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roosterforme · 7 months

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Always Ever Only You Part 13 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: When Nat and Bob are in imminent danger, Bradley is beyond furious about the decisions that have been made. It should have been him up there flying with them. As you count down the minutes until Bradley returns home, the rush of nerves feels more like anxiety than anticipation, and that does not feel good.

Warnings: Angst, swearing, fluff

Length: 5100 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order. Always Ever Only You masterlist. Gorgeous banner by @mak-32

Now that you were just a few days out from Bradley's return home, you were starting to feel antsy and anxious. This wasn't the way you usually felt. It used to be a rush of energy thrumming through your body, knowing he'd be back soon to hold you all night, make love to you, and fill the little pieces of your life that were lost without him. But now you just felt unsure.

When you really thought about it, you knew you and he had been missing the intimacy in your relationship for a little while, too focused on other things. The sex was still enjoyable... well, except for the last time when you felt sick with obligation. And he still held you all night. But some of the pieces of your life together felt like they had gotten lost, and you desperately wanted to find them. Because feeling nervous about reaching those previously known levels of happiness and intimacy when Bradley got back was not something you were prepared for.

So you talked to Dr. Genevieve again, and in her cool and collected voice, she said, "If something is broken, you either take the time to fix it, or you abandon it. And when it's a relationship, you don't have the luxury of making that decision alone. Do you want to fix it or abandon it?"

"I want to fix it," you replied easily.

"And what did your husband say when you spoke to him?"

Your heart thudded in your chest as you replayed the facetime conversations in your mind and whispered, "He wants to fix it, too."

She nodded. "Then you'll both take the time to do that."

Afterwards, you felt like hiding in your office, because what did that even mean? You knew what you wanted, but you didn't know how to get it. And you tried your best not to focus on your cycle and wanting to get pregnant, but it would have been impossible to forget about it completely. Where was the balance? You were simultaneously antsy for Bradley to get home so you could see if putting in the time to fix things was worth it and also scared that it wouldn't be.

Instead of hiding in your office, you made your way down to get a burrito bowl for lunch. "Is this seat taken?" you asked Jake, kicking the leg of his chair with your boot and nodding toward the empty seat across from him at the small table.

"Angel," he said, meeting your smile with a look of panic. "You know I love you, right? But I saved it for Cat. Unless she decides to bail."

"Oh," you gasped, a little surprised by that. When you, Javy and Jake had gone out for pizza two nights ago, Jake claimed he was going to let Cat decide if she wanted to try to be friends with him, but you knew he was hoping for more. He sat on your couch with Jeremiah until Hondo showed up, and Jake didn't back down against the glare from Cat's Uncle. "Guess she's into the idea of hanging out? That's good?"

He kind of shrugged. "Listen, all I want to do is make out with her and hold her kid, but don't tell her that, alright? Oh, there she is."

"She didn't bail," you murmured, watching Cat make her way toward you. When she saw the small table with only two chairs, her steps slowed.

"Go," Jake growled, planting his palm against your lower back and shoving you out of the way. "I'll call you after work."

"Jeez," you groaned, glaring at him and heading toward Cam instead.

"Hey, stranger," Cam said as you sat down across from him, and soon Maria joined the two of you. Eating with them was familiar and comfortable, and you didn't have to think about it too much.

When they asked if you wanted to do brunch on Sunday, you smiled and shook your head. "No way. Bradley's coming home on Friday."

Cam smirked and said, "Oof. Lieutenant Commander Mustache returns home to his little wifey after his long, hard deployment. Sounds like a Lifetime movie."

"I don't know," Maria added. "You said long and hard. Kinda sounds like a porno."

You sat with your forehead on your tray as you shook with silent laughter. "Maybe it'll be a bit of both?"

Cam stole a bite of your burrito bowl as he said, "Report back."

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

Bradley had been chosen as the spare. When Dean told him after he had dismissed everyone else, Bradley knew it was simply to add insult to injury. But he took it on the chin, saluted the admiral, and returned to his bunk.

If Bradley said more than two words to anyone the following day, that was news to him. Nat and Bob gave him a wide berth as they got themselves prepared for the mission, and he appreciated that. He wasn't jealous of them, and he'd been quick to tell them that. And he knew they understood. This was a feeling that came along with the territory, he supposed. But this would mark the first mission he didn't qualify for, and he just needed to take a breather.

Getting home to you was now his priority, his focus. If he could only be successful in the air or on the ground right now, he was going to choose the ground in San Diego with you. But that didn't stop him from worrying about Bob and Nat flying with Slayer.

Bradley collapsed back onto his bed with his notebook. He decided to read what he wrote. He hadn't done that yet, favoring scribbling more thoughts and sentiments down every time he picked it up. But reading it from the beginning calmed him down, and just the thought of you made him finally able to fall asleep.

Bright and early the next morning, he and Bob were both dressing in their flight suits. They walked to breakfast together and ate with Nat. Then the three of them made their way out onto the tarmac. But instead of being part of the main bustle of action, Bradley saluted his friends and stood next to his aircraft with his helmet on.

The weather looked good, and the comanche was reporting back that everything looked clear. But just before the four aircrafts were due to take off, Admiral Dean made a surprising announcement over the comms.

"Initiate the backup plan! Option B! Strike the military base first and then head back around to the communications tower. Follow the flight plan for Option B. Please respond that you understand in order."

Bradley climbed the ladder into his F/A-18 as he listened to Nat respond, saying that she copied Dean's orders. This was not a good sign that the plan was changing on the fly. There were probably loads of enemy aircrafts already airborne if such a drastic decision was being made, and Bradley automatically switched to the updated flightpath in his mind, even though he wouldn't be flying it. But being able to envision what was going on might help keep him calm.

He got himself strapped in and ran his thumb along his silicone wedding band before sliding his hands into his gloves. And then he waited. He watched intently and listened over the comms, and when it was his turn, he said, "Rooster. Spare. Standing by."

The carrier was outrageously far out in the ocean right now. Nearly five hundred miles away from the coastline. And as he watched Nat and Bob launch from the deck, he kept his eyes on them as they faded into the late morning sunlight. It would be about thirty minutes until they were flying over land, and another five minutes more until they reached the military base.

So he would have to sit here and wait for nearly an hour and a goddamn half while worrying about his friends and having an existential crisis about his career before they all returned and he could get changed out of his flight suit.

"Unbelievable," he muttered to himself as he listened to the others over the comms. Slayer had been named team leader, and right now he was trying to boss Nat around. She wasn't having it though, and Bradley smiled as he listened in.

But a few minutes later, he heard the radar tech from the comanche give a heads up that there were some enemy aircraft nearby. And then Slayer said, "Everyone else stay on course, I'll switch to tack northwest and hit the communications tower first."

Bradley lurched fully upright in his cockpit. He must have heard incorrectly. No way Slayer would deviate from the plans like that. But Bradley could hear Nat's panicked voice saying, "You won't have our laser guide! And we won't have your missiles! Stay on course, Slayer!"

"I'm the leader, Phoenix. You stay on course. I'll loop back around. It will be fine."

There was so much commotion all of a sudden, Bradley could only hear a jumble of voices inside his helmet. He did some quick math, visualizing the terrain maps he'd had memorized for nearly two months. Five hundred miles out. Five hundred back. They weren't flying at maximum speed, but they were still burning fuel fast, hauling almost two dozen missiles. There was absolutely no way Slayer would make it back to the carrier if he tried to switch course now and rendezvous with the others at the military base. He'd run out of fuel halfway back to the aircraft carrier.

"Stay on course!" Admiral Dean demanded loudly. "Everyone stay on course!"

But Slayer was already gone. And now the comanche radar tech was reporting four more enemy fighters in the vicinity of the military base. Bradley pounded his fist on the side of his seat. Nat and Bob were completely fucking screwed. And so were Charmer, Mack and Terror. Unless all six aviators were working in unison, this was going to result in a tragedy.

"Come on, come on," Bradley chanted under his breath, his fingers already twitching along his control panels. He thought about his friends whose handful of missiles would only get them so far before they were dead without cover. And he thought about you, but then again you were never far from his mind. His perfect wife. The main reason he did anything.

Finally his thoughts settled on the fact that he'd left his wedding band at home with you, and he felt calm knowing that you'd always wear it on your chain.

"Send the spare." His Super Hornet was being towed to the catapult.

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

It was a weird, stormy evening. There were clouds rolling in from the ocean, and although you could see a lot of lightning and hear thunder, it hadn't started raining yet. So you put on Bradley's sweatshirt and clipped Tramp's leash onto his collar, running your fingers along the tags your husband had gotten engraved for him.

"Yeah, you're spoiled," you told the dog as you pocketed some treats for him. Then the two of you ventured outside and along the blocks that would take you to the beach. The wind was blowing harder down here, whipping the sand and dune grass around. But the beach was completely deserted, and the storm looked intoxicating.

As you walked along the water's edge, your flip flops and sweatpants got soaked. Tramp kept pausing to look out into the ocean, and you said, "Daddy's out there. Somewhere." You weren't sure exactly when the mission was being flown. It could have already been completed. You had enough clearance at work to be able to find out for sure, but if Bradley caught wind of that kind of behavior, he would have a fit. You knew he didn't want you worrying about him.

Tramp whimpered and started barking, and then the clouds rolled in faster. A loud crack of thunder had you running back up the beach with Tramp right next to you. By the time you ran up past the dunes, the sky opened up. You turned back to look at the ocean one last time before hard raindrops started pelting your exposed skin. It was almost painful, and it was hard to keep your eyes open as you made your way back to the pretty craftsman.

You stood on the covered porch, looking down at your sandy, drenched dog and laughing. "Come here," you said before scooping him up and carrying him right into the bathroom, leaving a sandy trail along the way.

If Bradley were here, he would take Tramp off your hands and clean him up as you soaked in the tub yourself. But for now, you'd do everything. He'd be back soon. You would take the time to fix things soon.

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

Once Bradley was in the air, the clock was ticking down the minutes until he could see land and locate the others. He'd been given permission to hit mach 1.8. Actually, he'd been given permission to do whatever was necessary. "Spare inbound. Land sighted," he said, easing back on the throttle a bit as he banked along the mountain range and dipped past the river that would lead him to the recently destroyed military base.

Slayer had managed to destroy the communications tower as part of the solo mission he decided to go on, but at what cost? He got so far off course from the others, and backtracking would have eaten so much fuel. Bradley listened as he was called back to the carrier where he would be safe while everyone else was now in danger.

Bradley was getting closer now as he listened to what was going on and tried to visualize it.

"Tally, tally! On your nose, Phoenix!"

"Deploying flares!"

"Incoming at twelve o'clock!"

"I can't shake them, Charmer!"

"I'm out of missiles and flares! Switching to guns!"

"We took a hit!"

He would know Nat's voice anywhere, but hearing her say that she and Bob had been hit had Bradley flying way faster than he should have been this close to the river embankment. But one more cut through the mountains, and the aircrafts were in sight. And it was the worst kind of dog fight.

The air was a mess of flares as Bradley immediately spotted missiles being launched at Charmer. And he knew Charmer said he was out of defensive aids.

"Tally, tally!" Bradley called out. "Bandit on your nose, Terror!" Then he laid down a cover of flares for Charmer as the other pilot eliminated one enemy with his guns. "Phoenix! Bob! How bad is it?" Bradley asked, deftly launching a missile and watching it collide with the wing of the jet that was headed for Terror. The enemy pilot ejected, but there was no point in pursuit. Not on a rescue mission.

"We're leaking fuel," Bob shouted, and Bradley could actually hear all of the alarms going off in their Super Hornet through the comms. "Rapidly." Then Phoenix dodged past Charmer and shot down another enemy jet. "And we're out of ammo," Bob added.

"Head back, I'll lay down cover for you," Bradley told them. "Go!" There were still two Bandits, but his friends would never make it back anywhere near the carrier if they delayed leaving. He could smell the jet fuel as it permeated the air around him, and he just knew what a hazard that was. He prayed nothing would cause an explosion at this point.

"Out of ammo now," Charmer reported, and now Bradley was starting to panic. But then he saw the opening they needed.

"Terror! Follow my lead!" The remaining Bandits saw how vulnerable Nat and Bob were and started to pursue them, so Bradley circled back to get their attention on him.

"I'm almost out of ammo!" Terror responded, getting into position.

"Then don't miss." Bradley fired his last missile at the first one and then joined Terror and Mack in shooting down the other one.

"That's splash six!" Charmer announced.

"Is that everyone?" Terror asked.

"Affirmative. That's everyone," Mack confirmed.

"I want everyone back on this carrier, now!" Dean nearly shouted through the comms, and Bradley rolled his eyes. "Phoenix, land first, if you can even get here!"

Then thankfully he eventually heard Nat say, "We're limping in slowly now. It's gonna be close."

What a fucking nightmare this had turned out to be. As Bradley flew cleanup, since he was the only one with bullets and flares left, he kept his head on a swivel. "Comanche? Incoming?"

"Negative. Picture looks clean."

"And an ETA for Phoenix and Bob?" he asked as he followed Charmer and Terror out over the water.

"Seven minutes."

Bradley swore he didn't breathe and barely moved as he flew further away from the coastline. He didn't dare think about anything except the passing clouds overhead and the sound of his own heart beating. He didn't utter another word until he heard Nat say, "Coming in hot! Banking toward the tower. Full engine failure, no fuel to the feedline. Tailhook extended and hoping for the best."

"Come on, Nat." Bradley still couldn't see anything up ahead, but when the tower announced that Phoenix and Bob were safely on deck, he finally let out the breath he had been holding.

When he was able to circle the carrier and see it for himself, Bradley loosened his death grip on the throttle. And when he landed cleanly, that signaled that everyone was back on deck. The crews came to help him unload, and as soon as his boots left the last rung on the ladder, Nat was tossing her helmet aside and reaching for him.

"Thank you," she whispered against his shoulder.

Years of trust and friendship had him clinging to her. "It should have been me up there with you two the whole time."

"I know. That was so fucked, Rooster."

And then Bob was there as well, looking more flustered than Bradley had seen him all deployment long. But then Bradley pushed past both of them and tossed his own helmet, shouting "What the hell, Slayer!"

But Slayer barely acknowledged him as he walked toward the tower looking like he was headed for the gallows. Bradley stood there, drenched in sweat and reeking of jet fuel, and watched the other aviator as a red faced Admiral Dean appeared on deck and started yelling. It didn't matter. It didn't matter that Slayer fucked everything up or that Bradley saved the day. The only thing that counted now was getting home to you.

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

Friday morning seemed to stretch on for an eternity. You didn't have a specific time to expect Bradley to unload from the carrier, so you decided to go to work until you heard from him. When Bickel called you in for a progress meeting on all of the lab projects, you hauled a stack of folders in with you. And that's when you fully realized that over several years of working with him, he had made you his number two. He always wanted your opinion the most.

"How are you feeling?" he asked as you set everything down on his desk and took a seat. He met your eyes, and he was expecting an honest answer, but you knew he wouldn't give you a hard time.

"Better. Bradley is coming home today," you told him. "Thanks again." But he just waved you off like it was no big deal and opened up the top folder on the stack.

Later when you went down to eat lunch, you got cornered by Jake. "Come sit with me."

You just smirked as you grabbed a fistful of tiny packets of hot sauce. "Don't you want to sit with Cat?"

"No, I want to sit with you. Rooster comes back today, and I'll never see you again," he replied. "I know you're struggling, but the two of you will be disgusting again soon."

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. You were nervous. It had been building up all week. Part of you just wanted to get this over with and work things out, and part of you wanted to bask in Bradley's words as he told you how much he missed and loved you. If he told you those things.

"I miss being disgusting," you told Jake as you followed him to a table. "But I still want to have a baby." You felt tears in your eyes as you sat down, and Jake met your gaze. "I'm anxious that Bradley is going to talk about my cycle and want to know when I'm ovulating. It's bad enough that I know I'm ovulating right now, you know? I don't want him thinking about it, too. And, fuck, I'm sorry Jake."

"Hey, no," he said, reaching across the table and squeezing your hand. "I love that you want to talk to me about stuff. But just dump your hot sauce all over your lunch and take a deep breath. Let Bradley get home and prove to you that he wants to fix things as much as you do. Give him a chance, Angel."

But your nerves carried through lunch. And now you were scared that your husband wouldn't greet you the way he always did. You were afraid that you were just a fragile, broken thing in his eyes, and there would be some sort of undertone of rejection even though the two of you said you were on the same page over facetime.

As you walked back to your office, your phone vibrated with a text, and you already knew it was him without even looking. Your heart started pounding, knowing what you needed but unsure if you were going to get it.

Bradley Rooster Bradshaw <3 <3 <3: I have phone reception! I can see the dock! I should be off this thing around four or five. Think you can skip out of work a little early and meet me? I missed you so much.

No turning back now. A smile actually broke out on your face. There would be no time to run home and change, but it didn't matter. You had missed him, too.

I'll be there. Of course I'll be there.

When you mentioned to Bickel that you were going to leave two hours early, he told you to have a nice weekend. And when Cat saw you packing up your computer at 3:30, she walked over and gave you a little hug.

"Don't be nervous."

You tried to act cool. "I'm not."

"I can tell you are. Just enjoy your weekend with your husband. I'll stay late if need be and finish the coding."

"Thanks," you muttered. You and she never explicitly talked about the fact that you were jealous that she had tiny Jeremiah in her life, but you knew she knew. And you were okay with that.

As you jogged out to the Bronco in the parking garage, you found you were only thinking about one thing: how good it felt every time Bradley wrapped his strong arms around you and held you against his warm body.

"Shit," you gasped, fumbling the key in the ignition. You needed that. That was it. "Fuck." You could barely start the engine, but when you finally did, you pulled quickly out of the parking space and headed the half mile or so around base toward the military docks. When you drove through the gates and parked again, you could see khaki uniforms pouring down the ramps and onto the dock.

"Oh no." You were out of the Bronco and running, scrambling for your phone. But as you got closer to the ramp, you spotted Bradley. He was so easy to pick out of a crowd. Tall and broad and impossibly handsome with his duffle bag slung over his shoulder. His head was on a swivel, probably wondering if you were here yet.

And then you froze up. Every feeling hit you all at once as he stepped down onto the dock, boots back on California soil for the first time in almost two months. He looked to his left and then to his right, searching for you, and you could tell he was about to reach for his phone as his hand dipped down toward his pocket. But then he saw you. And that was when you realized that he had the same look of apprehension on his face that you must have had on yours.

It was so noisy, and there were hundreds of people on all sides of you, but you could see him mouth, "Baby Girl," before his lips formed into a smile that had your feet rushing forward. Bradley was actually shoving people out of his way now which had you laughing. And when you realized you weren't so nervous anymore, tears started to fill your eyes.

"Baby Girl!" he called out, and a second later, you were in those strong, sure arms that you loved so much.

"Bradley." But the sound of his name was muffled as he kissed you, holding you so close to him that only your toes touched the ground as you wrapped your arms around his neck. You smiled against him as he shook his bag free and let it drop to the ground next to him, but he didn't break the kiss.

Every voice around you and the warm sunshine melted into a dreamlike quality. You wanted to stay here in his arms where you finally felt comfortable. There was a lot to say, and you'd get to it eventually, but the feel of his big hands and his mustache were so familiar that you felt more confident again.

When he finally broke the kiss, Bradley pressed his forehead to yours and kept one big hand at the back of your neck, stroking your skin softly as you shuddered in his arms. "I love you," he promised, voice full of desperation like he was begging you to listen. "I just needed to be with you."

You closed your eyes against your tears and whispered, "I love you, Roo."

Then his rough fingers were moving slowly along the back of your neck, his other hand coming up to work at the clasp of your necklace. You smiled when you realized what he was doing. Bradley removed your necklace but kept his body pressed against yours and he carefully palmed your gold charms.

"Been dying to put this back on since I took it off." He kissed your cheek and then slid his wedding band along the chain before carefully clasping your necklace in place again. Then he quickly removed the silicone ring and pocketed it before slipping his gold band into place. "It just didn't feel right. It's not the one we got married with."

And then his arms were wrapped around your waist, and you let your cheek come to rest on his chest. You didn't want to be the first one to say it, but you thought one of you should. About how much you wanted to fix things. About making things work. "Bradley."

But you shouldn't have been worried. He kissed the top of your head, his grip on you unrelenting as so many of the other officers and crew members around you were starting to clear out. "I promise you that you're everything I want. And I'll make sure you know it."

So you nodded and melted into his touch. And it was quite a while later before you moved, but you could hear Bradley's stomach growling which made you smile. "I have some Marry Me Rooster in our fridge that just needs to be reheated."

He peppered your face with kisses until you were laughing. "Let's go home," he whispered. "Wanna see Tramp and snuggle you on my lap while we eat."

After Bradley had you safely buckled in the passenger seat, he started the engine, and you could tell he missed his Bronco too. He held your hand on the short drive home, and you filled him in on a few things. When he parked in the driveway and helped you out, you asked, "How was your deployment? I didn't even get to see Bob and Nat."

He kissed you softly as you unlocked the front door. "I'll tell you later. It's not as important as this. As being with you."

Your heart swelled as Tramp tried to jump up into Bradley's arms. "Missed you, too," Bradley told him, kneeling and scratching him behind his ears while the dog kicked his other hand. "Were you a good boy?"

"Of course he was. The best." You squeaked as Bradley scooped you up for a piggy back ride as he stood, and he carried you to the laundry room with Tramp jumping around behind you. "What are you doing?" you asked, kissing Bradley's ear as you held onto his shoulders.

"Just want to get out of my uniform before we eat."

When he set you down and turned, you carefully unbuttoned his shirt and started working on his pins. His hands settled on your waist, stroking you through the fabric of your own khaki uniform shirt. And his eyes were soft. And he wasn't in a rush, except maybe to get dinner. And he wasn't asking about your cycle. And he didn't seem interested in doing anything at this moment except working on your pins and lining them up in the tray near the sink along with his.

"I missed doing this," you whispered, and then his lips found yours again. And it was a few minutes before Bradley let go of you long enough for both of you to finish getting undressed and put your uniforms into the washing machine.

"Let me put on some sweatpants, and I'll help you reheat dinner," he said, hoisting you up for another piggy back ride that had you laughing.

"Sounds good, Roo."

He bent to pick up his duffle on the way to the bedroom, and you helped him empty and sort everything onto your bed. When you dipped your hand inside the bag, you pulled out some neatly folded undershirts and a beat up notebook. You flipped open to the first page while Bradley sat on the floor to play with Tramp.

Baby Girl, when I think about you, I think about the rest of my life spread out in front of me. And it's not exactly like a map, because I don't know where we are going or where we will end up. But I feel safe when I'm with you. Even though so much is unknown.

You carefully closed the notebook and pressed your lips together, unsure if you were supposed to read that. "Roo?" you asked quietly, and Bradley looked up at you as you showed him the notebook. "What is this?"

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

He's home! Finally! And Slayer is hopefully completely screwed. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 14

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neverinadream · 2 years

Text

You're His Girlfriend, But You Belong To Me

Summary: Christian subs in for his friend's 'boring' boyfriend.

Pairing: Christian Pulisic x Fem!Reader

Requested: No

Song Inspo: When You Need A Man - The Driver Era

Warnings: 18+, minors dni, cheating, essentially fwb!christian, allusions to the other times the reader has cheated, dom!christian, sub!reader, teasing, possessiveness, dirty talk, pet names (baby, good girl...), reader gets called a slut and a whore, degradation kink, praise kink, unprotected sex, oral (christian receiving), face fucking?, choking, edging, begging

Notes: this might not be everyone's cup of tea but i have had this idea for a while and wanted to write it, it's self indulgent you could say. feedback and/or reblogs are appreciated, even if it is through a comment or an ask.

She awakes from her post-sex nap to the sound of Christian's phone pinging, several different notifications coming in simultaneously. A quiet yawn spills off her lips, catching her lover's attention. He looks back at her, a soft smile breaking out when he discovers she's awake. "Hi," he speaks first, before turning his back to her, mumbling, "I'll be with you in a second."

"Who are you texting?" She asks, studying his naked back, wanting to connect the freckles like a dot-to-dot puzzle.

"Hmm? Oh, just the group chat." The group chat was just a few mutual friends that they both shared, including a couple of his teammates. He sends one final text, muting the chat until he was ready to pay attention to it again. "They're talking about doing something tomorrow," he tells her, now sitting back against the headboard, "I'm gonna go, you should too."

His lover shakes her head. "I can't."

"Why not?"

"I said I'd do this thing with Ty," she answers, Ty being her boyfriend.

He looks off to the side, hiding his annoyance. "Well, I'm sure this thing will be thrilling," he says, rubbing his chest, "it's not like Ty has ever had a bad or boring idea. Ever."

She rolls her eyes. "I was actually supposed to do this thing with him today."

"Well, why didn't you?" He asks, tangling his body up with hers as he moves to lie between her legs. Pushing the old shirt up her torso, he kisses up her stomach, mumbling "take it off" against her skin. She obliged, sitting up a little to take off the old jersey. "You didn't feel like it, is that what you told him?" A sharp whimper passes her lips, feeling his rough hands cup her chest, rolling the left nipple between his finger and thumb. "Or is it because I ended up calling you?" He kisses in between the valley of her breasts, his head moving to the left and his tongue licking across the perked nipple.

She shakes her head, saying a quick no, before moaning loudly as he sucks on her nipple. She could feel him grinning against her chest; the reaction he had teased out had almost contradicted her original answer.

"Oh, no, of course not," Christian shakes his head, his voice just a bit higher, mocking her with pouty lips. Goosebumps form on her arms as he traces his fingers along her smooth jaw. His thumb touches her bottom lip, caressing it and hooking his other fingers under her chin. "But here you are," his voice is low and silky, "in my bed, resting after I fucked you hard." He chuckles as she tries to hide her face. "I don't even know why you're still with him-"

"-Christian," she sighs his name, her head falling back into the pillow.

"-I don't think anyone does."

It was no secret that Christian, and a few of her friends, found Ty boring, often questioning what she saw in a guy who lived a life less exciting than the one she and her friends had. Christian had even gone as far as to tell his friend and lover about how he felt about Ty the second her boyfriend slipped off to the toilets on the night she first introduced the two to each other. But she liked Ty, even if her friends couldn't understand why.

Did she love him?

No.

She couldn't love a person and constantly cheat on them at the same time.

But she wasn't ready to face the idea that she was keeping Ty around because he gave her an emotional connection she knew Christian wasn't going to provide.

"Tell me," Christian rolls his hips against hers, his hardness pressing into her to tease out another moan, "what do you like about him?"

"He's...uh...he's nice," she stutters, hips bucking involuntarily as he continues to slowly grind against her.

"He's nice?" He raises his eyebrows. "That does not count."

"Yes, it does."

"No, it doesn't," he laughs, curling his hand gently around her throat, but applying no pressure, "a lot of people are nice, it doesn't make them worthy enough to be your boyfriend." She rolled her eyes, wondering how he would even know what makes a person's boyfriend worthy when she had only known him to be fucking her or some random other girls in the years she had known him. "And, also, nice is a bit of a stretch for that guy," he continues to belittle Ty, "he's not an asshole but nice is a little generous."

"You don't even know him," she bites back, overcome with the urge to defend her boyfriend.

"Whatever," Christian chuckles, moving his hand so he could kiss her neck, "you don't need to sell it to me why you're still dating him." He nips at her neck, soothing the skin until there's another bruise for her to cover up later. Her head rolls back into the soft cushion of the pillow, whimpering as she feels his lips travel up her neck to her ear. "I enjoy fucking someone's girlfriend," he whispers, the heat pooling further between her legs, "so maybe you should stay with him."

"Yeah, well what if I've been thinking about not fucking you anymore?" She fights back with a question. It was a lie but Christian didn't need to know that. He was a drug that she was addicted to and no amount of rehab or interventions was going to make her quit just yet. "What would you do then?"

"Is that right?" She nods her head, trying to keep the facade up. "Why?"

"Because why do I need you when I already have a boyfriend?"

He props himself above her, his weight distributed on both of his hands, the cross dangling in her face. "That's your reasoning for not wanting to fuck me anymore?" He asks, trying not to laugh in her face. "Because you have a boyfriend?"

She frowns. "It's a valid reason." But one that wasn't true.

"Oh, baby, I don't think you can stop," he tells her, seeing right through her, "how are you going to go back to your boring fucking boyfriend and not wanna pull your hair out? You're going to have to deal with him, whilst knowing you could never fuck me again. Is that what you want?" He raises his eyebrows, his head tilting to the side as he studies her face, looking for a reaction. "How will you survive having to deal with his vanilla sex 24/7? Having to deal with a man who doesn't treat you the way you want to be treated; someone who won't put you in your fucking place?"

His hand encases her throat again, squeezing a little, as he dips to kiss her. There's no precision to his moves, only a hunger to satisfy. She drops into the mattress as she melts into his kiss, feeling her body dip further into his bed as his body presses up against hers, his tongue exploring the inside of her mouth.

His free hand grips her thigh, pulling her leg high around his waist, making sure she could feel his hard length against her body. "Do you feel that, baby?" He asks between messy kisses. "Do you feel my hard cock against your pretty pussy?" He has her whimpering as she feels the head of his cock run against her slit, teasing her with the anticipation of what was inevitably to come.

He releases her throat, only to pinch her jaw, angling her head back so she was looking up at him. "You may be his girlfriend, but as far as I'm concerned, you belong to me!" The hunger in his voice and the desire flooding his eyes have her pussy clenching around nothing. "Tell me whose bed your in," he orders, his Adam's apple bobbing as he takes a deep breath in.

"Yours," she answers.

"Tell me who made you cum so fucking hard earlier."

"You did."

"Tell me whose hard cock is about to slide into you."

Her hands press to the back of his head, pulling his lips up against hers as she answers, "yours is."

He licks his lips, his hot breath fanning her face as he whispers, "tell me whose cum is leaking out of your pussy, right now."

"Yours," she whimpers, feeling the head of his cock pressing against her.

It was a little embarrassing how desperate she felt to feel him inside of her. To have him stretching her out. To have him fucking her until white spots blurred her vision and she was chanting his name. But, by now, she wouldn't have it any other way.

"Good girl," he praises her, groaning and gasping as he slides his cock inside, "good fucking girl." He pushes his whole length inside of her, moaning baby as her pussy was already clenching around him. He keeps a steady pace, thrusting his hips, his hot breath fanning her face as he groans the word "yes" every few seconds. "Who's going to treat you this good, baby?" He asks, watching as her eyes squeeze tightly shut and she bites her bottom lip. "Hmm? Will that boring fucking boyfriend of yours fuck you this good?"

Shaking her head, she tells Christian what he was smart enough to already know. "No," she whimpers, digging her nails into his shoulders, just wanting to hold onto something, anything.

"That's right," he groans, smirking as his name topples off her lips, her perfect-sounding moans like sweet music to his ears. He listens for the sound of her breath hitching in her throat as he thrusts turn harder, short snappy movements that have her feeling him deeper than before. "Does that feel good, baby?" He asks, his hand finding its place around her neck again. Her eyes pop open when she starts to feel the pressure build around her neck, mewls of pleasure rolling off her lips. "Oh, god, yes," she catches his eyes, holding his gaze, "you feel so good. Do you like the way that feels, baby? You like being fucked by your friend, instead of your boring fucking boyfriend?"

"Please, Christian-" She was the image of a moaning, mewling mess underneath him, her legs sprawled apart so he can see himself pushing in and out of her, her pussy wrapping tightly around his thick length, the shaft glistening under the bedroom lights. No one could take him like she could; it was like her pussy was made for him. Curling her fingers around his wrist, she urges him to squeeze tighter. "Please," he cocks his brow, grinning from ear to ear and obliging her request, "I'm so close!"

"Already?" She protests as he slows his pace, pulling out until just the tip was nestled inside, waiting to slide himself back in. "No, no, no," he murmurs, shaking his head and adjusting his hold on her neck, "not yet, baby. You gotta wait."

"No," she whines, pleading with her eyes for him to let her cum. Pushing herself against his body, her lips ghosting his, chasing them as she tries to kiss him. "Christian, baby, please," she sounded crazy and pathetic, blubbering and whimpering as she begs for him to finish it, "I need you to let me cum."

"You need it, huh?" He bites his bottom lip. "You need it that bad, baby? Are you that desperate to cum all over my cock?"

"Yes, yes," she pants, nodding her head and squirming underneath him, "I need it so badly!"

He pulls out, sitting up on his knees, jerking his hand up and down his shaft. "Come here and clean up this mess," he instructs, beckoning her over, grinning when she is quick to obey him, taking his hard cock into her mouth. Drool pools in his mouth as he takes in the sight of her ass sticking up in the air. "You look so fucking sexy like this," he groans, weaving his fingers through her hair, pulling on it as she pulls her mouth off of him, "your ass sticking up in the air as you suck on my cock."

His eyes roll back as she glances up at him, smiling as her tongue swirls around the tip, tasting herself on him. "You're such fucking a slut," he pushes on the back of her head, sliding his cock back into her mouth, "sucking on my cock and letting me use that pussy behind your boyfriend's back." He grunts as she splutters around his cock, spit running down her chin as he fucks himself into her mouth. "But you like that don't you? You like being my dirty, needy, fucking slut, don't you?"

He pulls her off, pulling her up to sit on her knees, the two of them kneeling in front of each other. He was still taller than her, towering over her body as he leaned down. Cleaning the spit from her chin, he pushes his thumb into her mouth, both of them moaning together as she sucks on it.

"Say it," he orders, "say you're my dirty fucking slut."

"I'm your dirty fucking slut," she repeats, moaning into his mouth as he crashes his lips against hers, tugging harshly on her hair and slipping his tongue into her mouth.

"He'd never treat you like this, would he?" Christian asks, holding tightly onto her jaw. She shakes her head but his tight grip doesn't allow for much movement. "I bet he doesn't even know how much of a whore you are," he belittles her, hissing as she digs her nails into his tattooed bicep, "addicted to a cock that's not his. You're addicted to this dick, aren't you? You can't live without it; that's why you keep coming back to me, isn't it?"

She nods her head, humming in agreement. "I just want you," she admits, her cheeks growing warm from her accidental confession.

"But you can't have me, can you?" He let go of her jaw, smoothing out her hair as he runs the back of his hand down the side of her head. "Not the way you want me, can you?" She bites her lip, shaking her head. "That's right," he hums, kissing her temple, "now get back on your back."

She lies back down, kissing Christian as he slots himself back between her legs, whimpering against his mouth when she feels him running the head of his cock against her slit.

"Beg me to stop teasing you," he murmurs against her lips, seeing the annoyance grow in her pretty eyes, "beg me, fucking do it!"

"No," she replies, finding the strength in her already tired body to flip them both over. She straddles his waist, grinding her pussy against his shaft, before sinking down onto his cock. Its thickness stretches her out, filling her up more than it did before. "I'm done begging," she says, rocking her hips back and forth. His hands hold onto her hips, helping her to quicken her movements. "I'm just gonna take it," she whimpers, the coil in her stomach tightening as she throws her head back.

"Then fucking take it, princess," Christian encourages her, feeling himself twitch inside of her, "take it all; take every last inch of me." He grabs her wrist, pulling her down to kiss him, his hand wrapping back around her neck when she was close enough to him. "I want to think of this moment when you're hanging out with your boyfriend tomorrow," he tells her, squeezing her throat until she was a second away from gasping for air, his hips thrusting up to match her own pace, "I want you to think about me filling this pussy up with so much cum, marking it as mine."

"Yours," she chants, her rhythm losing focus as she cums for him, "this is yours."

"That's right," he hums, kissing against the underside of her jaw, nipping at her skin, "it's mine; this fucking pussy is mine. No one-" He cuts himself with a harsh groan, her pussy fluttering and pulsating around his cock, squeezing him, making it hard to have a calm, clear mind. "Oh, fuck, baby," his head rolls back into the pillow, eyes squeezing shut, "just like that - gonna make me cum so hard baby." He stops thrusting, pushing down on her hips to keep her still, bottoming himself out inside of her. "Oh, fuck yes, baby, fuck-" His breathing is rigid, stopping and starting as he cums.

She rolls off of him, a ghost-like grin etched onto her swollen lips as she listens to Christian catching his breath, still praising her and her body. Turning to the bedside cabinet, she picks up her phone, mumbling, "shit," under her breath.

"What is it?" Christian asks, propping himself up onto one elbow.

"Ty's been trying to phone me," she answers, not seeing the look of disgust on Christian's face as he hears Ty's name slip so easily off her lips. She lies back down, her legs still a little bit shaky. "I should call him back," she thinks out loud to herself, "see what he wants."

He groans as he sits up, raking his fingers messily through his hair. "Well, you do that," he mumbles, standing up from the edge of his bed, "I'm gonna go take a shower; maybe you should join me once you're done lying to your boring boyfriend."

Football taglist: @shanoontje @maseandkepa @theblxefox @blueathens @ofxinnocence @masonchilwell @1-800-benji-chilwell @mrschilly @geek-and-proud @in-my-body-bag @laurasstufff1 @mountchilly @sereshawsbby

#christian pulisic #christian pulisic imagine #christian pulisic smut #christian pulisic one shot #christian pulisic fanfic #christian pulisic fic #christian pulisic x reader #christian pulisic x y/n #christian pulisic x yn

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decepti-thots · 1 year

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Prowl for the ask meme? (Obvs)

one aspect about them i love: The thing about Prowl is that I mostly love writing him. I didn't really develop a reputation as The Prowl Person until I accidentally discovered he is the most fun to write. So: what do I love writing about him. I really enjoy the fact that Prowl is someone who simultaneously isolates himself and wants people to still have connections with him, and the friction that comes out of it. The thing that stands out to me most is how genuinely devastated he is when he realises, in exRiD, that Bumblebee could not tell when he wasn't himself- that realisation that he has pushed everyone away so effectively that he has become alien to them. I think of Prowl as someone who has spent a very, very long time breaking himself down to force himself into a new shape, and that jarring realisation that he has succeeded so well he is no longer recognisable as the person he thought he was- that no core of him necessarily remains that people can still see underneath- is fascinating to me. The same when Optimus talks about how Prowl has a long list of people he feels have betrayed him, too. He wants to be free of attachments but when those people leave, he feels it as a loss, because on some level he still wants that. It's such a mess. And that it's a self-directed and unasked for self destruction makes it more interesting.

one aspect i wish more people understood about them: Prowl is not telling the truth about himself. He is not someone who makes decisions fully logically and divorced from his emotions. He is not a Shockwave; I've said it before, but a lot of what he does makes more sense if you understand him as a very strange kind of sentimental, even. And frankly, he's not even the smartest person in the room half the time. (Not with some of the rooms he's in; I mean, he is smart, but he's also still often overestimating himself in relation to others.) Prowl is unreliable as a judge of himself, and anyone who takes him at face value just because he also lies in his own head is wrong to do so. When he claims he did what needed to be done and which noone else is willing to do, that is not a claim that should be accepted at face value!

one (or more) headcanon(s) i have about this character: Prowl did not like his pre-war job as a cop. Oh, he liked parts of it. But mostly he felt it was an obligation and that you should perform your obligations regardless of if you like them or not. He liked finding patterns in things, and doing forensics, and being meticulous about the more abstract parts of his work, and he hated all the parts where it intersected with colleagues and people and politics and the rest; he would have been a good scientist, probably, in another life. He overcompensated for this by being very vicious about people like Whirl who tried to actually leave and go find something better. He's here still forcing himself to do this thing he doesn't want to, they should all put up with it too. For the "greater good". (His idea of what counts as doing 'good' being uhhh. Untrustworthy, here.) He did, however, once take that exam for potential alt mode exemption, without telling anyone. He failed it.

one character i love seeing them interact with: I love his and Arcee's relationship in exRiD. They are such fascinating foils. Arcee is many things, but she is self aware. She's got a limited sense of her own identity, but what she has she knows about herself. And then there's Prowl, who has increasingly lost any sense of who the fuck he even is anymore. Arcee refuses to let him obfuscate; she does the dirty work and makes him acknowledge that's what it is. And then she's the one who does notice he's not himself! Immediately! Prowl is so uncomfortable around her, and refuses to let her in, and it's probably one of the stupidest things he does. Because she's the only person in a position to help him climb out of the hole he's dug himself into, since she herself has had to figure out how the hell you come back from the sort of life that is pretty much impossible to just apologise for.

one character i wish they would interact with/interact with more: god I would have killed for more Prowl-Kup interactions. I wish we knew more about that relationship. The whole thing of what Prowl did to him with the mind control is so... like. It's so much. Just a whole lot. What would a conversation after that even have LOOKED like. And then at the same time, they have that connection in the form of Prowl giving him Springer, which clearly meant so much to Kup. You have the fact Prowl winds up going through something very similar to what he put Kup through and being completely fucked up by it. I wish there'd been a place for just like. One conversation on neutral ground after... everything. I wanna see if there's anything salvagable or if it's just horrible bitterness all the way down. Why the FUCK did they kill Kup off in a crossover again. >:(

one (or more) headcanon(s) i have that involve them and one other character: Prowl finds Verity on Earth post-Unicron and they have a talk about what happened to Springer. Enough time has passed that she's willing to meet with him, and also he managed to rally his common sense for five seconds for once and did ask first, like someone with manners. It's not a very pleasant conversation for him, honestly, but it does mean that he finally finds out just what happened, not just to Springer but to Tarantulas and Impactor as well.

#ask meme

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profanepurity · 11 months

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I’ve been itching to ask but keep on forgetting to do so, but what was everyone’s reactions to finding out Diana and secondo we’re gonna have a kid (including the two of them)

I don’t know if this is awkward to ask as well, but from a world build standpoint how would that even work. I know that she was revived before her organs decomposed but it seems unlikely that Diana would be able to carry a child to full term without side effects

(Also I cannot stress enough how much I love this au but if I’m asking too many questions let me know)

You are not asking too many questions at all Bamboo!! I adore every single one so much!

I've been dying to answer this question for so long, and while there is definitely some stuff I want to draw for this, I couldn't wait and decided to answer it as a quick fic lol!

I did focus a bit more on the lore and how Diana managed to have a healthy pregnancy and child. I was a little brief with everyone else's reactions, but that's because I plan on expanding on that later!

For now, here is "Accouchement" 💐🪦

CW: mentions potential child loss

Word Count: 4060 🖤

The night was a blessing for them both.

Night brought a peace within their world that the light of the day chased out with discipline and obligations. Hushed words made conversations softer, more cherished, hanging onto every whisper in order to hear. Tall, black shadows shielded them from all but each other, hiding what was only meant for them to see. Yet even the comfort of nightfall could not protect them from all reality, even momentarily.

Secondo laid in bed next to his lover, staring up at the ceiling and the suggestion of a slowly moving fan in the darkness. Every once in a while his eyes would drift over her form beside him. The gentle curve of her hips, dipping down towards her waist. The bed sheets stopped at her chest, allowing him to see her bare shoulders and face, surrounded in short brown curls. Her ghoulish hand was resting on his chest, pressed over his heart. The chill of her flesh seemed to be the only thing calming its rapid hammering against his ribs.

Only an hour ago had Sister Diana, the woman beside him that had sunk her claws into his soul, told him that she was pregnant.

Both of their reactions had been quiet, allowing breath to pass lips slowly and hands to hold each other. Secondo has always been a confident and assured man. He was capable of both commanding and maintaining control. Yet now, he felt like he was falling. It was not that he didn’t welcome the news. Truthfully, he hadn’t expected such a warmth to form in his chest once the words had sunk in. He hadn’t expected to see Diana smiling, and feel one grace his lips as well. They equally shared happiness, as they did fear.

How this pregnancy would be kept to full term seemed implausible, despite the unbelievable fact that Diana had gotten pregnant at all. Her mind was still her own. Diana retained her humanity even after Secondo witnessed her claw herself out of the earth from her grave. Even after he watched her body pull itself from death, all while the towering presence of the Old One stood above her, willing her to rise from the tomb of the earth. The woman he loved was still here with him, but undeniably changed. The corpses she dressed before their journey to eternal rest now mirrored her pale face and icey flesh. The nun, referred to as the ghost of the mortuary by some siblings, now stands over her work like a reanimated body fulfilling her duties for her fellow deceased. Even now, as her chill calmed the raging fire under his skin, he could not see the subtle rise and fall of her breathing, simultaneously furthering his panic.

That would be something Secondo would have to learn to get used to.

Sister Diana was dead. The mere idea of her carrying life inside her was a miracle… one that would surely burn out like a weak flame. It was a certain fact, however, that he did not question, as the unholy mother had came to Diana in a dream to confirm it, as she does with many newly expecting mothers. Secondo was still a Cardinal under his older brother, Papa Emeritus Primo, and Sister Diana was not married to him, yet the pregnancy still received a blessing, not that that was an expectacion necessarily.

Secondo let in a very quiet, sharp inhale as the ring he wore on his finger sent a sharp pain across his entire hand and up his arm for the tenth time that night since he’d gone to bed. It felt almost like the golden band was biting into his flesh. The ring had been a gift on the day he had ascended as a cardinal, from Bishop Avarice… a friend.

He lifted his hand slowly to his face, and even in the darkness he could make out a thin trail of blood spilling down the palm of his hand and down his wrist, confirmed by the cool feeling of the liquid against his skin.

His eyes darted towards the clock on his nightstand. The “bites” had come every three minutes now, starting since three o'clock this morning. Secondo would have scoffed at how cliche that was, if he wasn’t so genuinely disturbed. He knew it must mean something, what, he didn’t have a damn clue.

Every gift, word, and look from Bishop Avarice, is one from the demon, Beelzebub. The infernal king of devils, and prince of gluttony, plague, war and… fertility.

Fuck

The Cardinal felt his heartbeat grow faster now than it did this entire night. Secondo rarely cared what the high clergy had to say or feel regarding him. While he did respect Avarice, he did not bat an eye at the idea of keeping him waiting. Beelzebub was an entirely different thing, one which he has kept waiting for half an hour at this point.

Carefully, Secondo pried himself from Sister Diana’s arms. It felt like he was removing himself from his own tomb in a way, leaving the comfort of death to face something far more terrifying.

Secondo spared himself a single glance in the mirror after putting on his cassock. He froze at the sight of the bottle of whiskey on his desk, staring back at him in the reflection. He turned and grabbed it, trying not to make an sound. It felt like an eternity and more as he crept through the room towards his door, making every step silent and controlled, slow.

The moment he shut the door behind him with a gentle click, he practically flew down the hallway towards the offices of the bishops.

***

The Cardinal’s rapid foot falls ceased abruptly as he rounded the corner and found himself at the entrance of the hallway he was looking for. Doors of each office faced eachother as the shadows warped and elongated their forms. The lights were small and dim, higher up towards the ceiling, and only served in making the darkness seem harsher by contrast.

Secondo took a slow and controlled breath. He needed to enter this space calmly and in control, not only for his pride but for his own well being. Best not to let a predator know you are scared, and he was about to walk into a cave full of hungry, hellish beasts.

The energy of this part of the church always felt different, no matter the time of day. However, at this hour, the air was thin, and would easily make you feel light headed. Every part of his exposed skin felt chilled, like he was in a cold sweat and feverish. His body moved itself to the right door, seeing the silver plate on the wall that titled the room to belong to the “bishop” he sought.

One hand clutched the bottle of whiskey in a death grip while the other raised itself against the door and knocked, once, twice, and then a final time. He didn’t breathe as he waited for that relieving click of the door unlocking itself. It was only once his lungs started burning did he hear it, which allowed him to inhale slowly once more before he opened the door.

The sight within the office was daunting, but not in the way you might expect. There was no hellfire or horrific sight of a demon crawling along the ceiling to devour him. Instead, what greeted him was Lord Beelzebub, still passable as human in appearance, reclining back in his chair. He looked relaxed, reading while he smoked. His coat was off and his collar was loosened. He also seemed happy, as the smile on his face was subtle but undeniably there. Secondo couldn’t remember the last time he had seen such a thing. The Reverend Avarice was an intimidating man, powerful as he was mentally, socially, and physically, who rarely smiled. From the way he dressed, to the intensity of his eyes, he made you feel helplessly small, as everything about the bishop was big. Given his looks, this was not something that the siblings necessarily complained about.

All the same, Secondo was aware of the opinions that circulated around the church regarding himself.

The source of his seemingly good mood, mysterious as it was, was taken as a blessing from Satanas. Secondo had been certain he would be angered by having to call to him ten times through the ring. This wasn’t something the Cardinal was necessarily aware of, thinking it only to be a simple ring, but the gift had been so obviously given to him for a purpose, from someone like Beelzebub. He should have known, yet was grateful still for the patience the demon showed.

“Your dark Eminence. Here I thought you were ignoring us.” Beelzebub’s tone was as leisurely as his posture, yet it made Secondo freeze and remain silent. Us? His eyes dare to move away from the demon and towards the other side of the room. He was astonished that he hadn’t seen the other man in the room.

Bishop Lucrum stood on the other side of the office, looking over papers that were laid out over a desk. A tall, thin man that somehow always managed to look animated, even when still. As colorful as his personality was, he held a fair amount of respect within the church, and a repuation that cautioned any one daring to cross him. He had a heavy amount of authority in the church’s financial board, and often worked closely with Bishop Avarice, his brother, delivering sermons and structuring lessons for the youth seminary.

In the same vein, he was known to work with Father Null regarding the same matters, and others that were a bit more hush hush. Between the two cheerful bastards that were Father Null and Bishop Lucrum, Secondo didn’t have a clue how Avarice didn’t tear his beard off in ire.

He could also himself the same, regarding Terzo.

Bishop Lucrum, who was really Lord Mammon, king of greed, wealth, and prosperity, did look up at Secondo after a moment, stealing him with a gaze that often unnerved most siblings. His left eye, replaced by a glass prosthetic, glinted in the light, as gold as a coin itself. The Cardinal suspected he chose it to be a little unnerving.

The personalities of these demons were simply unfiltered versions of their human guises. Whereas Bishop Lucrum was more of a showman and a talker, Bishop Avarice was a firm, steady authority, yet both brothers could be equally as threatening.

Two sides of the same coin.

“Lord Beelzebub…Lord Mammon. I’m sorry I didn’t come immediately when you first summoned me.” Secondo kept his tone controlled, not daring to break eye contact with Mammon until the demon spoke to him, yet he felt just as tense not having Beelzebub in his line of sight. Why? He’s worked with both of these infernals for several years now. He was not used to feeling so infuriating nervous.

“You can make it up to us by pouring us some Grappe and sitting down.” Hearing that, Secondo began to wonder if Beelzebub was being so passive deceptively.

“I would love to, but I actually brought you both a bottle of Whistlepig for us to enjoy. I know you both enjoy it.” The Cardinal sets the bottle on Beelzebub’s desk, still keeping his eyes on Mammon’s face. The sight of the whiskey finally makes the thinner demon’s lips twitch upwards into a smirk.

“For us? You’re really trying to get on our good side tonight, aren’t you, Cardinal.” Mammon’s statement makes Secondo finally feel releashed from that golden, hypnotic gaze that held his attention for so long. He could finally turn his neck, feeling an ache in it set in from how tense the muscles had been.

Damn, he’s getting old.

“Well pour the whiskey then, it’s already almost 4 am. We only have two hours like this.” Beelzebub puts down what he was reading and raises his cigar to his lips to inhale the dark, reddish looking smoke. As he exhaled, it slipped past his lips and sharp teeth, reminding Secondo of a fire burning inside his chest and release smoke.

Secondo grabbed three glasses from the small bar desk kept in his office, bringing them to Beelzebub’s desk and arranging them in a triad. The pouring liquor seemed to be enough to draw Mammon closer, as his footsteps behind him made Secondo tense up once again before relaxing as he simply goes to sit beside his brother, adjusting his suit jacket and resting an elbow on the table comfortably.

Secondo sits down across from them once he finishes pouring each glass, and there is a moment where the three of them just stared at eachother, none speaking or moving to grab their drink. Both demons simply stared at Secondo for a moment. With the two of them next to eachother, it was easier to see the similarities along with the more obvious differences. Siblings often liked to gossip over which one was the eldest brother, being as their was little to no information about them anywhere, and they could only go by the vague and disconnected information that the bishops would share verbally. Secondo knew these demons to be ageless, simply and unfathomably, and left it at that. The two men he was looking at now were no more than illusions of the horrors that they truly were.

“How did she get pregnant?” The question left his lips in a rush of quiet exasperation after who knows how long, as Secondo looked between the two other men. He could see them slowly look at eachother and spare looks of silent humor and mocking incredulously raised brows, as if his question really had been that obvious and simple.

“I think that’s obvious, Cardinal.” Beelzebub, in response to his shaken words, idly blows a light amount of smoke past his own lips.

Secondo found himself standing over the two demons before he started thinking, rage rushing through him like a dam that had finally broke. He stares down over them in a still bridled but dangerously tempted rage.

“You known damn well why I ask that! Stop playing fucking games with me and tell me how I can keep this child!”

The result of his outburst rewarded him with Beelzebub rising from his chair, easily matching, if not surpassing his height once he moved around the desk. Secondo was a taller man himself after all. The demon’s burning red and yellow eyes bore into him like brands of fire. So much for his good mood just a moment ago, though Secondo really could only blame himself for that.

“You can’t. You don’t need us to tell you that. I thought that would be somewhat of a relief to you, Secondo. Now you don’t have to worry about replicating your father’s neglect onto your kid.”

“You don’t have to give up your lifestyle either. Kids are expensive Cardinal, I can’t imagine you’d be able to keep having all those night outs anymore.” Mammon remained in his chair, leaning heavily on the desk as he rolled a coin between each of his fingers, watching him and Beelzebub idly, not batting an eye at the stand off.

“And you won’t have to be tied to a life long committed to Diana… perfect, right?” Beelzebub never broke his stare straight into his very skull. He held it all the while Secondo remained silent, unable to summon any words to pass his lips, much less form in his mind after that bombardment of…uncomfortable truths. As much as he loved Diana, commitment was something they both struggled with, and mutually agreed, for now, not to force any kind of decision between the two of them.

After a moment of silence, Beelzebub speaks again, somewhat less intensely.

“Why do you think I bothered to call you in here ten times if the answers were that simple?”

“... So that we can arrange a pact.” Finally, the Cardinal finds his voice. His fists clench for a moment at how easily Beelzebub had stolen that ability from him. Again, Secondo was in no way used to having the ease of control over a room stripped from him. Not that this is by any means an average room.

“So you do want a way to have it all? I won’t lie to you, I’m liking all this greed, Cardinal.” Mammon leans back in his chair as Beelzebub moves to go sit back down beside his brother.

“Accepting change, yet wanting nothing to change, all at the same time. Something has to give though, doesn’t it? What are willing to sacrifice?” Mammon pauses the movement of the rolling coin between his first and middle finger, staring at him with a deceptively nice face. His eyes looked ready to swallow him in golden flames.

“Anything. Whatever you both want, I will give.” Secondo remains standing, following the larger demon’s movements with his eyes, but taking care to respond to Mammon.

“Careful, Secondo. Be very, very careful with your words here…” Beelzebub leans forward in his chair a little, lowering his tone and slowing his words, willing them to grip the Cardinal by his throat.

“If you allow us to take anything, we will take anything.”

Secondo sat back down, slowly sinking into the furniture. He had such a grip on the arm of the chair he was sitting in now that it creaked. He felt like a child being reprimanded for speaking out of turn. He was not a young man, his behavior was foolish as minimum in this. It infuriated him almost as much as these demons… who were his friends. Why was this such a tense conversation? Why did this need to feel like he was fighting just to breath in this room, let alone have a civil conversation. Could they not just give him grace, just this once, after the past three months of his life have been destroyed and rebuilt in a haze of chaos.

Then Beelzebub’s eyes dimmed, pulling back the flame and instead fixing him with a colder stare that felt like relief to Secondo, where some may find it harsh looking.

“If I allow you to have this child, I want your full devotion to me. No more of this lenient bullshit, I’m not fucking around anymore. You will give me your entire life and practice, before during, and after you become Papa Emeritus Secondo. Do this, and Diana will have a healthy pregancy and deliver the child with no issue.” Beelzebub’s demand left no room for any kind of negotiation on that deal, despite the immense gravity of it. His tone left no doubt in Secondo that it was indeed a promise.

This didn’t stop the Cardinal from looking over at Mammon for his demand, “... What is your price, Lord?”

“You couldn’t pay me any amount of cash to cut a deal with you.” A light chuckle erupts from him as he leans back even more, knitting his claws together over his stomach. His smile showed off golden fangs, reflecting slightly in the light of the office.

“I will allow you to keep your lifestyle, your papalcy will be bigger than your brother’s in every way, and the ghost project is going to spike under your reign.” Mammon’s words came off so easy, just like his smile.

Secondo tensely waited for the catch. He already knew before he told him that he couldn’t simply pay the Lord of Greed, unfortunately.

“You’re going to use that time in the spot light to work your ass off for both of us. If I need a special favor, I need you to fulfill it, no questions asked. The work you put in won’t affect your time with your family, but it will be demanding. Your time working with me is payment. More importantly, it’s also paving the way for your brothers, and for your kid.”

Mammon adjusted the watch on his wrist to check the time after laying out his equally demanding expectations for the Cardinal.

Secondo was silent for a moment, letting this sink in. He knew this wasn’t something that was going to make him sink to the bottom, but it would test him, extremely so.

Perhaps that was the point of this being so difficult, to prepare him for trial. Is this what Primo has to deal with on a regular basis with these infernals?

Another reality just got added to his mind with that thought, among a mountain of others. The words of the demons blended together in his head as he stared down at his untouched glass of whiskey. The idea of working, not just for his debt to Mammon and Beelzebub, but for his brothers and unborn child did stick with him more than he anticipated it would. If he could give them even a slightly better chance at success than he and Primo had, he could feel like he did something for them. He could feel like he filled in as their older brother and father properly, unlike Nihil, who couldn’t be bothered to give them a single fair opportunity, much less the time of day.

This was his opportunity to pave the way for something greater than himself.

“... Shall we drink to it then?” Secondo looks up at them, his gaze steady and voice firm in his decision.

Mammon grabs his glass without missing a beat, but Beelzebub doesn’t move so fast. He takes one more moment to lock eyes with the Cardinal, evaluating something inside of him, before a small smile finally came across his own features again. Beelzebub reached for the glass and picked it up.

“Let’s drink to it.” The affirmation is back to a steady and lighter demeanor.

The three men tilt back their drinks and to take a sip, solidifying the pact and marking an eternal devotion to the sin of greed. Finally, Secondo felt like he could breathe once more, like the liquor had some how opened his lungs and throat to allow in oxygen, and his mind stopped racing so much. The two demons before him simply looked content and happy to knock back a whiskey that was really meant to be sipped, yet they downed it as easily as water.

“Congratulations, friend. You’ll be a wonderful father.” Mammon’s grin looked natural finally as he handed him that coin that was in his hand, possessing a slight glow to it. The seal of Beelzebub was engraved on one side, while the seal of Mammon was on the other.

***

Telling his brothers that Sister Diana was pregant was much easier, as he expected it to be. Their initial reactions had been shocked, concerned, and confused, much like he had been. Papa Primo and his Prime Mover, Elizabeth, had approached him the night that he had broke the news to them all. They were understandably worried. He knew they were checking to see if he knew the likelihood of the pregancy being carried to full term was slim, he knew that from the way Eliza’s eyes seemed glassy, and Primo kept trying to search his eyes. He also knew their concerns would eventually be diluted by pleasant hope and confusion once the pregancy reached five healthy months, and it did.

Terzo and Copia, who remained silent at first, began to grow a bit more anxious and excited as the prospect of being uncles. It was finally hitting them that this could be real.

Elizabeth’s joy for her beloved friend only grew with Diana over the next months, hope slowly increasing into full blown delight. Primo finally began smiling again when he saw Sister Diana with him towards the end of her pregancy.

On the day of the accouchement, the birth of his daughter made the ministry glow with pride and happiness. Cardinal Secondo Emeritus ushering in the continuation of the bloodline was nothing short of celebrated. The high clergy all sent their blessings and well wishes to his family. Bishop Avarice and Bishop Lucrum offered their assistance with the newborn if it was needed, as friends would.

Perhaps the jubilation was why Secondo agreed to allow his father, Papa Emeritus Nihil, to hold his newborn granddaughter, Bellamy, during her dedication to the Unblessed Mother and Father.

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enigmaticdiary · 1 month

Text

and so i have been thinking thoughts...

elicited from the new trailer. copy and pasted from my discord cause i do all my thinkin there n_n;;

claudia + louis

when i think back to the book and the movie claudia was obviously an extremely important turning point in louis' life but it never felt like she was... the center of it you know? despite the fact that she was that glue that kept louis tethered to anything human in him.

but the book felt like he was just telling his story to be a. Sad pathetic man thing for the sake of it. cause he had no purpose to exist alone. to exist without claudia or lestat (or armand but their dynamic is. different and dicier) but after claudia is killed something about her presence and the years she spent with louis while alive felt... shrugged off in a way? and its likely because she didn't really have much of an identity outside of him and lestat which is understandable because she was significantly more vulnerable in the book than in the show, so she lacked that autonomy to have that choice to exist outside of them.

and when madeleine was brought into the picture for her to get that autonomy it was unfortunately already too late...

~~[mild separation of thoughts because i left to take a shower]~~

theres a few things i want to mention. just thoughts in my head. claudia dies fighting HARD for her autonomy as a person and a vampire. in comparison to louis who in all honesty has (DEBATABLY) lived without a shred of having his own autonomy. with lestat, lestats love (as claudia very smartly puts it) keeps him in a box. louis is financially dependent on him as a black man in the jim crow era once he loses the azalea, hes cut off from his family, he has NO ONE.

the brief time of just him and claudia is a good moment in time for both of them , trying to discover vampiric history together(tho in the show it looks like before they get to paris its gonna be absolute dogshit in comparison to the book), but in louis' case i feel like its guided by guilt and some form of obligation, because if he didnt go with claudia–who was already set to do this traveling alone before lestat dragged her back–where WOULD he have gone? stayed in new orleans with lestat in the dump just waiting to crawl out? i think he would sooner kill himself if he was left alone like that.

with armand…………… loumand is definitely better than loustat in extremely complex ways that i cant put into words right now but simultaneously even worse because of HOW armand preys on louis. there is absolutely love between them and i wont deny it but armand is so INSANELY dependent on the love of others to give meaning to his existence that he leverages louis' weaknesses and frailities to ensure that they will spend an eternity together. like he was plotting from the second he met louis and claudia. he kills claudia and madeleine, which then makes louis kill all the other vampires of the coven, so that there is no one left, NO ONE for louis to be able to turn to for solace.

i think that him remembering what actually happened to him up until the present is so important to him because he'll finally be able to realize that he hasnt been allowed to properly exist for himself the entire duration of him being a vampire. and maybe he can decide what he wants to do, for himself.

devil's minion... (in the present)

[these thoughts are referring to a tweet that wonders if armand is going to end up alone in the end. note: i am not versed in devil's minion lore. i'm getting there but as of this post i have not reached it]

saw this [the tweet] and audibly exclaimed GOOD

i love armand but the guy is genuinely evil and has wronged every single character hes come across including lestat which i find is hard to do

I know ppl are excited for armandaniel and devils minion but Im not..going to lie ive been REALLY skeptical of it and how it would be explored in the context of the show without severely wronging louis and doing him EXTREMELY dirty.

people are allowed to like it in the bubble of the books but theres a really big shift in dynamic for the show in the fact that ... armand has definitely done... Something to daniel and louis, of what i cant say. but with the way that things are going, an ending in which daniel sides with armand after finding out exactly what armand did to louis and claudia in paris does NOT sit well with me?

and i love loumand but I am so uneasy about the inevitable breakup in regards to whats gonna happen AFTER it. I feel like daniel now is wise enough to not chase after a guy who is diabolically selfish and broken and leave louis behind to live out the vampire fantasy dreams of his youth. and in the trailer too im getting. Loudaniel vibes in terms of reconciling their past with the previous interview. And Heres my theory for Devils minion BUT ITS LOUDANIEL INSTEAD OF ARMANDANIEL (1/689)

#iwtv show #iwtv book #I usually post stuff under the impression that no one is going to gaf about anything i say but if you do I demand that you be nice to me

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hijinxensues · 1 year

Text

The Cloaking Brooch Dilemma - Part 8

RotTMNT Donatello x OC!AFAB

Synopsis: Donatello considered himself, nay, deemed himself the greatest mind of his generation. He was known for his skills as a scientist, inventor, engineer and was a technological genius. Dare he throw in that he was a damn good brother and held the title of being ¼th ‘Protector of New York City’.

He could barely fathom that he didn’t piece together that the pretty barista he was falling for was simultaneously his gaming buddy (might I add, for the last eight years) and was working for Big Mama.

At this very moment, Donatello was sure of two things in his life. One of them being his life was a joke and the second being that he was fraternizing with the enemy.

All because he decided to run errands whilst donning his cloaking brooch.

Warnings: Aged-Up turtles, fluff, Half-Yokai OC, AFAB OC (does use she/her/they pronouns in writing), swearing, light angst

FIRST

Ch 8 – Magenta

Despite your best efforts to convince Donnie to stay as the night closed in on the both of you, he politely declined saying that he’d make it home and that he was absolutely tougher than he looked. While he didn’t give off ‘string bean’ vibes, Donnie was very lean; you made a mental note to start feeding him more.

After ensuring he got home safe and bidding him goodnight, you cleaned up after yourselves and made yourself comfy in your own bed.

letty: not to give you a big ego or anything, but its like super lonely without you here lmao also vacuum up after ur rabbit fur ffs, why I also gotta clean up after YOUR shedding

gigi: my ego is so fucking large right now, also I pay for most of the groceries so. u can deal w the shedding ty bb

gigi: i will admit that i, too, have separation anxiety LOL its too late for me to make it over there

letty: donnie mentioned something about ‘portal magic’ or whatever being pretty common amongst yokai, maybe make urself useful and learn some, or better yet find someone who can do it for you

gigi: got, it will find hot boyfriend to portal me to ur place. Bc that’s SO easy. Also how was loverboy tonight?

letty: OMF I had a panic attack and then we like…semi cuddled or smth? Our shoulders were touching EEEE

gigi: THE SHOULDERS BABE!! youre ridiculous lmao im going to bed now, will swing by idk whenever ill just show up, night lov u bb

letty: ya whatever u got a key. that u got cut for yourself lmao

letty: NIGHT love u too

You rolled your eyes and made yourself into a little burrito before tucking your phone under your pillow and settling in. Having Donatello actively in your life the past few weeks was a bit of a whirlwind, getting past the initial shock of it all, the two of you established a bit of a routine and fallen into a rhythm. There were evenings where you had night shifts or he was just busy with family, but you’d made time to video chat or text almost all hours of the day and then to see each other at least every few days, schedule permitting.

Were you two…seeing each other?

No, that would be ridiculous. The prerequisite of two or more people seeing each other with romantic intentions would be that all parties would be in consensus to said suggestion prior to moving forward with it. On top of that, all parties would also have to be honest…guilt gnawed at you your hand finding it’s way to one of your ears and tugging gently. The ‘Cloaking Brooch Dilemma’ would have to be addressed sooner or later, but when? It felt like too much time had passed to just casually bring it up. Would he think you’re a liar? Worse, would he hate you for lying by omission? You should’ve just made the reveal the same night you found out he was using ‘Othello’ as an alias.

Sighing, you closed your eyes and let sleep take you. It was a problem for another day.

You hadn’t heard much from Donnie during the day, (he did have other obligations than answering your text messages back, unfortunately). Wiping the counter down at Rendezvous, you get a ping on your phone.

gigi: we out of milk can u get some on the way home plz

letty: we?

letty: WHOS ‘WE’? you and me? U don’t live there

letty: u fucking moocher

letty: also yes lactose free? venmo me bitch

After receiving a thumbs up emoji from your rabbit counterpart, you focus back on tending to the coffee machine and cleaning up. There wasn’t much longer to go until your shift here was done, you’d get a little bit of a break then you’d have a shift at the Grand Nexus. Making a mental note to put up milk in between your jobs, the telltale ring of the door goes off making it known someone’s come in.

“Hi, welcome to- oh, hey! It’s been a while!”

Your hands make quick work starting a latte for him and grabbing a cinnamon bun. You give him a once over which causes you to pause your rapid muscle memory. Your regular normally wore a black mask to cover his nose and mouth but he was without it today and you were met with a very familiar shade of green and purple. The purple clad individual was sans his goggles and in place a black beanie, but with his drawn-on eyebrows on his purple bandana, this was without a doubt, the terrapin who you’d had, not one but two, run ins with at Tio Huesos’. He looked so casual bundled up in his coat, faux fur lined the hood, his bottom half in well-worn dark grey sweatpants and then boots with dark purple socks poking out the top.

Thinking back to the other times you’d seen him previously, how have you not recognized him sooner?

You honestly weren’t sure how to feel, he’d always been a quiet and well-behaved regular. He’d never given you a hard time and had always given a nod or a half curtesy smile before heading out with his goods. Frustration brewed in your chest thinking back to all his attitude outside the Rendezvous walls.

“Hello,” his voice cracked, he smoothed over his neck with a hand and cleared his throat, “Salutations!” he tried one more time with a nervous chuckle and an awkward smile. You were almost tempted to think he was cute. Almost. “Tonight is an exceptional night for a stroll and a coffee, don’t you think?”

This was a very different version of the turtle you previously had run into with your rabbit ears equipped. Thinking back, he was much more nervous now than you’d ever seen taking in account the times he’d come by the coffee shop over the years, and he’d never previously tried to initiate small talk with you in the past.

“The same as usual, right? I’ve already got it going.”

He deflates, smile quickly replace with a tight-lipped nod. Eyes darting everywhere but your own as he paid for his order. He shoved his hands deep into his pockets as he stiffly made his way to the other counter to wait for his order.

Holding back a groan, you got his order ready, guilt seeping into your bones as your curt response wiped the smile off his face. He does have a pretty smile. Biting back a scowl you mentally reprimand yourself for thinking any boy with pretty eyes that paid you any attention was cute.

“Ah, sorry sir,” you start slowly, “just having a long day.”

You slide over two cinnamon buns instead of one, “An extra for you on the house.” Twirling a bit of hair around your finger, you tug lightly and offer as bright of a smile as you can muster to turn the mood around.

The terrapin almost fumbles his coffee cup as he puffs his chest out with a newfound confidence. ‘Oh god, there he is’, this energy was what you associated with him at Tio Huesos. He was but a shade away from exuding an air of arrogance.

“But of course! I did not at all take the pervious interaction personally in any capacity! Ha ha!”

Two things were made instantly clear to you.

1) Purple Turtle was a shitty liar.

He pulls a giggle out of you, and you catch his grin widen marginally as his fingers clench and adorably thrum on the pastry box.

2) You were too soft on Purple Turtle. (Note to self: Be an asshole and commit to it.)

He glances down at your nametag, and the gesture oddly reminds you of Donnie, “Violet, have a good evening.”

“You as well, sir.”

The terrapin struts out of the shop quickly and with purpose, a bit of a bounce to his step a stark contrast from his more subdued and jittery movements coming in. You almost miss him fist bump the air as he turns the corner and is out of sight.

‘You’ve been invited to ‘Girls Night!’ group chat’

Rapid pings happen on your phone as April, Sunita and Usagi spam the text thread. Quickly, you put the group chat on mute and save both girls numbers into your phone. Pocketing your phone to clean up after your mess you made another mental note to try your best and actual conversate and cultivate new relationships with Usagi’s other friends.

The rest of your shift goes by uneventfully and your co-worker comes in to relieve you as you clock out. Waving them a goodbye, you gather your things and head home to rest up before your night shift at the Grand Nexus.

Your apartment is rabbit-less when you enter, and you put the milk away in the fridge. Your nose twitches as you walk around the space, ‘I probably just missed him’, your sense of smell was slightly heightened post-mutation and you didn’t put it to use often but it was useful when needed.

‘125 Missed Messages’

Snorting you press the record button to record a voice note, “Hey girlies, sorry was at work. Just got home, but also going to head out to work again in a little bit. Uh, got the milk, Gigi. Also, lets plan for hanging out? I can host, my space is small, but it’ll be cozy! Hope yall don’t mind rabbit fur- Gigi is shedding.” Letting the voice note send, you prep another, “Also, 125 missed messages!?”

A voice note from Usagi pops up, “Venmo’d you for milk. Yes, catch up on the chat while you get ready for work. I’ll swing by later, probably? Love you.”

April: yall are too cute!! reminds me of my siblings but much less violent and annoying

Violet: LOL, how many u got?

Sunita: she has like, 4 brothers.

Four!? That would make April one of five siblings, in this economy? In New York City?! Settling into your couch cushions you catch up on your missed messages and send a few voice notes back to them.

April: okay, so girls night on Thursday? that gives us all a few days to prep and book off work!

Sunita: Already in the calendar!! SO EXCITED

Usagi: i’ll be there early to help set up the apartment

Letty: YAY okay sounds good yall, will talk later, just getting ready 4 the night shift

Getting ready you put your things together and leisurely pull out a post it-note and start writing to let Usagi know when you’d be home and to throw the garbage out when he got in. Sticking the note on the fridge, you double then triple check you have everything for your shift then set off to your destination.

“Did you ever find out what that turtle Yokai was snooping around for?” Draping yourself across the magenta chaise you play catch with yourself and a crumpled-up piece of paper. Catching the ball in your hand you make the next toss into a nearby waste basket.

The loud smack on the table startles you enough to almost slide out of the chaise.

“No, we didn’t. He was seemingly snooping around for nothing; nothing was out of place. Nothing was missing. It was virtually untouched.”

Odd, but what did you know about hero and villain affairs?

Usagi had pretty much confirmed that he was one of the color-coded vigilantes that saved the city from the alien invasion a few years back and so you were reticent to think he was doing something with malicious intent. You were very well aware through the grape vine that Big Mama was…’sketchy’ to speak plainly. If anything, ‘sketchy’ was a very watered-down descriptor of the woman.

Secretly, you hoped he got what he needed the last time so you wouldn’t need to be caught up with him again. You really did like the job at the hotel. The grandeur of the hotel used to make you feel out of place, but now it felt cozy to be surrounded by such warmth from the richness of the velvet furniture and the overdressed patrons.

The telltale flickering red light catches your attention and you let go of a breath you didn’t know you were holding, “Hello, front-“

“Intercom girl, I was hoping I’d catch you.”

How he was able to tell it was you based on two words alone stumped you.

The florescent blue clouds your vision as the line goes dead and the blue clad terrapin walks through and closes the portal behind him. A hand finds your emergency button immediately; however you find yourself not wanting to press it. Ears swiveling, you do a once over the lobby to confirm there was no other employees in the vicinity to see this. Your hand knocks over the switch for the security cameras trained on the front desk and you lie to yourself that you did it by accident.

Sticking your neck out for a stupid, blue turtle wasn’t on your to-do list today, but here you were.

“I think you already know what I’m going to say, but how can I help you?”

“You know, Intercom Girl, I can call you ‘Intercom Girl’ right? I think we got off on the wrong foot,” he flashes a grin at you that would surely make someone else swoon (but not you, purple was more your color), “The names’ Leo and I believe you and me might have a mutual friend.”

You follow his gaze to the button on your wrist to notify the staff and you guess he catches the way your eyebrows furrow uncertainly so he follows up with a, “I don’t bite, promise.”

“You’re going to need to give me more than just your name and an ominous mention about a mutual friend.” Rationally, you could guess he was talking about Usagi, given that Usagi himself confirmed the terrapins did takeout at Huesos. However, Leo could also be alluding to April or even Sunita? Though, those choices were less plausible since there was only one instance where you’d met them.

“We’re also on a time limit before someone comes down to check on me, so talk fast.” Pressing him for time seems to be the right play as he deflates momentarily as the jig is up. He glances around the same way you did before and leans in close, “So,”

“So?”

“There’s this,” he runs a hand down his face and you don’t miss the way his cheeks are dusted with pink. Gesturing with your hand for him to keep going, he refuses to meet your eyes as he continues, “Rabbit Yokai at ‘Run of the Mill’.”

You were calling Usagi once you got off the clock.

“And you’ve come to me to confirm that we’re mutuals or?”

He fidgets with the wrappings on his arms, “I’m usually much more suave than this,” he chuckles nervously and pulls at an invisible collared shirt.

“Are you? Because it looks like rabbit got your tongue.” Confidently you smirk at him with your play on words.

“I can respect that, honestly. I made an IHOP joke last I saw you so I definitely deserved that. Point is, I’m just making sure he’s safe.”

Scratch that, you were calling Usagi the moment Leo left.

“Safe? Where is he? What’re you on about?” Panic shows itself in the way your fingers go to your pocket to grab your phone to contact him. Leo’s gaze hardens as he stares down your jittery form, “You work at the Grand Nexus, who’s owned by Big Mama- one of the biggest crime lords for the Hidden City. Can’t be too careful.”

“And? Usagi’s my best friend!” your mouth is too fast for your brain and you’ve revealed the only real leverage you had against him, “Are you accusing me of putting him in danger because of my night job!? How do you even know we know each other?! I would’ve heard about you if you were important to him.”

Usagi would’ve told you if he was seeing someone, especially if it was this guy. Right?

The doubt that’s sowed into your head is blinding and doesn’t help you think straight as you press the emergency button Leatherhead gave you.

“You should go. Don’t come back.”

Leo’s gaze doesn’t leave yours, his expression unreadable, as he opens his portal and walks through.

Your apartment door almost comes off the hinges with how violently you unlock and push it open. Your rabbit counterpart yelps and flops onto the floor unceremoniously from the couch. Usagi’s has his hand to his heart, he breathes heavy and fast, “What the fuck is going on!? It’s like, 1am in the morning!”

“I don’t know, you tell me! Do you happen to know a ‘Leo’? That’s also a turtle? Because I’ll tell you what there’s probably not many of those around!”

A flash of recognition runs across his face as he catches his breath, “Well, yeah? He comes to Tio Huesos’. Why did you have to give me a heart attack, for the second time, at 1am in the morning to ask that question!?”

Tears pinprick at your eyes as you collapse beside him on the floor and recount the encounter with Leo to Usagi, bottom lip quivering and tears painting your cheeks. “Do you not trust me?” Warm arms engulf you, “Letty, I trust you with my life. Leo can get overprotective-“

“So, you do know him?!”

“I do! But like, casually? I was actually waiting to see if it’d get more serious before I outright told you.”

“But we tell each other everything.” Her admission is barely a murmur.

“We do, and I was wrong to keep it from you even if that wasn’t the intention. You know how quickly I catch feelings and I really just wanted to be sure before I brought it up this time. I’m so sorry, Letty.” Sputtering out a watery laugh you clutch at his sweater, “Lest we forget, Gerard the Frog Prince, your last ‘true love’.”

There’s a playful bat at your head and a tug on your ear, “Listen, I deserve that but also fuck you.”

The air in the apartment is much lighter as the two of you sleepily clutch onto each other, seeking warmth and comfort. Usagi reaches for the comforter and a few pillows, “We can do a pillow fort tonight?”

Wiping away your tears onto Usagi’s sweater you nod and get up to help him drape sheets over a few chairs before grabbing a few fairy lights from your bedroom to rig on the inside. You rummage for a few more comforters since you were too lazy to move your mattress and make a little den.

“Leo would have a fit if he saw this, he’d think we’re dating.”

“He knows I only like guys, but also, I definitely have to talk to Leo about whatever the fuck just happened, because you are the farthest thing from a threat. I think his family just has messy history with Big Mama.”

You snort, “Yeah, get your man babe, he’s out of control. You should also ask how he knew where to find me?”

“Well, he’s a ninja so I think he probably followed you. Maybe he’s seen us walk home together or something, I’ve brought you up very vaguely in conversation.”

Humming, you concede, that made a lot of sense, “That’s deeply unsettling. Speaking of turtles, my regular came in today and guess what? He’s the purple turtle from Tio Heusos I ran into! He didn’t recognize me obviously, but it was whack. I felt like I was in the matrix.”

“You’re kidding me.”

“That’s what I’m saying!”

Yawning you pull out your phone to see an onslaught of messages from the group chat and Donnie. You open Donnie’s text thread and start typing.

letty: had the craziest fucking day, I don’t think you’re awake but missed you today

letty: also my dishwasher is broken, can you come over and fix it plz lmao tyty my lil techie

donnie: Please do not ever call me ‘lil techie’ ever again.

letty: it’s your new rap name, but also go the fuck to bed

donnie: I missed your presence today as well and do tell me about your day later today. I am heading to bed now, but I’m glad I caught you. And yes, I will fix your dishwasher.

letty: perf, youre the best but u knew that already

‘Letty sent a photo attachment’

letty: check out this blanket fort, made it w gigi night lil techie

donnie: 3 things: Love the addition of fairy lights, fuck off and goodnight.

Usagi’s ears flop over your shoulder and you watch his even breathing signaling he’s gone to sleep already. You dim your fairy lights, get comfortable and let sleep take you for the night.

TBC

#tmnt donatello #donatello #Rise Donatello #rise of the tmnt #rottmnt #rottmnt donnie #rottmnt oc #donnie x oc #rise donnie x oc #rise donnie x reader #rise donatello x reader #the cloaking brooch dilemma tmnt #sorry idk if im happy with this chapter but the show must go on #i also know usagi and oc just snuggle a lot i am a touch starved individual #i wish my best friend was usagi honestly #the next chapter is so much better i promise

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parkersroses · 3 years

Text

champagne problems. | harry styles.

summary: Harry and Y/N meet again after things fell out for them.

pairing: harry styles x fem!reader

word count: 7.3k words

trigger warnings: mentions of mental health issues and attempt of self harm, angst. if these are triggering to you, pls do not read this.

a/n: (gif credits to @letsmakesomeonehappytoday) i’m super nervous about this, also this is definitely the longest i’ve written. i began writing this last december bc i absolutely love the context of the song and i felt like writing something that touches important issues like mental health. i read and did research on how i could write this properly without having it look like i was romanticising the topic. if you do find it that way, pls feel free to leave constructive criticism so i can further improve and amend on my writing. don’t feel obligated to read this if it is triggering to you. here is a link to some mental health hotlines, i might add some more in another if i find any that are reliable. don’t be afraid to ask for help or even help others if you know they might be struggling.

reblog, comment if you like it or not, or even start a conversation. donate to my kofi if you’d like to support me further. i love you all.

The relaxing and sensual sound of jazz music filled the room. The chandeliers hanging above casted a golden glow over it, making the room more elegant than it did. People were dressed in nice clothing for the new year celebration.

Harry was not one for New Year’s eve parties, having to prefer sitting in the comfort of his home, sipping on some champagne as he tries to ignore the loud fireworks going off. But considering it was one of his old friends that was hosting this particular party, there was no way he would deny it. He enjoyed having to see his old friends again after a busy year of filming a movie for the world to see one day.

He stands with his friend, Jake, as he holds a champagne flute in one hand. Talia, his recently girlfriend-turned-fiancée, standing next to him with an arm wrapped around his waist. It had been two weeks since he proposed and two weeks since she said yes to marrying him. It was a joyous time for them after nearly a year of dating. Some might think they rushed but Harry ignored them. He knew if the time was right, then it would be bound to happen eventually.

Harry’s eyes scan through the sea of people while Jake and Talia are discussing animatedly about something he probably isn’t paying attention to all that much. His eyes wander around until they fall on a familiar figure. He blinks his eyes hard enough to make sure they aren’t playing tricks on him, and they aren’t. The person who he knew and loved before. The person whom he intended to spend the rest of his life with. The person who left him, not giving him a reason as to why.

Y/N stands with Natalia, occasionally sipping on her champagne as they talk. He should have known that their group of friends would stay in touch with her, even after they broke up years ago. She wears her casual dark jeans, a black long-sleeved shirt and heeled boots. A contrast to those around them, wearing fancy dresses and suits. She always stood out in her own way. It was why he loved her then.

Harry let out a breath, seemingly couldn’t believe that his ex lover is here in the same room as him. Talia notices this and questions, “Babe, you alright?” Harry breaks away his gaze from Y/N before smiling at his dear fiancée. “Yeah, m’fine. Just saw an old friend, s’all,” he assures her as he sips on his drink.

“Oh, d’you want to talk to her?” She asks, and Harry shakes his head because if he did, he wouldn’t know how to act or say to her. “No worries. Maybe later,” he says.

As time passes, Harry finds himself focused on Y/N numerous times. In his mind, he is already thinking of ways to talk to her. What would he say to her? Would she even want to talk to him? Or were they going to pretend everything was fine before she left him?

When he looks around for her again, he freezes as he sees her eyes staring right back at her, almost looking in shock as he is there too. There is a glimmer in her eyes that he always noticed. She gives him a small yet timid smile from across the room before breaking away from the eye contact.

Harry decides to pick up what’s left of his courage in his body to walk over and greet her. He leans into Talia’s ear, whispering to her. “I’m just going to meet an old friend. You’ll be okay here?” He says. Talia looks up at him and nods. She assures him that she’ll be alright, saying that she’ll talk to some other of their friends.

As he leaves her side, he walks through the sea of people to look for the person he hadn’t seen in a long time. Harry finds her grabbing another glass of champagne from a nearby tray and he smiles at this. He always knew she liked champagne. She doesn’t notice him walking up to her until he clears his throat. She turns around and her breath hitches as she sees him. Harry’s mouth dries up instantly as his eyes gazes upon her. Despite years of knowing her, he still found her beautiful.

The corner of his lips curls up slightly. “Hi,” he says quietly, his breath slightly shaking as he spoke. He isn’t sure whether she heard him, but her reply seems to answer that. “Hi,” she replies, with the same nervousness in her voice.

“Fancy seeing yeh here,” he chuckles. Y/N smiles at this; while it was awkward to have seen her ex in a long while, he never fails to make the situation comfortable for them. “Y-Yeah, you too,” she stutters.

She is not going to admit it aloud, but she misses the sound of his voice. How deep and raspy it could get. She misses his voice being the first thing she hears when she wakes up, or the hums she would hear in her ear as they would dance with no music on. She misses his touch whenever he holds her close, warmth and protection radiating from his body onto hers. She misses everything about him despite them not being together anymore for a long time, she admits but never out loud.

Silence fills the gap between as they both figure out what to say. On one hand, they can pretend everything is alright and converse like old friends. On the other, they can push their fears aside and talk about what is actually in their minds that seem to have an affect on their current relationship.

“So, how’ve yeh been?” He hesitates to ask. He’s not sure whether she would lie to him or give him the proper answer he needs. The answer he wishes he knew. Y/N doesn’t know how to answer that without making it sound as depressing as it is. There had been many times she wanted to give him a reason why she left him, to give him a little bit of closure that he deserves. Perhaps it is her pride that prevented her from doing so.

“I’m alright,” she says with a small smile on her lips. Her answer could be a lie or the truth. “And, you?”

He nods slightly at her answer. “I’ve been alright,” He gives her tight smile back. “Been a while since I last saw you,” he says and she nods. “Y-Yeah, way too long,” she says quietly. It’s hard to ignore how insincere the smile he gave her is. Y/N knows him all too well, even when they were no longer together. She knows by that smile that there’s something on his mind, something he wants to say. But she doesn’t question it.

Harry is aching to ask her. To ask what happened between them, why she left him without a warning, why she had to break his heart the way she did.

It’s almost like she senses what he is thinking because she then suggests to him. “Want to go outside for a bit?” She gestures to the backyard with her head.

“Yeah, absolutely,” Harry breathes out. He almost cringes at how desperate he sounds. “Um, after you,” he says, gesturing his hand towards the door. She softly thanks him and Harry follows right behind her outside.

“So-”

“I-”

The pair speak simultaneously as they walk and they both laugh at it. “Sorry,” she says. Harry dismisses this. “No worries.”

“You look great, by the way,” she says. Harry smiles at her compliment. “Thank you. You look amazing too,” he returns the compliment. She blushes a bit before muttering a soft ‘thank you’ under her breath.

The cold air wraps around the two bodies that once knew each other’s intimately. The stars look brighter that night and Y/N takes a deep breath as she stares up at the sky. She doesn’t realise how Harry looks at the small breath she let out, or how he admires her side profile like he used to when she sleeps. He stares at her for a bit more, like he’s remembering again what she looks like, before averting his eyes to the night sky.

“Saw you had a date back there. Someone special I assume?” She asks out of the blue. Harry freezes in his place. “Y-Yeah, she is,” he blurts out and clears his throat. “My fiancée, actually,” he says and he looks at her to see her reaction.

Y/N is surprised at first, feeling her whole body tense up before she relaxes. But Harry catches it. “That’s great. Congratulations, Harry,” she smiles at him before turning back the stars. She promises she is genuine about it. But maybe she’s just telling herself that. “How long have you both been together?”

“Nearly a year now,” he says. Y/N lets his answer sink in her head. A year, she thought. We were together longer than that for you to propo-

“Seems like a short time, huh?” She jokes, but Harry only gives a small smile. “Is it though? Too soon to ask if we’re both ready?” He says, as if he’s mocking her and something. And that sent a shard through her chest. Harry curses at himself, he shouldn’t be saying things like that despite them not being together anymore. She looks down at the ground like it was suddenly the most interesting thing and shakes her head.

“I’m sorry, Harry,” she apologises. Harry is quick to shake his head at her. “No, no. I’m sorry for how I said it. You did nothing,” he says. Y/N is silent for a bit before saying back to him.

“No, really. I didn’t mean to make things weird or uncomfortable between us. I’m just.. Sorry,” she says.

“How are you, Y/N?” He asks genuinely. Y/N is confused at first, wondering why he is asking the same question again. “I already told you, Harry. I’m alri-,”

“I mean, how actually are you?”

She turns to him, seeing as Harry is already looking at her with a solemn expression. “You don’t have to lie to me,” he says softly, almost sounding like he doesn’t want to scare her. And she knows what he meant and what he wants to know.

Y/N suddenly feels a lump forming in her throat and breathes in deeply. She clears her throat, hoping her voice doesn’t waver when she speaks. “I promise I’m okay, Harry. I just,” she sighs and closes her eyes.

“I don’t know. I’ve been getting by on my own. Trying to work on myself, you know, since,” her words falter, but Harry knows what she means. Since she left him without an answer to one of the most important questions in life. He nods his head slightly even though she doesn’t see it.

He lets out a sigh as he looks up at the starry night. “You know, it’s… kind of surreal. Us being here I mean,” he says. Y/N looks at him again with confusion written all over her face. “I’ve been wondering where you’ve been. I called but you never seem to answer. I just wanted to see how’ve yeh been, you know?” He confesses, throwing this big weight out in the open.

Y/N has her head hung low, like a child being scolded for stealing the last cookie from the cookie jar. But she knows he means well. And she hates how not only she caused problems for herself, but the person she once loved.

“I just… I miss my best friend, Y/N. I miss having her around,” he says, and he doesn’t realise how his words hit her like a truck. She breathes in sharply, feeling a slight pain in her throat. “And you don’t think I felt the same way then?” She asks softly, her voice already wavering.

Harry shakes his head. “No, love, I didn’t mean it like that. I’m sorry,” He’s quick to apologise but she dismisses it while ignoring the fact that he called her a very familiar pet name he used to use on her. “It’s fine,” she says, and her voice is almost quiet enough for you to not hear her.

“It’s just,” she breathes out and she looks up hoping that tears won’t escape her eyes. “I wanted to let you in. I could’ve answered the phone. But I didn’t. I know how bad I left things between us, H.” Harry’s heart jumped a bit at hearing her say ‘H’ again. She used to always call him that. It still sounds lovely as it leaves her lips.

“I wish I could’ve told you why I left you kneeling with the ring still in your hand. I couldn’t, though. Maybe I wasn’t ready that time, or never was.” It hurts for her to say this because she has imagined spending the rest of her life with him countless times. “I’ve had this constant battle in my mind for so long. I thought that maybe if I ignore it, it’d be like it never was there and we’d be alright. But it got worse and I couldn’t ignore it anymore. I held it on for so long and I couldn’t say anything because I knew I’d somehow ruin everything. Well, I did in the end.” And she feels tears streaming down her face.

Harry feels his tears escaping his eyes too, but doesn’t make the effort to wipe them away. As if he’s paralyzed in where he stands. “A-And, what happened after that?” he asks ever so gently.

Y/N wipes her tears away and takes a deep breath before continuing the sad story they’re on. “I lived with it and the thoughts consumed my mind. S-Sometimes, they can get dark.” She confesses but not all at once. She won’t tell him how she felt herself crumbling down and how her mother found her unconscious in the bathroom, overdosing on some pills she found. She won’t tell him how hard she cried in her hospital bed over the pain she was in. It felt like a shard puncturing through Harry’s heart. The fact that she had been struggling all this while and he never noticed it, it kills him.

“Then, one day, I just decided to find help. I knew I needed help. And I’ve been having sessions with a psychiatrist for a few months now.” And she smiles through her tears. “I’ve been working a lot on myself, been on medication and all. Then, maybe one day, when I feel ready for it, I’d come find you, apologise for the problems I caused between us. Didn’t think it’d be tonight, though.” She jokes and hangs her head low again, like she’s scared to see what Harry thinks of her now. Just a girl who’s sick in the head.

There is an uncomfortable silence between them and Harry speaks up again. “You infuriate me sometimes, you know?” Y/N looks at him and his eyebrows are pressed together like he’s mad. She is once again confused at what he meant. “I would’ve listened. I would’ve helped you. I would’ve,” he pauses and runs his fingers through his brown curls, taking a breather so he won’t actually lose his temper. But for Y/N, it’s like she wanted him to scream at her. Yell at her for leaving him behind for her own selfish needs.

“I would’ve looked after you,” he says softly, and it’s heartbreaking to hear the pain in his voice. “I didn’t want to burden you, H. I wouldn’t do that to you,” she says gently and Harry shakes his head at her. “Is that what you thought? That you’d burden me?” She only shrugs at him with a sad smile.

“I heard it before.” She says, and it makes Harry furious that anyone would toss aside the state of her mental health. “It’s not because of your job, Harry. Or your fans,” she assures him. “I didn’t want to overwhelm you with what I’ve been going through. You deserve someone who isn’t as fucked in the head as I am,” she says.

Harry now has tears running down his cheeks. He now wishes he could go back and actually pay more attention to her, instead of being ignorant to it. He remembers when she left, the neighbourhood had quite a bit to say about the rejection, particularly on her. They often talked about how insane she was to deny his proposal because marriage is what every woman needs, right? Granted, he told them off not to speak about Y/N so poorly ever again, but he still wishes he could’ve seen the signs when it got worse for her.

Now, she stands in front of him, and it might be wrong to admit this, but she still looks just as beautiful as the day he lost her. Her eyes still have the same shine and her smile still has the same warmth to it. He lets out a small laugh. “This is not how I actually planned to spend my New Year’s eve,” he says jokingly and they both laugh, almost like the entire sad conversation did not occur. “I know,” she says, smiling at him. She doesn’t realise how her words took him back to when they would get drunk on wine while watching romantic comedies together on their couch.

“This is quite an interesting relationship you and I have,” he says smiling as he looks up at the starry night. She smiles at him too before doing the same. It’s the comfortable silence filling the gaps between them now. Just two people under the stars, one has it all figured out while the other has champagne problems.

She looks back at the building, gold lights still shining as people are getting drunk and ready for the countdown. “You should probably go back to your fiancée, H,” she says. Harry sighs as their time together has come to an end and nods. “Um, it was really great seeing you, Harry,” she says as her feet fidgets against the ground. She feels like a teenager talking to her crush again.

Before he even thinks, Harry has his hand up, brushing off the piece of hair of face, and his thumb lightly brushes over her cheeks a bit. “You too, Y/N,” he says, and he means it. Y/N feels her face warm up, before nodding her head at him and leaving. “Where’re yeh going?” He calls out to her. Without looking back, she calls back to him. “Home!”

He only looks at her leaving for a moment before calling out to her again. “Y/N, wait!”

Y/N stops in her tracks and looks back at him. “Um,” he fumbles on his words. “If I call you, not tonight, or tomorrow, just if any day after this, because we’re on good terms, uh,” he blurts out his words as she watches him, amused by what he wants to ask. “If I call, will you answer? Like I said before, I miss my best friend,” he shrugs and has almost a pleading look. Y/N’s heart melts at him and she smiles.

“I will, H,”

❊

Since their last meeting, a lot of things have been on his mind and one of them was Y/N. He hasn’t been able to stop thinking about her and the conversation they had. He knew now that it must’ve taken a lot of bravery to speak up about what she was going through. And he was proud of her. He really was.

He has been thinking about calling her for a while. He just doesn’t know what he’ll say. He wants to know how she’s feeling even though he’ll never know what it felt like for her to go through the dark times she went. But he could try to understand. He owes her that, at least. He spends some of his time off reading about mental health issues and educating himself more now.

Talia wanted to start planning their wedding, which makes Harry fill up his schedule more between wedding plans and music plans. He tries his best to accommodate whatever Talia wants for their special day. Though, sometimes he finds himself not focusing on the shades of white she suggested for her dress.

Sometimes, Talia would get mad at him for not prioritizing their wedding, seemingly as it was a very important thing for them, well, more for her. She gets mad at him for not focusing on their plans instead of hiding in his studio. She once told him to get his act together because if he wasn’t serious about this, he never would have asked her to marry him. That knocked a nail on the head as she stormed out of the room after another small argument.

Part of him thinks it's the thought of marriage finally sinking in his head. He has the girl, he got a ‘yes’, it should be as exciting as when he asked her. But he finds himself in and out of planning, always reverting his focus back to music, like he’s stalling. He still hasn’t told Talia about Y/N, but there was no need to since he’s with her and not Y/N. When Talia asked about his slightly red eyes at the party, he lied and said something was in his eyes. She believed it, of course.

Now, he’s thinking back to the situation with Talia. He admits he hadn't been paying attention to her as much as he should or helping out with their wedding. But her words now stuck with him. If he wasn’t serious about marrying Talia, he wouldn’t have asked her. He tells himself that he really does love her and he knows she loves him. So why is he hesitating almost at the thought of marriage? Why does it feel like he’s leading her on? He was so sure he wanted her. Unless he only asked her for the hell of it and to not be lonely.

He sits quietly in his little studio with his thoughts as his company. What is he really doing? He really doesn’t know.

❊

She’s laying down on her sofa, staring up at the ceiling again. She does this a lot, having nothing much to do at home other than rereading the books on her shelf or following a recipe for a delicious meal. Instead, she lays down staring at the blank ceiling thinking of how her life went. And in the state of all nothingness, she thinks of him.

Meeting Harry again opened up a whole jar of emotions she kept hidden. It was no doubt that she still cared for him. She was still in love with him and if they were in another universe, she’d tell him that. She’ll do whatever it takes to make it up to him, for causing so much hurt to him. But she couldn’t. He belongs to someone else now. Someone who is more worthy of his love and time. And she’s happy for him, genuinely she is.

As she thinks about him, she recalls back to the days before it all went wrong. She remembers being scared. She had found his mother’s ring in between his clothes as she was putting away their laundry. She remembers being terrified of the commitment Harry was in. She knew for certain that he would ask her sooner or later. But for her, she still doesn’t know. She wants to marry him, but is she ready for it? Is she worthy of him devoting his love and time to her for the rest of his life?

That’s when the doubts came in. She was always battling the thoughts in her head more often after finding out that he might propose to her. She keeps a disguise up, pretending she’s not screaming for help or suffering, hoping that maybe it’ll go away and when he asks, she’ll say the answer he wants to hear. But she didn’t keep the disguise up for long.

When they arrived at Harry’s family home, she was overwhelmed. She saw the bottle of expensive champagne on the kitchen table. Their friends were there too. She was told they were just having a family gathering along with their friends, but she knew what was about to happen.

Nothing could prepare her for when Harry pulled her out the backyard, kneeling down in front of her with his mother’s ring in hand. She could still remember the look on his face, so bright and in love, then having to see it all disappear and his expression drop. He was speechless, so speechless that it took him a minute to snap out of it and run after her as she exited the house. She passed by the living room and had a glance of how everyone was rather to celebrate; no applause or cheers of congratulations were made.

She felt a lot of things that day. Pain, embarrassment, guilt, regret.

Now, a year later, she likes to think she’s doing better, not only for her family or Harry, but for myself. It’s safe to say it was going well for her, she definitely felt better. That dark part of her life was always going to be a part of her, but she was glad she did something about it.

She had struggled a lot before asking for help. She always had trouble sleeping and always felt herself drained to the core. She took some sleeping pills in hopes to feel better. Until one day, she just decided to down the whole bottle like she was downing a bottle of alcohol. She was lucky enough that her mother was around when she found her, her father too was quick enough to call an ambulance. It was too hazy for her to remember precisely what happened after. When she got admitted, she cried to her mother of how much pain she was in, and it killed her. She thinks of how selfish and stupid it was for her to do something like that. That’s when she decided she needed help, like really needed help.

It’s funny how life works sometimes. A few months ago, she was found nearly dead. She has been recovering now. It took a while to open up during her psychiatry sessions and her mother monitored her to make sure she was doing alright. She lives alone now, but still has her mother check up on her. She didn’t find it annoying, in fact she asked her mother to watch over her a bit because she doesn’t trust herself.

She’s healthier now, keeping herself busy to reflect and work on herself. And it did cross her mind a few times before to find Harry, to maybe apologise to him. But she thought that perhaps he didn’t want anything to do with her anymore. And that’s okay for her. Plus, she always hoped that he would find someone else that’ll love him just as much as she did him.

He hasn’t contacted her since they last met and she wonders whether he’s scared of doing so. Then again, she hasn’t made the effort to contact him too. Maybe they’re both scared.

She was about to get up and make herself some coffee after feeling a bit thirsty. She takes out a mug and sets it on the counter before she hears a knock on her door. She freezes in her place, her face scrunches up in confusion. She doesn’t remember having anyone making plans to come by. She hasn’t contacted her friends in a while and her parents would have told her that they would visit.

Knocks on her door snaps her out of her trance as she realises she is still in the kitchen. She slowly walks up to the door and looks through the peephole. To her surprise, she sees Harry standing right before her door. She pulls herself back from the door and thinks for a moment. How did he know where she lived now? Why is he here when he could have just called her?

Realising that he’s probably waiting outside for too long, she takes deep breaths and opens the door. There he is. Standing in his usual white t-shirt where you could see his tattoos through it, his black joggers hugging his muscular legs with some sneakers on his feet. His hair is a bit disheveled and she could imagine him running his fingers through it in a nervous and stressful manner.

“Hi,” he says breathily. His expression is somewhat hopeful, she thinks. “Hey,” she replies, giving a small smile. He’s fidgeting on his feet, something she knows he does when he’s nervous. So why is he nervous? She’s trying to come up with different theories in her head.

“Um, may I come in?” Harry asks. Y/N snaps out of her thoughts again and nods quickly, opening the door wider for him to walk through, hearing him mumbling a small ‘thanks’ under his breath. Harry looks around the small new apartment she now lives in, smiling at how it is very much her character the way she put things together.

She locks the door behind her and clears her throat as she faces him. “Sorry for showing up out of the blue like this,” he apologises. She only smiles and shakes her head. “No, no worries. I was just... wondering how you found where I live. I don’t think I ever told you that,” she says questionably.

The corner of his lips lift up just slightly. “Your mother, actually,” he says. She rolls her eyes playfully at this and lets out a small laugh. Of course, her mother would let him know where she lived. Her parents always loved Harry and treated him as family. Even when they fell apart, they still cared about him. After all, he was one of the only good things in her life that she cherished.

“Of course, she would. She still loves you for all I know,” she says with a sheepish smile. Harry throws his back in laughter and it makes her smile even more. “Well, I guess I might have to visit them again some time,” he says, smiling cheekily at her.

For a moment, it feels like everything was normal between them.

She shakes her head at him as she plays with her fingers, something he knows she does when she is nervous. “Um, I guess you’re here to talk about something else?” She asks, and she sees how his smile falters just a bit. “Yeah, actually,” he mumbles under his breath, but she hears him.

She nods with a tight smile on her face, seemingly trying to mask her anxiousness behind it. “Okay. Uh, just, make yourself comfortable. I’ll get you a glass of water,” she says, hurrying off to the kitchen before Harry could say anything. She sets a glass down and gets a jug of water. Her hands are shaking just a bit and she tells herself to calm down. It’s just Harry, she thinks. Whatever he wants to say couldn’t be that bad. Right?

She comes back to the living room where Harry is. He hasn’t sat down on the couch, instead he’s just standing in the middle of the room, looking around and admiring the little touches she put like the indoor plants and the paintings on the wall. She gently sets the glass down on the coffee table, the glass making a ‘clink’ sound on the surface. Harry turns around to face her and smiles, his little dimple making an appearance on the corner of his lips. She smiles back at him before clearing her throat.

“You had something you wanna say?” She asks, fiddling with her fingers. Harry nods slightly. “Yeah, I do. Um,” he begins as he rubs the back of his neck lightly.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about what I want to say, been practicing the words in my head. So, I’m sorry if it ends up a mess,” he says, letting out a small laugh. She laughs a bit with him too. Nodding as she gestures for him to continue, he breathes in deeply before letting his words out.

“After we met last time, I, uh,” he begins and she swears she could hear how loud and fast her heart is beating. “I’ve just been reflecting on how we left things off. And I promise I meant to call you sooner, but I just didn’t know what I’d say that won’t make things weird and awkward,” he stops to look at her for a moment and the expression on his face is almost so familiar to her.

“When you told me your story, I felt a lot of things. I felt… upset and angry that I couldn’t read the signs that were so evidently there. I thought maybe I realised it sooner, or tried harder to help, I could’ve helped you and you wouldn’t have felt to have gone through it alone. I hated how you were alone in this and how you helped like you couldn’t talk to me about,” His breaths are shaky, like he might break any minute. She wants to caress his face so badly, comfort him, but she knows it wouldn’t be appropriate. He’s still engaged to someone else after all.

She looks down at her floor, taking a gulp in her throat. “Harry, what are you saying?” She asks ever so softly.

“I’m saying that… you don’t have to go through it alone, darling. I’m saying that I wanna be there for you now. Albeit it has been months, but,” he pauses to take a breath. “If you give me a chance, to let me in, I promise to always be there for you and to be by your side all the time. Whenever you need me.”

Y/N takes a moment to process what he had just said, shaking her head at him. “Harry, I,” she takes in a sharp breath. “I don’t think you need to do that.” Harry’s face scrunches up in confusion. “Why not?”

“I just, I don’t want to burden you. I’ve already made it hard for my parents enough,” she says, trying to convince him even though all she wants is for him to be by her side. He shakes his head, chuckling a bit. “You’ll never be a burden to me, love. I want to be there for you always. It’s my choice to do this,”

“What about your fiancée? What’s she gonna think about her fiancé or husband soon when he’s out there looking after some girl, Harry?”

“You’re not just some girl, Y/N. You’re my best friend. And I,” he pauses in his words again and takes a deep breath. “What?” She asks nervously.

The corner of his lips lift up just slightly and his expression almost looks guilty. “And I’m in love with you,” he says and that’s when she feels that her heart stops. He loves me, she thinks. All the time, she thinks the feelings would have gone away but here he is, in her living room, telling her he’s in love with her.

“No,” she says. Harry is surprised by her response. “No?” He repeats.

“You’re not in love with me anymore, Harry,” she says, almost like she’s trying to convince herself that. “Yes, I am, love. I’m still in love with you, even after all this time,” he says desperately to her.

“Don’t do this to me, Harry. It’s not funny,” she says as her voice starts to waver. “It’s not fair to your fiancée for you to say this.” It’s funny to her how she still doesn’t know her name, but maybe she doesn’t know hers either. Harry steps closer to her and his heart breaks a little when she steps back.

“Darling,”

“Don’t, Harry! Please,” she practically begs him. “Just go back to her. It’s been a good talk and it’s good to see you again but you have to leave,”

“I don’t want to leave you, Y/N,” he says and it’s surprising how calm he is at this moment.

“Harry, I,”

“I’m not engaged anymore,” he says, cutting her off. She stares at him in shock and disbelief. “What do you mean?” She asks. He sighs as he runs his fingers through his hair. “I broke it off with Talia. There won’t be any wedding,” he confesses.

“So what? You broke up with her just to look out for me? Are you insane!?” She exclaims. She doesn’t want to believe that he broke up with her because of her. She thinks back if she would’ve hid from him during the party, he’d still be in a happy relationship with Talia with no problems. Once again, she’s thinking it’s all her fault.

“I’m as sane as I can be,” He says, raising his voice slightly to match her tone. She shakes her head, paces in her place, muttering ‘no’s to herself. “Darling, look at me,” Harry says gently as he steps closer to her. “No, this isn’t happening,” She’s now muttering words to herself and it breaks him even more to think she might think this is her fault when it’s not.

“Look at me, Y/N,” he says as he tries to get her to look at him, but to no avail, she keeps her eyes away from him. “No, Harry. We can’t,” she says and she realises now how tears are starting to fall from her eyes. “Yes, we can, darling! Just listen to me,” he tries to convince her.

“You belong with Talia, Harry! Someone who has her life put together, a-and, someone who’s not fucked in the head as I am! She’ll make you happy!” She tells him, almost trying to convince him to go back and fix his relationship.

“She won’t make me as happy as I was with you. It wouldn’t be fair to her,” Harry says to her as he tries to cup her face and wipe her tears. “What wouldn’t be fair to her? Huh?”

“It wouldn’t be fair to lead her on when I’m in love with you!”

And then, everything stops. Silence fills the room and all you could hear are the heavy breaths between them. Harry runs his hand over his face before speaking again. “I tell myself that I’ll be able to love again after you. But the love I’ll have for any other will never amount to the love I have for you. It wouldn’t be fair to move on with Talia when all I could think about is you. When I know I’ll always be madly in love with you,” he tells her, his voice wavering with every word he says.

She breathes in shakily, feeling the painful lump in throat. “Maybe if we hadn’t met that night, you wouldn’t have to think like that,” she says so softly under her breath, like she was ashamed. She looks down like a child being scolded by a parent.

She hears him stepping closer to her and this time, she doesn’t step back away from him. She feels his hand under her chin, lifting her head up so she has no choice but to look at her. His forest-green eyes, ever so beautiful, are glossy with the tears he holds. “I wish you’d stop thinking that this is your fault when it’s not, darling,” he says gently to her.

She realises how close their faces are together, feeling his breath hitting her face as they stare at each other with the same look. She sees it in his eyes. Love. And maybe it’s because she’s emotionally exhausted or she realises how there is still love in his eyes for her and only her.

She gently yet hesitantly puts her hand on his cheek, seeing as how he leans into her touch with his eyes closed, as if he misses her touch all this time. She doesn’t waste another second before pulling his face closer and letting their lips crash against each other. Harry is quick enough to reciprocate the action. His hand that is not on her hand wraps itself around her torso so move her closer to her. All he wants is to be close to her.

She whimpers into the kiss as she feels tears streaming down her face again. She misses this. She misses his kisses, how soft and plump his lips feel against hers and how they taste. She misses the way he pulls her closer to him because he doesn’t want any space in between them. She misses him.

They don’t know long they have been kissing until they break apart to catch their breath. She feels dizzy after the kiss while he feels like he’s on cloud nine. Their lips still brush against each other and Harry pecks her lips softly as she whimpers at the action.

“I love you,” she finally tells him. And it feels so good to say it again to him. Harry sighs shakily, almost in disbelief that she said those three words, and his lips break out into the biggest smile. “Really?” He asks. She giggles as her hands cup his face.

Harry sighs and leans his head back with his eyes closed, looking so bliss in the moment. “I’m sorry. Can you say that again? I wasn’t paying attention,” he says teasingly with a smug smile on his face. Y/N gasps and playfully punches his shoulder a bit, making him laugh.

“I love you, you handsome idiot,” she says laughing at him. Harry shakes his head with a wide stupid grin on his face. He rests his forehead on hers, their noses brushing against each other’s. “Again, please. Just so I know I’m not dreaming this,” he says, his eyes closed as he savours in the moment.

She grabs his face in her hands and pulls him away so she could look at him. He notes how soft yet small her hands felt as caresses his face. “I love you,” she says again, more gently but having more love and passion in her words. And she loves saying it because she does.

She has always loved him and always will love him. Her beats for him as his does for her. Her thoughts are filled with nothing but him. Looking at him now, he feels just as lovely and beautiful as the days they were together before. She knows that she’ll never love another as much as she loves him. She’ll fully admit that she is crazy, stupidly, madly and truly in love with him.

Harry smiles ever so lovingly at her as his large hands cup her face. At this moment, it feels right, like they belong together. Despite the odds and struggles she had to go through, he promises to never leave her side, to always be around, to always be the shoulder she needed to cry on, to lend her his arms to give her the warmth and comfort she deserves. And he admits that he is truly, madly and deeply in love with her too.

“I love you too,” he says as he brings their faces closer to each other, enclosing the gap between their lips again. He misses the way her lips gelt and how sweet they taste against his. He swears he’ll never get tired of loving her. Their lips move against each other slowly and gently as they try to savour in the moment. A moment that just felt right to them. For a moment, her champagne problems are forgotten, even though it’s still something that will always be a part of her.

They part away soon after, now staring into the eyes they fell in love with. Their smiles are permanently inked on their faces as the two lovers look at each other with the only things they have on their mind that will get them through.

Love and hope.

And somehow, that was everything.

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles angst #harry styles imagines #harry styles writing #parkersroses writing #parkersroses masterlist

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thefanficmonster · 3 years

Text

An Impostor In Love

Sequel to ‘Love For The Faceless’ (’Body Reveal’)

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Swearing (maybe)

Genre: Fluff

Summary: Rae can’t stay mad at her best friends forever. Them being absolutely adorable doesn’t help her ‘pissed off’ act either. Y/N’s outing Corpse like she’s a human lie detector. Corpse is gushing about her every second word that comes out of his mouth. And the rest of the lobby are getting one hell of a kick out of the Among Us romantic comedy - An Impostor In Love

Requested but, once again, not in a typical way. I honestly wasn’t expecting all the positive feedback I got for Love For The Faceless (Body Reveal). I was star-struck! You guys are so amazing I have no words to describe just how much I love you all! Thank you for everything! This story is for all of you 🥰🥰🥰

“Mr. and Mrs. ‘Totally not dating’ have entered the call!“ Sean announces when I hop into the Discord call to play Among Us with the usual gang. I hear Corpse’s laugh from down the hall, bringing a smile to my face.

We’ve gotten used to playing in this arrangement, a few rooms away from each other, ever since we moved in together - Corpse is in his recording room and I am in our shared bedroom. When one dies, they go in the other’s room to troll them. I’m usually the one dead, but that’s besides the point.

“Hi everyone!“ I say in my typical cheery tone before kicking it done a few notches, making it an octave deeper just to say: “Hi Rae.”

The whole lobby laughs, they all know what I’m trying to do here. Everyone’s aware this is the first time Rae is in the same call and lobby as Corpse and I after you-know-which incident. Sure, I’ve been poking sticks at her, waving a white flag and admitting I was wrong several times by now. Who knew my sweetheart best friend could act so cold? I know it’s a front. I know she’s fighting to stay mad. There’s a ton of pressure on her to finally forgive us, but she’s been holding up better than I would be if I were in her situation.

I honestly felt, and still feel, slightly guilty. I know best friends are supposed to tell each other everything. They are supposed to be the first ones to know whatever’s going on in each other’s lives. And I know I broke one of the main rules of friendships, but the decision wasn’t only mine to make. I’m sure she understands where I’m coming from, she’s just giving me and Corpse a hard time.

“Hello, Y/N.” She replies, her tone strictly formal.

“Progress, people! Progress!“ I say joyously, the smile turning into a grin

“Don’t worry, babe. We’ll get her eventually.“ Corpse reassures me as he’s done for the past week or two. He knew I wasn’t as unbothered by Rae’s anger towards me as I tried to appear - a pro and simultaneously a con of living with someone: they pick up on everything about you. You become as familiar to them as the back of their hand.

“I know, I know.“ I giggle, “She’ll cave.“

“Yeah, good luck with that.“ Rae has dropped the formal tone, now sounding like a stubborn child which is something I’m way more familiar with. I’ve dealt with her tantrums and childish outbursts - I don’t know which number it is, but it’s somewhere in the rule book of friendships - and I at least the approximate meaning behind it.

Ken puts an end to our friendly, stick-poking, sorta one-sided banter, ushering us to start the game. We all oblige, muting our mics and getting our heads in the game as though we’re about to enter an actual warzone with upmost stealth.

To my dismay, the screen flashes ‘Crewmate’. I head out of cafeteria to do my task in Weapons, staying weary of anyone within my proximity. Once I’m done, I head on down to Shields and complete my task there as well. I cringe when I’m done, knowing my last three tasks are in Electrical. Like, the fuck kind of luck do I have?

I make my way through the halls, running into Sykkuno and we circle around each other a few times to show we’re safe before we each continue our own way. I enter Electrical and.....oh Felix is dead. And oh lookie who’s right there...

I report the body before the impostor can and we all unmute our mics.

“Found him in Electrical.“ I say nonchalantly, “Didn’t see anyone in there though.“

“Anyone sus?“ Sean asks

We say our ‘no’s and ‘I don’t know’s and skip the vote. I’m smirking to myself as I head back down to Electrical. Walking in, I see the same person as before - Rae. I stop dead in my tracks and we just stare at each other for a few seconds before she comes towards me, circling me twice, bumping visors with me and venting out of the room.

“You’re welcome.“ I mumble, smiling widely.

I finish my tasks and leave Electrical just as Corpse enters our bedroom, giving me this tired-parent look like he’s half disappointed and half amused. “You just threw the game, didn’t you? Don’t lie.” He raises his eyebrows, fully adopting his parent role.

I giggle, shaking my head, sending him the briefest of glances before my eyes fixate on the screen in utter shock - Sean just killed me. Oh, for fuck’s sake...

“I was gonna come clean eventually, but I guess they won’t hear it from me now.“ I shrug, lifting my laptop and setting it aside so Corpse can join me on the bed. I snuggle up to him immediately, drawn to him as though he’s a human magnet.

“Who was it?“ He asks me, running his hands through my hair in a soothing manner.

I frown, pulling away from his chest to look him in the eyes, “Wait, how did you know I threw the game if you don’t know who I threw it for?”

He smirks, shrugging, “I didn’t know. You were smiling downright evilly when I came in so I just assumed.” He boops my nose. “And you ratted yourself out.”

I narrow my eyes at him, blowing some air out my nose - a gesture that has become my only way of showing anger towards him. I literally can’t even voice when I’m upset with him cause the grudge lasts like .5 seconds. I let him get away with more than he should.

Seeing as how I can’t argue to his statement, I lean back into his chest and pull out my phone to pass the time while I pretend to give him the silent treatment. Among my notifications is one for Rae’s stream. I smile and tap it, being taken to her YouTube channel and her live stream.

Just when the stream loads, Rae finds my dead body in Storage.

“Oh, nooooooo! Y/N!“ She wines as she goes over to it, “Sean must’ve killed her.” She reports the body and unmutes herself in game, “The body’s in Storage. I was on my way to call an emergency meeting cause I saw Sean vent in Security.”

“WHAT?!“ Sean exclaims in shock, “I didn’t! Rae’s lying. I swear I didn’t! I wasn’t even in Security!“

“Sean has been following me around this whole time. Just saying.“ Ken joins the discussion, throwing even more suspicion on Sean.

“We gotta vote someone.“ Charlie says, “Might as well be the most sus person at the moment.“

The voting results show all the little astronaut icons on Sean except his which is on Rae. Sean gets launched into space and the game continues. Having muted her mic in-game, Rae speaks up: “Y/N has been avenged. No one kills my best friend.”

I’m staring at my phone screen, eyes wide, eyebrows raised, a huge smile on my face. I take a glance at Corpse out of the corner of my eye and see he’s just as pleasantly surprised as I am.

“For those of you asking if I’m still mad at her and Corpse, the answer’s no. Actually, I think I was never mad. I was just in shock and a little hurt that I wasn’t made aware sooner.“ Rae says as she keeps wandering around the map, “Then I realized not talking to my best friend hurt more than the betrayal, you know. The only reason I still pretend is because it’s really funny to see her trying to soften me up.“ She laughs, “But yeah. I don’t know what I’d do without her or Corpse in my life. I love them both and love them even more together. My best friends are dating, I still can’t wrap my brain around that! They are sooo cute, you guys! I wish they posted more content of them together. I’m literally simping over their relationship! But shh, don’t tell em I said that.”

I laugh, overjoyed by what I just heard. I knew she couldn’t still be mad at us. I know she has every right to be, but she’s too sweet to actually hold a grudge against anyone ever.

I suddenly want nothing more than to give her an enormous hug and hold onto her for as long as she’d let me. I just now realize how lonely it feels to have never hugged your best friend because you haven’t hung out together in person. The only reason Rae now knows what I look like is because I sent her a full body picture of myself as one of my sad attempts to get her to start talking to us again. We have never met in person, and that thought kills me. It makes me impatient for this pandemic to end even more than before.

“Told you there was nothing to worry about.“ Corpse’s arms tighten their hold on my body, pulling me even closer which I didn’t know was possible. The most fulfilling and endearing feeling - being in the arms of a loved one. Being held so close and so tightly that you feel like you’re untouchable. Like you two can’t be hurt by anything in the world as long as you have each other.

“Yeah, you were right.“ I sigh in content, putting my phone down and covering his hands with mine, our rings clinking quietly when they touch.

“As usual...“ he whispers theatrically with his lips against my hair.

I playfully roll my eyes, catching glimpse of the screen showing Rae’s demise.

“Oh no, they caught her.“ I say, a bit disappointed she didn’t win and more than a bit responsible for her defeat.

I somehow manage to convince myself to get untangled from Corpse’s embrace and join the new round. I hear him groan as I settle my computer in my lap, unmuting my mic.

“See ya, kitten.“ Corpse kisses my temple, standing up.

“Oh my God, you two are too cute.“ Poki says sweetly, having heard what Corpse said to me.

“SIMP!“ Sean and Felix shout in unison causing the whole lobby to laugh. Corpse is as red as Rae’s avatar as he exists our room, running down the hallway.

“Ok, ok, ok. Hold on. I have to address this. I really hadn’t stepped foot in Security, let alone vented in there. Rae why were you lying?“ Sean’s voice cuts through the teasing directed towards Corpse and I.

“While we’re on that topic...“ Felix speaks up as well, making me break out in a nervous sweat, “Y/N, you literally saw Rae kill me, but you said you didn’t see anyone.“ He laughs, “Not gonna lie, I was a bit pissed.“

The call falls silent for about five seconds until Rae and I speak simultaneously.

“I was avenging Y/N.“

“I was helping Rae.“

Silence follows our statements, not for long though, as our friends break out in amused laughter.

“Fuck’s sake, you two make a good team.“ Sean says through genuine laughter which Rae and I soon join him in.

Felix and Sean and the rest of the lobby forgive us for throwing the game from both the crewmate and impostor’s side and we move onto another round. This time I have only one task in Electrical which I leave for last as always. I don’t feel like dying right from the get-go. I start by doing the card swipe in Admin and then the fuel task in Storage. As I make my way to Upper Engine, Corpse leaves Electrical, falling in step with me. I immediately get nervous, but still make my way to where I’m supposed to go, hoping he’d go his own way eventually.

I stay wary of my boyfriend as I do my task, praying he won’t take my head off. When the task is finished, I find I’m trapped in the room with the doors shut. And Corpse right there. With every right and opportunity to kill me and vent. No one would know. No one saw us.

That nervous sweat is back.

I’m counting my last seconds of being alive.

And it happens...

A body is reported

“Oh than you so so so much! Corpse was gonna kill me in Upper Engine!“ I don’t let the person who reported the body speak, thanking them for my survival. “I was sure I was a goner.“

“Babe, come on now. You know I wouldn’t kill you even if I was an impostor. I love you too much.“ Corpse hurries to defend himself, “I’m following you around to keep you safe.“

I can tell he’s capping, but I have no concrete proof. He knows I’m onto him. His best bet is having me killed by the other impostor. He might have been capping the majority of his defense, but I know he won’t kill me.

“I’ll vote for myself because of that one.“ I mumble

The vote is skipped except the one vote I placed on myself and the round continues. I follow Corpse around the whole time, making sure he’s completing tasks - not that I can be 100% certain he’s actually completing them.

All is well until we walk into Admin and find Felix there, uploading data. Corpse, dead-ass, goes up to him and kills him, reporting the body right afterwards.

“IT’S CORPSE!“ I don’t give him a chance to start his brainwashing of the rest of the players. “Felix, this is my redemption for leaving your death unavenged last round.“

“Yeah, it’s me.“ Corpse laughs, that adorable laugh of his melting me despite the need to stay strong and carry out my argument, “Just vote me out so I can go troll Y/N.“

“Sounds like a plan to me.“ Ken says, the remainder of the crewmates, and the impostor probably, agreeing with him.

The votes are put in, all on Corpse obviously, and he is sent off into space. Not even five seconds later I hear his footsteps approaching.

I look up when he pops his head in the room and says, “I have come to annoy you to death with my love for you.”

I can’t help but laugh, shaking my head. The things this man does to me are insane. It’s insane that I let him.

It’s amazing, really. We’re amazing.

And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

I pat the spot on the bed next to me, “I’ll allow it. But only cause I love you too.”

@susceptible-but-siriusexual @simonsbluee @save-the-sky @hacker-ghost @itsminniekat @bi-andready-tocry @imtiredaffff @jazzkaurtheglorious @hereforbeebo @fandomgirl17 @chrysanthykios @maehemscorpyus @loraleiix @letsloveimagines @annshit @i-cant-choose-a-username-help @enigmaticmaze @divine-artemis

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chainofclovers · 3 years

Text

Ted Lasso 2x10 thoughts

GOOD GOD.

“No Weddings and a Funeral” is like being hungover but also coming out of a hangover. Having a terrible cold but also feeling better and appreciating every breath that comes through your nose. Embarking on an organizational project and accidentally falling into a photo album and crying about the pictures and organizing almost nothing tangible but making a few things more clear in your brain.

So much of this episode is about the AWFUL POINTLESSNESS OF DECORUM. How loud is too loud when you’re drinking stolen wine and shrieking about sex in a church right before your father’s funeral? How should you feel--thirty years later, as an accommodating, anger-averse person--about having been too angry to attend the funeral for your father who killed himself? What expression should you make when you show up really late to a different funeral? Why must you wear uncomfortable shoes just because someone died? What happens in your mind between standing up to give a eulogy for a man you’re still angry with and choosing to Rick Roll your mom and everyone else as an act of complicated love, humiliatingly incomplete until someone else starts to sing? Should you worry about your therapist seeing your normally tidy flat in a full-on state of depression mess? Is it okay to be offended that your boyfriend is so uncomfortable about death that he can’t stop making morbid jokes? Should you care about other people caring that you’re crunching an apple in church or squealing with joy to be reunited with a friend you’ve not seen in awhile? Are you obligated to explain your behavior if your kid doesn’t understand how you could stay with someone unfaithful? How far behind the counter should you sink when your [undefined relationship person]’s mother has just let you know she can see your dick through your underwear? Is a funeral reception an okay place to find a hookup? Is a funeral reception a decent spot for a break-up? Is a funeral reception a good time for a love confession when you know the person you’re confessing to is happy with someone else? And who do you make eye contact with when you can’t look directly at the person asking you if you’re okay when there’s so, so much about you she doesn’t know yet? Even if--for this tiny little moment within a vast swath of many okay and not-okay moments--you’re honest when you tell her that you are?

I fucking adored this episode because it answers all these questions very simply: Show up. Show up for yourself. Show up for your friends. Try not to harm yourself. Try not to harm your friends.

I love that this episode is about the messiness of adulthood and the things we bring with us from childhood and that it takes place partially in Rebecca’s childhood bedroom, and in Ted’s childhood memories. Dwelling in those places (whether physically or mentally) isn’t an automatic recipe for regression, but it does get everyone closer to the things that made them who they are, to the unresolved and half-buried parts of them that still make them tick today.

Forever obsessed with every single detail about Rebecca’s childhood bedroom.

Forever obsessed with Deborah’s decision to Rick Roll herself every single morning of her life.

Forever obsessed with Rebecca’s decision to Rick Roll her father’s funeral as a way to not have to make up a single word about her father and to do something very vulnerable and kind for herself and her mother and everyone.

Forever obsessed with Ted’s decision to Rick Roll Rebecca Rick Rolling her father’s funeral.

Forever obsessed with an entire found family backing it up.

I love that it is Isaac’s leadership that ensures every single member of the team attends the service for Paul.

I am very, very interested in Jamie’s love confession to Keeley because I do think it will spark some reflection in Keeley but I do not think it’ll go the cliched love triangle route.

Each scene with Rebecca and Sam struck (for me, a human being sharing a subjective perspective on the internet) the tender-awkward-beautiful-stressful chord I was hoping it would. I think it’s wonderful that Sam is honest with Rebecca about how difficult it is to keep their relationship a secret, and I love that Rebecca has a million mostly-unarticulated reasons for why she’d much prefer the secret to continue. I like that Sassy, Keeley, and Nora respond to the revelation as friends; they might be tempering their judgments in part because they’ve all gathered to bury Rebecca’s dad, but I don’t think their reactions would’ve been that different even on a happier occasion.

While there are a million and one different reasons why a continued relationship between Rebecca and Sam could cause serious ethical problems, I really love that when people share big news on this show, the people who care about them generally react by trying to see why the person is doing what they’re doing. Doesn’t mean they shouldn’t also hold each other accountable, but in my book it’s OK that Keeley’s first reaction was to feel happy that her friend is having some fun.

Also everyone has been making weird judgment calls this season, and this episode felt like a moment of real breakthroughs in terms of people telling the truth about things that happened to them and leaving themselves open to honest responses from others.

September 13, 1991. It’s so tenderly, beautifully, overwhelmingly meaningful that there’s still so much Ted and Rebecca don’t know about the things they have in common in these parallel lives they’re leading. The scene between Sarah Niles and Jason Sudeikis is so beautifully acted, and so is the scene between Hannah Waddingham and Harriet Walter. The way they intertwine to communicate that Ted and Rebecca basically lost the ability to trust their fathers simultaneously, from an ocean away? In the hands of lesser storytellers, it would feel too perfect a mirroring, but here it feels heartbreakingly imperfect. All the things they still don’t know. All the questions they try to ask each other. All the things they don’t dare ask yet. And then the storytellers are holding a candle up to all of it and letting the audience bask in the glow of this connection even if Ted and Rebecca can’t fully understand it yet.

I am so proud that Rebecca and Deborah were able to embark on the beginnings of a conversation about the ways Deborah and Paul’s relationship might have resembled or not resembled Rebecca and Rupert’s. It feels possible that they could get to a point where Rebecca truly internalizes her mother’s pride that she broke a cycle by leaving Rupert, and could maybe even understand why her mother made the choices she made. I love that in the final scene, they’re still relying on their old mother-daughter conversational patterns—the frustrations, the snippy shorthand, the passive-aggression. Mothers and daughters!

I am also proud that Ted—albeit via a joke about Sharon charging him for the house call—indicates that he understands the value of Sharon’s work. He’s changed a lot, all in realistic ways for someone who loves learning and really does want to meet people where they are and appreciate them. I’m very moved that instead of putting himself in a real harmful situation by showing up to the funeral on time at any cost, he did what he needed to do to take care of himself and accept care from someone else. And then Sharon’s suggestion that he think about things he loved about his father? And the way he’s able to share a positive memory of Rebecca’s own father at a time when she really needed it? Gosh.

Awkward, undecorous transition from 1991 to present-day incoming...but SASSY! She’s just, like, a whirling dervish of loyal friendship and not giving a fuck and penis size discussions and being casually, delightfully cruel to Rupert, who so deserves it. Rebecca was going on a real face journey when Sassy goes off with Ted at the end, and I’m sort of *eyes emoji* about all of that, but I continue to feel like Sassy is the most imperfectly wonderful friend-from-the-past kind of person and I love everything she and Nora get to do in this episode.

Keeley saying “That baby is whack” might be my favorite line in the episode? Maybe the whole show? Not really but really.

FUCK YOU, RUPERT. Bex and Diane, y’all are fine. And I truly feel for Nate...whatever scheme he’s getting suckered into. Whatever insecurity Rupert is preying on. I want Nate to go to therapy, too.

I feel like it was an unpopular opinion at the time, but I loved Rebecca’s 2x1 revelation about vulnerability and fear of getting hurt and needing to let someone love her. Sassy doesn’t always word things in the most nuanced way, but I think there’s a real possibility that she did ask Rebecca to really consider what it means to feel either safe or unsafe with a person but to know that in either circumstance, that person could end up causing her pain. Standing in that closet with Sam, managing to make it clear that she’s not asking for a break because she knows he will hurt her but because she has to figure out how to be with a wonderful person who could cause her pain...the growth, man. Makes me emotional.

I emerged from this episode feeling, of course, stunned by all the amazing parallels and revelations and beautiful acting and Rick Rolls and just, everything. I also emerged feeling sad/raw/tender because messiness and decorum and growth and coping mechanisms and death and dramatic irony and not knowing things about people and not knowing what you don’t know...it’s a sad, raw, tender place to be.

To quote a guy who got a whole sitcom (lol) named after him, life is real hard.

#ted lasso #ted lasso s2 spoilers #meta by me #ted lasso 2x10 #a lesbian watches ted lasso #lotta feelings in here y'all #cw suicide

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raptorofwar · 2 years

Text

So I made a Sinners & Saints character and I wanted to draft it out like the ROs pages. I don’t know why. I recommend the IF by the way. It’s a demo, but it’s neat. Play it. The author’s a genius.

Full name: Rapture O’were

Name meaning: (My Tumblr username is Raptorofwar.)

Aliases:

None.

Nicknames:

Raps - (dislikes)

Age: 27

Date of birth: December 1st

Species: Human

Sexuality: Lesbian

Physical description: She is 190 cm tall and her hair is black, straight, and below her shoulders, worn loose and unkempt, a tangled thicket she hasn’t tried to take care of it in years. She has dark brown eyes and pale skin, like someone who doesn’t generally go outside at all. She has scars on her arms that she keeps covered up; she rarely wears short sleeves, preferring full shirts and jackets. She is thin as a rake, with long limbs, giving her a gangly appearance.

Style: Plain shirts, jeans, with a jacket or waistcoat thrown over it. A watch on her right hand, and prescription glasses. A woman who has never given a significant thought to her outfit in her life.

Voice: Dry, sarcastic, tired.

Greatest quality: Intelligence

Greatest flaw: Pushes people away

Greatest fear: To be alone forever (but at this point she’s accepted it)

Greatest dream: To be free of her life as it stands

Irrational fear: The dark

Pet peeves: Technically incorrect information; she feels a need to correct it

Favorite animal: Shark

Favorite flower: Hydrangea

Favorite weather: Overcast skies and rain or storm

Favorite color: Forest green

Favorite season: Winter

Favorite flavor: Salty (pours the salt out of the chip bag into her mouth), but also has a sweet tooth

Favorite food: Chicken noodle soup

Favorite drink: Water

Favored dynamic: Submissive

Favored sexual dynamic: Bottom

Do they make the first move, or prefer to wait for someone to make it first? Wait for the first move

Do they initiate intimacy, or prefer to wait for someone to do it first? Wait for the other person to initiate

Hard Boundaries: Hitting, blood - hard no.

Extrovert, ambivert or introvert? Introvert

Optimist or pessimist? Pessimist

Compassionate or self-involved? Compassionate

Emotional or logical? Logical

Confident or insecure? Simultaneously believes she’s competent and that she’ll mess up at the same time

Are they a rule follower or rule breaker? Mix of the two

How do they view death? Inevitable escape

What do they like or love about their appearance? Her height

What do they dislike or hate about their appearance? Where to start? (DYSPHORIA BABY)

Song lyrics (because I can’t graphics): “I can’t do this alone anymore / cause I’m no good on my own anymore”

Other things I felt like including: - main themes built around “hates Deadwood”, “no one leaves Deadwood”, and “parents grew colder as she grew up” - trans woman - a dead spark in her eyes that needs to be reignited - wants out of everything; bound by obligation and old habits, and no one escapes Deadwood anyways - if she were a normal supernatural she’d be a selkie and her coat would be buried somewhere in Deadwood and she can’t find it, so she’d be trapped - only really involved/interested when there’s a problem/situation; when told that there was a serial killer, her reaction was more along the lines of, “Interesting. Something to do.” - doesn’t like cops, resents being one, but feels obligated to do it. “If I didn’t do it, someone else would fuck it up.” - dislikes the taste of alcohol and coffee, dislikes the scent of cigarettes, treats food as just fuel, etc; the only reason she has so few vices is because so many of them are unpleasant to her - deep scars on her arms... yeah... - if RO were dying in her arms: “Don’t leave me. Please don’t leave me here.” - if she were dying in RO’s arms: “It’s ok. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

#sinners & saints #my MC #is it cringe? yes #is it overly edgy? yes #I do not care

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let-the-dream-begin · 3 years

Text

In My Daughter’s Eyes Chapter 28: Storm Surge

Chapter 27

Read on AO3

Storm surge: rise in seawater level during a storm

——

Four days. That was how long Claire was stuck at the hospital, how many nights she slept on that shitty cot, how many days she’d eaten nothing but hospital food, how many days since she’d seen her daughter.

How many days that Jamie had spent with her daughter.

The roads were finally clear of debris at around noon, but her shift hadn’t ended until 8:30. She was racing home, desperate to get there before Faith fell asleep. She was certain she’d burst into tears if she couldn’t hug her after the longest separation of their lives. The last text she’d received from Jamie had assured her that they were both wide awake and watching The Little Mermaid, but who was to say that she wouldn’t crash during her drive home?

Unfortunately, the power was still not back at the apartment complex, and Claire’s drive home confirmed that it was not just them. People at the hospital were predicting it would be out at least a week. Claire prayed it would be sooner considering how upset Jamie said Faith had gotten when the lights would not work.

She pulled into the driveway, and did not even bother grabbing her duffle bag from the back seat. She snagged her purse and bolted up the front steps. The door swung open, and there she was, her little girl, bouncing with her arms stretched upward.

“Oh, hello!” Claire exclaimed, letting her purse fall to the floor and scooping Faith up. “Oh, my sweet girl, I missed you so much…”

Faith was humming loudly, squeezing her mother around the neck, and kicking her dangling legs uncontrollably. She began rubbing her cheek against Claire’s and running her fingers through her hair.

“Oh, yes, hello, love…” Claire kissed both of her cheeks over and over, then her head, then her cheeks again. Faith intercepted more kisses by slapping her palms against Claire’s cheeks, causing Claire to sputter and flinch, but she didn’t have the heart to scold her for it. Faith held her mother’s head in place, squishing their faces together.

“Yes, hi, baby, I missed you, too…” Claire nuzzled her nose against Faith’s, even as her little hands squeezed the life out of her cheeks. From the corner of her eye, Claire could see Jamie standing back, watching them. Claire shifted Faith in her arms, settling her on one hip so she could see again. Faith was not finished, however; she continued to rub Claire’s face and fiddle with her hair and rub their cheeks together.

“Hi,” Claire said, her voice thick with emotion, her face flushed.

“Hi,” Jamie answered, stepping closer.

Claire flicked her eyes down to the fort of sheets in the middle of the living room, and she bit her lip.

“It looked bigger in the pictures,” she said, laughing. “You really fit in there?”

“Aye,” Jamie said in mock offense. “It would be a failed endeavor entirely if I didna.”

Claire broke into an enormous grin, and she slid Faith down her body to set her on her feet. Before she could step into Jamie’s arms, Faith wrapped herself bodily around Claire’s legs, rubbing her face on her capris. Claire snorted with laughter as Jamie closed the distance between them, and she was still laughing when he captured her lips with his.

Behind Claire’s eyes danced every photo that Jamie had sent her over the last four days, every play-doh sculpture, every coloring book page, every lego structure, every selfie of the two of them in the fort, and she was overcome. She grasped his face in her hands, squeezing, deepening the kiss.

Despite how busy she’d been at the hospital, she’d had lots of time to think, many hours on that damned cot where sleep eluded her. And she knew, she knew to the very marrow of her bones the truth of what was ready to burst out of her like a storm surge.

Just when she was becoming dizzy for lack of air, she broke the kiss, and Jamie gaped at her. “What was that f— ”

“I love you.”

Jamie’s voice broke off immediately, his mouth flapping soundlessly. As Claire cradled his face close to hers, her stomach flipped, and her heart leapt into her throat. She’d meant it; meant it more than anything in her life. It was something she supposed she knew for a while, perhaps even before that first kiss, but it wasn’t something she’d allowed herself to feel until very recently. And it wasn’t something she was ready to say until it was ready to burst out of her. She was smacked over the head with it on that first night in her hospital cot, and the days and days before she could get back to him and tell him had been agony.

“What…” Jamie’s voice was light and airy, “did ye say..?”

Claire’s breath stuttered out of her with a tremble, and she wet her lips. “I love you, Jamie,” she repeated, resolutely, tightening her grip on his face.

His shuddering exhale danced across her skin, and she watched as his eyes welled up. They danced all over her face, as if to memorize her every feature the moment she’d said it.

“Christ…” His voice broke, and he laughed in spite of himself, a single tear spilling over. “I love you, Claire. God, how I love ye.”

As if he couldn’t control himself, he kissed her feverishly, threading his fingers through her hair. Claire nearly tipped backward at the force of his affection, being that her legs were rooted in place by a thirty-eight pound weight. Jamie quickly adjusted to catch her, covering the entire span of her back with his two hands. Their lips broke apart to laugh, and Jamie pulled her back upright into a tight embrace. They swayed for a good while to the tuneless melody of Faith’s joyful humming.

God, how I love you.

Claire inhaled deeply, breathing him in. He smelled of his aftershave, crisp and clean, and somehow also like spaghetti-os, like Angus’s dental treats, and like Faith’s shampoo that somehow always clung to her hair no matter how long it was between showers.

He smelled like home.

Reluctantly, Claire peeled herself away from him, then looked down at Faith. She debated using her harsher tone to make her let go, but then decided she didn’t have it in her at the moment. Instead, she melted to the floor, forcing Faith to topple on top of her. Faith got an idea then; Claire could see it in her eyes. Then she was being pulled into the fort, and there was absolutely nothing Claire could do about it.

Before Claire could even blink, she was nestled in a veritable bird’s nest of blankets and pillows, Faith in her lap, and Prince Eric was finding Ariel on the beach. Jamie crawled in after them, grinning impishly.

“I hope you realize what you’ve done,” Claire said. “I’ll never be able to take this down now. It’s going to become a permanent fixture. Are these pillows from my bed?”

She arched an eyebrow at him, attempting intimidation, but given the spread of Jamie’s grin, she supposed it was not at all working. He settled in beside her on the air mattress, brushing hair off her neck and kissing her there and then nuzzling the spot with his nose. Like a cat whose favorite scratching spot had been found, Claire’s body went limp and liquid against him until she was in his lap, pulling Faith with her. Eventually, they were in an indecipherable pile of limbs, all three of them. During “Kiss the Girl,” Jamie kept looking down at Claire and waggling his eyebrows absurdly until Claire rolled her eyes and obliged him for a quick peck. She lost count of how many times it happened by the end of the song.

Faith didn’t fall asleep during the movie, but neither did she want to move when it finished. Jamie retreated from the fort and returned with a plastic cup that came from the kitchen, a bathroom Dixie cup, and Faith’s toothbrush. To Claire’s bewildered look, Jamie replied:

“I wasna gonna let her get away wi’ no’ brushing until the power came back. So I brought it to her. It’s been working.”

Claire’s face softened as she remembered the meltdown over the lights that Jamie had mentioned on the first night. That he had found a workaround solution that did not distress Faith was astounding and heartwarming. She watched in awe as Faith sat in her nest of blankets with her mouth open, putting up no fight as Jamie brushed her teeth. He had her spit into the empty plastic cup, and then rinse and spit with the water from the Dixie cup.

“Good girl,” Jamie praised, poking her nose with her toothbrush. He departed then, and Claire could hear him washing the cup in the kitchen sink.

“Good job, baby,” Claire repeated, rubbing her shoulder and kissing her head. “You had so much fun with Jamie, didn’t you?” Faith hummed contently, swirling her fingers in Angus’s fur. “Such a good girl.”

Jamie returned shortly after, and Claire could not help but laugh at the sight of that Viking of a man crawling into the small opening. “So what now?” The words bubbled through her laughter. “We lay here all night?”

He blushed a little. “Well, that’s what I’ve been doing.”

Claire gawked. “Are you serious? I was joking.”

His blush deepened. “She got upset when I tried to leave. And she’d already melted down twice that day. Figured it wasna fair to make her go again just fer me.”

Claire could literally feel herself melting, inside and out. If she hadn’t already found the nerve to say it, she would have been overcome and blurted it out right then. Perhaps Jamie could see it, because he inched closer.

“Come here,” Claire crooned, holding onto Faith with one arm and pulling Jamie closer with the other, kissing him soundly. She pulled away when she felt something plastic poking at her nose, and she went cross-eyed trying to see what it was.

The medicine dropper.

“Right,” Claire said sheepishly, and Jamie smirked at her. Claire lifted Faith off her lap as Jamie simultaneously swiped the pillows that came from Claire’s bed off the air mattress. Faith settled in on her pillow, nestled under her blanket, and Claire gave her the Risperdal.

“Good girl,” she said, and she patted the space next to Faith, which Angus hopped into obediently. When she shifted in her seat on the air mattress, she saw Jamie lying on his back with his hands behind his head, a pillow on the floor for each of them. He raised his eyebrows invitingly and nodded toward the unoccupied pillow, and Claire groaned audibly.

“I am not sleeping here all night,” she grumbled, even as she nuzzled into him, mostly on him rather than the pillow. “Not after four nights on a cot.”

“Aye, alright,” he said, kissing her forehead. “We can move in about an hour.”

Claire sighed resignedly. “You’re staying the night?”

“I don’t have to — ”

“I want you to,” she interrupted firmly, resting her chin on his chest to look him in the eye. “It wasn’t really a question.”

“Aye.” Jamie chuckled nervously. “Alright.”

Smiling in victory she lay her head on his chest again. They lay tangled together, Jamie rubbing up and down her back, Claire tracing circles on his chest. Once Faith’s breathing grew heavy, they tentatively sat up. One by one, they inched out of the small opening to the fort, each of them holding a pillow, both of them having to bite their lips to keep from giggling like school children. Once they got to their feet, they crept quickly and silently to Claire’s bedroom, and the second the door was shut, they let loose the bubbling laughter. Jamie tossed the pillows onto the bed and turned back to her.

Even as they were both still laughing, Claire locked the door behind her and pressed her mouth to Jamie’s in one swift motion. She felt the growl in his chest before she heard it, and both sensations sent heat rushing to her core. They stumbled back until they landed in a heap on the bed, laughing again. Claire straddled him immediately, deepening the kiss and rolling her hips when Jamie greedily seized handfuls of her arse.

She sighed a delicious moan into his mouth, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt and pulling it off between kisses. In return, he pulled off her shirt and undid her bra with an expert ease of someone who’d been having sex much longer than he’d been.

“Oh, I missed you…” Claire crooned, her entire body tingling with delighted electricity at the feeling of skin on skin, her breasts pressed flat against his chest. To further relish in this feeling, she scooted lower to suckle at his neck, delighting in his groans and how his roaming hands on her back would stutter and dig their nails into her when she nibbled. She made her way down to his nipples, having recently learned that he was nearly as sensitive there as a woman. She teased him for probably longer than he could bear, considering he yanked her face back up to his for a searing kiss. He abruptly sat up, pushing her up with him, so she was straddling his lap. He bore his eyes into hers while he undid her button and fly.

“Take them off.”

She shivered from head to toe at his command, and she immediately obeyed, getting up on her knees to slide her capris and underwear down, and he did not help her get them over her knees and heels. She stayed up on her knees and he growled hungrily, reaching up to kiss her, trailing his hand up her inner thigh, and resting to cup her, cover her entirely. She gasped raggedly, tugging on his hair roughly. His fingers slipped in easily, and she groaned loudly, unable to stop from thrusting her hips, riding his hand.

“It is such an honor…to worship this body…” he breathed into her neck, stroking her walls deftly. “To love this body.”

Love.

Claire had had sex. She’d had sex before Frank, had sex with Frank. She’d had sex with Jamie, of course.

But she’d never, ever made love.

That was what this was, what it had to be. Sex, fucking, was not enough to describe it. She’d never been caressed inside the way Jamie did, she’d never known such affection as his other hand roaming up and down her torso, tenderly squeezing each breast in their turn. Every touch said he loved her.

And she believed him.

It would have been too easy to let his fingers finish her, and she would have been all the more ready for him, but she couldn’t stand another moment without him inside her. Caught off guard, Jamie did not expect the rough shove she gave him, pushing him onto his back, forcing his fingers out of her. She undid his fly and slid off the remainder of his clothing until he was fully bared to her.

She greedily roamed her eyes all over his perfect form, her lips flapping uselessly. What could she say that could even come close to the poetics that Jamie had uttered to her? “I’m honored to worship your body, too,” would be ridiculously stupid, not to mention inadequate.

So, she settled on the only thing she could think to say.

“I love you.”

She whispered it against his lips as she took him in, inch by inch, his grip on her arse tightening and tightening with every inch. He kissed her then, groaning. She rode him slowly, savoring every second; every second of their love-making.

“With all my heart, I love you.”

Tears sprang to his eyes at that, and she kissed them away. She didn’t realize that she, too, was crying, until he flipped her over, staying inside, and kissed away moisture on her own cheeks.

“I love you, Claire,” he groaned into her ear, moving slowly inside her. “My heart is yours. I love you.”

He loved her tenderly, softly, wildly, hard, so achingly hard, loudly. They fell together in shared ecstasy, their hearts beating as one.

If his heart was hers, then hers was his.

Even while Claire was still convinced she was in love with Frank, she’d never known what it was like to lose her heart. Not until Faith. The second her baby was put in her arms, her heart was no longer hers. She thought it was impossible to give away something that had already been given.

But, without her knowing, there’d been a piece tucked away all along, a piece that was waiting for Jamie.

I’ve waited all my life to love you.

And as the blackness of a deep, dreamless sleep overcame her, the scent of their combined sweat dancing in her nose, his arms like a vice around her, she knew it to be true.

——

From a dead sleep, Claire was woken by a sudden chill. For a terrifying moment, she thought she might be coming down with something. She listened to her body for aches and pains but felt nothing. And then she realized.

Jamie’s warmth had left her.

She sat up, too quickly considering how her head spun, and could see in the light of the moon that Jamie was getting dressed.

“Where are you going?”

Jamie turned around, putting his arms through the sleeves of his t-shirt. “Ye didna hear?”

A loud bang sounded, making Claire jump ten feet in the air and instinctually cover herself with the sheets. The bang was followed by a loud whine, and the pieces clicked in her head.

Jamie tossed Claire a t-shirt, one of his given the scent of it, and a fresh pair of underwear. Claire was too tired to remark on his going through her underwear, but she tucked that away for later. Now in flannel pants and a fresh shirt, Jamie made his way to the door, turning to make sure that Claire was dressed before unlocking and opening it. Faith did not even address Jamie, and before he could say anything, she was already shuffling past him and toward the bed. Claire glanced at her phone for the time, two in the morning.

She sighed in defeat, helping Faith as she climbed clumsily into the bed. Angus trotted behind her and hopped up onto the bed, settling at Claire’s feet. As Claire was getting Faith settled, she felt the bed shift, and looked up to see Jamie getting in on the other side of Faith. It did not take long at all for Claire to fall dead asleep again, Jamie’s arm draped over Faith’s body and around Claire’s waist. The last thing she heard was a muffled kiss to a curly head, and not her own.

“I love ye, sweet Faith.”

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kinogane · 3 years

Text

On Ninian’s Paired Ending

Theoretically, because of what is established about Eliwood in The Binding Blade, it stands to reason that pairing anyone up with Eliwood in the prequel, The Blazing Blade, can be construed as knowingly setting them up for tragedy. There’s a small wrinkle, however, in that The Binding Blade was never released outside of Japan, while The Blazing Blade was (under the annoying title Fire Emblem), which means that in practice, non-Japanese players can’t reasonably be expected to know about Eliwood’s partner’s fate.

With one major exception: Ninian.

If you raise Eliwood and Ninian’s support level to A, the modified ending to the final chapter, “Light”, has Nils talk to Ninian and explicitly spell out, primarily to the audience, that neither of them will live long if they stay in Elibe. Despite this, sensing his sister’s wish to stay with Eliwood, Nils entrusts Ninian’s shorter life and happiness to Eliwood and says goodbye as he heads through the gate to live a long life, never to be seen again.

Now, granted, what exactly Nils means by “short” and “long” isn’t necessarily clear just in the context of this scene. Since it’s established that dragons live for millennia, you could reasonably interpet “short” as “short by dragon standards”, which could be still be very long by human standards. This read doesn’t hold up particularly well given further context, but just in the scope of what is presented in The Blazing Blade, it’s not patently ridiculous.

But that interpretation only deflects from the real tension at play. From Ninian’s perspective, she is trading away a long, happy life in another world with her brother for a significantly shorter, but potentially happier(?) life in Elibe with Eliwood. Whatever “short” might mean by human standards (including the player), it’s definitely short by Ninian’s standards.

From an in-universe perspective, there’s no actual tension from this decision. Nothing in the text suggests that Ninian is making this choice out of anything but her own free will. In fact, Ninian was fully ready to leave alongside Nils and was saying goodbye to Eliwood, only stopping when Nils chimes in and essentially give her and Eliwood his blessing to stay.

The tension arises when viewing all of this from a meta perspective; namely, that the writers saw fit to make this Ninian’s fate. Even as someone who likes the pairing and likes the way it plays out, because it’s effectively setting an angst time bomb, I’d be lying if I said this narrative beat felt... questionable. Like, Ninian is a character developed enough to have an identity outside of being one of Eliwood’s love interests (see also: her relationship with Nils, her other supports with Hawkeye and Florina), but making her final major act of agency be consigning herself to a brief life with Eliwood doesn’t exactly instill confidence that she actually is more than Eliwood’s love interest.

None of this, on its own, is all that noteworthy. What is noteworthy, however, is that everything I just mentioned is contingent entirely on raising Eliwood and Ninian’s support level to A. Since Ninian is only available for deployment (and, by extension, for developing supports) for seven or eight out of over thirty chapters, and Eliwood must not have more than two support conversations with other characters, this is actually quite difficult to do intentionally, let alone accidentally. If Eliwood and Ninian do not have an A-Support, then Ninian leaves with Nils as she intended to, and quite likely lives a long and happy life with her brother.

As such, knowledge of this ending imposes a special dilemma on players who do like Eliwood and Ninian together. Do you manifest their pairing in your game, etching their union into the personal canon of your save while also ostensibly dooming Ninian to a simultaneously canonical early death? Or do you instead leave them unpaired, saving Ninian in the personal canon of your save while avoiding leaving any canonical trace that the two could even be happy together and settling for other, external ways to express your preference?

I’d wager some people don’t actually see this as a dilemma, since it’s contingent on placing what they would see as undue focus on canon, and all that matters is what is expressed to the outside world, to others, which most commonly takes the form of fanwork. Whether or not the ending is actually achieved, the shackles of canon can only weigh down those that respect it, and it’s trivially easily to pick and choose as needed. What’s the issue?

And while I am ultimately of that mindset, I also think it is useful to at least sometimes take canon as it is and properly think through the implications, however inconvenient or unpleasant they might be. Canon, after all, is only what is assumed to be the common ground for all participants, so it’s at least worth thinking about how things would have to play out canonically, if discussing works of fiction with other people is something to be valued.

I bring this up as someone who’s been sitting on an Eliwood/Ninian fic that tries to explore how Ninian (and to a lesser extent, Eliwood) would go about living in the time between The Blazing Blade and The Binding Blade, with the knowledge that she’s not long for the world perpetually lingering over the two. It’s something I’ve been thinking about ever since I learned about the way the pairing plays out in The Blazing Blade for the reasons highlighted above. Doomed relationships are nothing new in video games, but this specific kind of doomed relationship, where actualizing it necessarily brings about an otherwise avoidable death, is considerably rarer.

It’s not all that surprising that I personally would take to it, since it’s an obvious wellspring of angst, but it’s one that requires some legwork to really hit. It’s one thing to die, mourning for a potential that was never realized; it’s another (and in my opinion, more gutwrenching) thing to actually realize that potential then fade away, believing wholeheartedly that it was all worth it in the end.

Canonically speaking, if Eliwood and Ninian were to be together, it could only ever be for a few years. And through her actions, we, as an audience, are to believe that spending a few years with her beloved Eliwood would make Ninian happier than spending many years amongst her kind in another land would.

And as someone who on some level wants the two to be together, I feel at least some obligation to try to imagine a life where that holds true, in my own small way, even if such a life is bound to end in tears.

#ninian #eliwood #fe7 #blazing blade #the blazing blade #fire emblem the blazing blade #elinini #angst #fanfiction #fanfic #canon

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luminescencefics · 3 years

Text

you feel like home - part eight

It seems that Harry feels the same, because she can hear him replying, “Of course I didn’t forget your birthday! How about you turn the telly on and wait for me, yeah? I’ll cook you my famous eggy bread and we’ll kick off your big day properly.”

Ryan hears Jackson squeal excitedly and she almost wishes she wasn’t buried underneath Harry’s duvet so that she could see his gleaming grin. And just before she can hear the door shut, Jackson asks, “Can we still invite Ryan and Luna to my party?”

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*** In Which Five is a Big Number

“Oh my god, Ryan.”

Ryan’s almost positive there’s no better sound than Harry groaning her name. It’s somehow scratchy yet completely audible, and Ryan can hear the little breathy sounds in between each syllable. It’s a juxtaposition of breathlessness and clear-cut clarity, and when her name falls off his lips like a secret, she feels special that it’s only for her ears to hear.

The tip of her nose tickles the thin patch of hair at the bottom of his naval, and when she feels him hit the back of her throat and tears start to spring from her eyes, he lets out another guttural “Christ, Ryan,” and she knows he’s very close to falling apart.

They’ve spent the past two months getting acquainted with each other’s bodies. After Harry finally kissed Ryan in her living room, he carried her over to the couch and they snogged like teenagers—all bitten lips and roaming tongues, knocking teeth and wandering hands. When Ryan started rutting against his thigh and the tightness in Harry’s pants became unbearable, they separated and decided to take things slow.

But that was two months ago. Now, if things went any slower, they’d be stagnant.

Those first three weeks they kissed so much that Ryan’s jaw ached and Harry’s lips were permanently raw. He wanted to take things slow because he assumed Ryan would grow overwhelmed with each next step they took. But one night after Ryan came over for dinner and pretended to say goodnight to Jackson, she waited in the hallway until Harry was certain Jackson was down for the night, and when his front door ripped open and his hands grasped her arms, he dragged her onto his couch and kissed her like he did every other night before that.

But Ryan was growing restless, and while she thought it was admirable the way Harry wanted to be patient with her, she was practically losing her mind with the way his hands stayed planted on her ass and never went anywhere else, the way his lips kissed every inch of her skin above the neckline of her shirt, the way she would be begging for more and Harry wouldn’t oblige.

Even though Ryan could barely look at Harry those first two months they were tiptoeing around each other, she knew that right now—with his mouth licking at the underside of her jaw and his hands squeezing the thick fleshy parts of her ass—she was going to fucking lose it if he didn’t do anything more.

Because they’ve finally figured it out. The unanswered questions that were plaguing them in the beginning have slowly been answered with every moment she spends with him. The lingering gazes and unknown feelings finally meant something to both of them. But now—now that she’s had a taste and gotten a glimpse of what Harry could do to her, she’s practically gone crazy thinking about it all.

Ryan’s never been more sure of one thing in her entire life. And it’s that if she and Harry go any slower, she’ll burst.

So in a blind moment of bravery, Ryan reached down between the pair of them and palmed the growing bulge in his trousers. His mouth ripped from her skin and his head fell back against the armrest of his leather couch, a deep moan working its way through his throat. And when it finally exploded from his parted cherry lips, Ryan could feel herself freefalling, losing sight of everything in front of her and crashing aimlessly below.

“Shit, Ryan.” His voice was strained and Ryan loved every second of it, and before she could have a conscious thought of what she was actually doing, her hands undid the black button with ease and her tiny fingers worked their way through his zipper, and suddenly she was reaching into his briefs and feeling him completely.

That was the first time she ever heard Harry groan like that, and Ryan’s almost positive she’s been addicted to the sound ever since.

That first night on Harry’s brown leather couch started a series of sneaking in and out of each other’s flats during all hours of the day just to get a piece of the other. Harry would slip out of his own when Jackson was down for his afternoon kip, opening Ryan’s front door and tasting her until he heard his mobile buzz with the sounds of Jackson’s stirrings. He’d sneak out just as quickly as he came, leaving her with a mouth-tingling kiss and the overwhelming urge of wanting more more more.

Ryan would come over for dinner almost every other night, keeping the hidden touches and stolen kisses between the two of them without Jackson truly understanding what was happening. And when it was time for Jackson to go to bed, she’d say her goodbyes and wait for Harry in the hallway until his grabby hands were on her own, dragging her back inside. They’d fool around in Harry’s bedroom quietly, swallowing each other’s giggles and grinning whenever stars exploded behind their eyelids.

Harry knew that if he dragged his teeth around Ryan’s earlobe she’d practically become a writhing mess below him. Ryan knew that if she wrapped a dainty hand around the column of Harry’s neck and licked at the piece of skin where his collarbone met his shoulder, his eyes would roll in the back of his head. Harry knew that Ryan was shy whenever he’d start kissing at the skin just underneath her belly button, simultaneously making sure that his green eyes never left her brown ones—because direct eye contact while he was lapping at the most sensitive parts of her body made her want to look at the ceiling or close her eyes tightly. But when they would switch positions and Ryan was the one in between Harry’s legs, she knew that sneaking a glance up at him while her mouth was around him was the exact thing that would bring him over the edge.

And she loved every second of it. She loved being the person bringing somebody like Harry to his end, watching the way his cheeks flushed a deep red color and his mouth opened widely, the way his chest would constrict and his hands would grip the closest thing to him—which most of the time was Ryan’s hips that she happily allowed him to bruise—the way his eyes would shut at the actual last moment, making sure to remember the way everything looked around him before his vision blurred with desire and his body vibrated, completely spent. And when it was all over and he would breathe deeply, a quiet hum resonated through his body that made Ryan’s heart flutter and her body wrap around his own like two magnets with opposite polarities.

Harry loved how confident Ryan grew around him in these moments. While her cheeks still tinged pink whenever he would compliment her as she removed a layer of clothing, she knew exactly what she wanted and felt comfortable enough to tell him. She would tell him that she liked when he gripped her hair, she would tell him that she liked when he ran his tongue down the front of her body, she would tell him that when he gripped her too hard at times that she didn’t really mind it—in fact, she enjoyed it, she wanted it. And with each time they explored a new part of one another, she would grow much more at ease, until she was the one encouraging him to try new things.

And he was fucking addicted.

Ryan tried not to make a habit out of staying over, because explaining to Jackson what was going on while she was trying to sneak out of Harry’s bedroom wearing one of his obnoxious graphic tees was completely mind-boggling to her. She didn’t want to make Jackson feel uncomfortable—and while Harry and Ryan both knew that they had to eventually tell Jackson about their relationship, sneaking around and keeping things just between the two of them has made everything that much easier. Because everything felt new and different, and bursting that bubble just as they were exploring one another seemed a bit disheartening.

Which is why when Ryan feels Harry’s hands gripping the base of her neck while he tries his hardest to subdue another groan, she’s immediately brought back to the present. The present— which consists of her sucking Harry off under the covers of his charcoal-colored duvet in the early hours of the morning, wearing nothing except one of his bright jumpers with vibrant lettering and images of kittens littering the front.

And just before he grips her hair harder and is practically careening towards his end, she’s surprised when she can hear the excited pitter-patter of bare feet slapping against hardwood over Harry’s strangled moans.

Before she can even scold herself for accidentally spending another night in Harry’s sheets, his gold bedroom doorknob begins to wiggle. All at once, Ryan tears her mouth away from Harry’s twitching length, muttering a frantic “shit!” from her position underneath the duvet cover. The door springs open before she can even contemplate hiding inside the attached en-suite, and suddenly Ryan finds herself in a position that’s possibly more humiliating than getting rug burn in front of her attractive neighbor almost four months ago—face squished against Harry’s bare stomach, chest flat against his thighs, and legs stretched out around his own, completely buried underneath the duvet.

Harry sits up gently, making sure Ryan’s body is flat against his own and hidden underneath the darkness of his room. “Hey—hi! Bubs, uh, what’s up?” His voice comes out extremely high pitched, and Ryan can’t tell if it’s from the fact that they were nearly caught in a compromising position by his four-year-old son, or from the fact that he was seconds away from an orgasm that never came.

“Daddy! It’s my birthday! Why are you still in bed? We have to celebrate me!”

Scratch that. Five-year-old son.

Without thinking, Ryan pinches the extra skin around Harry’s waist, causing him to jolt upwards in shock. Her brain instantly starts whirring, working in overdrive to try and remember if Harry had mentioned his son’s fifth birthday to her at all during these past few weeks. And when she can’t think of anything, Ryan feels herself frowning against the rigid muscles of Harry’s abdominals, immediately feeling bad about overlooking this important occasion.

Ryan bites her lower lip to try and hide the smile stretching across her face. She wishes that Jackson already knew about their relationship, because if he did, she’d rip the duvet off of the bed and scoop him up in the biggest hug she could muster, tickling his sides until his arms were wrapped around her neck and she could carry him into the kitchen, waiting patiently for Harry to cook them both his famous eggy bread.

But unfortunately, she’s supposed to be hidden, and that looming thought turns her concealed smile into a heavy frown. Somehow Harry can sense it, and before their cover gets blown, he tells Jackson, “Of course they can come. Why don’t you grab the invitation we started yesterday and finish decorating it. We can drop it off after brekkie, sound good, Bubs?”

Jackson must have nodded appreciatively, because suddenly Harry’s bedroom door clicks shut and the charcoal-colored duvet is thrown to the bottom of his mattress. Ryan looks up at him with wide eyes, her lower lip bitten and her eyes tinged with sadness.

“We’re dickheads, huh?” Ryan offers, clambering off the bed and trying to locate her joggers on his carpeted flooring.

Harry watches her, tucking his erection uncomfortably into his tight briefs and selfishly wishing his son had better timing.

“Don’t say that. Just got carried away, is all,” Harry offers lamely, running an exasperated hand through his messy hair when he notices Ryan practically fully dressed in front of him.

“We need to tell him, Harry. He’s got to know something, considering I’ve been going to the park with you guys and joining you for dinner almost every other evening.” Ryan keeps her voice down as she exchanges Harry’s obnoxious jumper for her cardigan and vest combination she showed up here in the night before.

Harry nods, offering, “We’ll tell him. Tonight, I promise. Can you just—just come here, please?” He’s growing dizzy watching her run around his bedroom grabbing her discarded items, and all he wants is to have her close to him so that they can potentially finish what they started moments ago.

Ryan can tell from the look in his eyes that he’s desperate for her touch. And when she rejoins him on the bed, straddling his thin waist and wrapping her arms around his neck in a quick cuddle, her chest completely flat against his own, she wishes now more than ever that they could wake up every morning just like this.

She lifts her head from the crook of his neck and plants a quick kiss to his temple, before untangling herself from his body and slipping her trainers on her feet. “You’ve got a birthday boy to entertain,” Ryan mutters with a wink.

Harry rolls his eyes from his position on the bed, moaning in frustration when the sudden shift of his body makes his length twitch unforgivably. “How am I supposed to cook with a full stiffy? I’m in pain here, babe.”

Ryan just snickers before throwing Harry the shorts and hoodie he wore last night. “Have a quick wank in the shower, you’ll be sorted in no time.”

“You’re cruel,” Harry complains, slipping the clothes on and adjusting his shorts so that his erection wasn’t so painfully obvious.

“I’ll see you later, okay? We’ll finish this properly,” Ryan offers, snaking her arms around his waist when she notices the smirk threaten to break across his face. His strong arms wrap around her middle, and Harry brings his hand up to wrap his long pointer finger around a stray piece of Ryan’s hair that fell in front of her line of vision.

“Properly, yeah?” He teases, bringing her closer so that the tips of their noses are brushing against one another.

Ryan nods with a pretty smirk covering her lips. “Maybe daddy will get a present, too.” Harry drops his forehead against hers, puffing out a frustrated breath that fans against her cheeks.

“You’re killing me, baby,” he whispers against her mouth, before pressing his lips against hers with a forceful kiss. Ryan’s arms tighten around his body, and when she feels his tongue prod against her lower lip, she backs away, knowing they need to reign it in before they get too lost in one another.

“Later, I promise,” Ryan says, hinting at the one barrier that they haven’t crossed yet, praying that Harry understands what she’s implying.

And when his eyes light up wickedly and he gives her one last toe-curling kiss, she’s almost certain that he knows exactly what she’s talking about.

He opens his bedroom door and heads out into the hallway first, making sure Jackson isn’t lingering in the bathroom or kitchen as they pass. When they encroach upon his position in the living room—telly blasting Paw Patrol as he lays on the rug with his tummy on the shag carpeting, flannel-clad feet bent behind him as his chin rests against his opened palms comfortably—Ryan gives Harry’s waist one last squeeze before she slips out of the entranceway and into the hallway undetected.

When Ryan enters her own flat and greets Luna with a sleepy smile, she immediately heads to her bathroom and turns the shower on. As she’s undressing, Ryan peeks at her reflection in the mirror and almost doesn’t recognize the woman looking back at her.

This version has messy hair tangled at the back of her neck from greedy hands knotting themselves through the tendrils. This version has flushed cheeks—but not in the way she’s grown accustomed to. No, this version’s cheeks are flushed because she’s excited, she’s thrilled, she’s exerted her sexual prowess on a deserving man and she’s in awe of the way she can make him practically fall to his knees in front of her, begging for more more more.

This version has love bites littering the swells of her breast. And if she squints hard enough, she can make out the dents carved by fingertips across her hips and along her sides, permanent reminders of the way someone else could want her. Could need her.

And when she looks at this version’s face and takes in her swollen lips from overuse, the bags under her eyes from choosing to stay awake and fool around with her boyfriend instead of choosing to sleep, the smile that seems to constantly grace her lips whenever she leaves Harry’s presence—Ryan finds that she doesn’t want to look away.

She wants to stare at it. She wants to remember it. She wants it to consume her.

Comfortableness is a look Ryan never thought would suit her, and with each day she lets her walls fall down, she falls more in love with the person she’s becoming. Someone who is confident, someone who no longer lets her social anxiety rule her life, someone who is finally happy with where she is at.

Because falling in love and feeling free somehow coincide with one another. And as Ryan lets the hot water seep into her skin, she knows now that this is where she’s meant to be.

***

“Fiona, for the hundredth time, I’m not describing Harry’s dick to you over the phone,” Ryan harrumphs through her mobile, reaching for the emerald green wrapping paper and unrolling a significant portion to begin wrapping Jackson’s birthday present.

“That’s not fair, Ry! I’ve gone into exquisite detail about Roger’s!” Fiona exclaims back, pouting dramatically from her position leaned up on the coffee table of Ryan’s mobile.

Ryan rolls her eyes before reaching for the scissors. “Once again, that information was unsolicited.”

“Ugh!” Ryan giggles from her position on the floor of her living room, folding up the edges and covering her gift with the wrapping paper. “I can’t wait until this lockdown is over so I can come by and slap you upside the head.”

“Since when have you become so violent?” Ryan asks, securing the wrapping paper with scotch tape.

“Since my best mate won’t tell me about her apparent dazzling sex life!”

Ryan puts the wrapped gift to the side and rests both elbows on the coffee table with her back to the juniper couch. Her arms cross at the middle so she can rest her chin on her wrists, giving Fiona her full attention.

“Well, we haven’t really—um, you know,” Ryan begins, her voice nearly a whisper as her cheeks flame in embarrassment.

“Haven’t really what, Ry?” Fiona presses, always the over-eager one.

Ryan gulps. “Done that.”

Fiona pauses for a moment, observing Ryan through the FaceTime call as she patiently tries to read her friend’s emotions. “You haven’t shagged him yet?” It’s not asked in an accusatory tone, or even a shocked one at that—just complete and utter curiosity.

Ryan knows Fiona’s testing the waters to see how she feels about it all, and she’s a bit grateful to her friend for not being so glaringly obvious. “Uh, yeah. Haven’t really gotten there yet.”

“Well, do you want to?” Fiona asks.

Ryan looks at her with a dumbfounded expression. “Of course I do, Fee. He’s my bloody boyfriend!”

“So what’s the problem here, Ry?” Her prodding is nothing but gentle and calculated.

“There’s no problem. It’s just—” Ryan takes a deep breath and sits up straight. “It’s just that I don’t want to muck this up, Fiona. He’s great and he’s kind and he’s so patient with me, it’s incredible. I’ve never had that before. And I love that he’s taking his time—that we’re taking our time. But I just want to be at that next step with him. I want to be able to spend the night without having to sneak out the next morning. I want to feel so comfortable around him that having sex is just easy, and natural, and just—I don’t know if I’m making sense.”

Fiona blinks a few times with a gentle smile on her face, and suddenly Ryan is nervous about her response.

“I’m proud of you, Ryan.” It’s simple, somehow profound in a way, and Ryan just cocks her head to the side in confusion. “Stop looking at me like that, you twit!”

A smile breaks out across Ryan’s face, a laugh ripping through her throat. “You’re just so happy, Ry, and I think a lot of that has come from Harry. Because not only did you find someone who wants to be with you, but you found someone who wants you to be yourself.” Fiona pauses, leaning a bit closer to her screen. “And I think you just need to tell Jackson the truth. It’s not like he’s going to be upset—from what I’ve heard, that boy is already in love with you.”

Before Ryan can reply, she hears the sound of paper scraping against hardwood flooring from the entranceway of her flat, followed by a familiar high-pitched giggle echoing through the hallway.

She waits a moment before grabbing her mobile and heading towards her front door, bending at the knees when she scoops up the hand-drawn folded invitation on the floor.

“Should I be concerned?” Fiona asks surreptitiously.

Ryan smiles and shakes her head. “No, no. Luna and I have been formally invited to a very important five-year-old’s birthday party next door.”

She holds up the paper, smiling when she notices the capitalized scrawl at the top of the page, clearly done by somebody who can spell Quarantine Birthday Party without hiccups. Surrounding the handwriting are various images drawn by a five-year-old: a picture of Luna sleeping on Harry’s brown leather couch, two Nerf blasters along the bottom, a pizza with orange squiggles that Ryan can only assume to be bell peppers in the top right corner, and finally Harry Potter along the top.

Ryan turns on her heel, heading into her kitchen and hanging the invitation up on her refrigerator with a magnet.

“I’ve got to go, Fee,” Ryan says, slipping her Reebok’s on and gathering Jackson’s presents.

“Alright, alright. But seriously, everything’s going to be alright, you hear me?” Fiona’s yellow-painted pointer finger is extended to the camera, and Ryan smiles at the sight of her mate trying to be stern.

“Yes, Fee. I know. I’m going to be okay.” Ryan responds, meaning every word.

Fiona nods and drops her finger, before adding, “And when you finally do shag, I would love a full synopsis on how Harry—”

Ryan hangs up before the blush could coat her cheeks.

Scooping Luna up in one arm and balancing her two gifts in the other, Ryan makes sure the lights are off before slipping out into the hallway and knocking thrice on 4G’s heavy oak door.

Not even a minute goes by before the door is being ripped open, revealing a sight that still manages to bring a smile to Ryan’s face.

It’s Harry—dressed down in a casual pair of brown corduroy trousers paired with a yellow Swim Deep graphic tee that Ryan can’t wait to wear to bed later on in the evening. His hair is held back by a clip, somewhat familiar to the way he wore it the first time they met in the ghastly hallway. And when her eyes finally land on him and he’s grinning like a fool, Ryan can’t help but mirror it, wondering if they’ll always feel like this whenever they see each other.

“Hi,” he says softly, reaching out and grabbing the two wrapped gifts from her hands.

“Hi,” Ryan responds, hoisting Luna further up in her arm so that she’s resting against her chest.

“You look pretty,” Harry says, and when he reaches down to plant his lips on hers, he’s halted in his movements when Jackson appears, practically bubbling with excitement.

“Ryan! Luna! Hi! I’m five!” His chocolate brown curls are in small cloisters framing his face, making his almond-shaped sage eyes twinkle in the light. He’s wearing a Rolling Stones t-shirt that Ryan can only assume was gifted to him by his father, and when he skirts by Harry’s leg and stands right before Ryan, she can only grin right back.

“I heard! Happy birthday, champ. How do you feel?” Ryan asks, squatting down on her toes so that she’s eye level with Jackson.

She watches as he contemplates his answer, rubbing a small hand against the fur on Luna’s head. “I feel the same but bigger. I’m happy now that you guys are here, too. Do you think I could show Luna the toys daddy and Auntie Gemma got me? I’ll be quick.”

Ryan nods, handing Luna over to Jackson and watching as he holds her gently and carries her through the living room and down the hallway into his bedroom, chatting with her softly along the way.

When she stands up, Harry’s mouth is on hers greedily, pulling kisses from her lips and wrapping his arms securely around her body as if he was scared she was going to disappear.

“Mmm, missed you,” he mumbles once they’ve parted.

“You just saw me a few hours ago, crazy boy,” Ryan responds, tickling her fingers through the curls resting against the nape of his neck.

With one last kiss, he drops his arms. “Miss you whenever you’re not here.”

Ryan smiles shyly, taking a half-step back before Jackson can catch them. “I want to tell him today, Harry. Think he’ll be okay with it?”

Harry looks at Ryan with wide eyes, wondering how she could even fathom Jackson disliking that she was going to be a part of their lives. “Of course he’ll be fine with it. In what world wouldn’t he be?”

Ryan sighs. “I know.”

With one last look, Harry wraps his arm around Ryan’s shoulders and brings her body against his side, cuddling her closely until the tip of her nose was bushing against the veins pulsing in his neck. “I’m gonna miss having you all to myself, though.”

Ryan giggles loudly, hugging Harry closer to her body. “You’ll learn to be a good sharer.”

He pouts dramatically before dragging her into the kitchen, her body still tucked into his side. When she enters the threshold she notices the island countertop is covered with flour—three evenly spherical doughs spread out over top, with ceramic bowls filled with toppings littering the outskirts.

Ryan leaves his side and looks at him with a quizzical look. “Pizzas on a non-Friday?”

Harry grins. “The birthday boy demanded it! How am I supposed to say no?”

Ryan just smiles before heading over to the sink and washing her hands. When she turns around after drying them on a tea towel, she notices a matching set of white feeding bowls on the tiled flooring to the right of the sink counter. And when she squints, she can make out LUNA etched in black writing along the front.

“Is this…?”

Before she can get a conscious sentence out, Harry rounds the island countertop and meets her in the middle of the kitchen. When he notices the look on her face is a mixture of complete shock and adoration, he shrugs shyly at her and rubs his sweaty palm against the back of his neck.

“Yeah. Figured if you were going to start spending the night here, Luna could come too so you wouldn’t have to worry about feeding her.”

It’s amazing how a simple notion of purchasing cat feeding bowls for your girlfriend’s kitten can somehow make Ryan’s heart beat wildly against her chest. But it does—and she’s left looking at Harry fondly, wondering if the wicked thumping of her heart and her shortness of breath and the deep look in her eyes can equate to something like love.

“You didn’t have to,” she offers lamely.

Harry scoffs and rolls his eyes. “I wanted to.”

The sudden sound of a phone ringing from the living room interrupts Harry and Ryan, and when he cranes his neck and notices the noise coming from the iPad strewn across the brown leather couch, he steps back from Ryan and starts following the ringing.

“It’s probably Rachel calling from New York. Wants to wish Jackson a happy birthday,” Harry explains as he grabs the device and answers the call with a simple greeting.

Ryan backs away and heads down the hallway into Jackson’s room, knocking on the opened door and crossing her arms against her chest when she notices him and Luna sprawled out on his rug as he attempts to build his brand new Lego set.

“Hey, champ. Your mum’s on the phone,” Ryan says from her position leaned against the doorframe.

“Really? All the way from New York?” Jackson asks, standing up quickly and grabbing Luna so she’s securely nestled under his armpit.

Ryan nods. “Yeah, go say hi, okay? She wants to wish you a happy birthday.”

“Okay, Ryan,” Jackson obliges, hobbling past her figure and heading into the living room to grab the iPad from Harry. Making sure not to eavesdrop, Ryan returns back to the kitchen where Harry is spreading red sauce on all three pizza doughs.

She watches him, taking in the way his arms strain against the thin material of his shirt deliciously. When he bites his lower lip as he makes a spiral with the tomato sauce, making sure each pizza dough has the same amount, ensuring he left space for the crust to lift at the edges, Ryan tries her hardest to keep her giggles at bay. She finds it incredibly adorable that Harry is such a perfectionist, even without an audience to watch him.

When he lifts his head up after feeling her hot gaze on him, he smiles at her bashfully before cocking his head to the side, gesticulating that he wants her near him. “C’mere and pick your toppings,” he says slowly, dropping a kiss to the crown of her head when she’s settled against his side.

They work together in comfortable silence, working around each other in grabbing handfuls of cheese, chopped up pieces of vegetables, scattered slices of pepperoni. When Ryan grabs the bowl of pepperoni slices from Harry’s hand, he chuckles to himself before opening his mouth wide, waiting for her to feed him. She giggles at his immaturity, but eventually obliges, popping a slice into his mouth and letting the tips of her fingers graze his lips until he’s left shivering in his place.

Once their pizzas are finished, Harry starts spreading cheese on Jackson’s, before asking Ryan offhandedly, “Do you mind asking him what else he wants on his pizza? I want to pop these into the oven.”

Ryan nods, trying her hardest not to be difficult. But when she cleans off her hands and pops her head into the living room, she’s suddenly flushed with nerves. She feels bad interrupting Jackson’s conversation with his mum, especially on his birthday when she’s practically an entire world away.

When there’s an appropriate lull in the conversation, Ryan clears her throat and calls out, “Hey, champ? Daddy wants to know what toppings you want for your pizza.”

She watches Jackson’s neck snap in her direction, an excited smile plastering his face. “Ok! Tell him I’ll pick them myself! Here, Ryan,” and with that he jumps off the couch, thrusting the iPad into Ryan’s hands without ending the call or saying goodbye to Rachel on the other end.

“Jackson, wait! Say goodbye to your mum!” After waiting a few seconds and hearing nothing but silence, Ryan sighs to herself before looking down at Rachel’s patient gaze on the screen. “Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for him to run off like that.”

When Ryan looks at the screen, she’s a bit astonished when she sees Rachel’s mouth begin to form a laugh. It’s the same expression as the photograph of her in Jackson’s room—full lips parted, mouth hanging open slightly, tongue resting against her bottom layer of teeth. She looks pretty with her straight hair clipped against her shoulders, and when Ryan takes in her bare face and fluffy white robe, she suddenly doesn’t feel as nervous around Rachel as she was in the past.

Because for once, she seems like a normal girl. And when her smile doesn’t break and she’s looking at Ryan without dark eyes filled with anger, Ryan’s not quite sure what to make out of it all.

“It’s okay, pizza is probably infinitely more interesting than speaking to his mum at the moment,” Rachel jokes, her laughter floating through the speakers in a way that makes Ryan crack a grin.

“I wouldn’t say that,” Ryan offers, trying to figure out how to end this conversation without making their already awkward relationship any worse.

“That’s nice of you to say,” Rachel responds quietly, tucking a stray piece of blonde hair behind her ear. “I’m glad you’re there, by the way. You mean more to them than you could ever imagine.”

It’s quiet for a moment as Ryan takes in Rachel’s words. Her simple comment of approval somehow makes the nervous pit in Ryan’s stomach unravel, and suddenly she starts seeing Rachel in a different light. Maybe in the past, she was the villain in Harry’s story, but that doesn’t mean it always has to be that way. Because Ryan finally sees Rachel for who she is—a mum who simply is trying to do her best, no matter how many mistakes she’d made.

“Thanks, Rachel. That means a lot,” Ryan says with a smile.

“No problem. I should probably go, I’ve got a Zoom meeting in an hour. Tell Jackson I said goodbye?” Rachel asks softly.

“Of course. Bye, Rachel,” Ryan says, smiling when Rachel waves just before ending the call.

Ryan locks the device and places it on the end table before rejoining Harry and Jackson in the kitchen. When she pokes her head in and watches Harry appropriately place the pepperoni slices wherever Jackson wants them, she can’t help but smile like a fool at the sight of it all.

And just before Harry asks if Jackson was happy with his pizza, his son quickly adds, “Daddy, can I add bell peppers too? The green and orange ones, like Ryan has,” and Ryan tries her hardest not to gasp.

Harry grins before sprinkling the same amount on Jackson’s pizza, before popping all three into the oven. Ryan decides then to enter the kitchen completely, leaning her torso over the island countertop across from Jackson who’s happily munching on a stay pepperoni slice from his position perched on the leather barstool.

With a quick look at Harry, Ryan wordlessly tells him that now is the best time to tell his son about their relationship. Harry nods before sidling up to Ryan’s side across the counter from Jackson, looking at his son once he’s finished swallowing his snack.

“Hey, Bubs, Ryan and I have something we want to tell you,” Harry starts, watching his son nod happily on the barstool.

“Okay, daddy,” Jackson says easily, looking between the two adults across from him with wide, inquisitive eyes.

Harry looks at Ryan before speaking. “You know how we’ve been spending a lot of time with each other lately?” Harry starts, pausing until Jackson’s head starts bobbing up and down.

“Right, well we’ve decided that we really like each other. And that we want to keep spending time with each other, if that’s okay with you?” It’s quiet as Jackson mulls this over, his hand resting on his chin as he tries to wrap his five-year-old brain around what his father just explained to him.

“Of course that’s okay with me. I like Ryan too, daddy,” Jackson says, his green eyes squinting in confusion as he struggles to understand what Harry is trying to tell him.

“I know that, Bubs. But I like Ryan the way adults like each other, do you know what I’m trying to say to you?” Ryan can tell that Harry is struggling, because his palm flies up to the back of his neck as he rubs it awkwardly, beginning to stumble over his words as his brain begins to work in overdrive.

“I think so,” Jackson starts, placing both palms down on the counter as he cocks his head to the side and looks at both of them from across the counter. “So you like her. And you kiss her, too? The way you used to kiss mummy?”

Ryan looks at Harry with wide eyes, hoping he can salvage the rest of this conversion before it implodes right in front of their faces.

“Yes, but I kiss Ryan because she is daddy’s girlfriend. Do you understand now?” Harry asks.

Jackson nods, looking down at the countertop before lifting his eyes to meet Harry’s. “Yeah, I get it. What does that make mummy, then?”

Ryan blushes, looking at Harry nervously. She can tell that he’s thinking, because how do you explain the difference between a mother and a girlfriend to a five-year-old?

After a minute passes in silence, Harry clears his throat and says, “Mummy is still your mummy. And well, Ryan is, uh. Ryan is your—”

“—Your friend. Your very best friend, who cares about you and will always be here for you whenever you need me,” Ryan says, interrupting Harry before he stutters all over his words.

Without thinking, she reaches her hand across the counter and grabs Jackson’s smaller ones in her own, the same way he did to her the first day they met four months ago in the hallway. And once his eyes are locked on hers firmly, she adds, “Think of it as having two women in your life that care about you very much. Do you think that’s something you’d be okay with?”

Jackson squeezes Ryan’s hands tightly in his own before a ginormous grin breaks across his face. Harry can feel his shoulders slump in relief, and when he brings his arm around Ryan’s shoulders and brings her against his side, Jackson just giggles loudly across from them, happily wiggling in his barstool.

“I think that’s just the bestest news ever!” Jackson exclaims, smiling so big that the tiny dimples carved into his cheeks deepen.

The timer goes off, indicating that their pizzas are complete. Harry rounds the counter and begins pulling them from the oven. Ryan walks over to the barstool and lifts Jackson up from underneath his armpits, placing him on the ground so that he can settle into his spot in the breakfast nook.

After Harry places the pizzas on the table and grabs their beers and Jackson’s juice from the counter, the three of them sit around the table while Ryan cuts small pieces for Jackson’s little hands to grab.

Once she’s made sure that Jackson’s completely settled, Ryan reaches for her own beer and begins cutting her into her pizza. The domesticity of it all no longer makes Harry or Ryan uncomfortable. Instead, they welcome the feeling with open arms, no longer batting an eye whenever Ryan wipes tomato sauce from Jackson’s grabby hands, no longer falling slack-jawed when Jackson asks for a piece of Ryan’s pizza instead of his own, no longer growing red in the face when Jackson grabs Ryan’s hand when she’s done eating her dinner.

Ryan offers to help Harry clean up, but once Jackson notices the two emerald wrapped presents in the corner of the living room, Ryan’s practically dragged into the living room so that he can excitedly rip open his gifts.

“How about we wait for daddy, champ?” Ryan asks, sitting cross-legged against the floor with Luna in her lap and her back against the couch while Jackson begins strategizing how he should rip open the wrapping paper.

“I’m too excited I don’t know if I can wait!” Jackson squeals, reaching for the smaller box below to try and guess what’s hiding underneath.

After a few minutes of painfully waiting for Harry, he finally emerges and sits behind Ryan on the couch, caging his legs around her frame. When she feels him settle in behind her, Ryan leans back so that her head is closer to his lap, and Harry begins rubbing at her shoulders comfortingly while they both watch Jackson tear into the larger package.

“You didn’t have to get him anything, you know,” Harry whispers into Ryan’s ear.

Ryan turns so that she’s looking at him over her shoulder, rolling her eyes amusedly and repeating his words from earlier. “I wanted to.”

Jackson’s excited shriek causes both Harry and Ryan to look at him, and when he holds up the brand new Nerf blaster that he tested out with Ryan almost two months ago, she can’t help but grin wickedly back at him.

“No way! This is so great, Ryan! Thank you!” The fluorescent orange plastic gun sits on his lap as he begins pulling the trigger and watching the empty ammunition compartment spin clockwise.

“Should I be worried?” Harry asks ominously from behind Ryan, causing Jackson to look from his father to Ryan with nervous eyes.

With a subtle wink, reminding him to keep their secret between each other, Jackson giggles quietly before placing the gun back on the floor beside him. “Nothing to worry about, daddy,” he says, reaching for the smaller yet heavier wrapped package in front of him.

As he begins tearing at the paper, Ryan grows more alert, sitting up straight so that she can see the expression on Jackson’s face when he finally reveals the contents of his present. When the paper is finally removed from the top part of the gift, Jackson gasps when he notices seven varying sizes of books all with the words Harry Potter inscribed on the spine.

“Whoa.” It’s the first time Jackson’s ever struggled with finding words, and when he turns the books over that are tied together with white tinsel, so that he can see each book separately, Ryan almost swears she can see his mouth open and close repeatedly.

“Figured you should have your own,” Ryan says quietly, reaching over to untie the string so that he can thumb through the brand new pages of his own books.

“This is the greatest gift I’ve ever gotten,” Jackson whispers, dropping the books to the floor so that he can scramble up to his knees and wrap his arms around Ryan’s neck, engulfing her in a tight hug.

Ryan tries her hardest not to cry with happiness, because out of all of the hugs she’s ever received in her entire lifetime (including the warm embraces Harry has gifted her in the past two months) this hug from Jackson beats them all. His tiny fists knot together at the nape of her neck, and she can feel him squeezing her tighter when her own arms fall around his torso, bringing him closer to her.

“Thank you so much,” he whispers into her shoulder, letting her go and sitting back on the floor so that he can look at his brand new presents.

When Ryan sits back, she turns around so that she can see the look Harry gives her. She’s almost certain that it could be love, but when he leans down and kisses her on the cheek, thanking her profusely, she’s not sure if she’s overthinking it all.

After the excitement of the party dwindles down and Jackson’s muffling yawns into the crook of his elbow, Harry decides that it’s time for bed. Jackson doesn’t put up a fight, and when he gets up and begins heading into the bathroom to start his nighttime routine, he turns around before Harry can get up from the couch and follow him.

“Ryan? Can you put me to bed tonight?”

His question makes the warmth she feels whenever he looks at her flush through her insides, and when his sleepy green eyes twinkle and he holds a hand out waiting for her to hold, she’s up and by his side without a second to spare.

She lets Jackson pick out his pajamas, and when he’s too tired to put his head through his blue sleep shirt, Ryan holds it over his body so that he can stick his arms through the holes and she can push it down appropriately. She pulls out the stool for him in the bathroom so that he can step up and brush his teeth, making sure to reach the deep corner of his mouth and swipe his toothbrush over his tongue until his breath is minty fresh. And once he’s finished, she walks him into his bedroom and pulls down his covers, letting him slide in so that she can tuck him in tightly.

“Hey, Ryan?” Jackson asks sleepily, tucking his chin over the folded duvet against his chest.

“Yeah, champ?” Ryan asks, swiping a stray curl off of his forehead.

“Does this mean Luna gets to have a bed here, too? So she doesn’t feel alone in your home whenever you're here?” His question is a simple one, but somehow Ryan can’t find the words to answer. Because she’s spent a lot of time feeling alone in her own home, and in the past two months she hasn’t felt that feeling at all. She’s wondering what it all means.

Before she can answer, Harry pops his head in from the hallway. “Ready for bed?”

Jackson nods, yawning one last time before snuggling deeper into his pillow. “Mhm. Night daddy. Night Ryan.”

“Night, champ. Hope you had a great birthday.” Ryan doesn’t wait for him to respond, instead, she switches off his bedside lamp and flicks on the nightlight against the wall, shuffling across the room to meet Harry’s waiting arms.

But before the door can fully close, they hear Jackson call out, “Love you both!” and Ryan halts in her steps.

It falls out of his mouth so easily, without question, as if it was something she should already know. And when Harry responds and Ryan’s left staring dumbly at the wall, she’s wondering if it really is that easy to fall in love with somebody else.

She’s thinking about this while getting ready for bed with Harry later that night, exchanging her jeans and jumper for the yellow shirt he wore all day. It smells like him—hints of vanilla and sandalwood, all citrusy shampoo and that distinguishable smell that follows him around. They work in comfortable silence in his en suite, sharing the one sink as best they can. Harry waits while Ryan washes her face, and when she’s hidden behind a face towel, Harry pinches her bum underneath the hem of his shirt and reaches for the toothpaste. Ryan squeals, and once Harry’s begun brushing she does the same, smacking his hands away whenever he tries to bring her backside against his front, dribbling blue foamy toothpaste onto her shoulder. And when they both spit into the sink and head towards the mattress, her mind is still reeling.

It’s no secret that Ryan’s never grasped the concept of having a home. Growing up, she had two homes with two sets of parents in two different places. And when she became an adult, Ryan moved around more than anybody else—perfecting the ability to live out of cardboard boxes in different flats with different postal codes.

But now, she’s actively thinking about what Jackson said about Luna having a home here in their flat. Because home isn’t a physical place—it’s a feeling. It’s that warmth, that feeling of wrapping yourself in a heavy duvet on your mum’s couch. It’s mixing up parcels on purpose with the perfect excuse to knock on their door and see them again. It’s that giddy feeling you get when you notice the other person’s tea mug resting on your drying rack, a piece of them seemingly interwoven with your own life. It’s reading a book you’ve read hundreds of times over again to somebody who’s never experienced it before, saying each word as if it were the first time you’ve ever seen them. It’s having matching food bowls for your kitten and a second bed for her in a place where she can make her own home.

Home is having two separate flats but feeling completely safe wrapped around each other on a juniper couch or in a king-sized mattress with grey sheets.

And when they’re settled in these sheets, Ryan’s legs wrapped securely around Harry’s waist, Harry’s hands crawling further down her body until the tips of his fingers skim the hem of his shirt resting on her thighs, they both know that this is it. This feeling they’ve been running from suddenly makes sense—suddenly makes loneliness feel like the stupidest thing in the world.

Just before Harry can rip the shirt off of Ryan’s body, they hear his doorknob begin to wiggle for the second time that day. Harry groans frustratedly underneath his breath, allowing his head to fall against Ryan’s shoulder before the door falls open. Jackson stands in the doorway, clad in the same blue flannel pajamas Ryan had just helped him put on, holding a red and orange book cover in his small hands.

“Everything all right, Bubs?” Harry asks once Ryan’s unwrapped her legs from his waist and rolled over so that they’re lying side by side.

Jackson nods, shuffling into the bedroom inch by inch. “Since it’s my birthday and stuff, do you think Ryan could read to me a little?”

It’s timid and adorable and Ryan can’t help but start to smile, already knowing that she’s going to say yes without even acknowledging that his birthday is almost over as soon as the clock changes from eleven thirty to midnight.

“C’mere, champ,” Ryan says, patting the mattress happily.

Harry tries to argue, but when he sees his son’s sleepy grin and his girlfriend’s matching one, he knows there’s no use. So once Jackson reaches their bedside, he grabs him from underneath his armpits and plops him comfortably in the space between him and Ryan.

Jackson shuffles under the covers, dropping the brand new hardcover into Ryan’s lap. Harry flicks the lamp on the nightstand before turning on his left side, releasing his head on his waiting palm with his elbows bent so that he can watch both of them.

“Where’d we leave off?” Ryan asks even though she already knows from the dog-eared page in her own copy that Jackson clumsily marked off the last time they read together.

“The map! Harry has the Marauder’s Map!” he squeals, turning his head so that he’s practically cuddling into her chest.

Ryan giggles and Harry feels himself melting into his mattress. “Oh that’s right. Okay, here we go.”

Before she can let the first word on the page fall past her lips, Harry interrupts, “Does this mean I finally get to hear the Hagrid voice?”

She looks over and rolls her eyes, ignoring the amused twinkle in his own.

Once she’s finished the first page, she can feel Harry’s arm extend over Jackson’s head and reach towards the messy plait falling past her shoulder. With steady hands, he removes the hair bobble and starts untangling the strands, wrapping a wavy tendril around his finger and letting out a quiet but relaxing breath that makes her feel more at home than ever before.

And with Jackson curling further into her chest and Harry running soothing fingers down her scalp, Ryan should be feeling the complete opposite.

But when she sneaks a look at Harry as she’s turning the page, she notices that he’s been looking at her instead of the black text carved into the book. And when their eyes lock for a brief moment, she feels time stand still. Her heart lets out a strong string of heavy thumps, her skin feels just the right amount of warmth, and she’s never been more sure of her place in the world.

She thinks back to Fiona’s declaration of love at first sight, and wonders if the glimmer in Harry’s green eyes and the soft smile on his face is the same expression Roger wore the first time they met in that overcrowded club all those months ago.

And when Harry scrunches his face, wrinkling his nose adorably and squinting his eyes, Ryan knows for sure that Fiona’s right.

It’s love. It’s always been love.

***

A/N: And just like that, we’ve reached the end of YFLH. I hope you enjoyed this story as much as I enjoyed writing it! I never thought Ryan and Harry’s story would go past a oneshot, and I’m so happy that you all have grown to love them as much as I have. I want to thank all of you who have reached out to tell me your thoughts, to those who have liked or reblogged, to those who have recommended this story to somebody else--I truly owe you the biggest thanks. You’ve made this process so easy and fun, and I’m so grateful to you all!

Don’t hesitate to reach out and let me know your thoughts about part eight or everything and anything in between. This story was a submission for the 1DFF Quarantine Challenge, which has other amazing writers participating as well, so feel free to check out the page! Hope you all have a safe and happy Holiday season, and I’ll see you all soon! x

(In the meantime if you’re looking to do some more reading, you can click here for my masterlist!)

taglist: @stylishmuser @vikki1220 @greatestview @verorax @cronias13 @adoremp3 @ilovegolden @taintedwonder @stepping-into-the-light @onlyphysicallypresent @dontwanttobealone @justsaying20 @elemayox @awomanindeniall @ihearthemcallingforyou @halloweenniall @live-at-the-forum @kakayam @harryinsweatersandbandanas @hopelessly-harry @ficnarry @morethanamelodyy @niallgolden @harryswinterberries @caramello-styles @harrysstyle @greatestview @solllaris @niallgolden @mellamolayla

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry x reader #harry x ofc #1dff #1dffupdates #onedirectionfanfiction #1dffquarantine

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katfox · 3 years

Text

Oh, Baby!

Glimpse: Jumin and his wife get to celebrate this sweet Valentines holiday with the person they love more than anything in the entire world. The end brings along a little surprise that will change their lives forever, in the best way possible.

1400+ words

Valentine gift post for @juminsmysticmc c:

It started happening mid-January where you started feeling less energetic. This wasn't a huge cause for concern as you’d normally stay up late to help Jumin with work. He loved you for staying awake to calm him through the night, although he knew how stressful it was. This was a stressful time for anyone honestly, from people high up on the corporate ladder to those buying products in the shops. Valentines day is very touchy holiday that either left you feeling loved or feeling heartbroken.

As the days and weeks fly by the fatigue passes by with extra sleep but you seem to start feeling under the weather, maybe the flu? What a bad time to be sick.. Once home and seeing your current condition Jumin offers to call a doctor for a night visit but you gently brush the idea. “Don't be silly darling a cold wont harm me.” For the sake of relaxing you he gives in and offers the idea that you go to the doctor if you're not feeling well after a few days, to which you agree willingly.

He kisses your forehead before leaving the room to run you a warm bubble bath. Lucky for you he brought home a new luxury bath set that he was gifted from another company. He treated you like the queen you are, waiting on you hand and foot in hopes that he would make you feel better.

As the days progress you start to feel a bit better if it wasn't for the feeling of being nauseated. You felt love you couldn't eat because you weren't able to keep anything down. Although you couldn't help it you'd always apologize to the chefs, as it seemed kind of like a slap in the face to their cooking. This was the last straw. You needed to go see what was wrong, there was no way that you'd pass on whatever sickness this was to your hardworking husband.

With one phone call, Jumin sends a car to take you to your doctor. He wishes to be there with you but had so many meetings scheduled. You appreciate the thought of him wanting to come but you assure him that you'll be fine to go alone, with the guards of course. The ride was quick but the nauseous feeling only grew with the motions. This was really getting under your skin, you've never felt this way before.

Getting to the doctor was nerve wracking, you didn't know whether you were just sick or dying. It was getting hard to tell. The doctor calls you in for a few questions; she does a physical exam to see if there's anything she can feel. She asks a few intimate questions to start narrowing down what your sickness could be. With the answers you gave, she's pretty confident she knows what's going on.

She requests a machine from one of her nurses that happily obliges to get it for her. She suggests that you expose your stomach for a clearer look into your abdomen. You do it with a bit of haste, just happy to know that this will tell you what's been ailing you. An ultrasound machine strolls through the doors making you feel a little nervous. She smiles and does the procedure with gentle hands, locating the issue at hand.

You come home, you weren't expecting that to be the cause of all this. Thinking about everything that happened so far does start to connect the dots for you. What will you do though? You run your hand along your stomach, eyes closed picturing the future that you will share with the love of your life.

Jumin rushed home from work as early as he possibly could he wanted to make sure that you were okay. "What did they say, my love?" You hushed his worry by telling him it was just a simple sickness, you loved the way he cared about you. Sometimes he cared too much but you knew its because he loves you so much. He was happy to know that you were fine, although he'd pay anything to heal you if that weren't the case.

It's the day before the big day, the day you'd stop holding this big secret. You wanted to make it special for him. A few calls were made for supplies to aid you in your gift to the most amazing man. You'd hope he likes it as this gift wouldn't be refundable. "How could he not, it was with our love after all." You smile to yourself and shake off the nerves as you prep for the surprise.

Part of you felt like you should've known since Elizabeth was all over you during the past few weeks more than she ever had at one period. You thought it was just her being adorable and wanting to cuddle more. Either way you both appreciated the closeness. The click of the lock alerts you to the door, seeing Jumin step into the penthouse. His eyes search for you as he had great news. He was going to stay home for a couple days to treat you for the holiday.

Last night's dinner was amazing, you couldn't really keep all the food down but you were happy that Jumin was there. He kissed your head before heading out to get you a few gifts to show yo his love and appreciation. You woke up to the smell of roses, opening your sleepy eyes you catch a glimpse of a huge box of fresh roses. There had to be at least a thousand roses in this designer bouquet. He was so thoughtful, you never asked for a thing but he just spoils you anyway.

A card catches your attention and you fetch it, reading the sweet nothings he’s written for you. He's prepared a dinner out at the fanciest restaurant he could get at late notice. He bought you a new satin dress, it was beautiful and slightly hugged the contours of your body. You were in awe thinking that today was the day that you would change Jumin's life for the better.

You treated yourself with a warm bath and a massage to relax you as much as possible. Your nerves were testing you and you were determined to leave them behind. As the hours flew by you grow flushed, feeling flustered as the second biggest moment of your life was coming up. You slip on the dress, it was soft and fit you perfectly. How could you expect less from Jumin Han?

A kiss gets planted at the nape of your neck bringing you out of space. You look in the mirror seeing Jumin behind you, his smile is out of this world. You turn to face him as he leans down and presses a gentle kiss against your lips. Something in you just sparked and you couldn't contain yourself. He pulls away to grab your gifts and the words slips past your lips before you can stop them.

"I'm pregnant-" Jumin doesn't know if he heard correctly or if he just imagined it. You grab a small box and reach out handing it to him. Your nerves grow as he opens the box, what greets him is a test that read positive. His body seemed to move on it's own as he dropped the box onto the bed. He rushes to you picking you up in his arms swinging you around gently.

All he ever wanted was a family of his own, to raise a loving family like the one he never had. He was so overjoyed, letting a few happy tears slip as he held you close. You cried tears of happiness as you celebrated this huge milestone. He sets you down on your feet, kissing you deeply before caressing your stomach. He couldn't be happier that you're going to be the mother of his children.

You both spoke, simultaneously speaking the same words effortlessly. "I love you~" The overwhelming happiness was growing between the two of you, so much so that Jumin laughed so warmly. One that you haven't heard very often if at all, it was sweet and contagious. You both spent the rest of Valentine's day in blissful joy. The man of your dreams, and the baby you made with love.

The most amazing Valentine's day, neither of them will ever forget.

#Mysme #mystic messenger #mysme jumin #mysme jumin han #mystic messenger jumin han #mm jumin han #mm jumin #jumin x reader #mysme fanfic #mysme fluff #jumin fluff #jumin han #mystic messenger jumin #jumin fanfic

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lunewell · 3 years

Text

The Lunewell Saga - Natura: Ch 3

Chapter 1 here

Chapter 2 here

Can also be read on ao3 (:

Book Sumary:

Zarifa Birch, an antique shop worker with an unusual past, has made a home for herself in the sleepy town of Lunewell. Though the shop she works at is not exactly ordinary, with cryptid items and odd occurrences, she has managed to carve the normal life she always desperately wished for out of it.

However, all that comes crumbling down, as a woman from Zarifa’s past throws everything into chaos. Faced with unimaginable horrors, seemingly unsolvable mysteries, and returning repressed feelings and memories, Zarifa along with her coworkers, must find a way to return the balance- and escape the cruel hands of death in this eldritch horror mystery

As always, he had not been himself in the night. He had been an old man, holding a rather nice-smelling bag, walking through the forest towards… something. Something he cared about.

His thoughts were not quite his own, but not the man's either; more a drowsy sort of mish-mash of voices, a bit like falling asleep in the middle of a bustling city. However, none of it really mattered, as he very much felt, smelled, and lived in the forest, above the crunchy leaves and around the warm scent. So hard to place. It was familiar, and yet, the exact detail of it had faded out.

He could hear his own voice, humming. It did not sound like his voice, not really, but it felt like his own, and that was enough for it to be his own. The vibrations travelled through his chest as he burst out in melodic sounds. He was humming a workers’ song, one that someone in his family had sung. Again, the details were blurry, like there was a block in his brain.

The forest was calm, basking in a sunny glow. Autumn leaves decked the ground, and the trees looked familiar. There was a comfort in this place, a home in the scent of mud and moss, and one that he cherished happily.

The trees, though originally quiet to his senses, rustled softly in a pleasant way. The wind must’ve been extra strong, he must’ve just not noticed it through the thick shield of stems.

The trees rustled once more, and felt a beat against the soles of his feet. It was slight, barely noticeable, but it got him to tilt his stiff, aged, neck downwards, if even just for a second.

It was then that it truly happened.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the trees curving, but he didn’t have any time to process as he was slammed down to the ground by a vine sprouting from the ground. A crack wrecked through his body, not unlike the sound a carrot makes when snapping, and he, in what simultaneously was and wasn’t his voice, howled in pain. His leg, already weak to begin with, felt as though it had been ripped in two, and he could clearly see red blood leaking from where the knee was bent at an unnatural angle. Fire coursed through his nerves, burning from his leg to his spine. The pain was so mind-numbing that he didn’t notice the much pointier vine heading right for him until it was too late.

As though it was sentient, a throned vine plunged at him, and punctured right into his stomach. It sliced all the way through him, as though his body was not but soft butter, before pulling out in an equally swift motion and landing him limp on the ground.

There was no pain, even as thorns began to wrap around and puncture every millimeter of skin, only numbness. Numbness from pain that could not be described in the English language. Numbness that no one alive had ever felt. Numbness that acted as a relenting defeat against his continuous fight for any hope of life.

And as he lay there, hands bloodstained, stomach gaping, and so incredibly empty, he feared. Feared for his wife, feared for his unachieved goals, feared for what was coming next. Even this fear, however, held a tragic sort of air to it, as it was dulled down by unrelenting numbness.

The numbness faded, along with all thoughts, as white, hot, pain came crashing down like a hammer. He let out one last pitiful, agony filled screech - for a scream was much too human to cover the sound - muffled by the thorns that had stuck themselves into his lips, before everything went black in what was truly the kindest mercy. ————————————————

Bruin awoke with a gasp, clutching his stomach. His eyes darted around his barren room, pulse racing at an olympic level under his skin. With a weak breath - still clutching his stomach with an iron grip - he closed his eyes, and repeated his mantra; You’re Bruin Becker, you’re not them, you’re safe.

The phrase played over and over again in his mind as his vision slowly morphed from a blur of panic, to the usual, groggy morning one. Taking a more stable breath, he slowly let go of his stomach. He couldn’t resist scanning his hands for blood, though he knew there was none.

Once he was sure his hands were clean, he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, and watched the world come to life. The white desk and closet popped from the midnight blue walls, the sheets on his bed clear as glass. He glanced at his face in the mirror, and was not surprised at what he saw; deep, dark bags under his slender eyes, porcupine-like hair, and a thin sheet of sweat that lined his forehead.

He collapsed back into his bed with a tired sigh, wanting nothing more than to ignore the clock that was taunting him with the ridiculous hour he had awoken. He would probably do that. Go back to blissful sleep, that is. He doubted he even had gotten an ounce of it because of his stupid… nightmares? Visions? Whatever they were.

He closed his eyes, relaxing back into his bed, mind so far gone and forgetting one quintessentially, very, important thing. A thing he was oh-so-kindly reminded of by what could have only been described as the sound of every single plate in the house shattering at once.

With an almost inhuman speed, Bruin threw the cover from his bed, and darted to the room next door. He adjusted his hair along the way in a frantic motion, pulse having quickened yet again at the commotion. He braked as he reached the kitchen doorway, looking at the source of the sound.

On the grey tiles sat a dazed Grant, covered head to toe in flour, shards of ceramic plates scattered around him like a bomb had just gone off. Grant looked sheepishly at Bruin, blue eyes just as bagged as his own. “Uhh… good morning?”

Bruin couldn’t help the look of absolute disappointment that rolled over his face. “How did you manage to - never mind. I don’t want to know,” he said, exasperated, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Well, if you must know,” Grant began, ignoring Bruin’s statement, “I was trying to make pancakes. Keyword there being trying.” He got up and tried dusting off the flour powdered on him like snow, but gave up almost immediately. “It was a shame really. I make lovely pancakes. It’s the only good thing about living with me, according to my dearest exes.”

“I’m surprised they listed any good things about living with you,” Bruin mumbled, before joining Grant to pick up the last pieces of the plates.

Though he would never admit it, Grant had been a blessing in disguise. When he first rented the little cottage in Lunewell, he had accepted that his co-worker would be an annoying, messy, music-box obsessed pest in the house that he would hopefully have to deal with as little as humanly possible.

Yet, almost like a mold, he had to admit that Grant had grown on him. Sure, he still couldn’t stand the messiness, and he swore that every time he turned a corner he saw another damn music-box, but those were things he had learned to forgive over the years.

“What possessed you to make pancakes?” Bruin questioned as they threw the last pieces in the trash.

Grant quieted, biting his lip.“They’re great comfort food,” he said slowly, as if testing out the words.

Bruin tensed, suddenly hyper aware of the rumbling in his stomach. “Oh,” he said quietly, after minutes of silence, “did you have a bad night’s sleep?” The question was pointless, but Bruin felt the need to ask it anyway. If only to take away from the barking that had begun playing in his ears.

“Yeah,” Grant responded, eyeing him, “I was up working on fixing an antique box, planning to go to bed, but I think someone was begging for their life outside, which wasn’t a very nice sound to fall asleep too.”

It was an invitation, one which he pondered for a while, before finally giving his response; “I wouldn't imagine so, no.”

He looked away as Grant's ocean blue eyes filled with pity, something that hurt him as much as any gun wound. “Hey, I… uh,” Grant began, no longer looking at him, “don’t feel obligated to answer this, but, are they getting worse?”

“You should probably go and get changed. I’ll make some breakfast for us. We still have a while before work.”

Grant, bless his heart, didn’t push. Instead, he simply nodded, vanishing the sad look from his eyes. He was halfway out the door, when he turned around with a snap; “that’s what I was forgetting to tell you!” he said, “Zarifa called earlier, she wants us to come in early.”

“Really? That’s unusual.”

“My thoughts exactly. I didn’t ever find out why though, she remained all vague. Sounded a bit panicked, if I’m honest.”

Bruin nodded. “We’ll head out after you and I get changed then. I’m not really in the mood for breakfast anyway.”

“Aye aye, Bruiny,” Grant said with a mock salute, before slipping out the door and presumably into his bedroom. Bruin did the same, taking one last glance around the rustic kitchen before walking towards his own room with a newfound haste. Zarifa had always been more than lenient with the times they showed and left work, especially once she realised both Grant and Bruin had abysmal sleep quality and patterns, so something like this was not only highly unusual, but equally concerning.

He just hoped nothing too terrible had happened. ——————————————

The walk to the Office was a beautiful one, especially this time of year. They were both bundled in hats and scarves that Grant had insisted on, as golden yellows and flaming hues passed and fell around them. For all the flack they could both give Lunewell - a lack of internet service, isolation from almost everything, and navigational systems that were seemingly built by a sadist - neither could deny that living there on mornings like this was truly a magical experience.

Or would be, were it not for the unfortunate scenario.

“Oh I hope she’s alright,” Grant panted out, slightly out of breath from the speedwalking that bordered on jogging. Working in antiques was unfortunately not a field that kept one in great physical condition, and in moments like this it truly showed.

“I’m sure she’s fine,” Bruin reassured, “thinking logically, we know nothing serious has happened,” probably, “so it’s most likely something mundane, slightly ominous at best.”

Grant looked unsure at that, but didn’t say anything. Under the glasses, Bruin could practically see the well-oiled cogs turning in his head, eyes glaze as though lost in the mechanical world. It was his typical zoning out look, which was for once highly appreciated, as Bruin himself was in no mood to talk.

They walked up the path, letting the old, wooden store come into view. It seemed no different than yesterday, albeit much darker, except for, alarmingly enough, a room in the upstairs flat. They shared a questioning look, panic visible on both their faces, before speeding up and half-sprinting to the door.

With a lead ball in his stomach, Bruin realised that the door was not only unlocked, but stood slightly ajar. He shoved it further open, with an urgency but still lightly, as not to break any antiques.

Even the golden rays of autumn sun couldn’t hide the ruins of the shop. The furniture was at a slight angle, as though a lash had come whipping at the legs, the fragile glass and ceramics that had been close to shattering finally lay dead and dismembered on the floor, and most concerningly, there was an unidentifiable black liquid smelling vaguely of ozone.

“Zarifa?” Grant began calling, stepping over the mess with all the grace of a drunk octopus, “Zari? Boss? Are you in there?” Bruin followed his shouting companion, straightening the furniture as he went. They made it to the counter, still no sight of her, though that was changed as they heard a thunderclap of a sound emitting from the backroom.

They were in the employees’ lounge within seconds of the sound, greeted by the sight of an unusually casually dressed Zarifa surrounded by long walls of antiques, stacked in an organised manner. “Oh good,” she said, upon seeing them, giving them a warm smile that reached her tired eyes, “you made it.”

Bruin wasn’t so much looking at her, as staring at the large pile of antiques behind her. Some of them he recognised, like the ‘Girl in Field’ painting, or that odd statue of an old man made of clay, 200 years old, but painted in a cornflower blue pigment that could be no more than 100, though there were also surprisingly a lot of pieces he had no recollection of seeing. Zarifa, noticing his staring, looked at him apologetically; “Sorry I had to dismantle your system. I tried to keep the organisation, and I promise I’ll help sort it afterwards.”

“It’s fine. I’ll sort it myself,” he assured, not quite sure he truly trusted anyone to touch what he had sorted. Grant was a disaster on legs, and for as much as Zarifa was good at keeping schedule, she lacked the sheer efficient sorting instinct he had had since childhood. “Why is it all up here? Was there water in the basement again?”

Zarifa shook her head, before pulling a slightly splintered, old, wooden box with a golden, dust-painted leaf-engraving on top from behind one of the piles. Bruin’s eyes widened as he remembered where it had previously been, involuntarily glancing upstairs, and then back down to Zarifa. She hadn’t really… had she? No one had ever been in Valours flat, hell, no one even had the key to it.

She opened the lid cautiously, the box creaking as ancient and rusted hinges pulled back. She pulled out aged, folded paper, and slowly laid it down in Bruins hands. Though he would of course properly examine it later, he could tell it was far older than anything he was comfortable holding with his bare, gloveless hands. “It’s more sturdy than it looks,” comforted Zarifa, upon seeing his panicky stature, “go ahead, open it up.”

With a force comparable to a feather, he opened it in precise, calculated movements. He winced as he saw the handwriting, the fine, thin squiggles dating the paper to 300 years old at least, letting go of the note to the point it was barely still in his hands. He felt Grant peeking over his shoulder, and down onto the note curiously, mumbling the words as he read down the torn page.

It wasn’t a very long read, but it added tenfold to the confusion. “What seal?” Grant eventually asked, looking up at Zarifa, “this is the page blonde-pink-girl wanted, right? Why would anyone want this?”

Zaria sighed, looking at the paper with a darkness in her eyes. She looked contemplative, opening her mouth a few times to begin a sentence, before shaking her head and going back to thought. Finally, after tracing the golden part of the box a few rounds, silence echoing the room, she spoke; “We’ve all had encounters with Them before, right?”

Even with that single word, everyone in the room instantly Knew what she was talking about. It was Them that had drawn the entire group to the shop, Them that had left that hollowness that lived in all their eyes, Them that left all of them flinching at sounds and throwing hurried glances over shoulders, and most importantly, Them that created the bond they all shared.

Zarifa signed; “Take a seat, boys. This might require a bit of an explanation.”

—————- After a long, long conversation, involving the raiding of Valour’s alcohol stash for some well earned drinking, along with expensive chocolates for an alcohol-abstaining Bruin, all had finally been explained. There was a silence in the air, tinged in cheap wine and dread, as they all looked intently at the ornate box. “So,” Grant said, clasping his hands ripping away the silence like a band-aid, “we’re dealing with a big orb, monster thingy, which intentions are unknown, who kidnapped our intruder who was reading text that made vines sprout around her and smoke fill her eyes.”

“Yeah, that sums up what I experienced this morning nicely.”

Grant blinked, Bruin hurrying his mouth which had been firmly hidden deeper in his palm. “Fucking hell, I need another drink,” Grant exclaimed with a groan, reaching his hand out with his designated office mug towards Bruin.

“You guys are all out,” Bruin said with a tired voice, “besides, I don’t think alcohol is the wisest right now. I think we should try to figure out what actually happened.”

“Good idea,” Zarifa said with a nod, “we can begin with the note. Funnily enough, it’s the easiest thing here to deconstruct.” She took the box and gave it one last glance over, before rotating it away from herself and giving Grant and Bruin the opportunity to see it; “Obviously the seal is referring to the monster. I think it’s just a matter of gathering the ingredients, and whatever happened, will be reversed.”

Bruin, more than prepared, had already pulled out his black notebook and found an empty page. He looked once again at the section of the note containing the ingredients:

A key is forged by fragments of Touched sanity eating a sight of one that Sees, dipped in water oh-so divine. Once the key has begun, the fragments must sew themselves between the fabric, letting all webbed light shine on them. As they are blessed by the minute, and after the final step of-

And out of the nonsense, quickly jotted down the list of ideas that had been proposed by a slightly tipsy Grant, and an unusually frantic Zarifa;

Fragmented Touched sanity (Magic mind? Pieces of brain?) Sight of one that Sees (Some creature’s eyes obviously, maybe cow eye cult? (Most likely, Grant’s paranoia over cow eye cult, and not actually cow eye cult)) Water divine (Holy water?) Webbed light (Interconnected grids of light? Light systems?)

Jotting them down like that, was sadly, not very revealing. Partly because all their minds were still reeling, and what they had brainstormed was mostly a series of disjointed thoughts rather than a narrative, and partly because there was still so much hidden at the bottom of the riddle ocean. Bruin could still hardly find himself believing Zarifa’s situation, and had it not been for the black liquid stains he saw himself, the cryptic note, and the wobbly tone of her words as she recounted the events, he probably would have dismissed her as being driven a bit mad by paranoia.

Even now, fully aware of the fact that it was real, he was incredibly tempted to just storm out the shop, notebook in hand. Though he encountered the unearthly almost every time he was in deep slumber, he had never actually had a fully conscious encounter. And those… nightmares, visions - whatever they could be called - had left him gluing the pieces of his mind with only the instinct of survival. A real encounter would break him.

And yet, he couldn’t run. He had nowhere to go. Thorns Antique wasn’t so much a place he had chosen to stay, as a shelter he had desperately thrown himself into. Physically, yes of course he could travel or move. Marcus had been asking him if they could move in together for months, and would be more than elated to take him in. And he was sure he could put that business degree to good use.

But, though he was physically free as a dove, his mental wings were clipped. What was he supposed to do when he inevitably woke up one night in Marcus’s bed, screaming about the knife that he was convinced was lodged in his brain? How would he explain the countless of cryptic, weird, objects littered between pages upon pages of ripped-out death notices? Markus would see him as insane, and any future job he would have wouldn’t tolerate his hazy, obsessive, jumpy, and sleep-deprived state.

Though he did not personally know what their stories really were, he suspected Zarifa and Grant were stranded on the same boat of forbidden knowledge. Zarifa had no interest in history, having a passion for literature instead, and a people-pleasing nature and work ethic that could get her far, and Grant, though a bit of a clumsy idiot, was also incredibly academically bright, and a true cityguy at heart. They were an odd group, but a strongly connected one.

Or, at least somewhat connected.

“I propose we figure out what to do now,” Bruin muttered, after reading the bullet points a couple of times, “I don’t think there’s a standard protocol for situations such as these.”

Zarifa hummed in agreement, leaning against the table with a pensive look, sipping on some more wine. “I think we should prioritise figuring out what the riddle is actually saying,” she said, “and I think most of the answers lay here. There must be some connections between all this supernatural weirdness, and I’m pretty sure it lies in the antiques.”

Bruin and Grant nodded, both pulling the wildly uncomfortable chairs close to the table in a loud, squeaking drag. “As for the stuff that we can’t find the answer to,” Zarifa continued, once everyone was seated, “we can always ask for that.” She turned to Grant; “You’ve called Valour, right?”

Grant blinked, the words taking a few seconds to register, before grimacing sheepishly. “I’ll go do that afterwards, promise.” Bruin sighed, but Zarifa simply nodded. She’d always been a lot more forgiving of his scatterbrain than Bruin.

“I’ll do the same with Lottie. Assuming she’s, well, alive. She probably won’t answer, but it's worth a shot.”

“Thought Lottie didn’t give us her number?” Grant said, Bruin mirroring his confusion. Zarifa stiffened, smile dropping by a minuscule amount.

“She didn’t, but I know how to get in contact with her,” she stated, in her best assertive tone. Before Bruin could ask what she meant by that, she powered on, bulldozing in a purposeful manner. “What about you, Bruin?”

Bruin racked his mind for a good answer, recalling what needed to be done, and all the archival systems they had buried in the husk of a computer. “Every item has a corresponding ID, and a short descriptor. I wouldn’t mind taking a look at both the system and the antiques . However, we’re all out of gloves, and our magnifying glass has been broken for two months, so I’ll head to the shop first.”

While this was completely true, Bruin did leave out the little detail that it was also beyond time to see Marcus again. Through a mix of nightly hauntings, and antique mishaps, the days had somehow slipped by without them having a proper chat. He didn’t so much mind the lack of interaction, as the guilt that came with it.

“Thank you,” Zarifa said with a smile, “and, if it isn’t too much of a bother, please keep an eye out for any… unusual sights.” He nodded, her shoulders slumping down visibly, even under the thick cream turtleneck. Grant then promptly slipped out of the room to give Valour a ring with his smashed phone, and Zarifa headed out the front door and into the shop to tidy what was left of the mess, leaving him all alone.

He buried his hands into his neatly combed hair, tension deflating like a balloon as he exhaled heavily. His head was being squeezed by a thick rubber band, though whether it was the usual sleep deprivation or stress was anyone’s guess, and his eyes were droopy and heavy, as if magnets were attempting to pull them closed.

Nevertheless, he got up, pulling his winter coat and messenger bag off the chair. He left the scarf and hat where they lay, feeling they were a bit over the top considering it was only October. Slipping the black notebook into the black and purple bag, he headed out the door, and towards the outside world, heading in a general life direction he was not fully comfortable with.

#The Lunewell Saga - Natura #the lunewell saga #natura #writing #wip excerpt #original writing #writing wip

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