Marcus got you on his first day in the office when he noticed you using an old receipt to keep your page. But you’re pretty sure it’s from the drugstore down the street, and it hasn’t held up well to your repeated use over the years.

“No. Well, I guess maybe,” he changes his mind, handing you a sealed envelope. It’s addressed to you, but instead of your home address it’s the office address, and you quirk your brow. “I don’t know what it is, it came to the front desk so I told the receptionist I’d bring it up,” he clarifies, and you start to open it. You know it’s nothing dangerous, all mail sent to the Bureau thoroughly checked for any threats, but when you pull out the postcard, your entire face scrunches in contempt.

“What is it?” Marcus asks, trying to look around you to see the words on the card.

“An invitation to my high school reunion,” you answer in disgust, throwing the card into the recycle bin.

“Man, not even good enough to use as a bookmark?” he asks, pulling the invitation out of the trash to read it over, then placing it on your desk. You turn back to your forgotten lunch as he speaks. “Why’d they send it here?”

“I never gave them my home address, probably just Googled me and sent it the first place that showed up,” you shrugged.

“Well, it’s in a few weeks, I bet it’ll be fun.”

“I really doubt that, Marcus,” you roll your eyes, taking another bite. “Four hours in a sweaty gym, drinking bad punch and dancing to the Electric Slide? Besides, everyone just goes to those things to show off their fancy jobs and rich spouses. Can’t say I have much of that to brag about,” you joke, gesturing to the fluttering office. You don’t want to say what you’re really thinking, why you would really never want to go. “Anyway, I don’t want to go alone, that’d be pathetic.”

“I’ll go with you,” he offers with a smile, and you shoot him a glare.

“How would I explain that? Oh, hi, girl-from-math-class, so nice to see you and your Fortune-500 husband. Oh, my husband? Well, no, see--I’m here with my best friend—no, he didn’t go here, he just wanted to make sure I wasn’t being pitiful,” you joke, and Marcus looks to his hands.

“What if we didn’t go as friends? Then would you go?” You look to him in confusion, so he continues. “What if I go as your date?”

“What, like a fake dating thing?” you clarify, missing the way Marcus deflates as you stab another morsel with your fork.

“Uh—yeah, yeah. If you want, I mean. You’re right, it would be weird to go as friends since I didn’t go to school with you,” he says with a shake of his head as you mull it over.

“I don’t know, Marcus—”

“C’mon, it’ll be fun. You’ll get to tell everyone about your fancy FBI job, show them how beautiful you are after all this time—” heat rises to your cheeks as he continues “—show off your ‘boyfriend,’ who I hear is actually really good at the Electric Slide—" Marcus starts to dance as he speaks, and you fall into laughter.

“Fine! Fine,” you interrupt. “On one condition—” you respond after a moment, and he perks up again. “You give me my book back.” Marcus smiles, finally handing your book back as he speaks.

“Great! I’ll RSVP,” he says, swiping the card from where he placed it on your desk. “Pick you up at 8?” he smiles. When you nod, he starts to make his way back to his desk; instead of walking, he’s shuffling his heels, pivoting and dancing with a clap as he hums an off-key rendition of the Electric Slide, only stopping when he gets to his desk to make eye contact with you as you giggle and tuck your nose back into your book.

That’s how you ended up here, fourth dress thrown on the floor in half as many hours as you try to get ready. You should have refused. Should have told Marcus the truth, should have tossed the invitation without a second glance. Should have ran and never looked back.

Most people would argue that high school isn’t exactly the best time of their lives, but for you, it was by far the worst. A small fish in a big pond, it felt like everything you did was wrong—and no one is more ruthless than high school girls. Always quick to spread rumors, to spit venom and mock and pull at every loose string they can find until you unravel. Teachers tried; let you eat lunch in their classrooms, told you to ignore their words and they would stop, scolded the particularly cruel students, but that somehow made things that much worse.

You know you didn’t deserve their treatment, but you also know you didn’t do much to try to change their minds. Despite a growth spurt, your body seemed to develop in all the wrong places, clothes used more to hide than to show. Your dowdy outfits and dull colors stuck out rather than blended in, and by the end of Freshman year, you were thoroughly ostracized, bullied then left alone to deal with the aftermath. You would spend your days reading, getting lost in worlds that seemed better than yours, nicer than yours, worlds you would be accepted in. Worlds where Mr. Darcy proposed—twice!--to bookish girls like you, where Jo March found love while living free and unbridled, unworried about others’ remarks about her too-short hair or frumpy clothes in a way you could only envy. Unfortunately, those worlds never came to life, and you counted down the days until graduation; but, as the numbers got smaller, the harassment got worse; you didn’t even walk across the stage in the end, so ready to leave that world behind.

Things had gotten better since then. You found your calling in college, forensic sciences—you were good at it, and for the first time, people liked that about you rather than bullied you for it. You had your core group of close friends, on-then-off flings with other members of your major—you learned how to dress for your body, how to do your makeup the way you like it instead of following some ridiculous YouTube tutorial. Your confidence increased as you got a job at the Bureau, as you matured and grew as a person, but those hurtful words—always spoken just loud enough for you to hear—always wrang in the back of your mind.

They’ve come to the forefront now, as you pull and tweak your fifth dress of the night. You love this dress, the simple wrap of it and the delicate pattern, but now it seems to hug in all the wrong places, to turn your skin tone sickly. You think of all the ways they can mock you for it—too tight here, too loose there. Too busy. Too much.

You should have said no. But all Marcus had to do was look at you with those puppy dog eyes and it was over for you. He seemed to excited, so happy to take you—even if it was fake. Even if you wanted it to be real, even if your daydreams about going on a date with Marcus Pike made your romance novels pale in comparison. You wanted him, so much—but you knew he was out of your league, so sweet and charming and handsome, practically a protagonist from one of your novels brought to life. So why not enjoy his forged attention while you can? You thought about what he would think of the dress—Not my favorite on you. Maybe something that covers a little more?—and start to take it off again, only to be interrupted by a knock on the door. You look to the clock in a panic—8 PM on the dot. With a huff, you decide it has to be good enough, and grab your shoes and make your way to the door.

When you open it, Marcus is standing there in a fitted navy suit and a light blue button up, a skinnier tie than usual tied around his neck. His hair is neatly parted, face shaved and you smell a hint of cologne in the rush of air entering your apartment. When you finally look to his face, he looks shocked—all your assumptions about his opinions on the dress screaming between your ears.

“You—you don’t like it? I can change—” you stammer, adjusting the hem again.

“What? No!” he responds quickly, seeming to come back to himself. “No, I—Wow--you look—great. Amazing,” he sighs. “I love it. Please—please don’t change,” he responds, and you nod, gathering your purse.

“You look nice, too, Marcus,” you respond awkwardly, fastening your heels to your ankles. When you wobble on one foot, he quickly reaches out to steady you, barely through the threshold of your door; when you’re finally back on two feet, he doesn’t let go.

“Ready, sweetheart?” he asks with a smile, and you feel heat rise to your cheeks as he intertwines an arm with yours.

“No one’s here, Marcus, you don’t have to pretend yet,” you laugh, but let him lead you out to his car. He opens the door for you, and once you’re seated in the passenger seat, he leans in to speak with a smirk.

“Just practicing.”

You fall easily into your established rapport in the car, the low hum bringing some calm to your frazzled nerves, which Marcus seems to notice intuitively. As you get closer to the school, he tries to pry for more information.

“So, are you excited? You’ll get to see all your old friends.”

“Meh, anyone I wanted to keep in touch with, I did,” you reply, avoiding the true answer—there was no one you wanted to keep in touch with.

“C’mon, don’t you want to walk the old halls again? See all the people, reminisce on the good memories,” he elaborates.

“Let’s just get through this, hm?” You ask.

“Get through it? It will be fun!” Marcus’ positivity is almost grating, but he continues. “I was really excited for my class reunion, but I ended up not being able to go—we were on that case in New York.” You nod sympathetically as he continues. “But—I would’ve loved to see everyone again, to see how things have changed.”

“Sounds like you and I had very different high school experiences, Marcus,” you answer with a shake of your head.

“What? What do you mean?”

“Just sounds like you really thrived in high school. Probably voted, like, most popular or something?”

“Most likely to succeed,” he corrects, beaming.

“Same difference,” you scoff.

“What about you? Prettiest? Best smile?” He asks, and you can’t help but to bark a laugh.

“No—no official superlatives. But—” you pause, trying to decide if you should continue, but Marcus is looking between you and the road with rapt attention, and you know he’s probably about to find out in person anyway, so you do with a sigh. “Some of the kids made an unofficial list on social media. I got ‘Most Likely to Die Alone.’” The car is silent and tense as you fiddle with your fingers in your lap. You miss the way he physically flinches when you tell him, the amount of times his eyes dance to you with a furrowed brow. Finally, he breaks the silence.

“Kids are cruel,” he whispers with a shake of his head.

“That they are,” you agree, eyes tracing up to the window to avoid the tears welling at your lashes. The ride continues in silence as he pulls into the entrance of the high school, the sign itself bringing a sick sense of déjà vu as he drives to the student lot. You hope he gets it now, your less than enthusiastic response to the reunion—you expect to be met with more blind optimism as he pulls into a space.

“You won’t die alone,” he clarifies when he puts the car in park, and you let out a watery laugh, so he continues. “I won’t let you.”

“Ah, the best fake boyfriend a girl could ask for,” you answer sardonically, looking to him over the gearshift before moving to get out of the car. As the door closes, you miss his muffled reminder, small and unsure.

“Yeah. Fake.”

You didn’t attend prom back then, but walking into the musty gym, arm-in-arm with Marcus, you had a feeling this is what it had looked like. Streamers hung from the ceiling in school colors, balloon bouquets decorating at random intervals on the wall. There’s a disco ball and various colored lights shining from the stage where a mediocre band plays a cover of a Top 40 song you can’t quite place. Tepid punch sits in a bowl at the far side of the gym, with cocktail tables and seats spread between the rest of the open space; the school emblem on full display in the middle of the dance floor.

People milled about in small groups, laughing over clear plastic cups and tiny finger foods, a few barely swaying to the music. Like in high school, everyone seemed to fall into their cliques; readily catching up with old friends, sharing pictures and stories of memories past and present. You don’t even realize you’re holding your breath until Marcus squeezes your bicep, leaning into your ear.

"It’s gonna be great.” The sentiment is almost immediately proven wrong when a woman in sky-high heels and a slinky red dress saunters up, looking you both up and down before saying your full name in greeting. You instantly recognize the shrill tweak of her voice, the intonation that haunted you so many years ago, stiffening. Marcus moves his hand to your hip to pull you closer as you speak.

“Hi, Courtney. Nice to see you.” Despite the words, there’s no emotion in your voice, and she sneers.

“Surprised to see you here, honey,” she coos, and you fight a growl. “You know we missed you at graduation.” Her words are like honey, but her tone conveys that is not the case.

“Yeah, well, guess I just didn’t want to give you the satisfaction of one last roast, Court,” you counter, and she crinkles her nose.

“Oh yes, such a shame we never got along. But, kids will be kids, right?” she laughs humorlessly, and Marcus squeezes your hip as he butts in.

“Kids should be held accountable for their actions,” Marcus counters, and Courtney turns to him as if she’s seeing him for the first time.

“And who’s this? Your…brother?” You bristle slightly at her assumption.

“Her boyfriend. Marcus Pike,” he introduces himself readily, reaching out for a handshake. Courtney delicately lays her hand in his like he should kiss it, and he looks to you before dropping it.

“Hm. Charmed. Oh, here comes Abby—Abby, over here! Oh, honey, you understand, I must catch up with her. Enjoy,” she replies as she walks off, and you fight a gag.

“Lovely,” Marcus huffs under his breath, and you bark out a loud laugh that draws a few too many wandering eyes.

“You just met Most Beautiful,” you scoff, moving further into the gym as Marcus’ eyes follow your figure behind you.

“Debatable.”

Marcus easily leads you around to the food table, piling snacks onto a plate for you both, then putting a few extra of your favorite on top when you’re not looking. You both settle at a nearby table, picking at the cafeteria-level food as the band continues with another cover—the dance floor still empty. Marcus speaks softly over the music.

“So, I’m getting that maybe you didn’t have the best experience here,” he says gently, and you nod negatively. “Is there anyone here you were friends with? That you want to talk to?” You again nod negatively, eyes roaming to Courtney and Abby as they snicker behind their hands, just like old times.

“No. Not really.” You speak smally, and Marcus seems to follow your gaze, reaching a hand to your lap to pick up one of yours and press his lips to your knuckles. The action immediately turns your focus away from the women, who now chatter even more, butterflies catching in your breath, as he murmurs around them.

“Guess we’ll have to have fun, just the two of us, then.”

Marcus doesn’t immediately have a chance to make good on his promise; another couple sits with you at the table and when you don’t immediately bristle, he introduces himself and you to them—the man, David, reminds you he was in your advanced calculus class senior year, another wallflower you can barely remember. He recounts a story of when the teacher caught you reading in class, forcing you to answer a question to shame you for not paying attention. You had blurted out “451,” the number from the title of the book you were reading, which was actually the correct answer—and the teacher was almost livid. Marcus laughs boisterously at the story, agreeing that it sounded like you before looking over to make eye contact with you; a small giggle has brought the sparkle back to your eyes, and he squeezes your hand on the table before David’s wife, Sarah, speaks.

“So, tell me, how did you two meet?” She points between you, pulling you from the moment.

“Oh, we met at work,” you supply, and Marcus continues, barely looking away from you.

“Yup. Probably not the most romantic of places, but what can I say,” he chuckles. “When you know you know.”

“I thought the same thing about her when I saw Sarah,” David replies, and his wife squeezes his hand. “She knocked on my dorm room door by mistake, trying to drop off homework to a friend, and she was so flustered and awkward about it, she tried to give me the homework instead. The second I saw her, I knew I’d marry her,” he smiles, reminiscing. “Almost transferred into that class for her,” he laughs heartily, and Marcus responds, glancing to you before turning back to the couple.

“She showed me around on my first day of the FBI. She had a book in her hands, like always,” he ribs, and David chuckles in remembrance, but your brow furrows in confusion. “But she had this gross old receipt sticking out of it as a bookmark. Stained, ripped, practically falling apart. Then my lunchbreak came, and I had to run out to get something, and while I was waiting in line, I saw this cheesy DC bookmark—” he looks to you then. “--It was cheap and touristy, but I picked it up without a second thought and brought it back for her. When I gave it to her, her whole face lit up—and then I knew,” he sighs, resting a warm palm over yours. “I knew I wanted to be the reason she smiled like that for the rest of her life,” he finishes as David and his wife gush.

Your eyes are widened at Marcus as he rubs a thumb over your hand; you remember the day he started, too. It seemed so long ago now, showing him how to slap the side of the coffee machine so it works and where to put his paperwork so it didn’t get tossed by the night crew. He’s right, you were carrying a book with you—Romeo and Juliet—as you showed him to his desk, as you told him to park around the back of the building because the meter was always busted. When you took lunch, diving back into the prose, you had barely noticed him leave, too enticed by the escapism of the words on the page; only to be brought back by Marcus gently pulling the book down and out of your view as he handed you the DC bookmark.

“Here—I saw this, and I thought of you,” he laughed, and your entire face lit up before you were able to tone it back to neutral, fighting the broad grin threating to move across your face. He could tell you were about to reject it, so he continued. “Consider it a gift, for showing me around.”

You had nodded and thanked him, almost in awe, smile broken free and permanently plastered on your face as you shifted the cityscape from day to night several times. When you tucked it back into your spot, just as Juliet was about to lament her love on the balcony, you glanced up at him; he sensed your stare, looking up from his work with a small grin, and you knew then and there, you were done for. You’re brought out of the memory by Marcus’ voice.

“If you’ll excuse us, this is our song,” he grins, offering his hand to you. You have no idea what he’s talking about, listening closely to the band you had tuned out until you hear the woman start to sing—You can’t see it; It’s electric!

You’ve already stood, walking to the empty dance floor hand-in-hand with Marcus; it’s too late to turn around. All you can do is laugh; Marcus is smiling so broadly you think his face might split, and to avoid the further mortification of dancing on an empty dance floor, he opts to pull you to him as the song continues, ignoring the pre-choreographed moves as he snakes a hand around your waist, leading you in a goofy, fun dance instead. He spins you to-and-fro, dips you when you make it back to him, wiggles his hips animatedly when the woman orders him to Boogie woogie woogie. He has you hysterically laughing on the dancefloor, tears escaping the corners of your eyes the band finishes the song; he only releases you to clap for them, the singer nodding graciously at you both.

After your clapping, the band starts up again, a slower ballad brining more couples to the dance floor. You move to walk back to your table, but Marcus grabs your hand as you walk by, pulling you back to him.

“Dance with me?” he whispers, barely over the music.

“We just danced,” you laugh.

“I know, but—if we were together, we—we’d dance to this,” he stammers, and you look over his shoulder to see David and Sarah swaying behind him. You give them a nod before looking back at Marcus; his face is soft, almost pleading. You can’t refuse that look, allowing him to pull you to him, closer than before. He rests his hand at the small of your back, the other holding one of yours in the air as you put a hand on his shoulder. You meet his gaze; he was already looking down at you with a smile.

“Thank you for doing this, Marcus,” you whisper, the music continuing as you look around.

“Of course.” You see some other people you recognize, neither friends nor foes. Your tennis partner in gym class dancing with another man you vaguely recognize, the valedictorian and her partner swaying as well. Other couples who seem to have followed your lead onto the dance floor. Courtney sits at a table with a withering stare, whispering something to a man in a letterman jacket you’re too far to recognize, and Marcus notices your gaze, pulling you that much closer until your head is resting on his shoulder.

He smells like cologne and a bit like the musty gym, but you don’t mind, melting into him as he hums softly to the song. Sarah smiles at you over his shoulder, and for a second, you let yourself believe it was real. Believe that you really were dating Marcus, that he really did want to see you smile every day for the rest of your life together. That he’d dance the Electric Slide at your wedding, that he would be the one stopping you from dying alone like your classmates predicted. You close your eyes, unsure if you’re trying to savor the moment or ignore it completely, focusing on the words of the singer instead of Marcus’ low hum and steady heartbeat.

But if you feel like I feel

Please let me know that it's real

You're just too good to be true

Can't take my eyes off of you

The words hit a bit too close to home, and you peel your eyes open, looking up to Marcus to find him already looking down at you with a small smile. It all feels like too much—the slow sway, the words in the song, the rumble in his chest, his hand in yours. You start to panic, pulling away from him just as the song ends, eyes frantic as you take in the lights and the sounds and Courtney’s shrill voice seems to cut through it all, telling you kids will be kids, and you need out, rushing away from the only embrace you want to seek out.

Marcus isn’t sure what he did wrong; he knew he was pushing it, asking you to dance for real instead of his jokey moves to make you laugh, but he wanted to pretend, just for a minute, that he could have you. That he could be dancing with you at your fiftieth high school reunion, your hundredth. That he would wake up to that smile, that your head would rest on his shoulder for the rest of time.

But the way you looked when you pulled away, almost fearful as you rushed out of the gym and Courtney let out a loud cackle, he knew he messed everything up. He took it too seriously, got too close, and now he’d lost you. David approaches him, concerned, and Marcus asks the only question he can think of.

“Where’s the library?”

Walking through the dark halls at night feels almost against the rules, and in an effort to seek any comfort you can, you make your way the one place you know best in the school; the library. Almost immediately, you snake between the shelves, settling between them in a back corner to try to organize your thoughts; you’ve barely sat for a few minutes before you hear footsteps approach and the doors close again, and you suck in a breath, holding in the tears you had let begin to fall and hoping Marcus hasn’t come after you—you don’t want him to see you like this, emotional and overwhelmed. Don’t want him to comfort you, to make you fall in love with him even more. You stay stone still as you hear him approach, weaving through the aisles before the footsteps cease.

“Ah. Here you are,” you jump when a woman’s voice cuts through the darkness, eyes focusing to see Sarah approach and sit down next to you. “Romance section. Right where he said you’d be,” she chuckles.

"What do you mean?” you sniffle.

“Your boyfriend said you’d probably come here for some quiet. Told me to check the romance section first,” she smiles, and you shake your head.

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

“Did—did you just break up?” Sarah does little to hide her shock as she asks.

“No,” you sigh. “We—we were never dating. He’s only here ‘cause he feels bad for me, and I was taking advantage of it. He would never—”

“Never what? ‘Cause if you say ‘love you,’ I might slap you across the face,” she jokes, but when you give her a confused look, she continues. “You might not be dating, but that man loves you. Like, loves you-loves you. If he could marry you today, I think he would.”

“I really doubt that,” you huff.

“David practically had to physically restrain him from running after you,” she explains. “He was worried he hurt you somehow. I told him I would come find you; he told me how things were back then. For you, for David. I know I wasn’t in your class but things like that stick with you.” You can only nod at her words.

“He wasn’t gonna come tonight, David. But I told him he should. We sat with you because—because he said you were a nice girl back then. Always reading,” the woman gestures to the books around you, “but nice. So when you ran out, he was worried that Marcus said something.” You’re practically knocked back into the shelves, unaware that someone else could have even thought anything about you. You spent so much time back then feeling alone, listless and lost, when in reality, you had some people on your side—you just didn’t know it.

“I knew there was no way Marcus hurt you. That man looks at you like you’re his whole world.”

“You’re just saying that,” you toy with a loose string of carpet as she barks a laugh.

"He knew exactly where to find you, practically gave me the Dewey Decimal number for this section,” she chuckles, and you fight the urge to correct her that the Dewey Decimal system doesn’t include fiction. “And I bet that bookmark story was true. No man could make up a story like that,” she laughs, and you finally laugh too, watery and weak, but she smiles. “So c’mon. I know you’re not dating, but your man is waiting for you—besides, you’re here with a hot FBI agent, and Courtney is still hung up on some washed up football player—and now he’s balding,” she stands, holding out a hand to you to help you up. You follow her movements, allowing her to primp your dress a bit. “So you’re gonna go out there, sweep your man off his feet, and give her a big middle finger as you do another weird version of the Electric Slide.” You chuckle, tears finally dried, and walk back through the halls with Sarah toward the gym, only stopping with a nod at the bathroom so you can touch up your makeup.

Sarah leaves you to it, and you make quick work of cleaning up whatever makeup is left on your face before entering one of the stalls; the main door to the bathroom quickly swinging open, with it a rush of conversation pouring into the bathroom.

“—Rob’s taking me out for drinks after.”

“Oh my God, now that we’re alone--did you see that dress?”

"Puke green, of course,” another woman chuckles, and you look at your dress—a ruddy olive.

“Surprised she didn’t bring a book as her date,” the first woman replies, and you would almost bet money that it’s Courtney and Abby now.

“Yeah, but did you see that man she was with? Mark something? Mmmm, he is fine,” Courtney replies. They must be fixing their makeup in the mirrors, unaware you’re in the stall; you’re practically frozen in place, unable to escape their words like you’re back in school. “Arrest me, FBI Agent, I’ve been a bad girl,” she tries seductively.

“Well, go for it. I doubt they’re actually dating. No way a man like that would be with her,” Abby laughs, and the tears start to brim again at your lashes. “Don’t worry, our prediction was right—she’s still going to die alone,” she hums, and you finally hear the door close again, their conversation carried into the hall. With that, you take a moment to let out a sob that crawled up into your throat as they spoke.

You’re barely composed by the time you make it back to the gym, immediately bee-lining for Marcus; only stopping dead in your tracks when you find his back to you, Courtney laughing in front of him, running a hand from his shoulder to his chest as she looks directly at you, a small smirk on her face as she takes in the look of pure devastation on your face.

You’re running out of the gym before you can see Marcus shrug her off, before you can see the look of disgust on his face. Before he can tell her he’s not interested; he loves you, and only you. He follows her gaze to see your retreating figure; the second time tonight where it feels like his heart is leaving with you, but this time, he does what he wanted to do the first time. He runs after you.

You try to rush faster when you hear his dress shoes click in the echoey hall, when he calls your name, but with a few quick strides, he’s caught up to you, stepping in front of you to stop you breathlessly and running his hands over your arms when you won’t meet his face.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, Marcus. I just—I’m gonna go. I’ll get an Uber or something, you can stay,” you mumble smally, eyes on your toes as you try to push past him.

“What? What are you talking about? Why would I stay without you?” he asks exasperatedly; he doesn’t let you brush past him, grabbing your wrist as you pass. “Please—please talk to me.” He’s so gentle, almost pleading with you, but you can’t bring yourself to tell him the truth. How unbelievably devastated you were to see him with her, how everything was exactly how it was when you were still a student. How even Sarah, a complete stranger, had been lying to your face; Mr. Most Likely to Succeed deserved Ms. Most Beautiful. You truly would die alone, as predicted.

Instead, you spit out all you can.

“I—I just want to go home,” you stammer out smally, the air between you suffocating—all you can see is the gym floor where your uniform pulled in ugly places, the stage where the cool girls would sit during lunch and spit venom. The halls that left you feeling alone despite wading through a sea of students, the classrooms where they snickered about you in voices loud enough to hear, always “too much”—too quiet, too smart, too serious, too you--you took up too much of their precious space, and here you were, doing it all over again so many years later.

“Okay. Okay, let’s go,” Marcus nods, releasing your hand to walk beside you back out of the school, fighting the urge to take your hand in his. You suck a deep breath of chilly night air, a shiver focusing down your spine as you exit the building. Marcus immediately removes his jacket, draping it over your shoulders—you fight the urge to roll it off, not wanting to be rude, but you pick up your pace, the car coming into sight.

You’re almost to the parking lot, almost at your escape. Marcus is matching your hurried pace as he hovers a hand over your back, too spooked to actually touch but sparing a worried glance to you every few seconds—when a male voice yells over the courtyard, you physically flinch and try to pull him along.

"Hey, man, how much is she payin’ you to be here with her? You some kinda hooker or something?” A group of guys laughs behind him; you don’t need to look to recognize the voice of one of your tormenters, and Courtney’s original object of affections, Rob. Marcus looks to you quickly, almost in shock, his steps slowing—you grab his hand to try to pull him along harder, but Marcus has stopped dead in his tracks, feet planted in the concrete. He squeezes your hand tightly before dropping it to turn to the group, an angry snarl over his lips.

“Marcus, can we just go? Please? You don’t—don’t need to pretend anymore,” you whimper, running a hand over his arm to get his attention, but the men speak again.

“C’mon, man. I’ll pay you double if you hump and dump her right now,” Rob chortles; you hear glass clinking behind him, no doubt illegally snuck in liquor fueling his words. Before the words can fall from his lips, Marcus covers the short distance between them, squaring up to the man as his compatriots “ooh” and “ahh” behind him.

“That’s my girlfriend you’re talking about. You gonna say that to my face, big guy?” Marcus practically growls, and you hear one of the other men chuckle, having made your way closer to the two. You’re gently pulling on Marcus’ hand, trying to eek him away, but instead he holds out a protective arm over you, stepping closer into Rob’s face to look him dead in the eyes.

“Oh, please. We all know she’s not putting out—she’s always been a frigid bitch,” Rob sneers, egged on by the men behind him, but before he can even finish his sentence, Marcus throws a hard punch, fist connecting straight with Rob’s jaw in a sickening crack. You can’t help but shriek Marcus’ name as Rob starts to fight back; a mess of arms and loosely balled fists as the liquor overpowers him; he lands a punch on Marcus, but Marcus is quick to take him completely to the ground, hovering over Rob’s face with his dress shirt balled in his fists.

“Don’t you ever—ever—talk about my girlfriend like that again. Don’t even look at her. In fact—don’t even think about her,” he snarls, and in his stupor, Rob’s been rendered too dumb to respond. A commanding voice calls out for them to break it up, Rob’s friends scattering at any hint of trouble, as Marcus climbs off Rob, hands in the air.

A security guard had meandered his way over as Marcus brushes his pants off, fitted suit still somehow pristine despite the trickle of blood running from his nose that he attempts to snort back up. When you reach out to him again, gently, like he’s a wounded animal, he finally takes you in—emotion written all over your face, trembling hands that don’t quite connect with his. He quickly takes you into a hug, giving in to his desire to touch you as the security guard talks with Rob, cradling your head with his stiff hand and breathing you in again. You let out a small sob, and he soothes your back—adrenaline finally wearing down, he can feel the pain blooming in his knuckles, the slight displacement in the bridge of his nose, but in that moment, he practically melts back into your touch.

Rob decides not to press charges, much to your relief, after Marcus, Rob and the guard talk it over in hushed tones—you left quaking a few steps out of earshot. The security guard sends you both on your way with a disposable ice pack from the nurse’s office and a warning not to come back around, which you tell him you will heed with vigilance—the same said to Rob, who you have a feeling will be back for the next reunion. You end up sitting at a picnic table by the football field as you activate the ice pack, both of you in tense silence as you tend to Marcus, silently offering his jacket back but shrugging it back on when he refuses it.

“I—I’m sorry I made you come tonight. I didn’t know—how bad things were for you back then, and I’m sorry I overstepped, I—” You cut him off as you press the pack to his nose and he lets out a hiss, then continues. “It’s just—I thought this would be fun for us, but you just looked so sad, and no one should talk about my—you like that. Ever.” You press a little harder on the ice, and Marcus is convinced he’s messed everything between you up, only the noise of incessant crickets filling the space until you speak quietly.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you why I didn’t want to come tonight. It just—I thought I was past it. We were past it. They would see how I had grown and matured and things would be different. Apparently not,” you huff as Marcus takes the ice pack from you to press it in a better position. Your hand instead falls to your lap, chilly from the residual coldness of the pack—he quickly grabs it to warm it in his palm.

“You know—you don’t owe these people anything,” he replies, squeezing your hand when you look away. “You don’t. You grew into someone beautiful, inside and out; someone—someone who’s easy to love. Despite them, not because of them,” he says almost bashfully. You fiddle with his hand in yours, heat rising to your cheeks at his words. “That’s the superlative I would pick for you. Most beautiful, funniest, smartest, kindest, most well-read—” he chuckles, and you shake your head, “—they’re all true, but I’d pick Most Loveable.”

“You—you don’t mean that,” you sigh, but he pulls the cold pack from his face to toss it on the table to counter.

“I do.” Tears are brimming at your lashes, but you’re unable to look at him; instead, you choose to deflect with humor.

“Thanks, Marcus. You’re a very good fake-boyfriend,” you laugh smally, and he returns it. “Sorry about your nose.”

“Eh, it’s seen worse,” he shrugs, and you finally let out a true laugh; he smiles broadly, your reaction giving him some confidence to continue as your hand pulls away. “There’s that smile.” You shyly look to your feet, gaining confidence as you speak.

“Was—was that story you told David and Sarah true?”

“It was,” he admits. “I mean, you know everything that went down with Teresa—I don’t even know why I picked up that bookmark. I was still grieving what could have been, still figuring myself out. But when your whole face lit up when I gave it to you, I—I wanted to see it again and again.”

“You know, you’re the only person who’s ever done something like that for me,” you confess.

“I—I want to keep doing things like that for you,” he admits and you finally turn to him, wide-eyed. “Ugh, I—this isn’t exactly how I thought this was going to go, but here we are—I really care about you. As my friend, but also—as more than that. You—I think you’re Most Loveable because I love you. When I asked you to this tonight, I was asking you for real—a real date, though now I see how that backfired,” he chuckles bashfully, as you laugh along. “If you don’t want that, though, I get it. No harm, no foul. But—I guess now’s as good a time as any to finally tell you.”

You’re completely shocked by his confession, here at the picnic table in what feels like the dead of night. You know the artificial lights are doing you no favors, know your dress is pulling in weird places and your heels are kicked off into the grass, but when you make eye contact with Marcus, you see it—pure adoration. A look you had dreamed of, here at this very table while you got lost in fantastical worlds and whirlwind romances through the books you so often read, right in front of you—and aimed at you. You know you’ve waited too long to respond when Marcus begins to turn away, and you quickly grab his bicep, thick and corded even under his shirt, his jacket slipping from your shoulder at the sudden movement.

With that his face is grasped in your hands, pulled to yours as you meet his lips with ferocity. He takes a moment to realize what’s happening, but once he does, he leans further into you, sneaking his hands around your hips like he’s afraid you’ll disappear. You attempt to deepen the kiss, but feel Marcus wince when his nose brushes yours and pull away. He chases your lips, only opening his eyes when he feels your breath fan over his face.

“Sorry—I hit your sore nose,” you chuckle, running a gentle finger down the bridge as he smiles into your touch. “I—I love you, too, Marcus. I want to be that person for you. The one who makes you smile like you make me smile.”

He’s already smiling broadly, bringing his face toward yours for another chaste kiss before pulling away and pulling you to your feet to fully envelop you in his hold.

“You already are,” he looks into your eyes as he speaks, and you’re sure you both look like lovesick fools, but he continues. “C’mon. Let’s get out of here, I know a 24-hour diner nearby where I can take you on a real date,” he smiles with a plotting grin, and you laugh, bumping your shoulder into him as you begin to walk to the car. Instead of letting you pull away, his hand quickly grabs your opposite one, pulling you to his side as you smile coyly.

“Hey Marcus?” He hums in acknowledgement as he opens your car door for you, then gets in on the driver’s side. “How did you convince Rob not to press charges?”

“Flashed him my badge,” Marcus smirks, and you let out a full laugh, incredulous.

“You ridiculous man,” you tease.

“Hey, they said Most likely to succeed—they didn’t specify how!”

#marcus pike x reader #marcus pike #marcus pike x you #marcus pike x y/n #the mentalist #the mentalist fanfiction #the mentalist fanfic #marcus pike fanfiction #marcus pike fanfic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x y/n #most likely

245 notes · View notes

nugnthopkns · 3 years

Text

dance me to the end of love (iii)

word count: 4.3k

warnings: fem!oc, cursing, potential percy jackson & the olympians spoilers, alcohol consumption, motion sickness and vomiting

series masterpost: here

a/n: this took me a hot sec to finish but here it is! there's a dumb little latin joke in here but that's just because i'm a nerd lmao

Ryan is certainly giving Bette a run for her money in the best friend department.

Magdalene has no intentions of usurping her best friend, but Ryan is quickly becoming the person she talks to most frequently. It started on social media but quickly moved to regular texting, both of them being twenty-five and capable of communicating through more normal channels. The text thread between them isn’t indicative of their newfound friendship – it looks like they’ve been friends since high school. At any given moment at least three conversations are going on, and Magdalene regularly sends him random updates throughout the day. Ryan likes hearing about any interesting artefacts she encounters at work so she keeps mental notes to tell him during their frequent phone calls.

Despite talking to him almost constantly, Magdalene hasn’t seen Ryan since they grabbed lunch at Barn Owl nearly two weeks ago. The lake house trip is a couple days out, and she’s been busy trying to get all her ducks in a row. At work, the current project is coming to an end and Magdalene will be sad to see it go – it’s the first thing she’s been on from start to finish. She’s got a neighbour coming to spend time with Caligula while she’s away so he doesn’t get too upset. Though the days are passing by in a haze as she tries to get ready, Magdalene is excited to get away for a little bit. It’s been a few years since she’s left Denver for more than a night, electing to skip on Bette’s previous vacation invites, and it will be nice to slow down. Life is moving at a comfortable pace, but having some time to pause and breathe will keep Magdalene from feeling too overwhelmed.

Halfway through her last day of work, Magdalene gets a text from Ryan that makes her nearly double over in laughter.

Julius Caesar walks into a bar and says to the bartender “I’ll have a Martinus please!” The bartender replies “Don’t you mean a Martini?” Caesar shakes his head and says “If I wanted double I would have said so.”

It takes her a minute to catch her breath, which piques June’s curiosity. Magdalene recites the joke and her boss rolls her eyes and shakes her head, but does let out a chuckle.

June didn’t think it was funny, but I did. Thank you for making today infinitely better. You riding with us tomorrow?

Magdalene tucks her phone back into her purse, determined to remain focused for the last few hours, and misses the reply telling her that Ryan won’t be riding with Bette, Tyson, and herself, but rather with Cale and his girlfriend to leave enough space for all the gear getting brought. She doesn’t see it until she’s walking across the parking lot to her car and it fills her with a sadness that doesn’t make much sense. He’ll be there for the entire week, so does it matter that he’ll be in a different car for the four hour drive? Magdalene has a sinking suspicion about why she’s upset, but she pushes it down. There’s no space in your life for a relationship right now, she reminds herself as she unlocks the door to her apartment. Caligula is waiting patiently at the door and distracts her thoughts from the handsome man with the kind smile that’s been all she can think about recently.

The cat is incredibly perceptive and knows the regular routine is going to change, making him particularly clingy. He follows Magdalene as she finishes packing, meowing and begging for pets, and she considers bailing on her friends. Caligula has mild separation anxiety and Magdalene doesn’t go away often partly because of it – though another reason is her homebody nature. Only the thought of seeing Ryan keeps her from hanging all her clothes back up.

“Don’t worry little boots,” she coos, “I won’t be gone long. Maria is going to check on you while I’m away, and I’ll be home before you know it.”

It seems ridiculous to speak to her pet as though it’s a child, but Magdalene knows Caligula comprehends what she’s saying. He’s always been smart, and the two of them share a bond that’s hard to explain. She picks him up, puts him in the pocket of her hoodie, and they spend the rest of the night packing and dancing along to the radio.

☼☼☼☼

Bette forgot to mention that the road to the lake house is winding, and Magdalene spends the entire ride with her head between her knees. Motion sickness is something that unfortunately plagues her during journeys longer than a couple of hours and she wishes she would have thought to take anti-nausea medication before leaving the house. Tyson tries to crack a joke about her being a bad passenger, but his girlfriend swats his arm and passes her friend a water bottle with a concerned smile. The two of them speak in hushed tones, almost certainly for Magdalene's benefit, and she does her best not to throw up on the floor of Tyson’s car. After what feels like two decades the vehicle rolls to a stop at the end of a gravel path.

“Mags, we’re here,” Bette says softly, praying that her friend will begin to feel better after stretching her legs and feeling firm ground underneath her.

There’s an unintelligible groan from Magdalene, but she rises out of the car and stumbles into the house. Tyson and Bette insist that she rest and they’ll handle the unloading of the car, so she crawls into one of the empty beds and falls asleep as soon as her head touches the pillow. It’s a dreamless slumber, one fuelled by the pure exhaustion of battling illness while travelling, and when she awakes hours later Magdalene feels oddly refreshed. Her energy level is still relatively low, but she knows that intaking food won’t be an issue.

Padding down the stairs as quiet as possible in an effort to not break the peaceful atmosphere, Magdalene is met with a quiet house. She’s utterly confused – she didn’t sleep long enough to miss dinner and judging by the way the sun is low in the final car full of people should be arriving any minute. For a moment she thinks the group left her in the mountains alone, but then the sound of a trunk closing breaks the silence.

“I fucking told you bro, you should have let me drive!”

Ryan’s voice echoes in Magdalene's ears and her heart skips a beat. She didn’t realize how much she had missed him or how excited she is to see him. Despite everything inside of her saying she should run into his arms Magdalene stays put in the kitchen, running the tap to get a glass of water. She focuses on the mountain on the other end of the lake, framing the setting sun and creating a postcard ready photo. The camera app on her phone is open and angles for the best shot are found. Ryan tumbles through the door a second later, arms filled to the brim with luggage and bags of food.

He drops them the second he sees her, running up behind her and lifting her off the ground. “Mags! Cale almost hit a deer!”

The shock of Ryan’s onslaught of affection catches her off guard, and Magdalene shakes her hand, forcing the picture to turn out as nothing but a blur.

“No hello?” She laughs as Ryan lets her feet touch down on the wooden floor. “It’s the least you could give me after destroying my chance of getting a National Geographic worthy picture.”

He smiles but doesn’t let his hands drop from their perch on her waist. “There’s six more days for you to nail it. I’ll even help if you ask.”

Other bodies enter the house then, causing Magdalene to slink away from Ryan’s touch even though it was the last thing she wanted to do. They’re simply friends, and she doesn’t want Bette to get any ideas. The last thing Magdalene needs on her plate right now is her best friend forcing her to paint a custom denim jacket with Ryan’s number across the back. “I can’t believe you almost hit a deer,” Tyson sighs in disbelief.

“It wasn’t even close,” Cale grumbles, picking up his bags and stomping off to find a place to claim as his own the next couple of days. A petite redhead follows after him, giving a small wave to those in the kitchen before scurrying away. When she asks, Ryan tells Magdalene the girl’s name is Livy, and that she’s Cale’s girlfriend from back home.

Everyone shrugs at his moodiness and disperses. Bette and Tyson stay in the kitchen to make dinner, Ryan goes to claim the final room, and Magdalene slips outside to sit on the patio furniture. The sun has dropped drastically in the past five minutes, causing the air to chill. She wraps her arms tighter around her legs and watches a pair of birds fly over the lake below. It’s so peaceful, a complete one-eighty from the insanity of her life in Denver, and Magdalene thinks about never leaving. She knows it’s impossible, but as she closes her eyes and listens to the quiet laughter of her friends inside the idea seems like a pretty good one.

The sliding door creaks open and Ryan goes through as quietly as possible. He tosses a sweater in Magdalene’s direction as he walks over, plopping down beside her on the small couch.

“Thanks,” she mumbles, slipping the fabric over her head. “I didn’t realize how cold it had actually gotten.”

He smiles in response and shuffles his body a little closer to create extra warmth. Magdalene leans into him, trying to appear casual even though her heart is beating rapidly, and pulls on the strings of the sweater Ryan gave her.

“So, are you excited for this week?”

It’s more awkward than she thought it would be – seeing him in person again, especially since they’ve been texting almost constantly, and the words kind of stick in her throat.

“Honestly? Now that I’m here I am, but I was a little leery about taking time off,” Ryan explains, detailing how he’s trying to improve some aspects of his two-way play and is worried his progress will plateau. Magdalene understands and shares her own worries about taking time off work even if her boss encouraged it.

After catching up quickly and running out of things to say, the pair of them sit in silence watching the sun set until they’re called inside for dinner. It’s nice to just exist, especially with Ryan beside her, and Magdalene feels her heart sink as they separate and he goes to make sure Cale isn’t actually mad at him.

☼☼☼☼

It storms the first two days at the lake house, forcing everyone to stay inside. Tyson complains about how he has less time to drive the boat that came with the property but the others take it in stride. Magdalene spends most of the time reading for pleasure, something she hasn’t been able to do much of the past few years, and Ryan joins her for large chunks of the time. It turns out that he too is an avid reader, and the two of them discuss their favourite novels and series while the other four play board games.

“So you’re telling me you wish Annabeth would have joined the Hunters of Artemis?” Magdalene shrieks in shock, almost knocking the wine out of her glass as her arms flail in disbelief.

“I think it made sense for her to,” Ryan defends.

“But she’s perfect for Percy!”

He sticks to his guns. “I’m not saying she isn’t. I just think that at the time the offer was presented it was the most logical choice. You can’t tell me you haven’t thought about what would have happened if she did.”

She ducks her head in defeat because she had imagined it, on many occasions in fact. When reading the series for the first time in middle school Magdalene had desperately hoped Annabeth would choose the Hunters over Camp Half-Blood, gaining the family she herself never was privy to. They return to reading quietly beside each other, occasionally knocking elbows when trying to turn a page.

Tuesday brings sunshine and clear skies, which means Tyson is trying to corral everyone into the boat as soon as they’re up. Magdalene tries her hardest to get out of it but her pleas fall on deaf ears.

“You’ll be fine, stop being such a wimp,” Cale jests. She knows that he’s just anxious to soak up some sun, but the words hurt more than Magdalene would have liked them to.

Livy swats her boyfriend across the chest. “Enough! If she doesn’t want to come she doesn’t have to.” The smaller girl sends her a kind smile before speaking low enough that only Magdalene can hear her. “I know your book is just getting good and you look like the kind of person who needs alone time to function properly. Enjoy yourself.”

Seemingly excused from the day’s festivities, Magdalene gives a sheepish wave before climbing the small hill to the house. Ryan meets her halfway and is appalled when he hears of her plans.

“Nope, I don’t think so. You’re not leaving me alone to be the ultimate third wheel!”

He has her off the ground and over his shoulder in a millisecond, jogging lightly to catch up with the rest of the group. Magdalene’s laugh bounces off the tree lined shore, and she’s too busy having fun shrieking at Ryan to complain about being forced to spend all day on a boat away from her book. Tyson peels away from the dock before she can regret tagging along, and Bette tugs Magdalene to the bow.

The two girls chat quietly, giggling and sipping on the mimosas they made earlier. Magdalene isn’t a huge day drinker, but Bette makes sure there’s more orange juice than champagne to make her feel less guilty. Livy joins them a while later after becoming sick of the boys and their shenanigans. It’s nice to hang out with a group of girls that aren’t competing for the top spot in a class, Magdalene decides, and she revels in the stories they tell of going to hockey games and babysitting the children of players so they can catch a break. Twinges of jealousy creep up at the wonderful family dynamic the Avalanche seem to have, but she stomachs them. She reminds herself that other people deserve to have support systems and excuses herself from the conversation.

Magdalene slides into the free space beside Ryan, and without thinking he wraps an arm around her shoulder. It feels so natural that she wonders if it’s how he greets all his friends, but the looks of shock and Tyson and Cale’s faces say otherwise. After a bit more cruising they find a small bay to anchor in for a while. The sun had climbed to the middle of the sky and is unbearably warm, leaving everyone no choice but to jump into the water to cool off. Magdalene does her best to float peacefully a short distance away from the group but is somehow brought into a splashing war because the teams aren’t equal.

Eventually the constant barrage of water chills her to the bone, and Magdalene swims back to the boat. She watches from the sidelines and cheers for her old teammates with a towel wrapped snugly around her. Ryan breaks from the group too, insisting it isn’t fair to have teams on unequal strength. Once dry, he picks up the baseball cap he brought and places it delicately on Magdalene’s head.

“Your cheeks are starting to go pink and I don’t want you to burn,” he explains, passing her a bottle of sunscreen as well.

“Thanks Ry.”

They muse about the idyllic beauty of the scene in front of them until everyone rejoins them. For reasons unbeknownst to Magdalene Tyson is in a rush to get back to the house, which leads to him driving very fast and a little erratically. The contents of her stomach threaten to come up but she holds them down, tightening her grip on the leather seat. A wave crests and Tyson hits it head on, causing the boat to lurch and rock. Magdalene knows it’s going to happen before it does and leans over the side to save a mess from being created. All the alcohol and food she’d consumed throughout the day is no longer in her body, and heat creeps up the back of her neck. She’s embarrassed – what twenty-five year old gets sea sick?

“Are you okay?” Ryan asked, not bothering to hide the concern in his voice.

She tries to smile but it comes out more like a grimace. “I just, uh, get motion sick really easily.” Bette passes her a water bottle and she drinks it quickly, eager to get the taste out of her mouth.

Ryan lets Magdalene curl into his side the rest of the way home, and rubs comforting circles on her back to ease her discomfort, doing his best to ignore the stares from his friends.

☼☼☼☼

The trip comes to an end much more quickly than Magdalene would have liked. Tomorrow morning they’ll pack up and drive back to Denver, returning to their normal hectic schedules. Cale and Livy are heading back to Alberta for the rest of the summer, and Bette and Tyson will be going for a visit as well. She’s heard Ryan mention going home in passing, which most likely means he doesn’t have plans to stay. Magdalene will be all alone in Colorado, but she’s used to it. The only issue being friends with professional athletes is that they leave. She’s been dealing with the loss since Bette and Tyson got together years ago – having them around as her support system most of the year and then them disappearing for a couple of months.

Not wanting to think about how soon she’ll be alone, Magdalene heads outside and starts a campfire. It’s a skill she picked up as a kid and it has come in handy over the years. The newspaper crinkles under the flame from the lighter, and soon the kindling is burning well. Everyone else is still inside, cleaning up from dinner and preparing for one last night in paradise. She places a few blocks of wood in the fire pit once there’s a good enough flame and curls up in a chair, lost in thought about what comes next. There’s rustling from somewhere behind her but she pays it no mind, assuming it’s a small animal wandering through the forest.

“Can I offer you some company?” a voice says softly, waiting for a response. The movement wasn’t a raccoon but in fact Ryan, and Magdalene gestures at the chair beside her with a smile.

He passes her a glass of white wine, which she takes with an appreciative hum. They sit in silence for a moment, admiring the beauty of the setting sun. “I’m going to miss it,” Ryan sighs, leaning back in his chair and extending his legs.

She nods. “Me too. It’s so quiet up here. Denver gets too loud sometimes.”

“Tell me about it. I’m not just going to miss the lake though, it’s also lounging around and not having to worry about hockey. And you.”

The ending comes out rushed, and Magdalene isn’t sure she heard him correctly. “Me?”

Ryan looks at her like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Yes you. Why wouldn’t I? You’re funny, smart, and catch all of my West Wing references. There’s no one who gets me quite like you, even back home.”

It takes her by surprise. They’ve only known each other for a few months, and only really started associating after the party at Bette and Tyson’s. There has to be somebody who knows him better than she does. When she voices her opinion Ryan just scoffs, saying that people treat him as one-dimensional because he plays hockey. Somehow the conversation shifts to Magdalene, and when she lets it slip she gets lonely in Denver without her friends, Ryan asks the question she’s been dreading.

“So why don’t you get a boyfriend?”

“I can’t just get a boyfriend because my friends are gone,” she laughs, but there’s an edge to it, like she’s unsure of where this will go and how to question the follow ups.

He rolls his eyes. “I know that, but like, I don’t know, wouldn’t it be nice to not be alone all the time?”

It would be, Magdalene thinks, but she just shrugs. “I guess I’m not looking for a relationship right now. I just finished school and for the first time in a long time I can focus on myself.” She leaves out the part where Ryan gives her butterflies and that if he asked she’d probably jump headfirst into a relationship with him.

The topic is dropped then because Tyson comes out of the house screaming about the night is going to be wild because it’s their last together for a while. Magdalene and Ryan share a look of mild panic, but both of them are itching to have fun with friends so they raise their glasses in salute before finishing them in one gulp.

Magdalene drinks more than she should and wakes in the morning with a killer hangover. It seems that no one else is better off though, all stumbling around looking for Advil and coffee like it’s going to be their last meal. Packing up takes a bit longer than expected, but they’re still out before the official checkout time. There’s a bit of discourse on who Magdalene will travel home with. Bette wants her in Tyson’s car, no doubt to talk about how close her and Ryan seem to be, but Cale offers to bring her with them. His reasoning is that Ryan is driving him and Livy directly to the airport, and having the front seat could be good for her motion sickness. It’s ultimately Magdalene’s choice and the idea of having more time with Ryan before he leaves is too enticing to pass up. She bids her other friends goodbye, promising to come over for dinner before they fly out, and climbs into the cab of Cale’s truck.

Once again she’s a less than ideal passenger, but this time it’s because she sleeps the entire way back to Denver. The drinking took it out of her and coupled with the queasiness in her stomach from the winding roads sleep is the only thing that makes sense. So much for extra time with Ryan she thinks as she wakes up in the airport parking lot.

“Sleeping beauty has risen!” Ryan chuckles, “Why don’t you get out and stretch your legs for a sec? We have the parking spot for another fifteen minutes.”

Magdalene does as suggested because truthfully her joints are a little stiff, and finds Cale and Livy grabbing their bags from the back. She hugs them goodbye and wishes them safe travels, which Cale returns with a warning not to get into too much trouble before heading for the entrance. Once both of them are safely inside the confines of the airport, Ryan and Magdalene get back in the vehicle and finish the last leg of the trip.

She directs Ryan to her apartment complex, and he mentions that he’s never been in this area of the city. “That’s because you have no need to be around a bunch of university kids,” she laughs. Once they pull into the parking lot, he offers to help her take up her bag. It’s only a small suitcase Magdalene could definitely handle herself, but she wants him to come up, to prolong her time with him.

Magdalene’s keys jingle in the lock as the door opens. Ryan follows her in and shuts the door carefully, not wanting to disrupt the aura of peace that permeates the space. From what he can tell, the average size apartment is the perfect reflection of Magdalene – packed full of books and plants and feels very put together despite the owner being only twenty-five. After their shoes find a home on the boot rack and the coats they brought for the drive home are hung in the closet she leads Ryan into the living room. There’s a soft purring by his feet, and Ryan looks down to see an animal. He never pegged Magdalene as someone to keep pets.

“Who’s this?” he asks, bending down to pet the small white cat.

“That’s Caligula.”

A puzzled look graces Ryan’s features. “Who?”

“Caligula,” Madalene giggles. “You can call him little boots if you’d like. He’ll respond.” She picks up the animal when it comes to her and scratches gently behind its ear.

“Why would you name your cat something dumb like Caligula, and why does it respond to little boots?”

It’s then the woman realizes that not everyone understands the reference. “Caligula was the third emperor of Rome,” she explains, “But his real name was Gaius. He gained the nickname Caligula as a child and it just stuck. It translates to little boots in Latin.”

Ryan is in awe of Magdalene for what feels like the millionth time. Of course someone as smart as her would have a crazy name for a pet and have the knowledge to back it up. He feels his chest tighten with affection but he wills it away. She isn’t looking for anything right now, he reminds himself. Magdalene’s self-professed inability to reciprocate his feelings is frustrating, but Ryan knows he’d wait forever for her.

☼☼☼☼

additional notes: catch some extra content here!

taglist: @scrunchmakar @marcoscandellas @toplinetommy @ricohenrique @lovethepreds @cutiesara23 @hockeyallthetime @stlbluesbrat21 (add yourself to the taglist!)

#ryan graves imagine #ryan graves x oc #ryan graves fic #colorado avalanche imagine #nhl imagine #nhl fic #hockey imagine #hockey fic #cwrites #dmtteol

91 notes · View notes

gravegroves · 3 years

Note

“11. Billy” seems mysterious ! pls I must know more

11. Billy

The actual fic is named so too, as that's the way Billy signs all his postcards. The fic is about Claudia Henderson giving Billy a lift from the hospital to the airport and about the postcards he sends her from his trip. It's eventual Harringrove, but I haven't gotten that far yet. Here's a weird assortment of snippets from the fic:

As they pass the turn-off for Hawkins, the road Claudia would have originally taken to get home, Billy sinks down into his seat beside her, turning his head away from the town sign to stare straight ahead, jaw clenched.

"You from Hawkins, too, Billy?" Claudia ventures, curiosity and concern competing for first place.

"Not from that shithole," Billy mutters. Claudia frowns. "Lived there until yesterday."

"Oh, you're moving?"

Billy barks a harsh laugh and Claudia flinches a little in surprise.

"Got a bedside visit from the old man to tell me not to bother coming back to get my shit. After everything and he's the one that gets to slam the door in my face--" Billy's voice cuts off, his breathing harsh and uneven.

Claudia tightens her hands on the steering wheel.

*****

"Help yourself."

Billy gives her a look that tells her he doesn't have much confidence in her taste, but he opens the glove compartment and pulls out a box of tapes. She can hear the click clack of him looking through them all, reading the labels and discarding them one by one before he stops.

Curious, Claudia looks over. In his hand, Billy holds a familiar, well-loved tape.

"Oh, I haven't listened to them in a while. Pop it in!"

"You like Led Zeppelin?" Billy asks, choked, like his whole world is turning upside down.

Claudia laughs, "Oh yes. I wanted Stairway to Heaven played at my wedding, but my husband wouldn't allow it."

"And you still married him?" Billy grins, somehow brighter and more real than any he's given up so far. Claudia feels a little proud of it somehow.

"Well, he's now my ex husband, if that helps."

Billy's grin only grows wider. None of the usual averted eyes and condolences Claudia typically prepares herself for. It's refreshing. "Good for you."

*****

"You call me when you get where you're going, alright honey?" She says, "Let me know that you're not dead in a ditch somewhere."

Billy nods, folds the paper securely into his threadbare wallet. He looks back through the window at her.

"You're the only person worth anything in that fucking town, Ms Henderson."

She smiles, "Oh, I think we both know that isn't quite true."

His face goes distant. Claudia watches him, silently.

"Maybe."

He hesitates again.

"Thanks, Claudia." He slaps the edge of the open window, straightens up with an air of finality and adjusts the duffle bag on his shoulder.

"You take care, Billy."

She watches him walk into the airport. He never turns to look back.

*****

Steve is sleeping on the couch when Claudia gets home. The boy is sitting in the sofa chair in front of the muted TV, neck bent at an odd angle, mouth open and drooling on his own shoulder.

She wakes him gently, coaxes him half asleep out of the chair and down the hall into the tiny guest bedroom.

He collapses onto the bed, out like a light before she can bid him goodnight. The boy never seems to get enough sleep, so she's happy to leave him there instead of sending him back to that lonely, empty house of his. She throws a blanket over him, knows it's not her place to pet his hair and give him hugs unless he asks it of her. So instead she makes sure his feet are covered, knows by now that if Steve's feet get too cold that it'll wake him and keep him up until they're warm again.

Before going to bed herself, Claudia checks on her son. She notices the light coming from under his door and sighs a little before she gently knocks. There's no reply. She cracks the door open and peers in. Dustin is tucked into bed, his bedside lamp on and a book collapsed over his face.

With a small smile and a shake of her head, she moves into the room. Gently peels the book away, marking the page with a bookmark before placing it on the bedside table. She tugs one stray arm down -- knows her Dusty has a tendency to sleep with his arms above his head and wakes up with them half numb and hurting -- before she tucks him in and kisses his curly head.

She turns off the light and closes the door on the way out, ready for bed herself and happy knowing her boys are safe and sound and close.

*****

The last time Claudia cried herself to sleep was the day she accepted that Mews wasn't coming home. She's an easy crier, it doesn't take much. She'd cried as she picked up Tews from the shelter and again the first time she woke up with him sleeping at the foot of her bed.

This time is different. When the first sob escapes her, it feels like it's being wrenched out of her by force, like a cork out of a bottle, leaving her helpless to stop the grief from pouring out. She feels like she might explode from the emotions if she doesn't let it happen, so she just… lets it all out. Bawls into a pillow, hugs it to her chest when she can manage to breathe without great heaving keens and stares into the dark.

She cries for Dustin, her darling boy who's been so brave for so long, for Steve with his absent parents and desperate need for company, for Billy and the kind of life that leads a boy to wherever he is now. Maybe even a little for herself.

Being a single mother hasn't always been easy. Claudia has gone without more times than she can count, but that's on her. She brought Dustin into this world and for that she owes him the best life she can give him. Even when that means divorcing her no-good husband. Even when she struggled to make ends meet and put food on the table. Things are okay now, but there was a time not too long ago when her tiny family had been one injury away from losing everything.

Even then, she knows things could've been so much worse.

She imagines Gene doing to Dustin what she suspects Neil Hargrove has done to Billy. Or abandoning him to a lonely hell like the one Lorne and Kate Harrington have left Steve in and she buries her face into the pillow yet again.

Claudia is definitely not the only good person in Hawkins, but she thinks there are far fewer than she might've once thought.

*****

Billy doesn't call.

Claudia knows there could be a multitude of reasons for why that is, the most likely of which being that Billy simply doesn't want to. She still feels a little ball of worry forming in her stomach.

The first post card arrives two months later. It's short and to the point, but Claudia feels such immense relief that each word feels precious to her.

Not dead yet. Prague is nice.

Billy

Claudia clears the cork board she has up for reminders and shopping lists and pins the picture of a beautiful European town where she can see it every day.

*****

Karen Wheeler is someone Claudia knows by association. They've exchanged the usual niceties while picking up their kids from each other's houses and should they pass on the street they smile and nod to each other at the very least. Claudia knows Karen Wheeler, but they aren't friends and they certainly don't frequent the same social circles.

Claudia likes her book clubs, her cats, her knitting. She enjoys a quiet and comfortable existence after a life of too much family drama and financial strain.

Karen Wheeler likes… well, none of those things. Which simply means that conversation doesn't exactly flow between them unless they're talking about their sons.

Today, talking at length seems unavoidable. Dustin and his friends are insisting that they need another fifteen minutes to finish up their English presentation and Karen is standing at the front door looking done up and impatient.

Claudia, of course, invites her inside for a cup of coffee while they wait for the children to finish up.

It's as they're both sitting at the dining table that Karen spots the cork board.

"Is that Billy Hargrove?" She points to the latest photo he'd sent her, tacked over the letter that came with it. Claudia opens her mouth to respond, but instead watches, speechless as Karen gets up and untacks them both before bringing them both back to the table.

Claudia swallows down an annoyed comment and smiles politely.

"Yes, that's Billy." She says, before going on to explain how she came about meeting the boy.

"He sends you postcards?" Karen's eyebrows shoot up towards her hairline, corner of her mouth twitching and giving Claudia a look she can't quite discern.

"It's more of a favour to me," She laughs "I asked him to let me know if he made it safely so I didn't have to worry and since then he's been nice enough to keep my mind at ease. You do hear about such awful things happening to young travellers, it's good to keep track."

"That's… that's very sweet of you, Claudia."

Claudia wraps her hands around her mug and frowns a little. "Someone needs to care about that boy."

"Oh, of course." Karen says, looking slightly taken aback.

"If his parents won't, then that someone might as well be me."

Karen hums and goes back to looking at the photo. "He's rather good looking, don't you think?"

Frowning at the incredibly odd change in subject, Claudia opens her mouth to answer when the words really begin to sink in. She closes her mouth and stares.

Unaware of Claudia's scrutiny, Karen continues. "Did he send other photos? I'd love to see them."

Claudia opens her mouth again and knows she's about to tell a lie. She's interrupted by Mike sulkily appearing in the doorway to the kitchen.

Karen gets up. "All finished?" She asks and doesn't seem bothered at all when Mike ignores her and disappears out into the hallway to put his shoes on.

"Thank you so much for the coffee, Claudia. Please, don't get up, I'll let us out."

She rummages around her purse before she takes out a pen and piece of paper. She scribbles something Claudia quickly realises is her address and phone number before she slides it across the table. She clears her throat.

"You're right to be so worried for Billy, he needs all the support he can get. Maybe… maybe I could write to him as well? The more people that care, the better."

It's only when the front door closes that Claudia realises that the photo is gone.

There is a moment where she stares at the spot where the picture should be, right beside the letter, completely dumbstruck by the sheer audacity of Karen Wheeler. And she might have let it go under different circumstances, but Claudia has been on this earth long enough to know when to trust her gut, and her gut is telling her to not let Karen get her hands on any piece of Billy Hargrove, no matter how small.

Emboldened, she snatches the piece of paper off the kitchen counter and runs to the front door. When she steps out onto the driveway the Wheelers have already gotten into the car.

Claudia marches up to the car without hesitation and knocks on the window. Karen looks surprised for a second, then rolls it down.

Without a word, Claudia sticks her hand in, palm flat and face up.

They stare at each other.

The other woman tries for confusion for a few seconds, before she, rather guiltily, reaches into her purse and takes out the photo.

Claudia snatches it out of her hand before she can give it over and the woman flinches slightly.

"I don't think this will be necessary." She tosses the crumpled piece of paper through the open window, turns about and marches back up to the house without a backward glance.

She doesn't miss Mike's "What just happened?" Drifting out into the evening air, but she's too angry, too… something to care in that moment.

When she's back in the kitchen she calls Steve and invites the boy to dinner with her and Dusty.

I have much more, but I don't want to flood peoples feed. So I'll leave it at that.

#gravegroves writes #tag game #billy hargrove #steve harrington #Claudia Henderson

95 notes · View notes

haworthiaace · 3 years

Text

I’ve recently discovered that writing may be a little bit fun so. Here’s something for @shadeswift99 ‘s ghostbusters au (this post right here) :]

Tango didn’t believe in ghosts.

Why would he? There had never been any reputable, scientific evidence, and despite what his friends have told him countless times, ‘feeling a presence’ didn’t count as scientific evidence. However, his conviction didn’t seem to deter Zed and Impulse at all, who regularly barged into Tango’s apartment with their latest ‘discovery’.

“Tango, guess what?” The sound of his poor, battered door slamming open once again and Zed’s excited voice disrupted the peaceful silence that had dominated the room for the past few hours.

“Hi Zed, Impulse, good to see you guys too.” Tango didn’t have to look up from his laptop to know that Impulse was standing right behind Zed, too polite to barge in without some sort of invitation. Not polite enough to stop Zed, unfortunately.

Zedaph didn’t even acknowledge the greeting, continuing his thought the second he flopped down into a worn armchair. “Impulse and I were talking, and then we got on the topic of those guys who visit haunted places and hunt ghosts, and then I said ‘Well why can’t we do that?’” He sat up, eagerly looking at Tango, who could not for the life of him figure out what the man wanted from him.

Impulse, in his infinite kindness, noticed his friend’s confusion and filled in the gaps Zed had left in his excitement. “Zed and I want to start a ghost hunting business, and we need you to join us because you have a car.” He sat down much more gracefully than his companion, holding a small bowl of chips stolen from Tango’s kitchen.

The room was silent for a moment. “Hold on, what?”

“We-“

“No, I heard you, I’m just not exactly sure why you would think to ask me.” Tango never went on their other adventures no matter how many times they asked. After all, he had better things to do than chase wind and broken air conditioning, and it was dangerous to set a precedent. “You’re the ones who believe in all that fancy mystical stuff, not me.”

Zed stopped bouncing, and Impulse quickly brought forward the second, more practical half of their pitch. “We know you don’t believe in any of this, but even if ghosts aren’t real-”

“Which they are!”

“Right. A lot of people believe they are real, and will pay good money for some help handling them.”

Tango pondered this for a moment, making A Face for effect that made Zed giggle. Impulse had a good point, as was often the case unfortunately. Tango didn’t have a stable source of income at the moment, and an actual business could help quite a bit with groceries, especially if Impulse was going to keep stealing his snacks every time he came over. And working with friends would certainly be a bonus.

“What the hell, I’m in. Worst case scenario nothing happens and I laugh at you two.” Zedaph lit up like an over ambitious Christmas tree, resuming his bouncing with even more enthusiasm than before.

Impulse just grinned, “And best case scenario you finally figure out the truth.”

“In your dreams, Impy.”

Tango opened his eyes, and found himself lying prone on the floor. What was I doing? The dark, musty room plus Impulse and Zed looming over him struck a bell in his head.

They were on a job, as was the case most nights. Why Zed and Impulse insisted they do this at night was beyond him, but that was an argument for another time. A nonsensical ventilation system and a questionable foundation caused strange happenings in the home, and the trio had been called in. But even Tango had to admit this house was strange, and different from the others. The moment he entered, the hairs on the back of his neck raised, and he felt a chill. Their whole visit had been shadowed by a sense of wrongness.

“...Tango? Is that you?” Impulse’s voice broke the silence, with a hint of uncertainty that shouldn’t have been there.

“Yeah dude, of course it’s me. What happened?” Tango groaned, pushing himself up into a sitting position. His head spun, but he forced himself to stand.

Zed raised his hands in a placating gesture. “Alright, I know this is going to sound really strange, but we think you got possessed?”

Tango stared blankly at his two friends, and finally through the fog in his head realized they were dead serious. “Really guys? Come on, I know you believe in ghosts and all but isn’t possession a little bit much?”

Impulse started wringing his hands, and Zed spoke up, quieter than before. Neither one would make eye contact. “You… you weren’t yourself Tango. You looked angry, and kept throwing things.” Huh. Well that explained the broken furniture scattered around the room, and why Tango was so sore. “You knocked over a salt shaker, then suddenly passed out when the salt touched you.”

Tango was fairly certain he had never done that before. He was unnerved by the gap in his memory, but he tucked that into a corner of his mind to unpack later. Right now he had to convince these two knuckleheads that he wasn’t possessed.

“I haven’t eaten today, it was probably that.” They gaped at him, but whether it was because of his adamant skepticism or his poor eating habits Tango couldn’t tell. “It might be like… a low blood sugar thing.” Tango tried his best to be nonchalant, but his friends didn’t look relieved.

Zed stood up, the worry in his face replaced with anger as he crossed the room in long strides towards the door. “I really can’t believe you. Here we are, worried for your life and soul, and you call it low blood sugar.”

That wasn’t meant to happen. Tango rushed to fix his mistake. “I- I’m sorry man. I know you guys are worried, but I’m fine now! Whatever it was, it seems to be gone.” A small smile crossed his friend’s face, and Impulse moved to stand behind Tango, clapping a hand on his back.

“All that matters is you’re alright. Anyway, I think the salt scared the ghost off, so how about we head home, get some post mission pizza for that low blood sugar of yours?”

“Sounds like a plan to me.” Tango grimaced at the disaster that he had apparently made. “How about we tell the homeowners that the ghost did this?”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The ironic thing is that he wasn’t even on a mission at the time.

Tango was on his way home, cradling a bandaged hand that he would surely have to explain the second he walked into the apartment he shared with his business partners. His mind repeated the events of the past hour as he made his way down the sidewalk.

He had been browsing a thrift store, searching for a new pair of boots after his old pair wore out. He loved them dearly, but when the sole ripped off for the third time, Impulse drew the line and sent him off to find a new pair. His wandering/ moping brought him to One Man’s Trash: a rickety, rundown looking thrift store that was absolutely perfect. In Tango’s experience, all the good stuff got snatched up too fast at more popular stores, and there didn’t seem to be anything wrong with this place other than its appearance.

He delicately pushed the door open, greeted by a dusty smell mixed with cleaning supplies, and a loud, clear bell that was hung above the doorway. The interior walls were plastered with peeling, faded orange wallpaper that Tango guessed was at least 50 years old. They were decorated with dozens of picture frames containing vintage photos and postcards, each with its own price tag. The grey, carpeted floor complained where he stepped, and it was covered in tables with items for sale. It seemed people donated plenty, but never shopped here. Nobody was attending the front counter, which wasn’t a surprise for a place that probably only saw one customer a month, so Tango began his quest for the perfect pair.

After spending a good hour searching every nook and cranny of the disorganized sales floor, he found a sturdy pair of black leather boots hidden underneath a table, almost knee high with a one inch heel. They were covered in buckles and looked like they would be featured in a suburban parent’s nightmares. In the entire time he was there nobody had come out of the doorway in the back of the room, which Tango admitted was a tad strange. He even checked the sign in the front window to be sure, but the word ‘open’ was still lit up in neon just as it had been when he entered. He tapped the bell next to the cash register, but after a minute still nobody had arrived. He rang it again, and once more after that, still with no answer.

“Hello?” He tried, walking towards the only other doorway in the room, searching for a break room or something where the cashier might be. Maybe they fell asleep. “Is anyone here? I’ve got this pair of boots I want to buy.”

Still no answer.

He felt awful about invading the back room like this, but he was growing concerned. What if something had happened to the cashier? What if someone was in trouble? So, he pushed open the door, and found himself staring up at someone; a man with frazzled black hair and a brown suit that looked about as old as the wallpaper.

Except he could also see the break room. Through the man’s chest.

He blinked rapidly, trying to process what was certainly just a trick of the light. It was obviously just a shadow on the fabric that looked like a couch behind him. A very detailed couch, covered in a floral pattern with two overstuffed pillows on either end. The strange man didn’t say a word, simply staring at Tango with an increasingly malicious grin, watching his mind try to wrap itself around what he was seeing.

Then, without warning, he snatched Tango by the wrist, spinning him around and leaving bleeding scratches where the man’s claw-like nails had torn into Tango’s skin. Before he could even register the pain, the man charged at him and Tango braced for impact, but felt a deep chill instead. It was the coldest he had ever felt, as if every winter from the next hundred years had come to take out their wrath on one man.

It passed half a second later, leaving Tango shivering and clutching his bleeding hand. The man was gone. “How did he- oh shit.”

Sometimes, there comes a time when a person must accept defeat. When they’ve lost the battle, and are left with nothing but their pride. As Tango kneeled on the carpet, frozen to his core and holding his bleeding hand, the boots long forgotten, he could only see one logical explanation for… all of this.

“...Ghosts are actually real.”

So it turned out that the shopkeeper had to step out for a few hours due to an emergency, and also that ghosts exist and haunt thrift stores.

The cashier was really quite nice about the whole ordeal, offering Tango some first aid and the boots he found for free as an apology for their otherworldly roommate’s “antisocial habits.” As Tango walked home, boots in his uninjured hand, he had another revelation, albeit not as earth shattering as the first. He didn’t actually have to tell Zed and Impulse what happened while he was out. It would keep them humble to have someone constantly denying the validity of their work, and Tango may or may not have found it a little, tiny bit funny. He was doing them a service, really! Tango grinned to himself, delighted by how much his friends would appreciate* his help**.

*they did not appreciate this, and were in fact greatly annoyed

**this was not remotely helpful to anyone

Tango woke up, finding himself on the floor as he now did more often than most people would consider normal. Then again, most people weren’t an optimal vessel for otherworldly entities. This time though… something was wrong. More wrong than usual.

He was cold, despite the thick summer air, and he felt like his lungs had shrunk to a quarter of their size, his breath coming in short puffs. He noticed that he was in the same room from before he lost consciousness, and that it was in the same condition he had left it in, which didn’t happen often. Usually ghosts took advantage of corporeal hands to do some property damage, but this time the modern, expensive looking couches were thankfully unbroken, same with the family pictures on the walls.

... What was on his face? Tango felt a liquid slowly running down his cheek. Had the ghost been crying? That was a first. He reached a hand up to wipe away the tears and saw a flash of red. There was a smudge of blood on his left hand, but no injury.

He felt dread settle in his stomach, and slowly reached up with his clean right hand to touch what he had assumed was tears.

Sure enough, his fingertips came away red. “What the hell?” He asked, to nobody in particular.

“Tango! Oh my god, are you alright? Of course not, why am I asking that?” Zedaph burst into the living room, seemingly invited by Tango’s outburst. He grimaced at the floor and Tango followed his gaze to see a concerningly large pool of blood surrounding Tango. This would certainly explain why he felt so much worse than usual. “It threatened you and forced us to leave but then I didn’t leave and I snuck some sage into the room and then I heard a thud and-”

“Zed, slow down.” Tango groaned, holding his spinning head in his hands. “I can’t process a word you’re saying right now.”

Zed seemed to remember his friend’s recent blood loss, looking sheepish. “Right, my bad. It’s a long story, but we need to get you to a hospital or something. Not to be rude, but you look awful.”

“It’s alright, I feel awful so at least I match on the outside.” Zed started to walk across the room, trying not to step in the puddle whilst also trying to help Tango up.

Eventually he managed to pull Tango up by the hand, holding him steady when he started to sway.

Impulse greeted them with relief when they made it out to the car, Tango leaning on Zed’s shoulder, but he looked horrified once Tango’s face came into view. “Oh my god!” He covered his mouth with both hands, then immediately dropped them as though he had been rude. “Oh man, sorry about that, it’s just- your eyes…”

Tango shrugged, “Yeah, they seem to have sprung a leak.”

“Well I knew about that, but…” His eyebrows furrowed as even he, a believer in almost anything supernatural, was confused about whatever disturbing thing this ghost had done. “They changed colour? They’re red now. Like, the whole eye, even the white bit.”

“Cool.”

Zed piped up from his position under Tango’s arm. “‘Cool’? What do you mean ‘cool’?” He did his best to make air quotes without dropping his friend, who had clearly gone mad. “You literally got possessed and started bleeding from your eyes, and now they’ve changed colour, how is any of that cool?”

Tango, in his noble quest to annoy his friends, just shrugged again. “Probably burst a blood vessel or something, and it got in my eyes. Man, why is it always ghosts with you two?”

A Look came across Impulse’s face. Probably Zed’s too, but Tango couldn’t exactly see him. It was a Look that meant Tango had completely baffled them with his supposed obliviousness, which had only happened a few glorious times.

“Ok he’s clearly delirious, we should take him to the hospital.” Impulse pushed himself off the hood of the car and opened the back door, placing a towel on the seat. After all, this was Tango’s car and Impulse figured he probably wouldn’t appreciate blood all over the back seat.

“I mean, regardless of his bullshit he definitely needs to see a doctor, there was a lot of blood on that floor.” Zed quickly followed, helping Tango into the backseat then sliding in next to him. Tango supposed it was to keep an eye on him, which was great because he felt ready to pass out again.

On the bright side, he caught a glimpse of his eyes in the rear view mirror and they did in fact look cool as hell. Of course, Zed and Impulse later disagreed because it could have been a ‘serious medical issue,’ but that was their problem.

At the end of a very long and very strange day, the trio sat around on a variety of couches and chairs in their living room, four half eaten pizzas scattered about the room. Although, they weren’t exactly a trio anymore - a new member had decided to join them regardless of what Tango, Zed, and Impulse had to say about it. An entity (for he surely wasn’t human) known only as the Beetlejhost sat cross legged in an armchair, looking completely at home despite only having been there for about two hours.

If asked, none of the ghost hunters could precisely recall how the Beetlejhost had joined them. One moment they were on a job like any other, the next they were being insulted up and down by a ghost in a black and white striped suit. After that first encounter he hadn’t left them alone, despite their efforts including but not limited to: every ghost busting method they had ever heard of, and others that they hadn’t.

Impulse sat up straight for no discernable reason, smacking the arms of his chair and startling everyone except for, of course, the Beetlejhost. He turned to Tango with a shit eating grin, which was absolutely a cause for concern.

“Hey Tango?” Uh oh. If the grin wasn’t bad enough, the singing tone in his voice solidified that whatever thought just entered his mind was truly devious. That or incredibly embarrassing. Maybe both. “It seems like our new roommate has a few… strange qualities. Supernatural, one could say.” He looked expectantly at Tango, that awful grin never leaving his face.

Uh oh.

Tango supposed that the jig was up. It had been a good run, he supposed. “Yeah, whatever. Ghosts are real, you happy?”

Just because he was busted didn’t mean he couldn’t sulk, so he crossed his arms and sank into his chair, completing the look by sticking out his bottom lip like a child who was just told ‘no.’

Zed piped up from where the others had assumed he was napping, not bothering to remove his face from where it was planted on the couch. “Absolutely.” The word was muffled, but it got his point across. Meanwhile, Impulse was smugly eating another slice of room temperature pepperoni pizza. Vindicated at last, after over a year of exasperated arguments and comical obliviousness.

“I hope you know I’m only admitting it because I’m afraid of what the Beetlejhost would do to convince me.” Tango gave up on his sulking and walked across the room to the box of cheese pizza precariously balanced on the edge of the coffee table. The man (or ghost? I suppose one can be both.) in question was looking off into the distance, lost in assuredly horrible thoughts. “And for the record, I figured the whole ghost thing out months ago, I just really liked annoying you guys.”

“Months ago?” Impulse held his pizza inches away from his mouth, the grin wiped off his face. “Are you telling me that when a ghost literally put you in the hospital and you still denied it, that was all just to annoy us?”

Now it was Tango’s turn to be smug. “It worked, didn’t it?”

So no, Tango didn’t believe in ghosts. But after everything he’d seen, he sure as hell believed in them now.

#hermitcraft #hermitblr #tangotek #impulsesv #zedaph #joe hills #technically?#my writing #tw blood #tw possession #tw ghosts #ask to tag because theres a lot here #tango is being an asshole and its great #im not exactly sure what to do with the breaks between scenes #if anyone has a better way of doing that please help

38 notes · View notes

sunkissedpages · 4 years

Text

breaking curfew [part thirteen] || th x reader

A/N: shoutout to my gf @httpchrisevans for helping me with a line i was stuck on lol

Summary: When you got the job to be a counselor at the summer camp you’d grown up attending all your life, you expected to see some familiar faces. But you certainly hadn’t counted on having to work alongside the boy who had made it his life’s mission to make your life a living hell every summer. In fact, you thought you’d never have to see Tom Holland again. But he’s is in the cabin right across from yours with campers of his own- smirk, jawline, and all. If you didn’t know any better you might’ve thought that he applied for the position just to spite you, but who were you kidding? What kind of asshole would do something like that?

Warnings: swearing, angst

What I listened to while writing: the breaking curfew playlist by @cinnamon-roll-peter

Word Count: 2.6k

Series Masterlist

You spent a good fifteen minutes ironing your polo in Zendaya’s cabin after your shower that morning. You needed it to look as pristine in order to make a good impression on the parents this weekend. Well, as good of an impression as you could make with your arm in a neon cast.

Parent’s weekend couldn’t have come at a worse time for you. You already were a mess inside and out, and after that conversation with Fy you didn’t feel like doing anything other than crawling into bed and and hibernating for a few weeks until camp was over so you never had to face him or Tom ever again.

“Jesus, y/n, I think all the wrinkles are out! You’re going to burn the fucking shirt if you keep doing that!” Z shouted and leapt off her bed to grab the iron from your hands.

“Sorry, I just want it to look presentable,” you apologized and took a step back, rubbing your temples.

“It looks fine, babe. Any stiffer and I don’t think you’d be able to put it on.” She gave you a sideways look. “You okay?”

It was no use lying to her because she could always tell when you were so you just shook your head.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

You gave another shake of your head and sighed. “I can’t start crying right now, we’ve got to go deal with these parents in like five minutes.”

“Is it about Tom because I’m still taller than him, I can still beat him up.”

“Is it ever not about Tom?”

Z screwed up her face in distaste. “Bastard.”

“Easy, Tiger, you don’t even know what he’s done yet.”

“I don’t need to know, he's an asshole.”

She had a point. “You have a point. But if anyone’s gonna beat him up it’s me.”

She raised an eyebrow. “I’d spend my life savings to see that.”

“Oh and what is that, twenty bucks?”

“What is that twenty bucks?” she repeated mockingly and flipped you off.

You rolled your eyes. “Can you just get over here and help me with my shirt?”

Buttons were harder to do with one hand and on normal days you’d just take the extra time to painstakingly fasten them yourself, but since your best friend was right there you figured you might as well make her useful.

Once your shirt was buttoned all the way up and tucked into your khaki shorts (the uniforms were literally the best birth control) you made the trek back to your own cabin to wait for the parents.

All the campers were at the dining hall for breakfast with the bonus counselors because the primaries were supposed to greet the parents at their cabins to avoid all the chaos... and potential tears, which meant you’d have to put on your best smile and pretend like everything was perfectly fine. It had seemed easy enough to do merely an hour ago, but now even thinking about it was making your head spin.

But you’d have to do your best to push all of that down because a thin, blonde lady was making her way towards you with an expectant look on her face. You recognized her as May’s mother, and it didn’t surprise you that she was first.

She reintroduced herself and shook your hand. “So how did you break your arm again?” she asked, not wasting any time. “It wasn’t while doing anything dangerous, was it?”

An email had been sent by your boss to all of the parents/guardians of your campers detailing the entire situation when it had happened just to keep them in the loop, but clearly this woman wanted to hear it straight from the source. It was evident that she’d been agonizing about it for weeks, wondering if her child was actually safe here.

“No,” you reassured her, “it was during a counselors-only activity, don’t worry. There weren’t any campers involved.”

She seemed to relax a little and laughed artificially. “Oh good, my husband and I were a little spooked when we got that email, but I’m glad you’re doing okay.”

She actually hadn’t asked how you were doing and obviously didn’t really care either way so you just forced a smile. “Thank you.”

Then before she could mention anything else Grace’s dads arrived with Amalia’s parents not far behind. They each exchanged niceties with you before falling into amicable chatter amongst themselves, leaving you to hang back in silence.

You were grateful not to have to participate and instead rocked back and forth on your heels as you anxiously waited for your campers to get back from breakfast.

They’d been so excited last night while deep cleaning the cabin in preparation, they didn’t even complain about their chores. Theo had even offered to help the other girls with their tasks so it could get done faster, but secretly you knew she was only doing it because she was a bit of a perfectionist and wanted everything to be just so for the special weekend.

Eva’s parents arrived next, then finally Theo’s mom jogged up to the porch just in time for the kids to return from the caf.

There was a lot of loud chatter and laughter as the families hugged and got reacquainted with each other and it made your heart ache just a little. You remembered what it was like to be that young, to drag your mom and dad around campus for the entire weekend and ramble on about all of your activities and new friends and whatever else you could think of. You had to catch them up on everything they missed, tell them all of the stories you’d been saving all summer. The nostalgia was like a punch in the stomach on top of everything else and suddenly you weren’t sure if you’d actually be able to pull this weekend off.

You gave them a few more minutes to talk before getting the parents’ attention and inviting everyone inside for a family circle time.

The girls excitedly showed their parents their bunks and pointed out all of the decorations that had accrued on the walls of the cabin since the beginning of the summer. The coloring pages from that very first day, art projects and medals from daily activities, postcards from family, and dozens of developed pictures of the girls from your disposable camera hung up around the room. Your favorite was a photo of the six of you at the Wild West night from a couple weeks ago. Everyone had a different colored plastic cowboy hat on and was posing back to back with a partner holding up finger guns. You were back to back with Eva and the height difference between the two of you was absolutely ridiculous. Just looking at the picture made you laugh.

Once everyone settled on the floor you cleared your throat and started the programming.

“Good morning, it’s great to see you all again, glad you could make it. I’m y/n, cabin eleven counselor, and we’re so excited to get to share our camp life with you for the next few days! First, I’m just gonna go over the itinerary for the weekend and then you can hit me with any questions you have before we head down for the big group meeting.”

“How’re your kids’ parents?” Tom asked at lunch later that day as he casually brushed up against your ass.

You whipped around and smacked his hand away almost immediately out of instinct. Tom gave you a look like a wounded puppy and retracted his hand.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized, still looking confused. “Are you... okay?”

“I-” you looked up and caught the eye of one of your parents back at your table and smiled painfully. “Yeah, I’m good.”

For whatever reason he pretended to buy it and shrugged. “Okay, well listen, I’ve been thinking and I was wondering if you’d consider switching activities back to arts and crafts with me?”

You almost dropped the jello you were putting on your tray, but Tom caught it smoothly before it fell.

“What?”

“I was wondering if you wanted to come back to arts and crafts...” he trailed off awkwardly, “because, you know, we’re kind of in a different place now.”

When you didn’t say anything he continued to stumble on. “I, uh, just thought it would be nice to spend more time together... not having sex.”

You opened your mouth but words wouldn’t come out.

“Whaddya say?”

It was hard to remember why you were mad at him when he looked at you like that. But it was also hard to forget what he had done.

“Y/n?”

“Um, I have to go,” you said suddenly and turned on your heel. “My arm is hurting. I have to go get my pain meds.”

“Wait, y/n-”

As you hurried out of the cafeteria you threw a look over your shoulder at Nicole asking to take over for you until you got back. You hoped she got the message.

It felt like the whole caf was watching as you ran out of the room, leaving Tom standing there by himself. Your campers didn’t even blink as you rushed by them. They were pretty used to it at this point.

The noise from inside faded into the background as soon as you stepped onto the grass. You looked around and realized you didn’t know where exactly you were running to, much less what you were really running from.

You didn’t want to go to your cabin just in case Tom or someone else went after you. You didn’t want to go down to the lake where everyone could see you either. The bonus cabin wasn’t an option and neither was the canoe shed. You wanted to scream. For the first time in your life you felt trapped in your favorite place on earth. It was suffocating, being stuck on this mountain with all the people from your past, but there was nowhere to go.

You ended up sunken down in the back seat of your van, playing with your keys as tears streamed down your face. It felt stupid to cry. You’d known Tom for over half your life, and you’d known exactly the kind of person he was when you started sleeping with him. You really played yourself with that one.

You wished you could spend the rest of your day hiding from Tom in your car, but you still had a cabin full of campers and their parents waiting for you. You couldn’t stick them with Nicole for too long. She had her own responsibilities to take care of this weekend too.

Your girls were ecstatic to have their parents in town. It was all they talked about that evening after they were dropped back off at the cabin.

“My dad said your cast is cool,” Grace said as she climbed into her bed.

You finished looping a hair tie on the end of Theo’s braid and looked up. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, he said he had one too when he was your age and that casts make you look cool, but my other dad just laughed at him and said he wishes.”

“Well, tell him I say thank you,” you laughed.

As your campers finished getting ready for bed you went around the room like you always did and picked up anything that was lying on the floor. You kicked some stray shoes under the beds so no one would trip on them in the middle of the night and turned off the light before saying your good nights.

“Good night, sleep tight, don’t let the bed bugs bite!”

They had started saying it back to you just recently and they were slowly getting better at saying it all in unison too. It made every night a little sweeter.

You expected your mind to be swimming with thoughts of Tom that night, but you found yourself thinking about your girls instead. Parents weekend had always been bittersweet for you because as fun as it was, it also meant that the end of the summer was right around the corner. You felt like you had just started to get to know your campers and now in just a few weeks you’d be saying goodbye.

It was Sunday evening when Tom managed to corner you next. You had spent all weekend avoiding him by sticking close to the parents in your group, always pretending to be engaged in a conversation when he came anywhere near you. And it always worked, but now the parents were gone and you had to fend for yourself. It felt oddly similar to being dropped off at college for the first time and feeling completely lost.

“Why have you been avoiding me?” he asked you as you walked up to Harrison’s cabin.

It was then that you realized that you’d fallen into a trap. Haz had texted you asking to bring the geocaching clues over to his cabin so he could go plot the course for tomorrow when really he was probably just doing a favor for Tom by getting you here.

“I haven’t been avoiding you,” you lied, biting your lip as you did.

“That’s bullshit, you haven’t talked to me all weekend, you haven’t texted me back, you’ve been ignoring me-”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you gave a fuck about me all of the sudden,” you snapped bitterly and pushed past him to go back down the stairs.

“Wha- I was just worried!” Tom said defensively and sidestepped back in front of you.

“About me?”

“Well, yeah,” he admitted. “I’m sorry if I made things weird by asking about arts and crafts. We don’t have to have that sort of relation-er, friendship if you don’t want to.”

You never thought you’d hear Tom say the word friendship in reference to you. The word alone sounded foreign rolling off his tongue, like it was something he wasn’t really sure about.

You scoffed. “This isn’t about that.”

“Then what is it about?” he asked, practically begging now.

“It’s about you spending over a fucking decade trying to embarrass me!”

Tom looked bewildered. “Are you kidding me? That’s what this is about?”

“And don’t you dare say we were just kids, or that it wasn’t that big of a deal because it was a big deal. To me.” He still looked confused so you decided to spell it out for him. “Why did you tell Fy that I had a crush on you that summer?”

The memory flickered in front of Tom’s eyes as he realized what you were talking about and his expression shifted into one you couldn’t read.

“I spent weeks trying to figure out why he stopped talking to me, wondering what I had done wrong to make him not want to be friends with me anymore.” You were crying again, but this time you didn’t care. “Then one day after total radio silence I get a note from him saying to meet me on the dock after curfew? And you show up instead? Don’t you realize how fucked up that is? And now all these years later I let myself fall for you like all the girls I swore I’d never be. I fell for you even though you made my life hell every summer for years, even though you hated me and I didn’t even know why-” you stopped to catch your breath and sighed, shaking your head. “It’s... it’s fucking embarrassing.”

“Y/n,” Tom reached out for your shoulder, but you jerked away. Only then did you realize that he was also crying. He took a step back and pushed a hand through his curls like he did when he was trying to get his thoughts together. “Fuck, I- I messed up really bad.”

“You don’t say?” you chuckled dryly and rolled your eyes.

“No, you don’t understand,” he insisted.

“Enlighten me then.”

“I only signed that note as Fy because I knew you wouldn’t show up if it was from me.”

idk why this part was so hard to get out but lmk what you think i always appreciate feedback!!

Forever Tags: @mischiefmanaged49 @bookingbee @cloverrover @captainbuckyy @perhaps-he-schnapped @awkwardfangirl2014 @the-queen-procrastinator @tastingthestarz @sleepybesson@everythingbooknerd @sunshine96love @bitchymathematician@livingincompletesilence @melsbooktrash @tommy-holland @fizzy828 @spider-slutt @theamuz @nedthegay @astroasethic @stuckonspidey @darlingtholland @sgtbookybarnes @tinyplanet-explorers @nnatasha @gen-tlehoe @devin-marie @r-wooooosh @definitely-not-black-cat @hell-yeah-peter-parker @itssnowingandimstuckinside @relise-thefury @osteporosis @legendsofwholock @starsholland @peterunderoos @fuckyeahomerun @nobelwarriorheroes @delicately-important-trash @thwip-it-real-good @claryfray101 @softholand @tomhollandseverything @cool-ultra-nerd @jillianaholland @dinasaur36 @londonspidey @hanlons-wp @moon-390 @parkerstylesperalta @httpchrisevans @screeching-student-unknown @almondholland @murdermornings @honeymoonparker @tomshufflepuff @aikaterrina @noisyzineeggsbandit @5sos-microwave @quackson-love @smilealways19 @quackeroos @wolvesofthewinter @mukesnugget @itsjusttor

Breaking Curfew Tags: @lafemmefatal @sebastianstansbae @t0mh0llandimagines @draqcnheartstrinq @ragnarqks @di3connected @its-the-unknownspideywrites @fandomhoe @fallingspidey @obsequentdiapason @goldenpeaxh @theefactorygirl @sarcasticsagittarius1998 @sunshiney-souls @bluevelvetcosmos @sebxstianbarnes @peterbrokenparker @emilymarie0422 @fangirlingisajob @tomzfrog @castieltheredfox @still-awake-daydreaming @morbiddanvers @jurassicparker @originalpinkpowerranger @curlyshawnie @myfinalwords @ilytomholland @tomhollandseverything @imfreefallinall @maddub23 @eastofeeden @hollandary @spideyyeet @seaveyheartful @jackandsally9605 @itsthwippingtime @occhiolism-sonder @maybemona @tomhollandsbitch @thedaydreamingwriter @wannabewolf @jessasarah @maryjane-michelle @spidxrparkxr @alinakaisato @iriaaarb @natasha-black-widow-romanoff @dobriksbitch @caretheunicorn @shootingstarsaretearsofheaven @xmade-of-memoriesx @superhappyholland @bitchwhytho @notevenlxvely @spiderbibby @crookedlyshamelessnacho @shezzalocked @honeybittersweet @head-auror-potter @itsalwaysthequietone4 @staringmoony @valdanvers @spn-assemble-seven @addictofsupernatural @aquahogcodes @thomasstanley-h @stringycal @justanotherusername80 @my-patronus-is-mabel-pines @prettyintopeerpressure @awesomelupe @spideyhcllandd @nathaliabakes @jennasmmith @ziggyspurplehaze @hopeless-romantic-baby @heroes-die-young @tomhollandsbitch @clockworkballerina @danicarosaline @u-rrose @supernaturalyloki @breathinginthevapor @mytonycinematicuniverse @mindfulwishing133 @badhollandfluff @imbrium-mare @mrs-hollandstan @lukeys-giggle @equals123 @spacebitch2 @viwihere @ameliathackray @tanyalooovesyou @dorbiksbitch @unbelievableholland @laurenw1025

send me an ask to be added/removed from a taglist

#breaking curfew #tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fic #tom holland series #tom holland angst #tom holland imagine #tom holland enemies to lovers #enemies to lovers

519 notes · View notes

bluesylveon2 · 3 years

Text

My My, I Could Never Let You Go

Summary: Sasha Zoe just wants her dad to walk her down the aisle. There is only one problem: she doesn't know who her dad is! Sasha invites 3 men in hopes of finding out which one is her father. What could possibly go wrong?

Pairings: Levi x Hange, Sasha x Niccolo, and other background relationships

Disclaimer: This is a Levihan Mamma Mia au. This fanfic is inspired by Mamma Mia which is directed by Phyllida Loyd, written by Catherine Johnson, and uses music from the pop group ABBA. Attack on Titan is a manga/anime series written by Hajime Isayama and published by Kondasha

Author’s Note: NOW EDITED! This chapter and maybe the next few will include character background. I know the movie doesn’t include that, but I am! This story will have some added/deleted scenes from the movie. I hope you like it though! Also, the characters are in their Season 4 looks. The 104 group will be 20-21. Niccolo is 23. The adults:

Yes, the adults are mostly in their 40′s, but look young. Let’s just go with it

I will try to keep a weekly or week and a half update depending on school.

Now let’s move to the chapter where we meet a happy and engaged Sasha! 😁

Need to catch up? Catch up here!

Ch 1: Honey, Honey

Kalokairi, Greece

1 day before the wedding

Two passengers walk out of the docked ferry. Mikasa - the tall one with short jet black hair and dark brown eyes - was grabbing the rest of her stuff while her friend Historia - the shorter one with long blonde hair and blue eyes - searched for Sasha. It didn’t take Historia long to find her. Sasha wasn’t hard to find. Despite her wearing her brown hair in a ponytail and wearing casual clothes; she was running towards them at full speed. Sasha also held a small book with her.

“OH MY GOSH! YOU ARE FINALLY HERE!!!!” Sasha screamed as she ran towards her friends on the dock.

Mikasa Ackerman is half Japanese and half German. She originally lived in Rothenburg ob der Tauber in Germany but moved to Kalokairi after her parent’s death when she was a teenager. Mikasa’s parents dreamed of visiting the island one day when Mikasa was older. She used to sit on her mother’s lap as she told her about the island's beauty. After Mikasa’s parents died, her great aunt on her mother’s side reached out to her from Japan and provided Mikasa enough money to move to Kalokairi. Mikasa’s great aunt was unable to take care of Mikasa because of her old age, so Mikasa chose to live in Kalokairi to fulfill her parent’s dream. The only downside was that Mikasa lived alone. Her home is a 2 bedroom, 2 bathroom home. It’s enough for a person, but Mikasa felt alone without her parents. It was where she met Eren Jaeger's family. Eren’s mom, Carla, often invited Mikasa to eat so she wouldn’t get lonely. Eren gave Mikasa a red scarf as she was leaving the Jaeger household. He claimed it was a gift, so she didn’t feel lonely. Mikasa, touched by the gift, started visiting the Jaeger family more, and she even met Eren’s freind, Armin. The Jaeger home became Mikasa’s second home, and Mikasa was not alone anymore. It changed after Historia moved the island.

Historia Reiss came from Munich and ran to Kalokairi to get away from her family. She felt confined in her home when all she wanted was freedom. She had also learned the ugly truth behind her family name a week after moving in with her father, Rod Reiss. Her uncle, Uri, was the CEO of the Fritz company, a conglomerate in Germany with other branches across Europe. The company also did some shady business orchestrated by Rod, but it was hidden from the public. The only plus for Historia staying home was seeing sister, Freida, more often.

The only downside of running away to another country was not knowing the language. Historia was walking around the island when she accidentally bumped into Mikasa. Mikasa noticed how lost Historia looked, so she invited her into her home. Historia spills her entire life story (including her real name) to Mikasa the moment Mikasa sat down in the chair in front of her to eat dinner. Historia was horrified after she finished her story. She just told her story to a stranger who is most likely going to kick her out. Historia flinched when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She looked up to find Mikasa looking down at her with a smile. Mikasa understands what it is like to be alone, so she invites Historia to stay in her home. The girls eventually lived together as roommates until they had to leave for their modeling careers. Mikasa and Historia have even walked in Milan Fashion Week.

The home is still under Mikasa’s name (originally it was under her great aunt, but it went to Mikasa after her passing). The girls (and everyone in their friend group), use it when they stay on the island. The current inhabitants are Hanami and Mina since they were the first to arrive. Mikasa, Annie, Hitch, and Historia are the only girls from the group staying at the hotel.

Historia also started going by her real name after an incident with the company. Rod went to prison and Freida became the new CEO. She and Freida keep in touch often via mail to make up for the lost time and update each other of their lives. Historia told Freida about her freinds, her new maternal figure (Hange), and her girlfriend, Ymir.

Sasha met Mikasa and Historia on the island in high school. Mikasa was with her friends, Eren and Armin when Sasha met her. They were often paired up for projects and events that their friendship happened naturally over time. Sasha met Historia when she gave her some bread after Sasha was caught eating in class. Mr. Shadis, their teacher, is really a strict man. He made Sasha run laps around the whole school as punishment. Sasha wouldn’t stop thanking Historia after that.

“SASHA!!!!!!” Historia shoved her stuff towards Mikasa and began running towards Sasha.

“MIKASAAAAA!!!! HISTORIA!!!!!!!!!” Sasha continued yelling before glomping Historia. Luckily Historia caught herself without falling into the water.

“And where is my hug?” Sasha heard behind Historia before looking up to see Mikasa smirking at her. Sasha opened one arm out to initiate a group hug.

Mikasa briefly put both her’s and Historia’s stuff down and joined in on the hug.

“Ugh, it’s been so long! I missed you both so much!” Sasha complained dramatically as she let go of the girls. Mikasa and Historia grab their things and start heading towards the beach with Sasha.

Sasha looked at the group and noticed someone was missing.

“Is Ymir not coming, Historia?” Sasha asked while tilting her head to the side.

“No,” Historia says sadly, thinking about her girlfriend as she looks down as she walks. “She has caught up with work lately and won’t be able to attend your wedding.” Historia looked up and smiled “She wanted me to tell you congrats on your engagement though.”

“Well we would have been here earlier, but someone” Mikasa glared at Historia “insisted on being fashionably late” Mikasa grumbled. She gave air quotes on the words fashionably late with her free hand.

“Well are we?” Historia giggled. She waved her hand innocently while ignoring Mikasa’s last statement

“No” Sasha laughed “Aunt Nanaba and Aunt Rico will be here later on today, and Aunt Pieck will be here tomorrow.”

Aunt Pieck is Sasha’s only known family member from her mom’s side.

(Sasha also heard about a grandmother, but her mom never talks about her)

According to Hange, Pieck is Hange’s younger cousin. Hange’s mom and Pieck’s mom are sisters, but they weren’t that close. Hange’s mom was more focused on her singing career, and Pieck’s mom wanted to focus on her daughter. As a result, Hange would often visit Pieck’s house in Santorini. Pieck would tell her stories about Kalokairi during one of Hange’s visits. Pieck’s stories of Kalokairi sparked Hange’s interest in the island. Pieck is currently a photographer who lives in Portugal after marrying Porco Galliard. She met Porco after a photoshoot in Spain.

Porco is a veteran from Portugal. His brother, Marcel, is also a veteran and he was in the same unit as Porco. Both brothers began traveling around Europe after finishing their service before settling down. One day, the brothers were in Valencia, Spain after hearing of the La Tomatina Festival in Bunol. Porco met Pieck during the festival after she threw a squashed tomato straight at his face. Porco had to face her alone (Marcel was somewhere deep in the crowd) and decided to get back at her. It was a battle between speed (Porco) and stamina (Pieck, Porco had no idea how Pieck was not getting tired). According to Aunt Pieck, it was like the others in the crowd didn’t matter to them. It was her vs Porco. The two got to learn more about each other after the festival ended, and they exchanged numbers.

Sasha has not seen her Aunt Pieck since her high school graduation. Her aunt had moved to left Greece after marrying Porco, so her visits were less frequent. Nevertheless, Sasha enjoyed looking at the postcard and photos her aunt sends every year. Seeing her aunt and uncle’s happy faces puts a smile on Sasha’s face. She wishes her mom had a similar experience.

“I knew we should’ve waited longer,” Historia complained to Mikasa and threw her arms up for dramatic effect.

“Yeah me too,” Mikasa says sarcastically and rolls her eyes.

“Speaking of guests, are the other girls here already?” Historia asks Sasha and looks around the beach expecting the others to magically appear before them.

“The other girls are here,” Sasha replies “Mina is hanging out with Marco, Hitch is dragging Marlowe around the island, Annie is on a date with Armin, and Hanami is probably trying not to kill Jean. She has been here longer and is working together with Jean on the wedding”

Hanami is a sweet but oblivious girl they had all met in high school. She is known for making rash decisions, and it worried them. Jean usually reprimands her for being rash, and Hanami would fight back verbally. She and Jean used to not get along before, but their friendship has improved over the years. Nowadays, the both of them just like messing with one another.

“Let’s hope that your wedding does not end in disaster,” Mikasa says with a hint of worry in her voice.

Their friend, Hanami Richter, is Sasha’s maid of honor. She was born in Greece after her parents moved from Cambridge. She is both Japanese and German like Mikasa, but looks more European. Hanami has short dark brown hair, dark brown eyes, and wears glasses. She looks like she could be Sasha’s long lost sister. (The girls switched places once, but Hange figured out ‘Sasha’ was not Sasha. Luckily Hange didn’t get mad, but she was impressed). Hanami is currently attending the University of Vienna to study International Business Administration.

“Oh!” Historia exclaimed in an attempt to change the subject “Show us your ring!”

Sasha laughed before stopping their walk to extend her left hand. She showed Historia the beautiful ring on her ring finger. The ring consisted of a 2-carat diamond glistened from the sunlight. The ring was not too over the top. It was a white gold ring with a diamond placed in the center surrounded by smaller diamonds to form a halo.

Historia let out a whistle “Niccolo did really well! Let me take a picture and send this to Ymir. She was expecting a big diamond”

Niccolo is a young chef with wavy blonde hair and green eyes. Niccolo dreams of working as an executive chef after traveling the world. However, no one appreciated his cooking despite working in a famous restaurant. Sasha met him when she and her girl friends went on a summer trip to Italy. During the trip, the group decided to eat dinner at a well-known restaurant in Rome. Everyone, especially Sasha, was enjoying their meal until Sasha started eating her lobster. The girls will never forget how Sasha couldn’t stop complimenting the lobster that she wanted to meet the chef who made it. Niccolo was shocked when his co-worker mentioned what was going on outside the kitchen. Someone was actually appreciating his cooking and he moved them to tears! Niccolo had no choice but to agree. He wanted to meet this person. Surprisingly to the girls, the restaurant let her meet the chef, but only after closing time. Sasha was in tears as she hugged Niccolo, and Niccolo was shocked to see how his food affected her. (Niccolo never told Sasha, but it was love at first sight for him). They met again months later when Jean invited Niccolo over to Kalokairi to surprise Sasha. Sasha and Niccolo eventually started dating, and Niccolo proposed to her after 2 years of dating.

As Historia took some pics on her phone, Mikasa remembered what Sasha mentioned in their group chat before they arrived.

“Sasha, what’s the big news you mentioned a few days ago?”

“Right!” Sasha exclaimed and covered her mouth with her unoccupied hand “I want you guys to guess before the big reveal.”

Historia was pocketing her phone and let Sasha drop her hand back to the side. Historia let out a gasp. She put one hand on Sasha’s shoulder and the other on her stomach.

“You're pregnant?!?!?!” Historia yelled

“No no no! You're wrong Historia.” Sasha laughed and held up both of her hands in front of her body

(Historia was relieved. Mikasa considered Niccolo lucky because won’t be sporting a black eye on his wedding day. She didn’t say that out loud)

“So what is it then Sasha?” Mikasa after the girls started walking again.

“Weeeellllllll. I invited my dad to my wedding!” Sasha screams with glee

“What?!” “You finally found him” Mikasa and Historia shouted at the same time and looked at Sasha

“Not exactly,” Sasha replied before sitting down on a rock down the beach with the girls. Their spot at least gave them some privacy to talk.

Suddenly, Sasha’s happy expression turned serious. “You also cannot tell anyone what I'm about to say. You have to promise me that and do the salute to it too?”

“Yes ma'am. We promise” Mikasa and Historia said before facing Sasha and doing their salute. They put both of their hands in a fist. They placed their right fist over their heart and their left fist behind their backs. It was the secret salute their friend group came up with in high school. Mikasa and Historia sat down on some rocks across from Sasha after they did the salute.

“You know what my mom says when I ask about my father. It was a summer romance, and he was gone before she realized she was pregnant with me. I would accept it and never ask more questions.”

Historia put a hand on Sasha’s shoulder and gave her an empathetic smile. She understood where Sasha is coming from. Historia didn’t know much about her family as a child since she grew up with only her mom. She met them after her first year in high school, but it was not a pleasant experience, and she would rather choose to forget it (except for Freida).

Mikasa also gave Sasha a smile before motioning with her hand to continue.

Sasha smiled at both of her friends. “Well guess what Hanami and I found while looking through the attic for wedding decorations,” Sasha says before pulling out a leather journal. It was a brown journal that looked worn and had a leather strap to seal the book closed.

“Is that-?” Mikasa asked

“No way-” Historia began

“Yes!” Sasha squealed “It is my mom’s old diary she kept while she was pregnant with me.”

Sasha set the diary on her lap and opened it to one of the bookmarked pages. She began to read a journal entry.

July 17

What a night! Levi took me to a secluded beach here on the island. We danced on the beach. We kissed on the beach and-

“Dot dot dot,” Sasha said

“Dot dot dot?” Mikasa asked with a perplexed look on her face.

“What does that mean?” Historia asked Sasha confused

“Who knows?” Sasha replied with a shrug “It’s from the olden times. They had weird terminology back then. Now let me continue.”

Sasha stood up abruptly and walked off from Mikasa and Historia. The girls quickly grabbed their things as they stood up and followed Sasha.

Levi is such an amazing guy! Yeah, he may be short, is always scowling, has a funny way to drink tea, and tells poop jokes, but he is such a sweetheart. He never shows it to others, but only me. Me! I get dizzy looking at his charm and going on new adventures with him. Is he some sort of a love machine? He's practically everything I want in a guy! I really think he's the one.

“Your mom sounds like she’s really in love with this Levi guy.” Mikasa comments (she also starts questioning Hange’s tastes in men. A guy who scowls and tells poop jokes? That baffled Mikasa.)

“I think it’s cute,” Historia says with hearts in her eyes and turns to Sasha “Is Levi your father?”

“Oh but wait” Sasha stops walking on a cliff that overlooks the sea. She gestures to Mikasa and Historia to sit down before continuing.

All this time Levi tells me he loves me, but I’m doubting that now. He’s been hiding things from me, and I found out about it this morning. He suddenly announced that he was engaged, and had to leave to get married.

How dare he?! I was too blinded by anger to think rationally. I packed Levi’s stuff, dragged Levi out of my house, and threw his stuff (and Levi) to the nearest ferry while demanding him to leave. I didn’t want to see him again, and I didn’t want him to see how heartbroken I was.

“Oh no. Poor Hange” Historia says sadly. Mikasa didn’t say anything, but she scowled instead.

“The plot thickens,” Sasha says and continues reading

I texted Nanaba and Rico to do some snooping for me since the internet can be weak here on the island. I gave them the information I knew about Levi and let them do the rest. Rico managed to find some things about Levi.

How dare he? He lied to me this whole time about his last name, how he is the heir of Ackerman Bank, and possibly his love for me? No wonder he was acting mysterious when we first met. I just want to-

Sasha stops abruptly. She looked at the page again to be sure she was reading it right. The page had her mother’s writing, but there were some scribbles and small crinkles. Sasha knew right away that her mother must have cried while writing the entry.

“There are multiple tear marks and some scribbles here” Sasha comments with a solemn expression on her face.

Historia and Mikasa looked at Sasha with sorrow. It seemed as if her mom went through a lot before she was born.

There was a moment of silence until Historia spoke up in an attempt to lighten up the mood.

“At least your mom didn’t damage the diary, or we wouldn’t have any clue who your father is. Remember that time Eren and Connie accidentally knocked over that old vase at the hotel?”

All 3 girls shivered at the memory

“Well, at least the journal didn’t meet your mom’s wrath. We got lucky there.” Mikasa says with a small smile on her face

“Yeah” Sasha laughed. It’s rare for her mom to get angry. She has only seen her mother really angry once, and it was after the incident. Luckily, her mom never got mad at her. She showered her with love and affection instead.

Sasha turned the page to another bookmarked section and looked to her friends sitting nearby. Historia looked as if she was in deep thought. Her arm was propped up on her knee and she rested her head on her fist.

“Something on your mind Historia?” Sasha asked

Historia perked up at Sasha’s question. She then glanced at Mikasa and then the journal. Historia looked at Sasha.

“You said Levi’s last name is Ackerman, right? What if Mikasa is related to him?”

Historia gasped and turned to Mikasa with a gleeful look on her face “You and Sasha could be related! Wouldn’t that be fun?”

“I would rather not be related to Mr. Poop Jokes. He hurt Hange and he sounds like an asshole.” Mikasa scoffed and dismissed the idea. It would be nice to be related to Sasha, but not through Levi.

Meanwhile, Sasha laughed when Historia’s smile turned into a pout. She and Mikasa are really close friends. It would be nice to at least have one of her friends be blood-related to her.

“Wait until you hear this,” Sasha says before standing up and walking away from their spot on the beach. She started heading towards the stairs along a cliff while reading at the same time. Mikasa and Historia stood up and followed her. They don’t want to miss the rest of the story if they let Sasha walk away.

Both of them sweatdropped as they ran towards Sasha

“I don’t understand why she needs to walk off from us. I get that she needs to guide us to the hotel, but couldn’t we have heard the story all in one sitting?” Historia says to Mikasa

Mikasa shrugs before jogging (and dragging Historia behind her) to catch up to Sasha. Luckily Mikasa is still athletic from high school, so it didn't take her long to catch up.

August 4

I met Erwin Smith - a tall man with blond hair, blue eyes, and the biggest eyebrows I’ve ever seen. He looks like the star of the latest superhero movie - out of the blue when I was walking around town. He looked lost, so I offered to show him around the island. He’s such a sweet and understanding guy. Although I’m still obsessed with Levi, one thing led to another and-

“Dot. Dot. Dot” Sasha says laughing

Mikasa and Historia gasped as the girls made it towards the entrance of Hange’s hotel (aka Sasha’s home)

August 11

Mike Zacharias - a tall man with blonde hair, light green eyes, and has a tendency to sniff people - took me to his yacht for our nightly yacht ride. We spent the night gazing at the stars and telling stories.

The girls climbed up the steps towards the hotel. Once they made it to the top, Sasha stopped and turned around to face Mikasa and Historia before finishing up her story.

Mike is so wild and such a funny guy. One thing led to another and-

“Dot! Dot! Dot!” Sasha and Historia squealed at the same time. Mikasa watched her friends excitement with a smile on her face

A door opens behind the girls. Hange Zoe comes in with her full glory wearing her signature white shirt with overalls while carrying a broom. She sets it off towards a nearby wall.

“Here come the bridesmaids” Hange sang with her arms open for a hug

“Hange!” Mikasa and Historia say with excitement and run to get a hug and a kiss on the cheek from Hange. Sasha quickly hides the diary behind her back. She is thankful that her mom was focused on her friends instead of her.

“Look at you! You’re both so beautiful and you need to start growing” Hange ruffled their hair and laughed

“You look like you’re having fun” Hange smiled and gave them the proud look only a mother would give towards her children

“I used to have fun” she added with some reminiscence in her voice. She thought of the 3 men who impacted her life as she turned around to pick up her broom.

“Oh, we know.” Historia giggles before Mikasa discreetly elbowed her to tell her to shut up.

Hange looked at the girls suspiciously and Sasha smiled before motioning to her friends that they needed to go. Hange shrugged before going back to the door she came from, leaving Sasha and the others alone.

The girls let out a sigh of relief before heading to Sasha’s room. Hopefully, no one else runs into them or it would raise suspicion.

Sasha walked towards her bed and sat down once they made it to her room. Mikasa and Historia set their stuff off to the side and stood in front of Sasha.

“So, who is your dad? Levi, Erwin, or Mike?” Mikasa asked

“I don’t know!” Sasha exclaims

“But which one did you invite?” Historia asked

Sasha didn’t answer and stayed silent. Historia and Mikasa picked up on her silence and immediately knew

“Oh. My. God.” they said while simultaneously stepping back and sitting down on a nearby chest

Sasha squealed as she stood up. A big smile grew on her face

“Do they know?” Historia asked

“Well, would you write to a total stranger ‘Will you come to my wedding? You might be my father?’ No! They think mom sent the invites and no surprise with what’s in here-”

Sasha picks up the diary from her bed

“They said yes!” Sasha squealed causing Historia and Mikasa to jump up with glee

The girls proceed to have an impromptu dance party in Sasha’s room to celebrate. They danced around for a bit but stopped after Sasha decided to head out to her balcony with her mom’s diary. Mikasa and Historia stayed behind and sat down on Sasha’s bed. They wanted to give her space to think about everything so far.

“I’ve heard so much about them, and I want to know more about them too,” Sasha says softly to herself. She glances down at the diary and smiles “Once I do, I can know how much they mean to me.”

Skiathos, Greece

1 day before the wedding

Two taxis were heading to the Skiathos port. Both taxis were trying to reach the ferry before it left for Kalokairi.

Erwin sat calm and composed with his business suit, but he was nervous on the inside. How would Hange react to his sudden appearance? What would she say? Is she still with the other man? He can feel the timer to the meeting counting down in his head. “If only the taxi went a bit faster,” Erwin thought to himself.

Meanwhile, in another taxi, sat Levi. He was starting to get impatient. Levi cursed his luck before putting his pocket watch back in his shirt pocket. He would have been on Kalokairi a lot earlier if the 1 stop of the flight didn’t take too long. Levi leaned forward to tell the driver to speed up, but it seemed as if the ride to the port was too slow (in Levi’s opinion).

As Levi sat back, he dug into the pocket of his slacks for a small blue pouch. He untied the knot and dumped whatever was inside the pouch onto his palm. A simple yellow gold ring with a diamond fell out. Levi bought that ring weeks after coming back from Kalokairi and settling his family drama. It was kind of a dumb purchase if Levi thought really hard into it. He broke Hange’s heart and she kicked him out. It’s simple, really. Hange would not say yes if he had returned to Kalokairi and proposed to her.

Nevertheless, Levi thought yellow gold would look good on Hange’s skin because it reminded him of the yellow shirt she wore when they met. He only kept it because of the memories they had, and Levi will always treasure it. Levi puts the ring back in the pouch and pockets it. He doesn’t see himself opening it again if Hange decides to kick him out for a second time.

Both taxis make it to the port, and both Levi and Erwin run towards the ferry only to see it leaving.

“Damn it!” Levi yells

“I agree,” Erwin calmly says next to him

Levi looks up to find a tall man with blond hair and the biggest eyebrows he had ever seen, He didn’t notice Erwin’s presence until he spoke. Levi looked at him. He internally prayed to himself that he would make it to the wedding on time and see Hange.

“When is the next ferry leaving?” Levi asks Erwin. Levi didn’t know much Greek since Hange was the one who helped him before. He hoped the blonde stranger at least knew something

Erwin walks towards the nearest sign and reads it using basic Greek he learned years prior

“Monday,” Erwin says dejectedly and Levi groans in frustration

“Hey!” they hear from the sea and turn their heads

They both see a tall, blond-haired man with a mustache and a beard waving to them from a yacht. There was another man with him who looked like he was doing last-minute preparations before sailing.

“Are you heading to Kalokairi?” the man asks Levi and Erwin

“How did you know?” Levi yells. The man is a good distance away from him after all.

The man laughs “I could practically smell the desperation off of you” Erwin’s face turns red from embarrassment. Levi scowled

“You can come with me. The name’s Mike Zacharias by the way. That man over there” He points to a guy with brown hair styled in a pompadour “That’s Gelgar. He’s been taking care of my yacht since I was away. He can help bring us to the island.”

“Sure,” Erwin spoke up. “My name is Erwin Smith. He then raised a hand and gestured to Levi

“This is-”

“Levi Ackerman” Levi finishes for Erwin. Levi revealed his last name to them unlike when he first met Hange. Luckily both men didn’t make any connections between him and his family business.

Mike turned to Erwin “Well then, Erwin.” He turned to Levi “and Levi. You better hurry up and board the yacht soon. We are heading to Kalokairi once you are settled.” Mike said and walked off to check on everything with Gelgar

Levi sighed. He had no choice. He might as well go with Erwin and Mike since Mike is his only hope of reaching Kalokairi on time.

Meanwhile, Erwin recognized Mike after many years. He had some physical differences but didn’t look much different overall. Erwin knew that Mike was the man Hange was with when he came back to see her.

There is only one question that kept playing in Erwin’s head. Is Mike still with Hange?

References used/Notes:

Obviously the salute used in the military

Sasha having the girls salute is a nod to OVA 2 where she makes Reiner do it

Some inspiration from both Mikasa and Historia’s backstories

Hanami is my OC from AOT 2 FB (I posted what she looks like on my Tumblr bluesylveon2)

I added more characters because I want Sasha to have more friends in her bridal party

Levi being the heir of Ackerman Bank is based on list I found of big businesses in Germany. Two were based in Frankfurt and were only banking, hence the name

But Levi owns a cafe in the Prologue? Will be explained later

Sasha and Niccolo’s first meeting is from the recent episode

I decided for Porco to be Portuguese because Porco means pig in Portugese

I’ve heard of La Tomatina and it looks like fun

I base the character nationalities on names/some reddit posts. I saw one where Pieck was Greek so I added that to her character

I picked Santorini because it’s a city I want to visit one day. Also Sootopolis (from Pokemon) is based off of there

Hange’s diary is the same journal as the one seen in AOT (Ilse’s notebook and AOT 2 FB)

The ‘Erwin from a superhero movie’ is because of Chris Evans

Hange is canonically the scariest when mad. I tried to portray this with Levi’s backstory and the vase incident

I added the ring scene with Levi for future purpose

#levihan #levi x hange #levihan fanfiction #nicosasha #erwin x hange #mike x hange #aruani #hitch x marlow #mikenana #marco x mina #pokkopikku #snk #attack on titan

51 notes · View notes

terrm9 · 3 years

Note

Could you share more of Chiara's and Bryce's story? Did they ever make out? Does he know her family? That friendship is golden🌟

I will be happy to share their story <3 (this turned out rather long. Sorry if you didn’t want THAT much:D also I am once again adding my taglist and once again please ignore the tag if you do not care about this weird sort of fic:D)

It was her first day. First day as a doctor, first day out of safety of a med school and known cities and Dr. Ramsey already hated her and she screwed up with Annie and this is not what she wanted. Chiara desperately needed a cigarette to calm her blazing senses but she couldn’t quite well leave the hospital to smoke and so she hid in the nearest supply closet and hoped for the best. And then Bryce - she was happy to remember his name - walked in and before she could tell him to go away, he sat on the floor next to her and smiled. And Chiara’s heart fluttered in her chest because he had Liam’s smile. The wide, bright, warm smile that looked like it could snap his face in two pieces. And he smelled good and leaned so close and Chiara didn’t know what has gotten into her but she kissed him. And damn, the kiss calmed her down just right.

Until she realized what happened. She broke the kiss and looked at the Bryce, terrified. It is not like she never kissed mindlessly before - even though she never dated in the med school, she did attend a party here and there and it’s not like kissing is a big deal. And Bryce’s lips were very kissable. But this was not a med school party, this was a supply closet in a hospital she just started to work in.

“I am so sorry,” she stuttered. “I don’t do this normally, I swear!”

“I bet you usually don’t cry in a supply closet either,” Bryce grinned, not a single hint of tension in that smile and after the pep talk, they both left the supply closet with the wide smiles on their faces.

And they clicked that day. The smile remained on Chiara’s face and she just felt it in her gut that this Lahela guy just became her first friend in Boston. Little did she know back than that he would become her best friend for life.

Soon, they started to meet on their lunch breaks intentionally and it was for the first time in six years that Chiara let someone get close to her, close enough to call him friend. And he still reminded her of Liam, with his teasing and jokes and that smile. And he was the first person to remind her her brother without the reminder being painful. It actually felt great. Heartwarming. She felt happy.

And Bryce felt happy too. There was something about Chiara being so sincere and just such a good person that let him believe that even if she did find out about his family and its history, she wouldn’t see him as an asshole. Chiara made it easy to believe that he could have real friends somewhere out there.

The physical attraction between them was undeniable. And so they kissed often. No strings attached, just two people that enjoyed each other’s lips. After two months of their friendship, Chiara realized that she hasn’t had a cigarette in weeks. Bryce’s smile and his words and his kisses calmed her down even better.

The first time their kisses turned into a hook up was after the housewarming party. It felt great, because how could it not. But there was no spark that would indicate that those hook up could turn into something more and they made it clear that best friends is what they are. Best friends that help each other blow some steam off occasionally.

It was at the time when Chiara admitted to herself that she truly liked Ethan, that she also realized that she and Bryce were spending more and more time as best friends without the benefit of physical touch. Adventures, swimming in the lakes and picnics, roadtrip to New York and karaoke nights, movies in his apartment and roommies nights that Bryce was automatically invited to.

It was one night when she stayed over for a night at Bryce’s place and he laughed on something, a genuine, rich laugh that had her stare at him for longer that would be appropriate.

“What?” Bryce asked when he noticed her intense gaze.

“You laugh like him, too. Exactly like him,” she whispered and Bryce’s smile fell of his face because Chiara just shared something she never shared with him before.

“Like who?”

“My brother,” she answered slowly, still lost in her weird state.

“Oh, he must be awesome, then,” he grinned.

“He was,” Chiara nodded.

It was that very moment when the first tear fell from her eyes and she spilled her heart. She told Bryce everything, about Liam and Dorian and her family never being the same again and it was the first time in six years, the first time since the accident that she talked about it to anyone besides her family. And it felt like healing.

Then she left to Miami. When she came back, something was off, Bryce could tell. She told him the same day she returned that the hookups needed to stop and Bryce agreed, because no matter how much they enjoyed those, it started to feel weird. Their friendship was deeper than that. Chiara even admitted that there is a man in her life which she fell for and it feels all kinds of wrong to kiss anyone else and she never told him who it was but Bryce is perceptive and celever and he came to know her so very well and she didn’t need to tell him for him to know. But who was he to push her to tell him anything?

Their friendship kept frowing stronger and stronger every day and even without Bryce’s kisses, Chiara didn’t feel the need to smoke. One hug, one whispered “you got this, Chiaris” and she calmed down enough to get through her day.

But then Ethan left the hospital and with it, he left Chiara. And life became just too much to bear, because Naveen, her dear Naveen, was dying and Ethan left her alone and Mrs. Martinez died and she could lose her license and one night, she was so alone and overwhelmed and so she left the apartment to take a walk and smoke a cigarette or two. She called Bryce, instead.

“Hey,” his sleepy voice greeted her. “Is everything okay?”

“No, it’s not. Everything has gone to shit, Bryce,” Chiara sobbed into the phone.

“Where are you?”

“Walking around the block.”

“Go home, you’ll catch cold. I’ll be there in thirty.”

With that, he hung up and showed at the doorstep in thirty minutes. And he hugged Chiara and promised to stay by her side no matter what happens next.

After Ethan left to Amazon, Chiara couldn’t really blame him. She couldn’t hate him, no matter how much she wished she could. But it still did hurt. And after the year she has had, Chiara just... wanted to go home. And so she asked for a vacation and Naveen quickly approved her two weeks off (because Naveen knew) and then Chiara dared to ask Bryce if maybe he would like to visit San Francisco with her.

Of course he would like that. So he did.

Chiara knew that Bryce would be just fine, that he would fit, that he would get along with her mom and her sister, because well, it was Bryce. She never expected for them to love each other so much after those two weeks. Diana Ray LOVES Bryce. She found a son in him and for the first time in his lifetime, Bryce Lahela knows what a mother’s love feels like.

Bryce and Diana keep in touch. She sends him a gift on his birthday and Christmas and he sends her a postcard from every single one of his trips.

“Hey, Chiara,” Bryce smiled one day, deep into the second year of their residency, as he sat down next to Chiara. “Mom asked me to say hi to you!”

“Uh...” Chiara furrowed her brows in an utter confusion. “Why would she send her greetings through you? She could’ve called me.”

“Well, your facetime day is Saturday.”

“And?”

“And ours is Wednesday. It is sooner.”

“You face-timed mom yesterday?”

“Yup! She is doing great, don’t worry,” Bryce smiled. Not grinned, not smirked, smiled so sincerely Chiara’s heart hurt in her chest because Bryce just became a part of her family and there was no better feeling.

Even after Chiara got together with Ethan, Bryce visits San Francisco with Chiara every summer and there might have been times when he visited without Chiara, too. He sends selfies in his scurbs and doctor’s coat to Diana regularly along with a caption “Have an amazing day! Love you!!!” and Diana shows those photos to her colleagues proudly, because her daughter is an amazing diagnostician and her son is an exceptional surgeon and of course he cannot replace Liam, but he can heal some of her scars and she loves him like her own child.

And Alicia loves Bryce just as much, because she misses having an older brother and also because Bryce is fun. He is a doctor but he still manages to be funny, which Alicia teases Chiara constantly about.

Things change when Alicia meets Keiki (Alicia is 21, Keiki is 17 at the time) and whoa, Keiki is the funny Lahela! And so in the end both Chiara and Bryce are the boring older siblings.

I will end here because this is already much longer than I intended and I could go on forever, I think about this friendship way too often.

Feel free to send any more questions about Chiara! It makes me incredibly happy that you guys enjoy her character.

@takemyopenheart @maurine07 @senseofduties @mercury84choices @flightlessbirdiee @udishaman @honeyandsunfl0wers @ohchoices @adrex04 @queencarb @archxxronrookie @whatchique @drariellevalentine @gryffindordaughterofathena @mvalentine @doilooklikeiknow @custaroonie @secretwolfdreamertree @jamespotterthefirst @starrystarrytrouble @caseyvalentineramsey @open-heart-ramseyyy @whimsicallywayward15 @iemcpbchoices @stygianflood @tsrookie @fireycookie @canigetanawwjunk

#open heart #chiara ray #open heart mc #bryce lahela #chiara & bryce #friendship

44 notes · View notes

micromanclub · 3 years

Text

Yuuichi Higuchi interview

(translated from Volume 6 of the digital version of Yoshihiro Moritou's Microman manga anthology available on BookWalker)

■ Image sketch of Microman Arm System (working name) by Mr. Higuchi. Each part is connected by five-part jointed arms, and each part can move flexibly. It is said that the development was canceled due to problems with strength, even though a prototype was made. Mr. Higuchi provided us with this new illustration of the concept. (Editor)

-------

The Era of Microman

Can you tell us the original point of contact between Mr. Higuchi (with Design Mate) and "TV Magazine"?

"In terms of Takara's work, I have been sketching products since the launch, so I believe design for the product advertisement page was my first relationship. In addition to "Microman", I was in charge of some of the advertisements for "MagneRobo Steel Jeeg" and so on. After that, development of Microman articles started with TV Magazine, and I was in charge of the layout of those pages. I think that would have been my first point of contact with the editorial department of TV Magazine. "

How did you get involved?

"The editorial department asked me to lay out the illustrations. In other words, the design of the look and feel including sketches of the illustrations drawn by Masami Watanabe.

I remember receiving an order like "We want to make the magazine a little more powerful ..."

In 1977, when the article serialization began in TV Magazine, what kind of position did Mr. Higuchi participate in "Microman"?

"Until then, the main packages, catalogs, and pamphlets were done by Sugawara (lead designer / current president of Design Mate at the time), and I was in charge of sketchwork, but I decided to take over everything including the graphics I was doing since then. This would have been right when Microman Command started in 1977.

So, to put it in an extreme way, it was a time when I was doing everything related to Microman. I wasn't just designing and painting, I was doing it all including photos for the catalogs, so I was so busy that I could hardly go home (laughs). I was in my twenties at the time, so I think I managed to get through at a young age. "

Thank you very much for your hard work! To what extent did you design the article page?

"Full color promo spreads as well as the "Microman Club" segments. Within Microman Club, we also selected the reader-submitted postcards. At that time, I really received a lot of postcards. Regarding the spreads, it was almost the first time to work on such a magazine, but I thought that I had to make it competitive with the other pages....Mori-san's (Yoshihiro Moritou's) manga was also extremely detailed. ”

Microman special one-shot magazine "Magazine Zero Zero", which was sold as a set with Microman Command No. 3 (or Lady Command), was also a product of this period. It is said that not only it gave a full view of MicroEarth, but also the lifestyle is shown...

"" Magazine Zero Zero " started at the request of Mr. Ogawa (Iwakichi Ogawa), head of Microman development at the time at Takara, but the idea of the page layout and contents is my doing.

We did it with the total mobilization of the company. I also drew illustrations. By the way, the fashion corner of Micro Earth was created assuming that girls would buy Lady Command."

Following "Magazine Zero Zero", TV Magazine Special Edition Volume Microman Book (published on November 15, 1977), TV Magazine Color Book 2 , "The Definitive Edition of Microman Encyclopedia" (published on August 25, 1978) and Microman's other publications would be released one after another. These were good memories, right?

"In 1978, the development of "Timanic" began, and the following two years were a really rich time."

In the Rescue Squad series developed in 1979, the character of Mr. Moritou are drawn in the catalog...

"This is exactly what we aimed for: a synergistic effect with Mr. Moritou's manga. At this time, his art for Microman was widespread. "MFC (Microman Fan Club)" was made around the same time. Mori-san also illustrated the newsletter of "MFC"; the TV Magazine Microman Club column section was ending, so this meant Takara wiould create the official fan club. It all started with that. I used to go to his house to pick up Mr. Morito's illustrations, but he was very enthusiastic about his work, so I often had to wait (grins). Mr. Mori's uncompromising attitude was very impressive. ”

The end of the 1970s was when Design Mate started working on mechanical design for TV animation.

"That's right. When we were doing work other than product design, we were particularly focused on "Cyborg 009" (Hiroshi Onishi), "Daltanius" (Sugawara), "Tanser 5" (Higuchi), etc. in 1979. Personally, "Ideon" (1980) is the most memorable. I also drew a lot of posters and illustrations. Certainly around the time of "Ideon". When I was invited to (anime studio) Sunrise's year-end party at that time, Kunio Okawara and I took the return train together. At that time, I remember that Okawara-san praised me, "Higuchi-san does very nice realistic illustration."

What kind of involvement have you had with "Microman" since the Rescue team members?

"I had been involved up to halfway through the "New Microman" line that started in 1981, and I hadn't touched it since the start of the "Micro Change Series." In recent years, I have been cooperating with the replica series, "Magnepowers Microman", and the "Micro Force" series currently being developed. Recently, through "Microman," I have had many opportunities to work with creators who are younger than me. At that time, I am reminded of how much what I have done still affects people (grins). I could now appreciate the hard work I used to do back then.

Published (October 10, 2003 / Recorded at Design Mate)

Yuichi Higuchi

Born July 13, 1957, from Niigata Prefecture.

The works that Design Mate Co., Ltd. were involved with included "Science Adventure Corps Tancer 5", "Legendary Giant Ideon", "Galaxy Cyclone Braiger", and "Wonder Beat S".

Currently still active as chief director.

Also responsible for "Acrobunch" and many others.

#ミクロマン #microman #takara sf land #micronauts

14 notes · View notes

scxrsgxrd · 4 years

Text

Remedy // Gordon Merkel

Part Three

Part one here

Part two here

Part four here

Part five here

Hello my lovelies! Thank you so much to anyone reading this series, it means so much that people are enjoying it :’) and I hope you all enjoy this part just as much!

WARNINGS: 18+ mature language, mentions of blood, alcohol, smoking and female sex work.

Merkel lay awake for the rest of the night, not willing to let himself fall back into a slumber and relive the same nightmare. When it was finally an acceptable hour for him to make his way out if bed, he rose up slowly and walked over to the sink in the corner of the room to splash his face with cold water, sighing at the refreshing feeling.

“Merkel?” He heard a small voice mumble from the bed.

“Yes, sweetheart?” He wiped over his face with a towel before making his way back to the bed and perching on the edge.

“You.. you stayed?” Her voice beamed as her eyes seemed to sparkle, he’d never actually stayed the night before, no matter what ungodly hour they’d finished with their business, he’d always leave.

He nodded, brushing her knotted hair off her face and planting a light kiss on her nose, this small show of affection seemed to make her beam even more.

“Let’s go out for breakfast, I know a little place that does the best pancakes-”

Merkel internally cursed as he brought himself to interrupt her.

“No, its,” he cleared his throat, knowing to choose his next words wisely. “It’s not good if we’re seen out together.”

The light in her eyes disappeared suddenly and her lips turned into a pout, Merkel braced himself.

“You’re married, aren’t you? I knew it. I fucking knew you were just like the rest of those scumbags.” She snarled, grabbing his left hand as though to check for a ring.

He cringed slightly, retracting his hand as he felt himself disappear within his mind, old memories flooding back to him about his previous life, about Klara. From his almost catatonic state he noticed her eyes focus on the chain around his neck which had begun to poke out from behind his button down shirt, and most particularly, the ring attached to it.

Shit.

“You, my friend, have some goddamn explaining to do.” Her tone was still the same, and her arms were tightly folded across her chest as she studied him, waiting for an other-worldly lie to leave his mouth.

“What’s your name? Your real name?.” He sighed, he was in too deep to hit her with a bullshit excuse, she deserved better.

“I really don’t see how that’s relevant.” There was a clear air of defiance in her voice, and Merkel could feel his head begin to throb.

“If you want answers, then I want to know who exactly I’m giving them to.”

“Anna.” Her reply was hesitant, she was wary as she had been told countless times the risks of revealing her real name, but she trusted Merkel, she really trusted him.

“Anna.” He mused over her name, a small smile tugging at his lips, which then quickly faded when he realised that she was still deeply, deeply unimpressed with him.

“I gave you my name, I want answers.”

Merkel breathed out deeply, twirling the ring on the chain around his neck as he tried to string together a worthy explanation.

“I was married.” Was all he managed to come up with, which did nothing to soften the frown on Anna’s lips.

“The fact that you still have the ring tells me you either had a very amicable separation, or you’re still bullshitting me. My money’s on the latter.” She was almost snarling at him. This was a man she’d trusted, a man she’d thought was different. She felt as though her naivety was laughable.

“Our separation was.. different.” He swallowed harshly as he felt his throat tighten. It had been five years since he’d spoken about Klara, and the pain was still raw.

“Different?” Anna scoffed, not registering the pain in Merkel’s eyes as he continued to twirl his long fingers around the ring. “That still doesn’t explain why we can’t go out in public together.”

“Anna, please. Just this once, will you take my word for it? I don’t want to talk on the matter anymore.” He lifted his hand to place it on her cheek, but she pulled back, her eyebrows were furrowed as she studied him for a few seconds.

“Get out.” Anna’s voice was barely a whisper, but he knew she meant it, and he was in no mood to argue. He huffed lightly before standing up and picking up his coat, brushing it off and walking over to her door. He made sure to slam it on his way out.

He knew something wasn’t right when he entered his apartment. The suitcase he’d left at the door to unpack had disappeared. He instinctively grabbed the nearest sharp object he could find and slowly made his way over to his bedroom, kicking the door open and flinging himself in to face the intruder.

“I was starting to think you wouldn’t show up.”

“Helene?” His voice sounded startled, much to her delight as she set herself down onto his bed with the photo album she had been occupying herself with. The look in his eyes was the one she craved most; the fear alarm that was triggered by her presence was almost intoxicating to her.

“Yes, darling, don’t sound so surprised. You really thought I didn’t know exactly where you lived?” She laughed, removing her blazer and laying it down carefully on the bed before flicking through the album in front of her.

“Ah, such a shame you never invited me to your wedding. The weather was amazing, oh and Klara, how beautiful she looked.” Helene set her eyes on him, hungry for his reaction, he knew this. He forcibly smiled, his hand clutching the small knife so tightly that he felt the skin break and a warm trickle make it’s way down his wrist.

“Why have you come?” Merkel’s words were choked, his lips pursed and his eyes flaming. He grabbed the photo album and threw it across the room, his contempt for the woman sat in front of him was almost palpable.

“Didn’t you read the postcard? I said I’d have your assignment to you in the next few days.” Helene rose to her feet and walked in a slow circle around Merkel, her red Louboutin heels clacking against the hardwood floor as she lay a hand on his shoulder, tutting as she felt him tense immediately.

“Relax, darling.” She drawled, moving her fingers down his arm slowly before opening his clenched fist and removing the knife, a small chuckle leaving her as she inspected it.

“Just tell me what the job is, Helene.” Merkel spat, shrugging her off and taking a few steps back as he visibly shuddered.

She smiled. “Always so eager.”

“You need to intercept and eliminate Alexei Yelenova. The details of his residence are on a postcard underneath your pillow.” She smiled once more, but this smile faded when Merkel burst into a fit of laughter.

“Alexei Yelenova? You mean the KGB general stationed in Berlin?” He wiped a tear from his left eye and laughed once more.

“The very same.” Her tone was grave, and she lunged forward to grab onto his face, her long nails piercing his cheeks as she stared into his eyes.

“I like you, Merkel. I like you because you don’t question me, you wouldn’t want to change that.” She sneered and tightened her grip for a few seconds before pushing him away from her and grabbing onto her blazer.

“I’ll show myself out.”

He dove under his pillow once she left and produced the postcard, on it was a large villa which he immediately recognised. The same place all the high profile shitbags had their debauched parties. He flipped it over and sighed as he scanned over the message Helene had left.

Be here in two days time. Don’t be late and don’t disappoint me. Much love, H.

Several cigarettes and large whiskies later, Merkel began to pack for his short trip away to Alexei Yelenova’s villa.

Anna sat alone at the bar as she fiddled with the straw in her cocktail. She thought the bright colours and paper umbrella might cheer her up, but instead she felt worse. She tapped her fingernails on the glass as she went over her earlier conversation with Merkel for the thousandth time, how dismissive he had been about his marriage and his reluctance to open up to her.

“Anna?” Her thoughts were interrupted by a surprised voice and a gentle hand on her shoulder, and she turned herself around to see Irina stood before her, who pulled her into a tight embrace.

Irina was one of the first friends Anna had made when she had first started her work, and they had been roommates until Irina had moved across Berlin in search of more high profile clients a few months prior.

“Irina? What are you doing back here?” Anna asked as her friend sat on the stool next to her, her eyes glimmering with excitement as she set her bag down.

“I have news.” She almost shrieked as Anna tried her best to shush her, but she was almost trembling with anticipation.

Anna didn’t have time to ask what the news was before Irina blurted it out.

“A man I’ve been working for, he’s having a huge party in two days. He wants me to bring more girls, and you look like you need a good time.” She grinned as she nudged Anna’s arm. Irina had never been one to shy away from a party, she was a free spirit who was, by definition, the life of the party.

“I don’t know, Irina. You know that’s not really my thing.” Anna responded, earning a rather intense eye roll from Irina.

“I’ll be there, and I’ll take care of you. All you have to do is be there and have a good time, he likes to have a lot of people around to take attention away from his meetings with colleagues.” She lowered her voice as she finished the sentence, looking around her shoulder as though to check that nobody was listening.

“Fine, Irina, I’ll come. Who’s the man throwing the party?” Anna asked before taking a large sip of her cocktail.

“Alexei Yelenova.”

Tags: @roman-cek @lucifer-reads @billofourtime @dangerous-like-a-loaded-pistol @ill-skillsgard @skrsgardspam @theskarsgardcult @bskarsgardlove92 @dreamtherapy

If anyone wants to be added/removed, let me know :)

#bill skarsgard #bill skarsgård #bill skarsgard fanfiction #atomic blonde #atomic blonde merkel #gordon merkel

45 notes · View notes

kreekey · 4 years

Note

what's your opinion on the Yoko Julien stuff? Like how she treated him after John died

I have no definitive judgement of it, to be honest. Julian (and Cynthia) would’ve, ideally, been treated with the utmost kindness after John’s death, and their relationship with Yoko would’ve been better. That was not the case. However, Yoko also experienced great trauma after witnessing her husband’s death, and her relationship with John’s first family was not very close. @withthebeatlesgirls smade an excellent post on this here: X. I agree with a lot of what they say, and the screenshots from Sean’s Twitter are telling.

I recently found a Reddit comment on this subject that I found interesting, please read all. Credit to /u/texum for the fantastic write-up. (Link to original thread).

Oh, neat, a bunch of hearsay that's been proven wrong.

>Yoko made Julian, John's first born son, buy back his letters from his deceased father.

This isn't true. First of all, they weren't letters, they were postcards. As Julian wrote in his book Beatles Memorabilia: The Julian Lennon Collection:

>"I had to buy all the postcards back. It's more than likely that when we [he and his mother] moved house stuff got lost or somebody would steal something."

He lost them in a move in England with his mother, some collector got them, and Julian bought them back at auction. John and Yoko never had them--the book reproduces photos of all the postcards and you can clearly see the UK postmarks on all of them. They're all dated 1971 or after, and John never set foot in the UK after that, and neither did Yoko until years after John died.

But at the same auction Julian bought these postcards, he also bought a sheet of recording notes for the song "Hey Jude" that had once been in the possession of Yoko. The recording notes are also reproduced in the same Memorabilia book. These notes had been in a suitcase of memorabilia owned by Mal Evans which Mal's book publisher had lost after Mal died. They turned up in the New York book publisher's basement about 15 years later, and the publisher gave them to Yoko to return to Mal's family, which she did. Mal's family then sold all the memorabilia at auction, and Julian bought those "Hey Jude" notes. Later interviewers conflated the two events, and Julian didn't bother to set the record straight, but if you notice Julian's wording in those interviews, he always carefully sidesteps the accusation that he actually bought the postcards from Yoko. He just says he's been using his father's money to buy his father's things back at auction.

If you think about it for two seconds, it's never made any sense: how would John have postcards he sent to Julian if Julian lived in the UK and John lived in the US? The answer is, he didn't. Julian received them, lost them, and then ended up buying them back from a collector at auction.

>John's will left nothing to Cynthia and Julian, and Yoko...fights him in court for years

First of all, why would Cynthia be part of John's will? Who puts an estranged ex-wife in their will? She already got a divorce settlement and was receiving alimony. Though she had got pretty screwed in that settlement, that's not Yoko's fault, and no second wife I've ever heard of has ever forked over money to a first wife who already took a part of their husband's earnings.

But secondly, this isn't actually true. Julian was included in John's estate. It's just that John didn't leave much of a will. It was basically a boilerplate, "If I die, my wife gets everything" except that John had set up a trust fund for Julian and Sean to start withdrawing from when they each turned 21. Julian John had started by contributing $100K per year for Julian, and then when Sean was born, he upped it to $250K per year to be split between the two of them.

But John died early, and had only been contributing to this trust fund since his divorce from Cynthia, so only about 10 or 11 years. There's was only a couple million dollars in it, and it was supposed to be split between the two sons.

Julian sued on the basis he would have got much more than that if John had lived, and he was trying to take as much as he could get. As far as Yoko was concerned, anything taken by Julian was taken away from Sean, so it took them about a decade to settle the lawsuit. In the end, Julian walked away with about $20-25 million, which was about 10% of the value of the estate at the time of John's death. He was also the sole heir to whatever value of John's estate had already been given to Cynthia through the divorce (which was considerably less, but again, that's not Yoko's fault, that's Cynthia's lawyer's).

Another really interesting comment from the same user, very much related. (Link to thread)

What did Yoko do to Julian? Julian wrote in his book Beatles Memorabilia: The Julian Lennon Collection that the postcards he bought at auction were ones he likely lost, or else were stolen, during a move from one house to another while living with his mother in the UK. The four postcards are reproduced in that book, and three of the four are also reproduced in Hunter Davies's book The John Lennon Letters. All are postmarked as received in the UK. The earliest of the four is from late 1971, where John sent his new address and phone number in New York to Julian. Meaning, those postcards were never in the possession of John or Yoko once they were sent to Julian in the UK, since John and Yoko never stepped foot in the UK between John's move to New York and his death.

There were some interviews in the late 1990s where interviewers said that Julian had to buy these postcards from Yoko, but if you actually listen to Julian's responses, he's always careful to avoid accusing Yoko directly, instead saying something more general about how Yoko never gave him anything for free and he was now using his dad's money to buy stuff he received from his dad. (Well, by his own admission later, he should have kept better track of the postcards.)

In Davies's book The John Lennon Letters, there is a letter that John sent to his cousin Liela in Scotland that details some of the drama. While Liela's letter to John isn't in the book, John is responding to her letter discussing some failed get-together between Julian and John's sister Julia. It seems that Julia wanted to visit Julian, and John had made some arrangements for it to happen, but when Julia arrived on the arranged date, Cynthia said that Julian wasn't there and turned Julia away (who had driven several hours to make the trip). John goes on to say in the letter that this was part par for the course, and he suspects Cynthia was keeping him and Julian from talking. John made weekly phone calls to Julian, and when John was separated from Yoko, these calls went right through. Julian and Cynthia even came to the US to visit once for an extended vacation. But as soon as John was back with Yoko, Julian never seemed to be there whenever John called, and John suspected Cynthia wasn't relaying his messages to Julian that he'd called. In the series of letters between John and Liela, it seems that Julian had an open invitation to come visit in New York any time he wanted to (John couldn't leave for most of the period due to visa issues) but there were only a handful of actual visits between 1971-80. John believed Cynthia was deliberately distancing Julian from him.

That's not to say John was a good dad. He hadn't been a good dad before the divorce and he did move to a different continent. But Yoko wasn't the issue. It seemed to be rather run of the mill arguments between the divorced parents, John and Cynthia.

The only other "bad" thing Yoko has ever been accused of regarding Julian is the lawsuit over John's estate. But again, this isn't really Yoko's fault. John died without any estate planning, just a boilerplate will that said his wife gets everything. He had started a trust fund for Julian and Sean, but at the time he died, it had a couple million dollars in it, or thereabouts, to be split between the two sons. Julian sued to get more, and there was surely some settlement offered along the way, but any smart lawyer is going to try to get as much money for their client as possible. It eventually was settled, but it took ten years. The amount was undisclosed, but the rumor is that Julian got around $20 million, which was around 10% of the value of the estate at the time of John's death. Maybe that's "unfair", but keep in mind also that John had already given a large chunk of his estate to Cynthia during their divorce, so Julian was heir to that, too. (Though Cynthia did get pretty screwed in that divorce - but again, that has nothing to do with Yoko, and everything to do with John and Cynthia's divorce lawyers.)

Overall, though, Yoko never really did anything in particular to Julian. Julian may have been upset about some money issues, but again, that's due to John's shortsightedness more than anything. Yoko and Julian never had much of a relationship from 1971 on, when Julian was still only eight years old, because there wasn't much visiting going on. And the reason for the lack of visits doesn't seem to be attributable to Yoko.

Unfortunately, there’s been a lot of misinformation or conflation about Julian and Yoko’s relationship. Sorry I quoted a whole bunch, but this user put it better than I ever could and actually made me aware that I held a bunch of assumptions that were actually incorrect about how Yoko and Julian's relationship functioned.

Here, Julian states that he’s forgiven Yoko:

youtube

I would assume that Julian and Yoko had time to reconcile and if he’s forgiven her, then fans should respect that and I think their relationship has bettered. And I think that if he had forgiven her, there must be a reason. Fans may not know the exact details why Julian forgave her, but there is no obligation and I’m just happy to hear that peace has been given a chance, using that same cliche from the video haha.

I do not think Yoko’s relationship with Julian makes her an evil person, though, not at all. I earnestly think she tried to do her best, but after seeing her husband's death, it changed her for a while. But her actions regarding Julian are sometimes twisted to make her sound like a deliberate villain, which I disagree with.

#julian lennon #yoko ono #the beatles #support yoko #the beatles fandom #long post #quote #John Lennon #anon #asks

29 notes · View notes

sourbat · 4 years

Note

i honestly can't remember if i sent you one of these already, but if not, hammertooth in G? :')

G: Growing Old Together

No matter what angle I approach, I find myself drawn to this being a story about denial and acceptance.

It’d been some time since the events of Galaktikon. Toki’s older, far more adjusted and happily enjoying life. Magnus is still there, and they’re still together. Despite the odds, the two worked out their own set of routines and tricks to support one another. Toki’s still playful, but calmed down in recent years. Magnus is doing good, though he’s certainly slowed down. He’s also had a bit of a cough the past few weeks as well. Toki chalks it up to a cold and tells Magnus to go see a doctor for some medicine.

The doctor picks up something right away, and the world stops when Toki learns that years of drug abuse were finally catching up with Magnus. Doctors say it’s early stage, so it’s fixable and with some lifelong changes, Magnus can expect to still have a relatively good life. They just need to act right now. Magnus is scared, but relieved, but then that word pops up. Chemotherapy.

So Magnus, despite being told relatively good news, is dealing with the fact that he has a bunch of his own cells slowly attacking and eating away at him. Even with professionals helping set up appointments, pamphlets and charts telling Magnus he’s likely going to beat this, he’s feeling like shit. He’s keeping a straight face because Toki is, but deep down he’s scared. He’s terrified. Early stage or not, no one likes hearing they have cancer. Speaking of which, Toki is doing great. He’s smiling, and is doing a great job not bringing up the fact that Magnus is going to start chemo soon. He feeds Magnus healthy foods, and hands him dozens of vitamins, but otherwise doesn’t express any outward concern.

The band eventually approaches Toki, because at some point word got around, and everyone thinks it’s strange that Toki’s so blasé about it. I think it’s ultimately going to be Abigail who physically visits and pulls Toki aside to figure out what the hell is wrong with him. Because when she does arrive, it’s clear Magnus is stressed, is sick and struggling with all these upcoming dates, and Toki’s just smiling and pretending nothing is wrong. She does what every good friend must come to do, and tells Toki he needs to accept what’s going on right now. Magnus is sick and needs support from him. He needs someone to vent to. More importantly, he needs someone who’ll take care of him once he starts chemo. Toki says there’s nothing to worry about, because he can stop the chemo from spreading. Toki starts talking about prophecies and Abigail eventually pieces it together that Toki’s been doing some late-night studying on the side, trying to unearth his lost powers in a desperate attempt to have control over life and death again. Abigail tells him this is a waste of time, and that the chemo is just as good, but then Toki freaks out and says that it’ll make him sicker, and Magnus will lose his hair, energy and appetite. He starts to break down and talks about how hard he worked to get Magnus so healthy, and now he’s scared of losing that Magnus. He knows the numbers are good, but nothing is 100% percent, except for magic. The chemo might fail, but Toki halting Magnus in place won’t. Abigail consoles him, and tells him he needs to accept the reality of his situation, and speak with Magnus.

And he does. They both do. Abigail holds Toki’s hand and takes him back to Magnus and Toki breaks down and tells Magnus he’s always dreamt about spending the rest of his life with someone, and for the last several years assumed that it would be Magnus. The past several years have been so much fun. He’s scared that Magnus is sick, and will get sicker if they get treatment or not, and he’s sorry that he was pretending everything was ok because he thought for sure he could recover his powers, but everyone says it’s impossible. He doesn’t want to give up on this dream, which was why he tried so hard to get his powers back, because as long as he has a hold on Magnus’ soul, the man can’t die. Toki breaks into a sob. Magnus is moved, and tries calming Toki down.

Once he’s stable enough Magnus admits he’s terrified. Of all the things that threatened his life, he never thought it would be this. Magnus admits that he’s spent most of his life living in the moment. Aside from delusions of grandeur, he’s never been one to dwell on the future. It was always easier to think of the now than dealing with the unknown. Only now, Magnus can’t live in the moment, because right now it’s killing him. Powers or not, nothing will change that. Toki sees how scared Magnus is, and embraces him. Magnus tells Toki he doesn’t want to die, and Toki continues holding him the same way Abigail did. There’s crying, and Abigail leaves the room to leave them alone. Magnus starts asking Toki about his dreams, about the things he thinks of when he sees them together forever. Toki starts talking about them going back to Europe, visiting some of the more historical sights he never bothered taking Magnus to before because he didn’t think they were interesting enough. They’re also going to return all the skulls they took from various catacombs, and make a trip to Norway during the warmer months. Toki shifts the subject to Magnus, and asks what they’re going to be doing years from now. Magnus says he’s never thought about it, but Toki tells him to try. Magnus stares out, and around the corner, Abigail slips down the wall, barely keeping herself straight.

“Well,” Magnus struggles to say. His eyes wander the quiet room, staring at the collection of photos and postcards littering their messy walls. They had visited so many places, done so many things. What can he possibly say that wouldn’t be redundant, a repeat of a prior escapade? “Let me think…” he starts, head turning slightly as he tries to envision a future he’d worked so hard to avoid the past several weeks. “Well…you and I are going to visit your friends…”

There’s a knock on the door, and a much older Nathan opens it to reveal Toki and Magnus, the former of whom is carrying a large present. Nathan invites them in, but not before reminding Magnus the rules. Keep a distance from Abigail. Don’t talk about capitalism. Don’t let Toki drink more than three glasses of punch. Magnus says he has it under control. Nathan then tells Magnus “nice haircut” and Toki responds happily that they just got it cut. He reaches for a set of thickening curls and twirls a few with his fingers, and goads over how fast Magnus’ hair started to grow, and how soft the gray curls were turning out. Nathan says the short hair looks better than the mop he dragged on his head for several years. Magnus lets Nathan know he’s lucky he’s in a good mood, and the two end it at that. Toki hands the gift over to Nathan before taking Magnus’s hand and yanking him inside. Everyone welcomes the two, and Toki lifts Magnus’ top to reveal they’re carrying matching fanny packs for their medicine.

#lampmeeting #magnus hammersmith #toki wartooth #fic ask thing #thank you #hammertooth #magtok

15 notes · View notes

raku-fansubs · 4 years

Link

An Eraser in My Head: Special Letter

Can I just say... if you’ve ever heard any of Kaji’s reading live, you’ll get addicted to it. This is an excerpt from the reading released yesterday, adaptation of A Moment to Remember (Japanese: 私の頭の中の消しゴム; Hepburn: Atama no Naka no Keshigomu, lit. "An Eraser in My Head").

EDIT: Kaji also put up a behind-the-scenes of the recording for this on his channel (see here).

youtube

Based on the 2001 Japanese melodrama Pure Soul: Even if You may Forget me (Japanese: Pure Soul 〜君が僕を忘れても〜; Hephurn: Pure Soul: Kimi ga Boku wo Wasuretemo), later adapted into a South Korean film in 2004 by the same title as this reading. It follows the theme of discovery in a relationship and the burdens of loss caused by Alzheimer's disease. [Wikipedia]

The schedule is as follows (available 10 days from starting date):

2 May 2020 (Sat): Kaji Yuki x Takagaki Ayahi

5 May 2020 (Sat): Fukuyama Jun x Manaka Ayu

8 May 2020 (Sat): Kato Kazuki x Ikoma Rina

15 May 2020 (Fri): Hirose Tomoki x Taketatsu Ayana

https://geki-keshigomu.spwn.jp/

https://ch.nicovideo.jp/geki-keshigomu

Unfortunately, Kaji’s session is now only available on nico for ¥3,000. I bought my ticket on the spwn platform and it came with several options: (¥3,000 for normal entry; ¥5,000 incl. pamphlet; ¥5,500 incl. script; ¥7,500 incl. pamphlet, script and postcards) so of course I had to get the last deal since I NEED that pamphlet and postcards. Keshigomu takes super high quality photos *coughs* I swear I’m not just after more ring shots of Kaji (Note: in case you’re new here, I’ve explained before about why Keshigomu’s pamphlets have ring shots)... and yes, TOTALLY not so that I can make poor-taste photo merging like this （*ﾟーﾟ）

Anyway, my point is... THIS WAS SO GOOD (I’m also trying to ignore the fact that Ayachi is part of the cast but not with Kaji) but regardless, his performance with Takagaki was great. I’ve been hearing rumours (good ones) about this particular project for YEARS so I’m so glad I finally got an opportunity to hear it from where I am. I swear, if I ever make plans to visit Japan again, I’ll schedule it during the period this is held (if they cast Kaji again). This must be experienced live in a theater...

One of the many reasons why I’m particularly invested in this show, is because his 2018 performance with Iitoyo Marie has been passed down like a legend among his fans. Long story short, he apparently cried his eyes out in that session, which is extremely rare for Kaji to do something like that live. Here’s a recent interview of him talking about the incident with the actress playing his partner then:

The actress and fashion model Iitoyo Marie, who co-starred in "An Eraser in My Head," has been invited for an interview that covers a wide range of topics, from acting to fashion, and it was truly an endless talk.

Q: I heard that you and Kaji performed together for the first time in the reading play "An Eraser in My Head". Can you tell us about your impressions of each other at that time?

Kaji: It's been about two years now?

Iitoyo: It has been 2 years.

Kaji: You're an actress who also works as a model, so my first impression was that you looked like someone who came out of a magazine (laughs). Even though we only had a short time to perform after two or three rehearsals, I felt that we had grown quite close during that time. If you think about it, that reading play was the only time we've worked together. However, I still have vivid memories of that time.

Iitoyo: It only lasted about 3 days, really. Didn't you think, "This girl hasn't practiced at all? (laughs) I was worried that I came off as an under-prepared actor.

Kaji: No, no (laughs). Anyway, the way you got into the show was amazing. Iitoyo-san’s gear completely switched from the rehearsal.

Iitoyo: That's not it, I was just really inspired by Kaji-san. That was the first time I had the opportunity to work with a voice actor. We work in different genres, but I assumed that acting is universal, so I was simply curious how he would act, yet he approached it in a completely different way! It was so shocking, that I thought for a second, if Kaji-san was serious about coming into the world of live-acting, the rest of us would be in quite a panic. He pulled me through the act, so I felt safe and entrusted to him, and the weight of each line felt completely different. Also, in the scene where Kaji-san was crying (during rehearsal), I thought "Kaji-san must really be crying now" and looked to my side, but he didn't shed a single tear at all! Not at all!

Kaji: I was crying on the inside! (laughs)

Iitoyo: But I was surprised that there were no tears at all. He sounded like he was really crying, so I asked him, "How can you do that?" When I asked him about it, he told me that in anime, there are often scenes that transition immediately, and those happen even right after an emotional scene. So voice actors have to be able to adapt to the next scene quickly, without being caught up with the emotions from the previous scene.

Kaji: I'm surprised you still remember that conversation.

Iitoyo: I was so impressed at that technique! But later on in the real session, Kaji-san was bawling his eyes out, with tears overflowing (laughs). I was just so happy about that! It made me genuinely happy to know that even a voice actor like Kaji-san "broke" and gone off the rails in a good way, and that's how great the show was. So it was unforgettable.

Kaji: I’m hardly the type to shed tears, but it was not the same in that performance. Not to say that’s precisely the reason why, but even though it was only a short time, it felt like a very fulfilling acting experience. That’s also why Iitoyo-san has left a deep impression on me.

Iitoyo: Since then, we’ve had quite a lot of clashes at work, haven’t we?

Kaji: That’s right, strangely enough. We haven’t had the opportunity to co-act directly though. But for some odd reasons, every once in a while I’ll notice that I see your name on the cast lineup again.

Iitoyo: It’s not that easy to find people like that especially from a different industry, so I’ve always felt a strange connection.

[Interview & Photo Source] Kaji Yuki en.365°PHOTO BOOK

P.S. As you can see, my scanner’s crap so I don’t have a habit of scanning photos. But if you’re just curious to have a look at the other pictures in the book, feel free to ask and I can take some casual low-quality photos of the contents.

Also I swear all I wanted to do was share that one-minute clip, please don’t ask me why I ended up spamming this chunk of words ‘cause I seriously have no idea myself (ಠ_ಠ)

#kaji yuki #seiyuu #an eraser in my head #iitoyo marie #taketatsu ayana #seiyuu reading

35 notes · View notes

mxrcayong · 4 years

Text

the avatar series: 01.09

masterlist.

previous | next

The sharp silence echoed throughout the small bungalow. Tension rippled with every moment. The atmosphere was killing them – none of them daring to look at each other in the eye for longer than a second. They were much more preoccupied with everything around the room.

Bak Mei Island was much more different than Kilari had heard in stories from the Sage families. It wasn’t like pure training grounds nor was it a religious temple, it was a community. The island was separated in two parts; a fourth dedicated to a village where there was a gazebo at the very edge of the island while the other three fourths were dedicated to the main courtyard. That was where the main temple, the training grounds, the animal barn, the infirmary, the canteen, and the Avatar’s bungalow was located. The whole island was elevated – if anyone were to use a boat to come to the island, they would have to climb up a set of stairs to reach the top of the cliffs. Kilari was grateful that Sukiara had insisted on giving them a tour after their short trip to the infirmary, where ‘the best water healers’ checked them for any injuries and then gave them spare robes to change into after a shower.

Johnny studied the room like he would be tested on it, Doyoung stared at the ceiling as he tried to make sense of his thoughts through meditation, Kilari was fidgeting with her fingers on The Avatar’s bed, and Sonan was sitting in the chair in the corner. All of them were trying to make sense of the very world that shattered beneath their feet.

Standing in the cabin, Johnny felt Tari’s presence like a ghost. Everything here lingered of her. There were lines marked on the wall, indicative of her height as she grew with the years. There were postcards framed on the shelves; photos of what they presumed to be her family. She always told them her family was distant and she lived with guardians growing up. A small lie, Johnny presumed – his arms now crossing as he continued to scan the images. How many small lies or hidden truths have she told us?

His eyes lingered on a photo that seemed to be recently framed by her desk. Did Tari come here during that time? He thought to himself as he saw the quite recent photograph. It was from a year ago, but Johnny swore he saw it in Tari’s room at least two months ago.

The photo was taken during Doyoung’s birthday party; the group of them made a makeshift bar on the rooftop and invited all of Doyoung’s friends. They stayed there until the sun came up, talking about absolutely anything and everything that came to mind as alcohol coursed through their veins. The photo in particular was of the five of them sitting down – Tari was sitting on the edge, her legs thrown over Johnny’s lap. Both of them were covering their faces, stifling their laughter. Doyoung was in the middle – looking annoyed as he wore a tacky, neon birthday hat that continued to sing. Sonan and Kilari were posing – Kilari sticking her tongue out and Sonan adding bunny ears behind Doyoung.

Back when the world was normal, he thought. Why didn’t she tell us then? He asked no one in particular, remembering the story Johnny had told her about the first time he had felt insecure about not being able to bend. Why didn’t she talk to me about it then?

“Fuck this silence!” Kilari exclaimed, cutting the silence with a knife. “We can’t keep ignoring what just happened.” She jumped up from the bed, “We can’t keep avoiding the topic by talking about the stars or about our jobs or about anything!” Her voice faltered, cracking nervously as she had to face the facts. She failed in noticing her friend was the Avatar. Her heritage came from people who could identify the Avatar. Not only did she fail at understanding and knowing her friend, but she failed at being a Fire Sage. Not to mention, Kilari spoke to Tari about all of her problems. Did Tari not tell me because I couldn’t help her? Because she couldn’t trust me? She bit her lip, Did I fail Tari as a friend?

Doyoung sighed, “You’re right. We can’t keep ignoring the silence, but we don’t have all the facts. Uhm, whats-her-name-“

“Sukiara.” Sonan reminded him, still in the corner but now staring at her feet. Out of all of them, she was the least shocked. She knew something was up with Tari; from the fact she was never cold to her being practically a master in multiple fighting techniques. Sonan also offered Tari to replace her plants when they died, but she never had to. Tari’s plants had never died – no matter if their life span was supposed to be for a few months. But Sonan couldn’t be bothered if Tari hid something from her. If she needed to know, Tari would’ve told her. Sonan trusted her, and if Tari wanted her to know or think she needed to know, she would’ve told her. It was

“She said she’ll come and tell us them soon.” The airbender tried to keep a level head. He was disappointed in himself. I lived with her, he chastised, how did I not notice these things? But like Kilari, he was disappointed in himself for disappointing Tari – for being someone she couldn’t trust. He was trying to keep levelheaded, trying to rationalize why Tari might have kept it a secret. Doyoung didn’t know anything from Tari’s perspective. He used to think that they can understand each other like an open book – a skill he gained from living with her, but now it’s like he found out the book had secret pages.

Johnny rolled his eyes, balling his fist as he crossed his arms. “We found out our best friend has been lying to us.”

“Tari probably has a reason,” Sonan mentioned, trying to calm Johnny’s rage. “She always does.”

He had the urge to punch the wall. “A reason for lying to us for two years?” Doyoung was quick to walk to Johnny’s side, grabbing his arm as it unlocked itself from being crossed. It was the first time they made eye contact for a long time since they fled. Johnny saw Doyoung’s disappointment, his sadness reflected in his glossy eyes while Doyoung noticed Johnny’s look of betrayal.

They both had found out something crucial about someone important to them. Everyone here did. But now they don’t know if they’ll ever see her again; the last image they had of the arena as they flew away was it being consumed by flames.

Almost as if she had sensed the tensions were getting hot, Sukiara had opened the door. Everyone stopped in their tracks, turning to the lady who had promised to give them the answers they sorely wanted. She too had changed out of her prior outfit; but unlike the rest of them (who were in spare Order of the White Lotus black traditional wear), she wore a wrap top that mimicked the traditional water tribe shirts with a long skirt that made it look like she was gliding.

As soon as everyone received their cup of tea, Sukiara stood in front of them like a teacher. Her head was held high, there was no sense of doubt or regret. “What would you like to know?” She said so casually, as if she was asked someone’s name or age.

Johnny was about to open her mouth, but Sonan was quick to take over – unsure of his rage. “Can you tell us as much as possible?”

Sukiara dropped her head, still unsure where to start. So she started at the beginning. “We found out she was the Avatar when she was four years old. Teachers of water bending in her hometown reported a girl of exemplary skills, only four years old.” She told them everything – from how many years she stayed in Bak Mei to how long she spent in each nation’s traditional temple to how she trains once a month.

“Why didn’t she tell us?” Johnny let the words slip past his lips like venom, full of suppressed rage and betrayal.

Sukiara sighed, “I woul-“

The door slammed open and one of the members of the White Lotus busted in. “Come to the canteen,” They panted, “The arena is on the news.”

It felt like everyone in the White Lotus facilities sat anxiously in the canteen, watching the monitor as the bright orange flames raged on screen.

“Last night, police officers came down to the arena to notice a group of benders planning a terrorist attack. The people planning also happened to be apart of the underground illegal bending matches.” The news – it was twisted, it was lies. But Johnny knew the reporter – he worked alongside them and was aware of their acceptance of benders. Consequently, he has a feeling if he didn’t have any bending friends or he wasn’t there – he might’ve believed the same thing being fed to him by the higher-ups. “G-Dragon and the Big Bang Crew were identified as the leaders and have been taken into custody.” The four of their jaws dropped; watching as the clips turned into videos of G-Dragon and the Big Bang Crew being put into police cars. “A number of benders have gotten arrested, but this number has not been released yet. There are numerous officers in the hospital being tended to for their injuries. The same can be said for the attackers, but they are expected to be arrested as soon as their injuries are healed.” The reporter let out a pause for dramatic effect. “The authorities also revealed that the Avatar was in there. They couldn’t identify who during that chaos, but we can confirm the Avatar is in SM City.”

Which can be healed quickly if they didn’t fire all the water bending nurses…, Johnny thought, feeling the anger bubbling in his stomach.

“Tari isn’t back yet.” Sonan gasped. Their minds went to praying to the Spirits that Tari was not one of the people arrested.

Sukiara stared at the floor. “The police may kill her on the spot if they find her.” She recalled all the governmental talks, the threats from the mayor. “The government has been asking for her identity…we just better hope they didn’t see her bend.”

The next hour was like waiting for a pin to drop. Everyone was tense. The head chefs passed around hot drinks; trying to calm everyone down as they worried for Tari’s safety. The facility members thoughts focused on the little girl they saw grow up, while her friends thought of their memories and the future they have yet to have and all the answers she has yet to answer.

People were either sitting, eyes closed as their heads fell onto the table, or pacing around the canteen space.

And when they heard the sound of a bison outside – the sound of an animal’s groans and paws landing on the ground, everyone ran outside. Johnny and Doyoung were first.

They saw Tari with two others. People they couldn’t recognize. One had an undercut and white hair while the other had black hair with a blonde streak in his fringe who was a bit taller. There clothes were ripped; obviously having been in a fight, but it seemed that Tari healed them on their way over. It was mostly evident from the blood staining the tears, but the lack of blood on where the wounds should’ve been.

As soon as Tari made eye contact with her friends, they tackled her. Johnny practically lunged into her, carrying her into the air and spinning her as much as she could. Her other friends had to fight for her attention, showering her with questions – so many questions she couldn’t distinguish them apart.

Once her feet touched the ground again, Tari let out a small smile. “Sukiara, can we get Yuta and Jisung fresh clothes?” The members of the union helped guide everyone inside the canteen, Sukiara barking out orders to the chefs to prepare something hot for the three people who just arrived.

“You guys sit down.” Sukiara instructed. “We’ll bring you food and some clothes. Taemin, can you get the boys some clothes? Sunmi, can you get Tari’s clothes? Everyone else, please back off and move away. They need air.” And people listened, except for Tari’s four friends Sukiara gave an encouraging nod to. “You guys stay here and please, let them breathe.”

The two strangers awkwardly waved to the four people who seemed to be analyzing every one of their movements. “Hi, I’m Yuta.” The one with the undercut introduced, “You might’ve seen me as the Osaka Prince.” With that, Kilari’s jaw dropped. Much more attractive without the mask.

“I’m Jisung, or, uh, the mouse.” The taller one said more timidly.

“Jisung, Yuta,” Tari has refused to look her friends in the eye. Once the initial relief of her survival came through, she saw their anger – their disappointment. I’m losing them, she thought, I’m losing them like I lost everyone else. Without looking up, she used her arm to motion to each of her friends. “Johnny, Kilari, Sonan, and Doyoung.”

“Oh, no way!” Yuta exclaimed, “You’re the girl who holds the Kyoshi fan lessons!” Sonan nodded, grinning at the recognition while Kilari was still starstruck. She could barely speak, just looking at Yuta and checking him out.

Jisung was quick to speak, “And you’re the dude who writes those great articles! I loved the photographs you include in them.” He enthused.

“It’s an honor meeting the new Team Avatar.” Yuta bowed his head slightly.

As soon as Yuta said Avatar, it seemed that everyone took it as their cue to interrogate Tari. Their words and voices blurred into the same; undistinguishable from the other. Her head was pounding, her eyes went wide – she felt herself curling into herself. Panic started settling through her heart- she felt like she was going to explode. Her vision went hazy, her heart was pounding. Everything they were saying was more overwhelming than the stun guns and the bullets the police were shooting at them. She couldn’t even look them in the eye – to heartbroken to see their expressions, to see their disappointment. She didn’t want them to leave like this; she was planning that if she must tell them, she’d leave one night and not say anything. Then, she wouldn’t have lost them due to something she can’t control.

“I-I-“ She couldn’t distinguish their voices or how they responded when she started to let out broken pieces of words. “I need to go.”

Before anyone could object, Tari’s feet had a mind of their own and sprinted towards the farthest edge of the island.

request anything for future parts / penny for your thoughts here

6 notes · View notes

omg-imagine · 5 years

Text

⊱ Someday I’ll Breathe Again (Part 2) ⊰

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Summary: Months after you left Asgard, Thor shows up at your door and reveals what Loki has been going through.

Words: 2,140

Warnings:��Angst

A/N: Here’s part 2! Thank you for all of your kind words on the original fic, it really means so much to me! I wasn’t planning on writing a second part, let alone a third, but since a lot of you wanted the story to continue and seemed excited about it, I decided to go ahead and do it.

Tags are on the bottom. I also included those who replied about a part 2 just in case :)

Feel free to send me an ask if you want to be tagged for part 3, which will hopefully be up by next Sunday!

Part 1

Adjusting to life on Midgard was much less complicated than how you had thought it would be.

You settled in a small town on the coast of Norway, the land where your ancestors lived for quite some time. A quaint yellow cottage near the edge of a cliff was the one you called home. Every morning you woke up to the calming sounds of the waves crashing into the shore and the view of the pristine blue ocean just a short distance away.

Three months after your arrival, someone knocked on your front door. You were expecting it to be your sweet elderly neighbor whom you befriended. She planned on stopping by this week to drop off a copy of one of her favorite novels for you to read.

When you answered the door, however, you were surprised not to see an old woman, but the god of thunder himself waiting on the other side. “(Y/N)! It’s great to finally see you!”

You smiled warmly at your friend as he enveloped you in a big hug. Once you pulled back, you quickly stepped aside to invite him into your home. “Thor, I can’t believe you’re here! How did you find out where I lived?”

“Heimdall,” he answered, his eyes glancing around your living room. “I hope you don’t mind. I’ve missed you since you left and have been meaning to visit.”

Shaking your head, you then closed the front door, and motioned for him to sit with you on the couch. “No, it’s alright. I’m glad that you stopped by.”

“So, what is like living on Midgard?” Thor asked you with curious eyes. “Do you enjoy being here?”

You took a brief moment to think of how to answer his question.

The truth, in short, was yes. You did enjoy living on Midgard. It was quite different and not at all what you expected it to be, but it was still a fantastic place to stay. Every day was a new experience, and there was so much to discover out there. You knew Asgard inside and out, but Midgard held more promising adventures.

Thor could see it on your face. Three months of just living here and it would appear that you had adjusted with ease. He also sensed the difference in your aura. The last he saw you, you were distant and quiet. Now, you seemed to be doing much better. He was glad that a genuine smile had returned to your face.

“I like it here,” you answered confidently. “I’m happier here.”

“Midgard might not be as advanced as Asgard, but for what it lacks, it makes up with its beautiful scenery,” he observed, pointing his finger to the large glass window behind you. “You’ve got a nice view of the ocean here.”

“It’s the first thing I see when I wake up in the morning,” you noted as you suddenly remembered something.

Pulling out a postcard you purchased at the marketplace earlier today from your front pocket, you then excitedly unfolded it to show Thor. On it was a picture of a black sky speckled with shimmering stars. Bright hues of green, blue, and purple lights came together as they danced across the darkened sky.

“They call these the northern lights. The locals say that there is a spot not too far from here where you can get a beautiful up-close view of them,” you explained as you and Thor looked at the image in awe. “I remember my mother telling me stories about these lights when I was a child, but never have I had the chance to see them in person.”

“I am sure it would be a lovely experience,” Thor added as you set the photo down on the coffee table. You later heard him suck in a sharp breath as his expression shifted into something more serious. “I—umm. Aside from checking up on you, there is more to my visit today.”

You tilted your head slightly. “What else is on your mind?”

Thor was silent for one moment and averted his gaze. “It’s regarding Loki.”

The smile on your face fell at the sound of his name. Though you kept your promise of not shedding any more tears for Loki, he often used to invade your thoughts. During the first few weeks, your mind would wander to Loki after seeing something that reminded you of him. It hurt thinking about Loki, and you wished that you could easily forget about all the times you shared.

But recently, you had done a better job of handling your emotions. You accomplished it by surrounding yourself with new people and taking up new hobbies. Perhaps you could now say that you had moved on. Until today, the thought of Loki hadn’t even crossed your mind.

“What about him?” You questioned. A period of silence washed over between the two of you, and you could hear the distant sound of the ocean waves.

“He has not been the same ever since you left,” he informed you with a small voice, afraid of how you would react. “Losing you has taken a toll on him.”

You sighed, bowing your head. “How could it take a toll on him? He’s got everything he has dreamed of as a child– a beautiful wife, a big palace, a shiny crown. Most importantly, he has all the power he could ever imagine.”

Thor caught the bitterness in your tone. He laid a hand on your shoulder, and your eyes went up to his. “I know that you are still healing from the wounds Loki has inflicted upon you, but I know deep down, you miss him.”

Scoffing, you stood up abruptly and stared at the prince in disbelief. “Thor, I know that he’s your brother and you want to help him, but he’s a cold and heartless man. Loki was cruel to me and chose to pay no mind to my feelings. Why would I ever miss him?”

“I understand that you were betrayed by Loki, and I could never forgive him for what he had done to you. But believe me when I say that you two need each other. Loki loves you just as much as you love him.”

“Loved,” you corrected. Crossing your arms against your chest, you walked over to the window and looked at the view outside, hoping that it would relax you. “No one in their right mind would hurt the ones they supposedly love.”

You suddenly felt a cold breeze near you, and after realizing that all of the windows were shut, you wondered where it came from. Your thoughts were interrupted when you heard Thor get up from the couch and approaching you carefully. Biting your lip, you no longer wanted to talk about Loki as it only caused you to feel both angry and sad at the same time.

“What if I told you he regrets his actions?” Thor spoke behind you, and you froze in place. “What if I told you that he regrets marrying the Princess of Vanaheim for the throne? That if given a second chance, he would choose to be with you instead?”

Your heart was beating wildly inside your chest as you processed his words. Could it be true? Was Loki willing to give up everything he had for you?

But then you recalled the broken heart you had endured because of him, and you couldn’t bear going through it again.

No, you promised yourself you would never crawl back to him. What made you think the trickster god wouldn’t dare to do something like that to you again? You knew the kind of man he was. He only cared about himself, and he was willing to betray the people around him for his own personal gain, just like what he did to you.

“I don’t want to believe it,” you muttered softly. “It’s not Loki, that’s not how he is. He’s not capable of love.”

Thor took a step back and lowered his eyes. “I promise you that he is.”

“I’m sorry,” you began. “I know you want to help Loki, but please respect my decision. After what he has put me through, I’m not convinced. I can’t bring myself to trust that man again, and I won’t run back to his arms.”

Defeated, Thor could only give you a nod of understanding. He regretted mentioning his brother’s name. You spent the entire time on Midgard trying to heal, and after his failed attempt in helping you and Loki, he had only reopened your old wounds.

“(Y/N),” Thor whispered your name as he tried to word out his apology, but you could already tell how sorry he was for what he had brought up.

“It’s okay,” you waved dismissively with your hand, thinking of a way to change the conversation. “You traveled all the way over here, and I haven’t offered you anything to eat yet. Would you like to stay for lunch?”

Thor smiled at your gesture and accepted your offer. You quickly prepared sandwiches in the kitchen as he shared stories about fighting alongside the Avengers and keeping peace and order within the Nine Realms. Fortunately for you, the topic of Loki never returned.

A little while after lunch, Thor promptly returned to Asgard, promising that he would revisit you when he could do so. You smiled as the Bifrost opened, but it shortly went away once he disappeared.

You didn’t want the thought of Loki stuck in your head, but he was now all you could think of. Truth be told, there was a small part of you that wanted to speak with Loki. You wanted him to explain himself to you, to make sure that he understood fully what he had done, and to know if or not what Thor had said was true.

You could feel tears forming in the corner of your eyes, and immediately you blinked them away. Shaking your head, you decided to sleep off the rest of the day in hopes of forgetting about earlier. With heavy footsteps, you walked inside your home and shut the door behind you.

Heimdall turned his sword to close the Bifrost once Thor landed on Asgard. Taking a couple steps forward, the prince then nodded at the gatekeeper before setting his eyes on the golden palace in the distance.

Thor heaved out a sigh as he imagined his brother sulking in his throne. The news he had about you would only make his mood worse. A few moments later, Thor bid farewell to Heimdall and then flew across the bridge with his hammer in hand.

“How was Midgard, your majesty?” Heimdall questioned out loud as he turned his head to the side.

A flash of green illuminated and Loki’s form emerged out of thin air. He had followed his brother to Midgard to see you as well. He had cloaked himself out of fear of how you would react if you knew he was there.

Loki’s expression was unreadable, but Heimdall could tell that he finally learned how his betrayal had affected you. “Your wife has been looking for you all day. She’s upset that you’ve gone without informing her.”

“It will pass,” he said flatly as his eyes flickered to the ground. “(Y/N) won’t come back. Not to Asgard. Not to me.”

“Because you’ve hurt them too deeply,” he told Loki. “At least now you know that much.”

Loki took a deep breath. He couldn’t think straight knowing the pain that he had caused you. You had loved him the way he could only dream for someone to, but he ruined everything when he turned his back against you.

If only he knew before he agreed with his father about the marriage. If only he and you had talked before the deal was made. If only he could take it all back just so he could hold you one more time…

He’s not capable of love.

Your words felt as if Loki was stabbed through the heart. You were wrong about that, he loved you so much that he wanted to give up all he had for you.

But could he?

“It won’t be long until you are a long-forgotten memory,” Heimdall warned, and Loki paused as he thought of the choices he could make. “Now tell me, is that what you truly want?

Loki glanced at the palace at the end of the bridge, standing high and grand in all its glory. Then, he pictured your face. He had memorized everything he could about you; the exact shade of your eyes, the sweet sound of your voice, the way your skin felt under his touch. He missed all of that; he missed you.

“I want to fix it. I do.”

Heimdall nodded his head. “Then make the right decision.”

Part 3

Tags: @eviethewriter @jessiejunebug @5289belle @pulplorrd @heda-mikaelson @laxarnas @wayward-timetravel-collecter @constellationkat @elliecapper @tarynkauai

#loki x reader #loki imagine #loki fanfic #loki laufeyson x reader #loki laufeyson imagine #loki #reader insert #my fics #fiction #mcu

186 notes · View notes