#Found an old perfume while cleaning my old stuff back home | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dennou-translations · 4 years

Photo

Violet Evergarden Ever After: Chapter 3

Please feel free to message me about possible corrections. If you can, consider supporting the creators by purchasing the official releases. In case anyone is feeling generous: Ko-fi | PayPal. ( ╹◡╹)っ’･*

← Previous || Index || Next →

No one would imagine that a single drop could be the start of something so big. However, it would earn itself great meaning after a while passed. Should it continue pouring, it could also summon boundless blessings and curses.

Love was almost like rain.

The Journey and the Auto-Memories Doll

That one was a rain of betrayal.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ow...!”

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

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

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

“Benedict...!”

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

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

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

“Uoh, what’s with you? Stop.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Aah, so someone got hurt?”

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

“Aah~.”

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

“He’s young, after all...”

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

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

“Why?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why? You said your hair was wet.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, about the flowerbeds.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Eeh... that okay?”

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

“Feels kinda naughty...”

...the problem was Lux.

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

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

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

“Little Violet.”

“Yes.”

“Your nightgown is cute, huh.”

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

“Little Lux’s clothes.”

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

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

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

“All right.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t say ‘not wearing any’!”

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

“That’s rude!”

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

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

“Understood.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Hm?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y-Yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Darjeeling.”

“Benedict, how did you know?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

However, Violet wound up rewinding it.

——Violet!

Lux hit Violet repeatedly in her mind.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“V, you can cook?”

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

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

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

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

“Am not, Potato Demigod.”

“Violet, Benedict insulted me!”

“Benedict.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hum... I’m sorry.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Other people... will also be gone.”

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

“I have not heard about that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

They truly laughed a lot and talked a lot.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“This stings.”

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

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

Their Auto-Memories Doll activities began to stand out.

“But everyone is changing.”

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

“That’s right, Violet.”

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

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

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

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

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

There would surely be many, many more changes.

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

Surely, their fates would twist further.

“Eh~?!”

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

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

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

“O-Owah. Old Man. You were here?”

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

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

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

“Cigar.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Silence.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Silence.

“Hey, don’t clam up.”

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

“Hodgins – hey, Old Man.”

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

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

“That’s not it; I—”

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

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

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

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

He truly did not know.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That was exactly why he did not know.

“I have no idea.”

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

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

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

“Still...”

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

——...looks like Little Violet.

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

“I get it.”

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

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

Time halted completely.

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

“My bad.”

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

“My bad. That just now was on me.”

Silence.

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

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

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

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

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

Silence.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ah, President.”

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

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

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

“That’s so nice.”

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

“Ah, hm...”

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

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

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

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

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

“Only in this kind of situation, right?”

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

“Are you going to hire me for life?”

“Eh?”

“Is that a no?”

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

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

When asked with such an innocent look, Hodgins faltered.

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

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

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

And then, she flat-out rejected him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good morning.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

——Will you forget one day?

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

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

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

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

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

——I can’t forget.

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

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

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

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

——Aah, I want to hug you.

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

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

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

“Dream...?”

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

“Huhu, that so?”

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

“That’s horrible of me, huh.”

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

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

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

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

“Hm. And then?”

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

“Hm.”

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

“Hm.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hm.”

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

“Hm.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I do not know.”

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

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

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

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

“‘However’...?”

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

“It’s okay.”

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

“Little Violet.”

“The order of priorities...”

“It’s all right.”

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

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

Always, at all times.

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

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

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

Violet had gone from wild animal to person.

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

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

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

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

“Please... forget about it.”

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

“No way, I’m not forgetting.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

He could still be useful.

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

He was still needed.

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

Even if it were only for a short while.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

——I want you to remember.

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

——I’m always protecting you.

“...you have always guided me.”

——Waiting for your return.

“I never doubt your word.”

——I’ll be waiting here.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hm.”

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

“Hm.”

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

“For real?”

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

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

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

Silence.

“This kid’s such a taciturn.”

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

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

“Little Violet, thanks for meeting me.”

Love was almost like rain.

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

217 notes · View notes

noladyme · 3 years

Text

You and Me makes Three - Part 1

Lyla moved to San Fransisco for work, and for a fresh start. The standoffish guy across the hall of her sublet peaks her interest in more ways than one; and when he finally opens up, she jumps at the chance to get to know him; and whatever it is his dark secret is.

Eddie Brock x OC Lyla

TW: smut and fluff

I’d found the sublet on craigslist; which I came to regret, when meeting the current tenant. Ziggy – as the guy called himself – turned out to be a long haired ultra-deuche; who’d spent most of our first meeting looking down my top, and talking about his upcoming tour of Illinois, with his band; Dirty Riders. I’d had my share of adventures with guys in bands; but in Ziggy’s case, I could literally smell the perfume from the chick he’d probably banged the night before.

After spending 20 minutes trying to distract me from the task at hand; I finally got him back on track, and we’d come to an agreement on the rent for the 3 months I’d be using his place. It was steep, but after having landed the job at a private school – and having been asked to start the week after – I needed a home; if only temporarily, while I looked for something else.

With most of my stuff in storage; all I had with me the day I was supposed to move in, was a couple of suitcases; and three boxes of essentials – like my books, pens and notes. And of course, my computer – my lifeline.

The neighborhood wasn’t the greatest; so, when I realized the door phone wasn’t working, and the Zigster wasn’t answering his cell, I was lightly panicking. I was standing alone on a street in a new city; with my most valued belongings, and no way to get out of there; as the cab that had brought me, took off as soon as the driver got my last box out of the trunk.

I kept calling Ziggy, and pounding the button for the apartment; but nothing came of it. I sat down on the doorstep, and was just about ready to cry; when a guy in his 30’s, wearing a casual leather jacket, walked up to the door with a key. “Excuse me”, he muttered, pulling out his keys. I looked up at him. It was hard making out his eye-color – blues, greens and browns meshed together to make a color all of its own. I found myself caught up in trying to distinguish the different shades in them; when I realized that he was about to unlock the door, and walk in.

“Hey”, I said. “Do you live here?”. He sent me a friendly but reserved smile; making me also notice his full lips; and the way his front teeth were just a little bit crooked – just enough to make him look interesting. “Yeah”, he said. “I do… Can I help you?”. I let out a relieved smile. “I live here too”, I said. “Or, I’m supposed to… I’m subletting from Ziggy”. He raised his brows. “You’re a friend of Ziggys?”. “Not exactly”, I scoffed. “He’s leaving town for a few months, and is letting me use his place… but the door-phone isn’t working, and he isn’t picking up his cell”.

The man seemed to be having an internal dialogue, before coming to a conclusion. “Yeah. Ok… come on in”. “Thank you!”, I smiled; almost crying in relief. I picked up my suitcases, as he unlocked the door, and carried them inside; after which I got the first two boxes – the man holding the door for me. I thought I heard him mutter “Fine!” under his breath, before he stepped outside, grabbing the last box for me. “Oh crap! Careful, that’s heavy”, I managed to say; before he groaned from the weight of the many books, I’d stored in it. “Shit, no kidding”, he grunted.

He put the box down just inside the door. “Do you need help up the stairs?”, he asked; obviously hoping for me to say no. I smiled and shook my head. “Nah, I’m good. But thanks!”, I said. I stuck out my hand to shake his, and told him my name. “I’m Eddie”, he answered. “I guess we’re neighbors. I live across the hall from Ziggy”. “Thanks for the help, Eddie”, I grinned. “I’m Lyla… by the way”. “Nice to meet you”, he muttered. He walked up the stairs, sending me an inquisitive look over his shoulder.

Five trips up and down the stairs later; I finally had all my things outside Ziggys door. I tried calling him again; and heard a phone ring behind the door. You’ve got to be kidding me! I banged the door. “Ziggy! I’m here”, I yelled. “Open up, you dick”, I added, below my breath. I looked behind me, at what was apparently Eddies door; and saw something move behind the peephole.

I banged the door again. “Ziggy?”. Someone coughed and moved around some stuff behind the door; and Ziggy finally opened; looking at me with a seriously hungover expression. “Fuck. What’s today?”, he rasped. “Wednesday”, I said exasperatedly. His eyes widened. “Shit, beautiful. I’m so sorry!”, he said smilingly. “Come one in!”. “My name is Lyla”, I reminded him, and stepped in behind him. “Lyla-licious”, Ziggy sniggered; making me want to barf violently.

The studio apartment was, if possible, worse than I had imagined. A heavy smell of incense, weed and stale beer hung over the room; and a collection of bongs shaped like female torsos sat on a shelf. Ziggy had decorated the wall over his bed with posters of his own band.

Ziggy scrambled to get his things together. Apparently, he’d not packed up his things for the upcoming tour of steakhouses, coffeeshops and dive-bars throughout Illinois. “Let me just get this…”, he smirked at me; before rubbing himself as close as possible to me to get to a pack of xxl-condoms on a shelf in the kitchen area. “You know, if you need it, you’re welcome to hang around after I get back”. “I’m gonna be pretty focused on getting something permanent set up”, I smiled; swallowing bile. “Absolutely, yeah. That’s so cool”, he said; leaning against the counter I was standing by. “Just let me know, ok?”. He put his hand on my shoulder, and squeezed it. “Sure…”, I said, and stepped back; going to check out the rest of the space.

It was one room – combined livingspace/bedroom/kitchen. A small bathroom with – thank God! – a bathtub; which was going to need some serious cleaning before I’d even put a foot in it. But it was mine… at least for the next three months. It’s not a lot, I thought to myself. But I can work with this.

Ziggy seemed to have his stuff packed up; and was standing in the doorway to the small bathroom; blocking my exit. He had a guitarcase casually hanging from one shoulder. “So… I’m ready to go”, he smirked. I nodded and half smiled. “Keys?”, I said. “Right. Here…”. He handed me a set of keys “If I get any mail…”. “I’ll let you know; once a week, like we agreed”. “Yeah”, he smirked and nodded; looking me over like I was edible. “So, I’ll call you?”. I swallowed bile again. “Yup”, I said, and reached out my hand to shake his. He took it; and held on to it; letting his thumb stroke my fingers. I will tear off your arm if you don’t let go, I thought to myself.

“Take care, Lyla”, he said; and winked at me; before finally moving away from the doorframe; and grabbing his bags to leave. “Shit, I forgot. The guy across the hall… he’s kind a of weird. Be careful, ok?”. “Sure…”, I muttered, and walked after him to the door, closing it behind him. I let out an audible sigh of relief, and put on the door chain.

---

I opened the windows, and got to cleaning. An old ashtray shaped like an avocado, turned out to be an actual shell of an avocado; and for the third time that day, I almost vomited. Riffling through some old dusty cd’s of Ziggys, I found a Fleetwood Mac album. “Yes!”, I cried out. At least you have that going for you, Ziggy, I thought – until I realized he’d never unwrapped the cellophane around the cover. I unwrapped it myself, put on the album; and skipped to my favorite song; singing along to the lyrics. “… well, I’ve been afraid of changing, ‘cuz I built my life around you. But time makes you bolder, even children get older…”.

Someone knocked on the door. For a second, I was afraid Ziggy had changed his mind about touring, and had come back. I opened the door slightly, leaving the chain on. Outside stood Eddie. “Hi”, I said cautiously. He seemed warmer. “Hey. I think you dropped this in the hallway”. He was holding one of my notebooks. I unlatched the chain, and opened the door fully, taking the book from him. “Weird”, I said. “I could swear I’d packed it in the bottom of one of the boxes”. Eddie smiled nervously. “Well… maybe it jumped out”, he said. “Maybe”, I chuckled. “Thanks”.

He lingered. “The music…”, he said. “I’m sorry. Is it too loud?”, I asked. He shook his head. “Nah, it’s fine”, he said. “Just different than what usually comes out of this apartment”. I laughed. “Yeah… The Zigster seems to have a very specific taste”. “Yeah?”, Eddie smiled. “You should see his collection”, I said. He nodded and smiled crookedly. “Maybe… sometime”.

I noticed the door to his apartment was open. It seemed like the mirror opposite of mine. Just less disgusting. I met Eddies eyes. I still couldn’t figure out the color of them – all I could conclude was that they were… kind. I would have lost myself in them, if he hadn’t turned to walk back into his own place. “Uhm, Eddie?”, I said. He looked at me again. “Could you point me in the direction of a good… grocery store?”. Idiot… He scratched his head. “Yeah, I mean… I do most my shopping at Mrs. Chens, down the street”, he said. “Just don’t tell her you know me. She’ll try to sell you meditation tapes and scented candles”. I laughed. “A scented candle wouldn’t hurt this place”, I said. “Ziggy left behind some pretty gnarly smells”. He laughed. “He’s a… special guy”. Our eyes met again for a moment. Eddie seemed to want to say something else, but then his eyes moved, as if he was listening to something. “I gotta go”, he said; and went into his apartment, closing the door. He's strange, I thought. But something inside me wanted to figure him out.

---

The next few days went by without much happening. I finally finished cleaning my new living-space – except for the mattress. I couldn’t get myself to sleep on it, after I’d taken of the old bedding left behind by Ziggy; and finding quite a few stains I didn’t even want to touch with rubber-gloves – so I’d slept on the couch so far.

Once, I’d run in to Eddie by the mail slots; exchanging a friendly helloand a smile. He seemed to be in a hurry to get out of the door, carrying a messenger-bag and a motorcycle helmet. I noticed him opening his own slot. It had E. Brock, written with bold letters on it. Watching him walk away down the hall to the door; I couldn’t help but bite my lip and smile. He moved like he was late for something; but at the same time didn’t want anyone to tell him when he was supposed to get there. Like some kind of internal struggle, I just wanted to unwrap and explore.

Saturday morning, I woke up early for once, craving coffee and carbs. I had neither of those things in the kitchen; so, I got dressed in my favorite jeans and a light, loose t-shirt, to head out and track something down. As I was still new to San Francisco, I wasn’t sure about how the weather would be in October. I brought my short leather jacket. Just in case. I put a notebook and a pen in my shoulder-bag, and was off.

Outside the building I grabbed a free paper to have something to read. I took a streetcar towards the Mission District; enjoying the sunshine and smells from food carts we passed. Hunger was about to take me over; and I opened my paper, to distract myself. The headlines were mostly fluff stories and ads; except for a couple on the murder of a local politician, and animal attacks by the harbor. Some drug dealers had been found with their heads bitten clean off. I winced at the thought; before turning the page, and a new header caught my eye.

Home robberies in Downtown Oakland – Gangs or criminals on city payroll? - Story by Eddie Brock.

I was surprised for a second. He didn’t strike me as a journalist in the traditional sense.

The story was mostly an opinion piece, but was based heavily on facts he’d dug up from interviews with victims, and homeless youth in the area of the robberies. Eddie was questioning the arrests made on young gang members for the crimes; and in stead suggesting that city-leadership was paying crime syndicates to commit the robberies, to be able to gentrify the area. If he was right; this was a big story; so, I was finding it strange to see the story in a free newspaper.

I arrived near Mission Dolores Park; having read about a nice, upmarket coffee shop there; with donuts that the blogger had written were to absolutely die for. They turned out to be less so. After standing in line for 30 minutes; I was handed a stale cup of organically sourced, fairtrade coffee; and a donut that was hard enough to break a window. Stepping outside the shop; I decided to give it a chance; and bit in to it – instantly almost choking on the floury consistency of the pastry.

“They’re not very good, are they…”. I turned to face Eddie; standing with an amused smile on his face. “Nope”, I answered, and spat out the donut-bite into a napkin. “Sorry…”, I said embarrassedly. “No worries”, he chuckled. “If I’d known you were coming here, I’d have told you. They’re vegan…”. I raised my brows at him. “Shit, sorry! Are you vegan?”, he asked. “No”, I shook my head and chuckled. “But I’ve for sure had better vegan food than this”. He sighed and seemed to ponder something. “Come on”, he said, and gestured for me to follow him.

We walked down a narrow street; passing smaller shops and street vendors – some of which seemed to know Eddie, and sent him friendly nods. “You’re popular around here”, I said; walking next to him. He chuckled in response. “I dunno. I prefer buying from smaller shops. Personal touch, you know?”. “I get it”, I said. “Locally sourced, and eco-friendly; right?”. He shrugged. “Something like that”.

He stopped by a small storefront; displaying pride-flags and caricatures of politicians in the window. I knew already that I would like this place. The man behind the counters face lit up. “Yo, Ed! Back so soon, man?”, he grinned. “I know you got that parasite thing, but seriously…”. Eddie looked uncomfortable for a second. “Yeah, Don… this is my new neighbor”. He introduced me, avoiding my eyes. “She went to La Boulange”. Don inhaled sharply through his teeth. “Yikes… New in town?”, he asked. I chuckled and nodded. “Coffee black?”, Eddie asked me. I nodded. “Give us two blacks and a couple of glazed yeast”. “I’ll add some sprinkles for the lady”, Don winked friendlily. Eddie groaned. “Just… don’t make them the green ones”, he said. “I was high for 12 hours straight last time”. I laughed out loud.

We left the store; Eddie politely having paid for our coffees and donuts. Through the window I saw Don point at me, and give Eddie the thumbs up and a wink. “He’s a character”, I smiled. “He sure is”, Eddie answered. His voice was deliciously raspy, and watching him speak I couldn’t help but wonder what kind of trouble his lips could get in to with mine. I had to shake myself out of the thought. “Thanks for this”, I said. “You haven’t tasted it yet”, he said.

I bit in to my pastry. It was carb-heaven in my mouth. “Oh. Oh my God!”, I said, mouth full. “I know, right?”, Eddie smiled. I raised my brows and nodded fiercely. “It’s why I go out of my way to come here every morning”. “Don’t journalists work all over?”, I asked, covering my mouth with my hand, as I was still chewing. He scrunched his brows at me in question. I pulled out the newspaper from my bag. “Oh, yeah”, he said. “I do freelance stuff mostly; but I have a position at a newspaper downtown. Used to write for The Globe”. “New York?”, I asked. “So, why move to San Francisco?”. He shrugged. “I lost the position for�� being what I am. An honest reporter”.

I half smiled. “So, a new life”. “Yeah, and a girl”, he admitted. “My fiancée”. My heart dropped; and I did my best not to show it on my face. “Oh! You’re engaged? That’s great!”. “Not really”, chuckled. “I messed that up too… by being what I am”. “An honest reporter…”, I muttered. “And at times a little too cutthroat about it”. He sighed. “It’s good though. She’s good. I’m good. We’re good”.

I narrowed my eyes at him. “Why am I telling you all this stuff?”, he said and laughed. “Are you sure you’renot a reporter?”. “Nah. I’m just an elementary schoolteacher”, I said. “I do write, though. But not articles”. “What?”, he said earnestly. I shook my head. “Another time. I’m sure you have somewhere to be”. He looked at his watch. “Shit, yeah!”, he said. “Sorry, I gotta run”. “It’s fine. Thanks again”.

He nodded and smiled. “You take care, teach’”, he said. “See you around”. He walked away; scratching his head, and looking back at me a couple of times. I took my time enjoying my donut and coffee; and walked in the opposite direction. Eddie – Be still my beating heart.

---

I spent the rest of the morning trying to map out the best way to and from work. As I was starting the next Monday morning, the nerves were getting to me. They’re just 5-yearolds, I kept telling myself. 5-yearolds attending a private school funded by their very rich parents; and some pretty serious sponsors from Silicon Valley. And me without my degree from MIT…

I stopped at Mrs. Chens for some light groceries. Although I’d loved Don’s donuts – and his coffee had been heavenly – I was to anxious to see myself making my way all the way to the Mission District the next day; and I always needed caffeine and access to some kind of breakfast in the morning. The lady behind the counter – Chen, I assumed – seemed nice, though a bit standoffish; and quickly checked out my coffee, bacon, eggs, cheese; and other essentials. “You’re new here”, she said. “How did you know?”, I asked. “I usually only get regulars”, she answered, and narrowed her eyes at me. “I moved in down the street. My neighbor recommended your shop”, I smiled. “Who?”, she demanded. “Eddie…”, I answered timidly. Her face instantly became warmer. “He’s a good boy”, she said. “Tell him to pic up my cousins latest cd. It’ll do him good. As well as his parasite”. That parasite thing again. Weird. I thanked her, grabbed my stuff; and left the store.

I made my way back to the apartment; cranked up the Fleetwood, and danced it out for a while. I’d always done that; when I needed to get something out of my system. It was better than drinking myself into oblivion – and I was out of whiskey.

I was completely oblivious to anything around me, when I heard someone clear their throat. I turned around, arms in the air; and almost died from embarrassment. The door was open; and in the opening stood Eddie.

“Sorry, it was open”, he said; trying to stifle a smile. “Ziggy had a crazy ex kick it down once. It’s always needed an extra push and pull to close properly, since then”. I nodded, blushing. He held up a carton of eggs. “Chen said you forgot this”, he said. “Thanks…”, I said, taking the pack from him. I grimaced. “So… this is embarrassing”. He laughed. “What? The eggs, or the dancing?”, he chuckled. “Ha, ha. Laugh it out”, I said, stifling a smile. “I was enjoying the view”, he said; and glint to his eyes – before grimacing himself. “Sorry… that was… probably crossing a line”. “It’s fine… you’re fine…”, I said; realizing what I’d just said. “Good, I mean. Shit… I do this to clear my head, sometimes. Dance. It relaxes me”.

He laughed. “I just got back from… a thing”, he said. “I need to clear my head a bit as well. Was gonna take a ride up to Coit Tower”. I smiled; my blushing beginning to fade. “That sounds nice”, I smiled. He exhaled. “Yeah… do you wanna come?”. My jaw dropped. “Uh… yeah. Sure. I’d like that”, I said. What the hell, Eddie? Are you asking me out? “Great”, he smiled. “I was gonna take my bike; are you good with that?”. “I don’t have a bike”, I said. He chuckled. “Not that kind of bike”. Right. The motorcycle helmet. “And now I feel like an idiot”, I muttered. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve met the biggest idiots in media, politics and sports; and you look nothing like them”, he said. “You do look like someone who needs to get out of this place for a while”. I smiled; grabbed my jacket; and followed him out the door – making sure it was properly shut behind me.

Eddie grabbed two helmets from his apartment; giving me another chance peak into his place. It smelled nice. Like tater tots and musky cologne. I didn’t know why, but suddenly it was my favorite smell. “Let’s go”, Eddie said; handing me one of the helmets; and we made our way down the stairs.

Outside the building stood a motorcycle. It was clearly well cared for. Eddie got on it, and put on his helmet; gesturing for me to get on behind him. “You should hold on”, he said. I searched for something to grab; and he took my wrists; pulling my arms around his waist. Wow. Ok. Firm. “You good?”, he asked. “Yeah”, I squeaked. He chuckled behind his helmet. “Sit tight, teach’”. He started the bike, and revved the engine; before taking off. “Oh my God”, I yelped; feeling his body shake in laughter in front of me.

I was convinced he took the steepest roads; scaring the shit out of me for the first few miles – before I finally got comfortable behind him. I relaxed my body; and let myself enjoy the view of the city in the dusk – and how close I was to Eddies warm body. I felt his calm breathing; and matched it – soon feeling completely relaxed. We hit a bump, making the bike jump a bit; and I laughed in glee; hearing him laugh along with me.

The drive was over way to soon for my liking. We’d made our way up Telegraph hill; and I got off the bike, taking of my helmet. “You liked that, huh?”, Eddie grinned at me. “Yeah, it was fun!”, I smiled. He looked at me; almost in wonder. “Was that your first time on a bike?”. “I tried it once, for like five minutes; when I was a kid, but kind of. Yeah”, I admitted. “I couldn’t tell”, he smirked sarcastically. I frowned in mock annoyance. “Shut up”, I said. “You’ve never had a better passenger”. He laughed. “Yeah… come on”.

The sun was going down; and we were too late for tickets to get up the tower; but Eddie seemed unfazed. “There’s a good view over here”, he said; putting his hand on my lower back, to lead me over to a railing. “You gonna push me over this thing?”, I joked. “Nah, would be a poor move for a first date”, he said. I looked at him. “This is a date?”, I smiled. He seemed to have an internal dialogue. “I… don’t know”, he said. “Do you want it to be?” I bit my lip. “Let’s see how good this view is; and I’ll let you know”.

The view was stunning. I could see both the lights of the city as well as the Golden Gate bridge. My jaw dropped at the sight. “Wow…”. Eddie looked at me. “Yeah, it’s pretty special”, he said.

I stepped towards the binoculars; searing my pockets for change. “I don’t have a quarter!”, I heard Eddie whisper. “It’s fine”, I smiled at him. “I can see pretty clear anyway”. He looked me, caught off guard. “Yeah. Sorry…”. I leant against the railing. “I could fall in love with this city”, I proclaimed. Eddie smiled warmly at me, walking up next to me – close enough for me to feel the heat radiating from his body.

We looked at the views for a while, talking about this and that. I told Eddie about my hometown, and how I’d loved it as well. “So, why did you decide to come here”. “It’s a long story”, I muttered. “Come on, I’ve already seen you dance!”, he chuckled. “You don’t like my dancing?”, I gasped in jest. He smiled. “You really put the oogie in the boogie”, he said. “You’re the most graceful elephant in a porcelain shop, I’ve ever seen”. “So now I’m an elephant?”, I raised a brow at him. He grimaced. “I walked right in to that”, he muttered. “Sorry…”. I smiled at him in forgiveness. “Seriously though. Why’d you make the move?”

I couldn’t help myself. I had to mess with him. “It’s embarrassing”, I said. He smiled encouragingly. “Ever since I was a kid… I’ve always wanted to act. Be in the big movies”. His lips parted, and he looked really uncomfortable. I continued. “So… I decided to give it a shot. Come here; and be near Hollywood, you know?”. I smiled earnestly. “I think I’ve finally got a shot; now that the studios are just down the street”. Eddie looked genuinely sorry for me. “Lyla… I don’t…”, he began. “Eddie…”, I smiled. “I’m kidding”. He exhaled in relief. “Thank God. I really didn’t want to be the one to tell you… You know?”. “I know”, I smirked. “’Cuz we’re a way off from Hollywood here”. I nodded. “About 400 miles. I realize that”. He began laughing, and shook his head. “Is this payback for the elephant thing?”, he said. I shrugged. “Maybe”, I smiled.

He bumped my shoulder with his own. “You’re bad news, darlin’!”, he laughed. “You’re not, though”, I answered. “Tell me; why did your article on those home robberies end up in a free newspaper, instead of some big ass media outlet?”. He sighed. “Not everyone wants to run the hard stories”, he said. “As long as it gets out there…”. I nodded. “I get it”, I said. “Besides, in a free paper the story will get a broader audience, right?”. He shrugged. “I hope so”, he said. “I think it’s an important story”. “Me too”, I agreed.

I told Eddie about my new job. “Private school?”, he grimaced. I laughed. “Yeah, I know”, I said. “Not very socially conscious of me. But the pay is good. And I needed a change”. “What made you move here? The truth this time”, he smiled. “It’s got to be more than the job. You don’t strike me as someone who does things just for money”. I chewed my lip. “I wasn’t in a very good place in my job, or my life”, I admitted.

He looked at me with warm eyes – the color even more indistinguishable in the dusk. I bit my lip; wanting desperately for something to happen. “How’s your head? A bit clearer?”, he said quietly. “Not really…”, I admitted. He let out a quiet laugh, and wrinkled his forehead. “Yeah, me neither”, he muttered. “Can I kiss you? I just feel like I should, you know...?”. I interrupted him by taking his hand. “Yes…”. He nodded and sighed in relief. “Ok. Then… I’m going to do that. Now”. I chuckled; and laced my fingers with his. He stepped closer; putting a lock of my hair behind my ear; before placing his hand on my cheek; letting his thumb stroke my cheekbone. “I like your eyes…”, he said. “Stop talking, Eddie”, I smiled. “Ok”, he said; and finally let his full lips meet mine.

It was soft. Gentle. I parted my lips; letting the tip of my tongue meet his. He wrapped his arm around my waist, and pulled me close; and I slid my hands around his neck – letting my fingertips play with the hair there. He pulled his head back a bit; letting our foreheads meet. “You’re… something else”, he smiled. “Something good, I hope”, I answered. “Yeah”, he breathed. “Can I… just… one more time?”, he muttered; before pressing his lips to mine again. I chuckled against his kiss; and returned his enthusiasm. This time there was a bit more heat to our connection. He held on to me; making me stand flush against him. I felt a rush of blood to my core; and my breath hitched.

Someone cleared their throat. Our lips parted, and we saw that we we’re being watched by an elderly couple. “You kids should take that somewhere else”, one of the men said. I flushed red, and Eddie took my hand. “Yeah. Let’s… go”, he smiled.

---

Once back at our building, Eddie gave me a hand to get off his bike. We walked up the stairs together, and paused in front of our doors.

“Thanks for this”, I said. “I needed a distraction”. “I’m a distraction now?”, Eddie asked with a smirk. “A good one”, I chuckled. He ran a hand through his hair, and sighed. “Thanks for the… kissing part. I liked that”, he said. “I did too”, I said, before chewing my bottom lip for a moment. “We could do it again… If you want to”. Eddie looked relieved. “I really do”, he smiled, and took a step closer to me. I met him halfway, and leaned in to him, as he cupped my cheek, and our lips met. He took my bottom lip between his own; softly tugging it – and the repeated the process with the top one. My tongue brushed against his lips, and he met it with his own; letting them reacquaint themselves with each other.

Eddie put his arm around me, and I shivered in pleasure, as our hips met; and I felt his body’s very obvious reaction to our kiss. He let out a soft groan; a sound that sent electricity straight to my core. Grabbing on tighter to me, he almost had my knees give in. In spite of his normally withdrawn and almost aloof demeanor – which he’d relaxed somewhat, curing our evening together – he now seemed like he couldn’t get me close enough; almost hungry in his kiss. I was right there with him; ready to throw all inhibitions out the window, and let him take me in that hallway. I literally had to dig my nails in to my palm, to tear myself from the heated moment.

I put my hands on Eddie’s shoulders, and pushed him away as gently as I could. “I’m sorry… Did I hurt you?”, he asked, in a surprisingly concerned voice. “No, Eddie; I’m…”, I tried. “I don’t always know my own strength. I’ll be more careful…”. Eddie seemed unable to stop talking. I put my fingertips to his soft lips – for a short second considering slipping one into his mouth; just to feel him suck on it – and took a step back. “Eddie, you didn’t do anything wrong. Really!”, I smiled. “But, I have this rule… I don’t have sex on the first date”. Eddie’s eyes widened, and he took a step back himself. “No… Of course! I don’t want you to think, I see you as some kind of… I mean, if you were, there would be nothing wrong with that… People can enjoy sex, that’s completely normal… But I would never expect you to just…” I couldn’t help but smile at his flustered babbling, but in the end, I decided to put him out of his misery. I leaned in, and gave him a short kiss on the cheek. “Goodnight”, I said. “Yeah… goodnight, Lyla”, Eddie said. He watched me as I unlocked my door, and I gave him a final smile, before stepping inside, and closing it behind me.

I leaned against the wall, and sighed frustratedly. It felt like everything below my bellybutton was literally screaming at my brain, saying; open the door, and stop thinking so much, you stupid blob of fat and water! I want to play!. I peeked out of the peephole, and saw Eddie beginning to fish out his keys. He looked like he was having a frustrated conversation with himself. He turned and looked at my door, and I quickly pulled back from the peephole. “You’re being an idiot”, I whispered to myself.

Before I knew it had happened, I had opened my door. “Eddie…”. He dropped his keys in chock, and scrambled to pick them up. His jacket and shirt rode up slightly, letting me get a peek at his tattooed torso; only making my resolve stronger. “Yeah! Hey… Hi”, he said, and got up to stand again. “You know, when I said I’d let you know whether it was a date or not…”. “Yeah?”, Eddie muttered. I chewed my lip, and took a deep breath before continuing. “I decided it wasn’t a date… So, technically, I wouldn’t be breaking my rule”. Eddie looked confused for a moment, before his eyes lit up. “Oh… Oh! You mean…”. He seemed unable to finish the sentence; and I felt my cheeks beginning to burn. “I mean, unless you changed your mind”, I muttered. “No!”, Eddie said, taking a step towards me. “I’d like that”.

I let out a pleased sigh, and was even more relieved when Eddie decided to take the lead, and step over to me; instantly capturing my lips in a warm kiss. I put my arms around his neck, and let myself float away in the pleasurable sensations his soft, full lips sent through my body. I’d known this man for less than a week – I could hardly say that I knew him at all – but everything in that moment was perfect; as if we were made to do this. Eddie pressed me against the doorway to my apartment, and let out a guttural groan when I ran my nails through his short hair. He pressed his tongue into my mouth, and once again I relished in his taste.

I looked out the corner of my eye at the main living area of my sublet, and frowned. I pulled back slightly, to be able to speak. Eddie moved his kisses down to my neck, and I gasped audibly. “Eddie… Oh, god. That’s… No, stop!”, I rasped. He pulled back instantly, and met my eyes. “What?”, he asked. “The bed in there is kind of gnarly… Can we do this at your place?”, I said. “Yeah, of course”, he smiled, and tore himself from me, to run over and open his own door. I closed the door to my own place – giving it that extra yank it needed – and stepped up behind Eddie. He looked at me over his shoulder. “Sorry about the mess", he muttered apologetically, and opened his door.

Eddie’s apartment was cluttered, but not dirty. I could have sworn I saw a few unwashed dishes by the sink, but when I blinked, they were gone; as if a shadow had whisked them away. He had post-it notes hanging with ideas for stories, and a couple that read things like If you eat it, replace it and Pigeons are not food. “Do you have a roommate?”, I asked. Eddie chuckled nervously to himself. “Nah, I… forget things”, he said, and tore down a note reading No roadkill in the tub!.

I decided against asking, and simply made my way over to the couch, letting my finger run along the back of it. “Do you want some coffee? Or a beer?”, Eddie asked, and moved towards the fridge. I bit my lip, and shook my head. “Maybe… after?”, I said, trying for seductive; and failing miserably, when I tripped over a stack of papers on the floor. Before I knew what happened, Eddie was next to me; catching me before I hit the floor. “Wow… you’re fast!”, I said. “I… did track in high school”, he said. “You were all the way over…”, I began.

Eddie pressed his lips to mine, to shut me up, and soon I was forgetting all about the ten feet he’d traversed in less than a second. As quickly as I could, I shed my jacket, and Eddie’s lips once again travelled down my neck. I pushed his jacket off his shoulders, and couldn’t help put squeeze his biceps; finding them as firm as I’d imagined. As Eddie latched on to my pulse-point, I let out soft moan; and was rewarded with his hands moving down to my butt. Giving them a tight squeeze, he suddenly lifted me up, and made me put my legs around his waist. “Let’s move over here”, he muttered, and walked us over to the bed in the corner; gently setting me down on it.

We both began tugging at each other’s tops at the same time, but after chuckling at each other; we silently decided to take care of our own clothing. After I’d shed my tank-top, I kicked off my sneakers while Eddie took off his boots. We kept eye-contact as much as possible, and I saw nothing but appreciation in his gaze, as he saw me get more and more undressed. I was enjoying the sight of his bare torso as well; wanting nothing more than to bury my face in the soft hairs of his barreled chest. I pulled off my jeans – leaving me in socks, bra and panties – and moved back on the bed. Eddie raised a brow at me, and shook his head; and once he had gotten rid of his own pants, he grabbed my ankle, and pulled me closer. I yelped in glee as my groin met his, and he pushed me to lie back. I managed to reach down, and hook my finger into the waistband of his boxer briefs; but Eddie grabbed my wrist. “We got all night…”, he said. “But…”, I said. “Relax”.

He smirked mischievously, and kneeled down at the foot of the bed, and ran his palms up my thighs; leaving goosebumps in their wake. As he left a soft kiss on the inside of my left thigh, while his fingertips stroked circles on my right one. My breath hitched, as his warm breath travelled up to my warmth. I was ready to scream by the time his soft lips left an openmouthed kiss on my covered folds. “Please…!”, I whined. Eddie chuckled, and I felt his tongue lick a broad stripe against the lace covering my throbbing, most sensitive parts. Once again, I tried to take charge, by grabbing his head; but he grabbed my wrists, and forced them down my sides. “I really don’t want to have to hold you down”, he chided. “I kind of need my hands for what I’m about to do…”. I let out a frustrated groan, and relaxed my arms as much as I could. “Good girl…”, Eddie hummed, and let go of my hands. I threw my arms back, and grabbed for one of the pillows above my head, and dug my fingers in to it, to keep from getting in the way of Eddie’s work on my privates again.

With agonizingly slow movements, Eddie hooked his fingers into my panties, and pulled them down my feet. He held them up with one finger, and gave me another smirk, before flicking them away. They landed over his open laptop, and we both laughed for a moment; before Eddie once again lowered his face. The last thing I saw before throwing my head back in pleasure, was Eddie’s pleased eyes widening at his upcoming feast. His perfect mouth closed around my folds and clit, and he gave me a deep suckle, before flicking his tongue over my clit. “I know…”, he muttered. “Come again?”, I croaked. “I’m just enjoying my meal”, Eddie replied, blushing adorably. “Ok… Uhm… well, contin… Oh my god!”. Eddie had entered me with two fingers, and began moving them in a come-hither motion, while sucking hard at my nub. Letting out a growl against my wetness, Eddie soon had me seeing stars. As his fingers worked on my most sensitive spot inside, his tongue moved in a zigzag pattern between my folds; going up and down, and never forgetting to give my clit a languid stroke when he reached it. I put the pillow over my face, and cried out in pleasure, as Eddie worked me towards a mind shattering orgasm. Everything went white, and I’m pretty sure I floated above the mattress for a few seconds; as if something was lifting me in the air.

I was panting into the pillow and shaking all over, as I came down. “Don’t do that!”, Eddie grunted. “What?”, I muttered through the pillow. Eddie climbed up my body, and pulled it away from my face, looking flustered. “Just… don’t cover your face. I want to see you”, he said. “Ok…”, I said.

We smiled at each other, and kissed again. I could taste myself on his tongue, and enjoyed it more than was proper. Eddie laid down between my legs, and pressed against me; making me leave a wet spot on his boxers, from my still glistening folds. “Let me just get these off”, he smiled, and pulled down his underwear; and letting his erection spring free. I smiled in appreciation, and took a hold of my new friend; gently beginning to stroke it. “That’s… that’s nice”, Eddie said, straining to keep his composure. “A bit harder, please”. I tightened my hold, and received a deep moan in reply. “Condom?”, I asked. “Shit, yeah”, Eddie said, and reluctantly pulled himself out of my grasp. As he got off the bed, and ran over to search one of the drawers in his dresser, I snapped open my bra, and took it off. When he turned around to face me, with a foil packet in his hand, his jaw dropped at the sight of my mounds. “That is… Those are very nice”, he croaked. I chuckled, and pulled off my socks; wanting to be completely naked. “Oh, right!”, Eddie said, and tugged his own socks off, one at a time; losing his balance, and falling on to the bed next to me.

I nabbed the foil packet from his hand, and opened it carefully, pulling out the condom. Straddling Eddies legs, I closed my fingers around the tip of the rubber, and held it to the head of his penis. I rolled it down a little, before lowering my head, and closing my mouth around it; rolling it the rest of the way with my lips. Eddie let out a gasping groan, and looked down at me with wide eyes. Once the condom was all the way down his hardness, I released him from my mouth, and sat up; smiling sweetly. “Where did you learn that?”, he asked. “While you were doing track in high school, I was under the bleachers; doing other kinds of workout”, I shrugged. “It’s an interesting talent”, he chuckled. “I have many more”, I said, raising a brow at him. “I’m sure you do”, Eddie smiled, and grabbed the back of my head; pulling me in for a hungry kiss.

I was flipped onto my back, and Eddie placed himself at my entrance. “Yeah?”, he said, searching my eyes for the go-ahead. “Please”, I said, unable to hide the pleading tone in my voice. Eddie gave me one more deep kiss, and as he did, he pushed himself inside me; bottoming out in my warmth. We both moaned deeply as we were conjoined, and Eddie began moving slowly in and out of me. “You’re so warm… and tight!”, he gasped into my ear. “You fit perfectly”, I panted, and moved my hips to meet his every thrust. “I do, don’t I…”, Eddie chuckled. “Holy… wow”. I locked my leg around his hips, and Eddie grabbed my other leg; hooking his arm under my knee. With ever thrust, the head of his penis brushed against my g-spot; but even just the friction against my nub, and the feeling of his velvety hardness brushing against my walls, were enough to make me whimper in pleasure.

After a while of moving together slowly, I felt my walls beginning to quake; and Eddie’s face lit up. He began thrusting faster and harder, and soon I was crying out in ecstasy again. Every atom in my being felt like it was exploding, and I came around him. “Yes!”, I cried out, and Eddie laughed, seemingly overjoyed that he could make me feel this way. “Fuck, you look beautiful when you come”, he grinned. My hair was a tussled, and I was pretty sure my makeup was a mess, but I took his words as truth in that moment; convinced from the expression on his face, that there was no way he could be lying. “Thank you… for that”, I gasped. “And for the orgasm. That was pretty awesome too”. We laughed together for a moment, before Eddie leaned down, and kissed me. “Are you good to continue?”, he asked. “Don’t you dare stop!”, I exclaimed. “Ok… Turn around, then”.

He pulled out of me – leaving me feeling empty and wanting more – and grabbed my hip, to make me turn over. I got on all fours, and once again felt Eddie probing my entrance. He pushed into me with a pleased sigh, and began moving again. He shifted between fast and slow; as if every time he picked up speed, he willed himself to slow down again. “It’s ok. I can take it”, I said. “Alright”, Eddie panted, and let out a groan, as he slammed in to me. I feel forwards on the bed, landing on my chest; and felt my backside lift with every one of Eddie’s thrusts in to me. “… just go to sleep!”, I heard Eddie behind me. “I’m not…”, I said. “What?”. “I’m not asleep. How could I be?” “Oh… No, yeah; of course!”.

He snaked a hand underneath me, and expertly began stroking circles against my clit. I was soon, once again, feeling the familiar rush of an impending orgasm. “I’m gonna…”, I rasped. “Again?”, Eddie panted; still thrusting in to me, and having found the perfect rhythm for the both of us. “Uh huh…”, I whimpered, and turned my face into the mattress; crying out in pleasure. My walls contracted around Eddie’s hardness, and moments later, he let out a rasping groan; and came.

I was trying to regain my breath, and still feeling my muscles clenching throughout my body; as Eddie pulled out of me. He placed a soft kiss to the back of my neck, and got off the bed, to rid himself of the condom. I pulled at the sheet, wrapping it around me, as he returned to the bed and slipped his boxers back on. He looked satisfied, but also a bit frustrated, and I quietly excused myself to the bathroom, to clean up.

Through the door, I heard him shuffling around the small apartment, and seemingly talking to himself. “… stay out of it… was a me thing… I don’t need that”. I was beginning to feel a bit uncomfortable at the situation; and must have been stood for quite a while in the small bathroom, because suddenly there was a knock on the door. “Are you ok in there?”, Eddie called out. “Yeah!”, I replied, quickly finishing my cleanup, and washing my hands. I stepped out into the living area again, and gave him a half smile. “Uhm… are youok though?”. Eddie leaned in, and gave me a soft kiss on the cheek, before stepping over to the fridge. “Of course… I’m awesome”, he said, and got out two beers. “That was great!”. I examined his face, and couldn’t help but frown. “Ok… You just seem a little out of it”, I said, and accepted the drink. “Are you regretting…”. “No!”, Eddie exclaimed, his eyes wide and earnest. “Not at all… I just get in my head sometimes”. “Ok…”, I muttered.

Eddie sighed deeply, and took my hand. “Come on”, he said, and pulled me over to sit on the couch. “That… what we just did; that was really great. You were great”. “So were you”, I smiled, biting my lip. “Yeah?”, Eddie said; a slight pink hue to his cheeks. “Thanks…”. As I took a welcome sip of my beer, he merged his fingers with my free hand. “I’d like to do it again… If you’re good with that”. “I’d like that”, I said. We sat for a moment in silence. “Do you wanna stay the night?”. “I should get going”. We’d spoken at the same time. “Oh… Well, if you wanna go…”, Eddie said. “I just thought – seeing as you said the bed at your place wasn’t that great – maybe you’d want to sleep somewhere else”. “The couch isn’t much better”, I chuckled. “Are you sure though? I don’t want you to think you have to…”. “I’d like you to stay”, Eddie said. I felt my cheeks burn. “Ok… I’ll stay”, I said.

Eddie lit up in a grin, and leaned in to give me a warm kiss. “I’m happy you moved in across the hall”, he said. “Me too”, I smiled. “Me three…! Too!”, Eddie said, his voice having shifted from deep, and back to his raspy tone within seconds. He cleared his throat. “Sorry… My throat is a bit dry”, he said, and took a deep swig of his beer. I frowned in confusion, but decided to let it go. We had just spent a good while exercising, and my own throat was a little dry as well; and I took another sip of my beer.

We sat for a long moment in silence, sipping at our bottles, and smiling warmly at each other; before Eddie frowned deeply. “I have to tell you something”, he said. “And… You might change your mind about staying”. I felt a shudder go through my body, suddenly worried where this was going. “What is it?”, I croaked. Eddie took a deep breath, and blew it out. He took my beer from me, and put it down on the coffee table, next to his own. Taking both my hands, he looked deeply in to my eyes. “Here goes… Uhm… Wow, this is hard”, he said. “Just tell me”, I said, trying for calm and encouraging. “Ok… I snore… And not in the cute way”, Eddie said. “I give the streetcars a run for their money, when it comes to noise”. I instantly began laughing in relief. “That’s it? You should hear me!”. Eddie raised his brows at me. “I’ll bet you 20 bucks and a donut from Don’s, I can outdo you”, he said. “You’re a journalist. Don’t you have a Dictaphone?”, I asked. Eddie sprang over to his messenger bag, and pulled out a small recorder. “Let’s do this!”, he exclaimed.

I got to my feet, and followed him over to the bed. Unwrapping myself from the sheet, Eddie gave me a sly smile, and pulled me in for a deep kiss – running his hands up and down my sides – before he let me crawl onto the bed. Once I laid down, he crawled in next to me, and put the sheet over the both of us. He clicked the record button on the Dictaphone, and put it by the bed: before pulling me in to his arms. I cuddled up against him, and let his warmth lull me; feeling suddenly very tired. “Goodnight, Ed”, I whispered. We gave each other a soft kiss. “Goodnight, Lyla”, he replied.

I was already halfway asleep, when something tucked us in; pulling the covers over us. “Eddie?”, I yawned. “Yeah?”, he asked hesitantly. “Was that you?”. “Yes!”. “Ok. Goodnight”. I was out.

---

#eddie brock #eddie brock fic #venom #venom fic #eddie brock x oc #eddie brock fluff #eddie brock smut

76 notes · View notes

annantlegacy · 3 years

Photo

Unseen, a fic for @theronshanweek-official.

Prompt 1: Childhood. Words: 1060, rated G, on Ao3 also.

Theron Shan sat on a low wall circling a civic garden. His feet were flush to the ground, his hands resting on his lap. He took a deep breath and paused for a count of three before exhaling slowly. Here, in the upper levels of Coruscant, the air was clean. Not as clean as the air of the training grounds where he’d spent so much of his life. That time, those places might as well be worlds and lifetimes away.

Focus, Theron, he chastised himself.

He repeated the process–an old, familiar exercise that Master Zho had taught him so many years ago–while keeping his eyes open, his senses still on alert. Calm awareness. Alertness without a nagging urge to act on something, anything. It wasn’t quite meditation–more, a meditative observance of the world going about its business around him. Theron might not be in a remote and serene land but the Force flowed around him just the same in a bustling city setting as any idyllic scene.

He catalogued his sensory input, not letting himself focus on any one thing for too long. Like a busy insect flitting amongst flowers in a garden, Master Zho had once said.

Permacrete walk circling the garden perimeter is a brighter ivory than the main throughway. Less traffic?

Heavy, shuffling footfalls to my right…slow and ponderous. Ithorian, maybe…

Floral smells in the air–natural, not perfume. There were flower-beds in the garden, white and yellow blooms.

Another scent, fainter. Vaguely savory, spicy. That little street market selling so many different types of foods, busy with the evening meal crowd…

Theron’s stomach chose that moment to rumble and complain. He wasn’t sure when he’d last eaten. The trees cast long shadows over the pristine walkway. When had it gotten so late? He sighed, gazing up at the impossibly ordered flow of traffic above him. Speeders and small craft glinted jewel-like in the fading daylight. There was something about Coruscant sunsets…the rosy-gold light softening the controlled chaos, gilding the planet’s towering structures like precious metals.

Beautiful. At least, if you were lucky enough to be on one of the higher levels where you could actually see it. And yeah, sure, it was all artificial effects from an elaborate weather-control system that Theron doubted many beings really understood, or even thought much about. But that didn’t mean it wasn’t nice all the same.

Another thing Master Zho taught him: the Force flowed through all, its light ever-present, so that there was beauty to be found everywhere. That the old man could feel that way and say such things after the horrors Theron knew he had seen in the many battles he’d fought was something else. Theron’s stomach tightened in a dull pang that had nothing to do with hunger.

It hurt. Thinking of Master Zho, remembering the peace of the Order. He’d had a place there, for a time. Had a family.

I had purpose, even if I always knew I wouldn’t be there forever…Now, what?

Foot traffic on the walk had picked up. Second shift workers, beings headed to the mind-boggling array of cantinas and eateries, people headed home–and none of them paid him any mind. Theron didn’t know if it was years of Jedi training, something about his face and being, or a bit of both. He could be an invisible man or the center of a city square’s attention if needed. Getting through, getting by after losing the only home he’d known had taught him this. Had kept him fed, gotten him shelter.

He wasn’t good enough to stay with the Jedi Order. That whole connection with the Force thing was a bit of a sticking point. But he had skills from that time. He could win just about any fair fight, and come out the better from some not-so-fair ones.. He knew how to shrug off minor wounds using the meditative techniques his master had taught him. He was a survivor. Thing is, surviving wasn’t enough.

As a theoretical Jedi–because theory was all it had ever been–Theron would have served the Force and countless beings across the galaxy. As a…whatever he was now, survivor vagabond savant, there was nothing more. Theron sighed.

There were options. Police or bodyguard posts. Contract work. Not that any of those particularly interested him. Theron glanced up as a large party of well-dressed humans crowded the sidewalk, passing right by him, not one of them seeming to notice his presence. At eye level with the handbag of one of the women, Theron realized: he could easily slip a hand in, or swipe a blade along the bag handles, grab the loot, and sprint away through the garden, unseen. Or conversely, he could drop in a listening device, a tracker, even a device to be remote-detonated.

Who even thinks up stuff like that? Come on, Theron…

Sitting there, unseen, anonymous in clothing nice enough to not catch someone’s eye, but not so nice he looked out-of-league high cred, something occurred to him. Something that made him chuckle aloud where he sat brooding.

Master Zho had taught him much about being unseen. About diffusing situations without being detected so that violence was never even needed. About economy of action if things did come to violence. Surely, someone needed those kinds of skills to protect the Republic. Espionage, covert intelligence, boots on the streets and eyes on major players, the ability to be anonymous or obvious at will.

The perfect makings of a spy.

Theron laughed again, but this time, he didn’t admonish himself mentally or shove away the thought. After all, if he was going to be untethered from the home he’d known, unseen, he might as well make something of it. Theron stood, taking another series of steadying breaths, grounding him in the moment.

The next step was clear to him. He just had to find someone who’d listen. He glanced once more at the sky, now deep vermillion and copper.

Yep, still beautiful, he thought to himself. His stomach growled again, more urgently than before. And still hungry. At least I have the start of a start of a plan.

Theron walked back towards the street market, thinking about the noodle dish that had looked particularly good, sliding through the crowd with ease–agile, graceful, unimpeded by the traffic.

Sometimes it really was good to be unseen.

#Theron shan appreciation week #theron #theron shan #swtor #swtor companions #ngani zho #jedi order #the annant legacy #swtor fanfic #my fic #day 1: childhood #probably not canon #just wanted to daydream about spyboy

21 notes · View notes

jamlavender · 3 years

Text

Unholy Ghosts deleted scene: Chaos Family Christmas

I was reminded of this fic the other day, and after giving it a scan I remembered that the first version of the Christmas scene was very different to the one I ended up including in the posted story. This first draft was longer and more comedic, and I decided to write another because the fic was already so long and the tone had already become more contemplative. Upon giving that first draft a reread, though, I thought it was funny, and have decided to share it here!

The necessary backstory for this is: Lord Asriel and Mrs Coulter avoided falling into the abyss (though still killed Metatron) and tricked Lyra into coming North five years later. After a rocky start, she spends her winter break with them. This is towards the end of the fic, and if you want to read about how they got to this point (or why she’s calling them Asriel and Marisa) you can read the full story here. Also, for some of the jokes to work, the version of Boreal mentioned in this is the older version from the books. I hope you enjoy!

One day, Lyra was wandering around the Saariselkä market with her mother, a migraine having confined a foul-tempered Asriel to the bedroom for the afternoon, when she spotted the date on a newspaper stacked outside the post office. Tucked away in the cabin, she’d largely lost track of time. “Look!” she said to Pan, who was rolling around in the snow. “It’s December twenty-third. It’s almost Christmas!”

They arrived home that afternoon with the usual spoils, along with a freshly plucked snow goose and a stack of root vegetables, ideal for roasting. They’d also found some sweet pears and fresh cream, which they could poach in red wine for dessert. Her mother had even let Lyra drive the motorsledge home, the wind whipping through their hair and flushing their cheeks the same bright pink as they charged over the white hills back to the cabin, both of them beaming, unbeknownst to the other.

Her father went off on a tirade when they explained what the purchases were for, of course, ranting and raving, saying that he hadn’t thrown God into an endless abyss to then celebrate his son’s birth like a sycophant. Marisa simply nodded along while she melted chocolatl into milk on the stove and spiked it with brandy, then guided Lyra to the sofa, mugs in hand, and whispered, “Let’s just wait for him to tire himself out, hmm?” which made Lyra laugh, and then she felt guilty for laughing, as she still did whenever they shared a shred of affection.

Lyra assumed that she’d prepare the meal alone on the day itself, but confronted with a sack of dirt-encrusted potatoes and a whole goose carcass, to say nothing of the chard or the gravy or the dessert, she realised that she might benefit from some assistance. She peered across the room to the lounge; her father was stretched on the sofa with a notebook on one leg and a newspaper on the other. She marched over with her hands on her hips. “There are too many potatoes for me to peel on my own, not if I’m going to stuff and season the goose too. I can’t do it all myself. You have to help me.”

He frowned. “I’m working.”

Lyra peered at his sparse scrawls. “You haven’t written a sentence in an hour.”

“I’m mulling,” he said petulantly, though Stelmaria had lifted her head, her ears twitching.

Lyra folded her arms, spurred on by his dæmon’s mild enthusiasm. “It’s Christmas.”

“You know that means nothing to me.”

“I don’t care.” They stared at each other, an imperious mirror image. She raised an eyebrow. “Marisa’s excited about it, about us celebrating together. I can tell her that you’re refusing to participate, if you’d prefer that.”

The corner of his lip twitched, the hint of a smirk. “Are you trying to play us off each other?”

“Is it working?”

He sighed. “Can’t your mother do it?”

“She’s even more useless than you are. And she’s in the bath.”

Stelmaria got to her feet with a yawn and padded into the kitchen, giving Asriel no choice but to follow, a scowl etched across his face and a triumphant grin sprawled across Lyra’s.

She put him to work preparing the snow goose for the oven while she mixed fennel and star anise and salt together for the seasoning, grinding the spices in an old granite mortar with a chipped pestle and adding a squirt of lemon juice at the end. She’d assumed that he could handle basic meat preparation – her parents’ brutal reindeer butchery had made it clear that he knew his way around a cleaver – but when she checked on his progress, her eyes widened. She’d tasked him with lightly scouring the goose’s legs and breast with a knife to help the fat render, and he’d interpreted that as gouging deep trenches into the bird, burying the knife into the carcass.

“Asriel!” she said, grabbing the knife from him. “God, no, not like that. Like this.”

He rolled his eyes as she instructed him, dragging the fine point of the knife over the goose’s other leg. He tried again and immediately created a deep channel in the bird’s flesh. Lyra glared at him.

“Have you ever been gentle in your life?”

He let his head roll towards her. “What do you think?”

She shook her head and took over, passing him the peeler instead and shoving him towards the pile of potatoes she’d already scrubbed clean. “I suppose it shouldn’t surprise me,” she muttered, tracing delicate scratches into the bird’s skin and then rubbing the seasoning into the fresh grooves. “Threatening to break my arm was your first instinct when I was a child – don’t think I don’t remember you putting me in an armlock in the retiring room, or all those times you dragged me to Mrs Lonsdale by the wrists – and then you tore the bloody sky in half! When it wasn’t even necessary. But that’s just what you’re like, isn’t it – ”

“What?” Asriel had paused, peeler in one hand, semi-shorn potato in the other. Lyra blinked; she’d assumed that he’d just tuned her out.

“Nothing. I was just commenting on your inability to do anything with restraint.”

“What do you mean it wasn’t necessary?”

She stared at him. “Well, there were lots of windows already, weren’t there? Even in Oxford. But no, you had to go all the way to the North – ”

He dropped the peeler onto the countertop with a clatter. “There were other windows? In our world?”

“Yeah,” she said, sharing a nervous glance with Pan. “You – you didn’t know about them?”

“How could I?” he said. “Within days of leaving Svalbard this world was several windows away. I didn’t spare a thought for home until your mother and I returned. How many? Where are they? Did you say Oxford?”

“They’re closed now,” Lyra said, an unwelcome memory of Will’s face disappearing behind a cruel, luminous seam in the air coming to her mind. “And I only knew about a few, the Oxford ones, mostly, though Will’s dad must’ve come through one too. But they’d been around for ages, they must have. I mean, Latrom had been crossing for years.” She tilted her head. “You really didn’t know that there were other windows? Even now?”

“No,” he snapped, Stelmaria grizzling beside him. “No one deigned to tell me. And who’s this Latrom?”

“That creepy collector guy, with the snake-dæmon. Oh, he had a different name in our world…”

“Boreal,” Pantalaimon piped up from beside her. “Lord Boreal.”

Her father’s eyes widened. “Boreal was travelling between worlds?”

Lyra nodded. “He’d been at it for ages. Decades, I suppose. He ran a big company in Will’s world and had travelled all over, collecting things for his weird basement. I think he was trying to impress Marisa. Unsurprisingly, it didn’t work.”

That made Stelmaria growl, and Lyra’s heart began to beat a little faster.

“Your mother went with him? To another world?”

“She was looking for me, I think,” Lyra admitted. “Latrom – Boreal – whatever, he’d stolen my alethiometer to force us bring him the knife, and she came to intercept us. That didn’t work either.”

At that moment, her mother swanned into the kitchen, wearing a red cashmere dress and a coal-black shawl, a fragrant bloom of perfume following her, the intertwining notes of rose and myrrh a smell Lyra had come to recognise as soon as it appeared in the air. She smiled at the sight of them, Asriel and Lyra side by side in the kitchen, though the joy was wiped from her face as soon as Asriel exploded, “You went to another world with Boreal?”

Marisa glared at Lyra, and she took Pan in her arms at once and clutched him to her chest. “What did you say to him?”

“I didn’t realise it was a secret!” Lyra said. “It was years ago!”

“When I asked you to go to another world with me, you refused. But when he asked – ”

The golden monkey was pulling gently on Stelmaria’s ears, trying to placate her, but Marisa herself seemed unperturbed. She poured herself a glass of wine, the same deep red as her dress, and leaned against the dining table. “He had something to offer me that served my own interests. You wanted me to simply abandon my life’s work in favour of yours, without a moment’s hesitation or complaint.”

“Semantics,” Asriel growled.

Marisa sipped her wine, pursing her lips, unbearably smug. “Are you jealous, darling? I thought you didn’t care about my lovers.”

Lyra’s eyes widened. “Wait, what? You and he… ugh! That’s disgusting!”

“Thank you, Lyra,” her father said, smirking.

“He was so… so smarmy, and so old, even then!” Lyra said.

“He was not that old,” her mother snapped, shooting daggers at Asriel when he laughed.

“Trust me,” Asriel said, leaning towards Lyra but not lowering his voice, “she went older.”

“I don’t want to know!” Lyra said, at the same time Marisa growled, “Asriel.” The golden monkey’s soothing caresses became a vicious wrench, and then both Asriel and Stelmaria were grimacing.

Lyra shook her head, reaching for the warped tin tray holding the goose and carrying it over to the oven. “Ugh,” she said again, shivering slightly, thinking of Lord Boreal’s oily voice and vault of trinkets. “You did that to find me and I still got away. No wonder you were furious.” She closed the cast-iron door with a smack. “What happened to him, anyhow?”

“An altercation with a spectre,” her mother said smoothly. “If he’d been paying more attention, perhaps he’d have seen it coming. Alas.”

“You quite certain that the old snake’s heart didn’t just give out?” Asriel said, irritation transformed neatly into amusement. “As your daughter has emphasised so thoroughly, he was getting on.”

“Seems rather hypocritical to be goading me about the age of one’s lovers, hmm?” her mother said, with a sneer. “How old was that Latvian witch? Five hundred? Six?”

“Hard to say, given that she looked younger even than you,” Asriel said, leaning back against the counter with a smug smile. The monkey bit Stelmaria, and Asriel grunted.

“Stop it,” Lyra said, pressing her hands to her ears. “Ugh, just – just stop it! Both of you!”

Her parents glanced at Lyra, and then looked back to each other. Silence fell across the trio, and just as Lyra thought that the ghastly conversation was over, her father said, “She was four hundred, I’ll have you know. The witch you’re thinking of was Siberian, and she was – ”

“You’re both so infuriating!” Lyra said, storming out of the kitchen into her bedroom, closing the door with a slam.

She sat on her bed and folded her arms, expecting one of them to come and find her, but it soon became clear that her flouncing off had done little to end the argument. She could hear them bickering, two familiar tones resonating through the cabin’s wooden walls, with the occasional sharper snap or outraged shout. Then she heard the sound of glass smashing and a chair scraping across the ground. Lyra lay back on her bed with a groan, slotting her head beneath her pillow and pressing the soft cotton to her ears.

She waited a few minutes before resurfacing, pleased that the brawl had quietened, and then spent several more minutes flicking through her book, hoping that their tempers would have burned themselves out by the time she returned to the kitchen. But when she made her grand reappearance, expecting to see some contrition on their faces, even just a grain of sand’s worth, she found the kitchen empty, the only sound the faint hiss of the kettle on the stove. She looked around the empty room, noting the glass shards on the floor by the sink. “Do you think one of them ran off, and the other followed?” Pan said, peering out of the window.

“Their coats are still here…” Lyra said, frowning.

At that moment, the workshop door swung open and her father appeared in the doorway. His cheeks were flushed, and he was tucking his shirt back into his trousers. “Oh. You’re back.”

Lyra stared at him. He glanced at the oven, chest heaving. “Is that goose ready yet? I’m starving.”

Her mouth fell open. “You – you – ” She shook her head. “Oh my god!”

“Lyra, darling,” her mother said breathlessly, appearing beside Asriel, her face the same deep crimson as the dress she was still straightening.

“You two are a disgrace,” Lyra said, with all the admonition she could muster, but her father only snorted. She turned and stalked back to her bedroom. “Disgusting. Disgusting!”

This time her mother did appear after a few minutes, her wild hair neatened and her face dusted with powder, Lyra scowling beneath the covers and pretending to read when the knock came at the door. Marisa opened it and skulked inside, looking – perhaps for the first time in Lyra’s memory – truly embarrassed, her cheeks still aflame, now for different reasons.

“I’m sorry about that, darling,” she said, running a hand through her curls. “I don’t know what came over me. Now, won’t you join us in the kitchen again, hmm? I’ve mixed you a drink, with the cloudberry jenniver. I know that it’s your favourite.”

Lyra gave her an unimpressed glare. Her mother smiled sweetly, one hand stroking her dæmon’s golden back. “And you know your father doesn’t know what to do with a paring knife, nor a roast potato or a pear. It would be such a shame to see your lovely meal ruined, wouldn’t it? I certainly don’t know when to take the bird out of the oven.”

That got her out of bed, her mother’s hand rubbing gently between her shoulder blades as they returned to the kitchen. Her father was hacking at the pile of potatoes again, a half-finished cocktail by his side.

“There you are,” he said, holding out her drink. Lyra took a sip and suppressed a hum as the sweet spirit hit her throat. He gestured to the countertop. “Now, what do you want me to do with these?” he said. Before long, their workflow had resumed, Asriel scoffing at Lyra’s comments on his knife skills but following her instructions nonetheless, while her mother sat at the table and offered unhelpful suggestions, a glass of wine in her hand and her feet propped up on a chair.

“Merry Christmas to us,” Pan said after Marisa had made a particularly useless remark. Despite herself, Lyra smirked.

This is a deleted scene from my story Unholy Ghosts, in which Lord Asriel and Mrs Coulter survive the abyss and reunite with their daughter. You can read the full story on AO3.

#my fics #chaos family #lord asriel #marisa coulter #lyra belacqua #bad parenting #i thought this was funny idk #this is a crack fic tbh #the full fic is a lot less silly

51 notes · View notes

champagne-bucky · 4 years

Text

The Princess & the Stable Boy

Summary: Steve loves you. You don’t. He has a way of changing that. With a little help from Loki, anything is possible.

Warnings: Royal AU, dark!Steve x Reader, loss of virginity, somnophilia, non-con smut

Notes: haaaaaa.... okay so I’m VERY late to this challenge, but I still wanted to do it because I already had my idea ready. This challenge was by @the-soulofdevil and I chose to do Steve and a Royal AU. I hope I did it justice and I’m so so sooooo sorry @the-soulofdevil for taking extremely long. I really hope you enjoy it!!!

“So this is love, mmmhmm, so this is love…”

Steve watched quietly from a stall he was tending to as you sang. You had such a beautiful voice and Steve loved hearing anything that came out of your mouth. He remembers the first day your father brought you here, so young, ambitious, and had a heart for animals.

You had begged your father for months to teach you how to ride a horse. You admired how graceful and elegant they looked while trotting around in the open fields. Plus, your father and his men always rode those majestic beings and you couldn’t help but envy how they always got to do the fun things you couldn’t.

Which brings Steve to today. It had taken years and years of practice, but you finally managed how to properly ride and groom a horse. Steve had trained you himself, much like his father did him. Over time, he got lost in the sweet smell of your perfume and your soft to the touch skin. Steve had been completely enamored by you from the first day he met you. The only problem was you didn’t notice him.

Well, you did, obviously because he had taught you how to properly ride. You just didn’t notice him the way that he noticed you. Steve was just a servant to you and nothing more. You didn’t treat him badly, but you regarded him more as a teacher than a friend.

“What’s got you all happy?” You jumped back and Steve snuck around behind you. He always had a habit of sneaking up on people.

“Oh nothing, father just told me that he’s planning on throwing another ball, that’s all,” Steve bit back his anger.

Your father had been throwing parties every so often to get you to meet somebody. It bothered Steve that your father was trying so hard to get you to find someone. He was so eager to marry you off but knew that he couldn’t arrange a marriage for you.

Long ago, your ancestors had made it a rule that no younger child should be married off unless if was with a spouse of their choice. Seeing as you had an older sister that was married off, and happily at that, your father was not allowed to intervene.

Steve thought that this rule was pretty great, for him. On the other hand, you had expressed your disinterest in Steve from the moment you found out he liked you.

You weren’t stupid, you knew Steve had liked you for quite some time, but he wasn’t taking any hints. Every time he made an advance, you would push him away. He seemed to respect that, but who knows for how long.

“So, uh, I guess I’ll be going. I’ll be meeting you in a few days, yes?” Steve nodded as he excused your departure.

“Poor boy,” Steve jumped back, “stupid, stupid, boy,” Steve huffed as the groundskeeper, Loki, came out of the shadows.

“Can I help you?” Steve was in no mood to talk to the snarky groundskeeper.

“No, but I can help you,” Steve looked at the diabolical man confused.

“The princess, you seek her, yes?” Steve replied a quiet ‘yes’.

“I can help you get what you want.”

“Oh, really? I find that too good to be true,” Steve scoffed at the man.

“If it’s the girl’s heart you want, then go after it,” Loki walked around the stable boy.

“What do you mean? I can’t go to the ball, I wasn’t invited,” Loki chuckled.

“No, no you weren’t, but I can sneak you in,” Steve was listening now.

“Clean yourself up and meet me at the west wing of the castle by the old garden. Come alone and do not tell anyone where you are going,” before Steve could muster a response Loki stalked off.

Steve managed to bathe and find some of the nicest clothes that he owned. He moved fast and silently so that no guards would be able to see him lurking by the castle at this hour. Only the royal family, royal visitors, and castle servants were allowed in.

“You’re late,” Loki replied as he emerged from a dark corner of the gardens.

“I’m sorry, but it’s not exactly like you gave me a time limit to go off of,” Steve rolled his eyes.

“Now how am I getting in?” Loki looked him up and down with a look of disgust.

“Oh, you’re not going in that travesty are you?” Steve huffed at Loki’s rude tone.

“Look, this is the nicest stuff that I own. God, I knew I was wasting my time listening to you,” Steve lost all hope of getting into the ball and wooing you. He began to turn around and head home, but not until Loki stopped him. Steve turned around as the disappointed look on his face transformed into a look of curiosity.

Loki’s outfit hand changed from simple rags into a sleek black pants suit with a flattering cloak. In this cloak, he dipped his pale hand in and brought out a matching sleek black wand. He waved it around a few times until it lit up an immaculate green color. Steve scrunched his brows together in confusion.

“Now that I’m out of my horrid outfit, let’s work on yours,” Loki lifted his wand and started to aim it at Steve.

“What the- you’re crazy. I’m getting out of here,” Steve tried to run as the green glow chased him through the old garden. He was no match for the fast ball of light, as it captured him and wrapped him up.

The green light soon faded and it left in its place an outfit fit for the king himself. A fine tailored suit made of the finest of materials. Golden buttons had lined the front and his rough, calloused hands were covered with soft, white gloves. He looked like a prince.

“You have until dawn to make that girl yours. Don’t screw it up,” Loki tucked his wand back into his cloak and began to stalk off.

Steve looked down again at his magnificent suit. All this for him? There has to be some sort of payment for this right? Everyone knows that magic has a price.

“Why do you want to help me so bad?” Steve yelled before Loki walked away.

“What can I say, I’m a sucker for a happy ending,” and Loki disappeared into the night.

Before Steve could ask anything else Loki was gone. It was now up to him to find the girl of his dreams and make her his before dawn.

It was ridiculously easy to sneak into this ball. Thanks to Steve’s new look, the knights guarding the doors didn’t take a second glance at the stable boy turned imposter prince. He walked right into the dance hall and began to search high and low for you. It didn’t take too long.

There you were, sitting on a throne right next to your father as you watched the guests dance and drink the night away. You couldn’t have been more bored if it weren’t for the music picking up its pace every so often. A bunch of eligible suitors (no doubt hand picked by your father) had come up to you to ask for a dance, but you politely sent everyone one of them away. You really didn’t have this much interest in the glamorous side of things that came with being a royal. No, you craved simplicity and even normalcy. Just once it would be nice to not be called ‘princess’ or ‘king’s daughter’.

Having enough of the ball, you tried to slink your way out of the room, but not before a gloved hand caught the sleeve of your dress.

“Princess, may I have this dance?” You looked at the suitor and immediately recognized who it was. How did he get in here?

“Steve?” You were in disbelief. If anyone were to have found out that he snuck in he would be thrown in with the rest if the prisoners.

“I’ve been searching for you all night, my lady. Please do me the honor of just one dance.”

Part of you wanted to run away and call the guards. It was bad enough that Steve was down your neck constantly when you both went riding, now it’s gone too far. However, if you made a scene your father would surely take the matters into his own hands. He loved his children and would kill for them if the moment called for it. God, you didn’t want to be responsible for Steve’s murder, all he was looking to do was have one dance with you.

“Okay fine, but only one dance then you have to leave before my father sees you here,” you grabbed his hand and made sure to stay out of your father’s line of sight.

One dance turned into two, then two turned into five. It was safe to say that you actually did enjoy your small time with Steve. He was light on his feet and swayed through the ballroom like he’s done this a million times before.

The night was wearing thin as people began to leave. Your father would come looking for you as soon as he notices you’re nowhere in the ballroom to be found. You and Steve had danced your way out of the castle and onto the large balcony.

“I have to go now, Steve,” you murmured into his broad shoulder.

“You said that many dances ago,” he smiled as he held you closer. Finally, he was getting what he wanted.

“I mean it now,” you pulled away, “my father will be looking for me,” Steve frowned as you started to pull away.

“I’ll let you go, but just one more thing,” it was now or never.

You gasped as you dodged Steve’s kiss out of the way. He didn’t think that this was building up to something was it? You were just trying to appease him so you wouldn't have needed to make a scene earlier.

“Steve, I’m sorry. I don’t want you to get the wrong idea. I was just being friendly to you that’s all,” Steve’s face looked as if it had lost all hope.

His true love, his one true love, didn’t reciprocate.

“I did all of this for you! What are you trying to say? After all I did for you you can’t show me some respect!” Steve started to get angry, you didn’t like it.

“Steve, I’m sorry,” before he could do anything worse, you took off in a sprint.

Steve tried to run after you. He almost caught you, but you were smart and started yelling for the guards. He knew something terrible would happen to him if he stayed any longer, so he began to flee.

He heard the heavy footfalls of guards running to check on you. Your guilty conscience prohibited you from saying anything about Steve and his advances. Instead, you made up a lie to them saying that you felt pains in your stomach and needed to be carried back to your room.

Steve ran back the way that he came in. No guards were in sight as it seemed they were either rushing to your aid or getting your family to alert them on what had happened. He was dead, he thought. You were going to see to it that he’d be murdered before dawn.

He thought the plan was full proof, he thought it was going to work. That would fall for him and get married and live happily ever after, but no. Happy endings didn’t happen by the grace of God. No, Steve needed to take matters into his own hands.

Red in the face and out of breath, Steve approached the tiny village of where he and the other servants slept. Quietly, he made his way to the small hut where Loki lived. He would be asleep by now anyways.

He sauntered in without a peep and began to look around. He needs to find that wand.

It took a lot of stealth and breath holding, but Steve managed to achieve his goal. He found the wand placed securely under the floorboards after an uneven floorboard gave it away. Loki should’ve hidden it better if he wanted to keep his secret life still secret.

The night was still and there was not a soul in sight. Steve had managed to get back to the old garden undetected and slip past some guards. He was still in his suit and gloves, so it made it look as if he was just another royal staying the night.

He didn’t know where your room was per se, but after badgering a few maids that were still up and about they pointed him in the right direction. How was he going to manage to persuade the guards outside your door to let him in? Well, he wasn’t. There was no way in hell they would let anyone disturb the princess’s sleep. Steve has to act fast.

Steve found another room that seemed vacant. The doors were unlocked and they led out onto a small balcony. If he were just really careful, he could slink his way to your room. God, he hopes he doesn’t fall.

Steve got to your balcony and pushed open the doors. Steve patted himself on the back for the great success. There were no locks on them as who would ever think to put a lock on doors so high up in a castle.

He took a deep breath and walked over to you. There you were, in a peaceful sleep, desperate to probably forget about the tragedy that took place a few hours prior. Steve walked closed to you and bent down. His breath fanning your face as he brushed his hands through some stay locks of hair. Your breathing became lighter and your movements grew frequent. You were waking up, but Steve didn’t care, he had a plan in motion.

Your eyes fluttered open as your sleep was disturbed. It took you a minute to decipher the blurry figure in front of you. Steve? Your heart rate increased as you tried to sit up and scream. Before you could he covered your mouth and pushed you back down into the plush blankets.

“Shh, my lady, it’s okay. I’ll make this all go away, you’ll see,” you began to cry as Steve pulled Loki’s wand out from the inside of his coat.

You eyed the wand in fear, what were his plans? He held you down with one hand, but you were still flailing about. He tsked at you a few times before he tapped the wand. It started to glow a haunting hue and you cried out more.

“Rest easy, princess, it’ll all be over soon,” Steve waved the wand in front of your face a few times and you felt your eyes getting heavy with sleep. Steve removed his hand from your mouth and you began to whimper and beg.

“Please, Steve, no,” were your last words before you went to sleep.

This was it. Showtime. Steve was finally alone with you, something he had been dreaming about since the first day he fell in love with you.

“What to do, what to do,” Steve took the sheets off of your body and admired your figure. A simple nightgown, so sheer because of the climate, but so revealing.

He admired the outlines of your breasts, your nipples peeking out. The way the gown rode up a bit so it was at the top of your thighs. Your arms bare and hair all over the pillow. Immaculate.

Steve felt himself straining against his suit pants as he tried to palm himself to relieve some of the pressure. He finally got what he wanted.

He leaned in and got his kiss first. Your lips are so sweet and soft, he could do this all day. Then he began to touch you with his big hands. Steve touched your hair, your cheeks, traced your lips, brought down the straps around your shoulders. He kissed both shoulders and began to slide the gown down.

Your breasts were more than perfect. So soft and supple that he had to put his mouth around one while his fingers played with the other. They got hard within a matter of seconds. Steve wished you were awake so that he could hear your sweet sounds. This was everything he imagined it could be.

He kissed down your valley and took the gown with him. He made his way to your belly button and kissed above it. Maybe next time he does this that part will be swollen with his child. The thought of that made him get harder. It was getting hot in that little room, Steve began to rid himself of his clothes before he got any further.

Now he was naked in the pale moonlight with you under him, just a pesky piece of fabric in the way. He yanked it completely off out of impatience. He didn’t know how long this moment would last so he needed to make quick work of it.

You looked even more beautiful than you did with clothing on. Steve moaned at the sight of your body. He moaned at the sight of you all bare and compliant to him.

“Oh honey, I wish you could see us right now,” he leaned down and spread your legs apart. You were dry, but Steve was going to take care of that.

He used his skillful tongue and fingers to open you up and get you ready. He kept checking to make sure you weren’t waking up, but it looked like it wouldn't be anytime soon. However, he had to be fast just in case someone came in.

Once he was sure you were wet enough, Steve gave himself a few pumps to his cock and guided himself in. It was so warm, so wet, so tight, it felt like heaven. He pushed himself in more and more, but had to stop short. A little barrier was in his way.

“You saved this for me didn’t you, my lady,” Steve smirked and pushed through breaking the symbol of innocence.

He thrusted in at a slightly fast pace. Steve had been deprived and this is just what he needed. He wishes you were awake. Steve could just imagine those lewd moans coming from your mouth, just begging you to move faster.

“Don’t worry, honey, next time I’ll make sure you cum, but right now we gotta take care of me,” Steve bit his lip from crying out.

He grabbed your hips he hovered over you. Smashing his face into your breasts he went faster and faster until he couldn’t take it anymore. Steve came deep inside of you, no doubt that he might’ve given you a child, but he knew how to take care of that later.

Steve removed himself from you as he watched his cum drip out of your tight little hole, some blood mixed in it as well. He quickly got dressed and put the nightgown back on you as well as the sheets. He had much to prepare for in the coming days.

The king has been outraged lately. Rumors have been spreading around the village as to why. Only Steve knew the cause of the outrage, but never spoke about it.

He hadn’t seen you again since that night. He imagines that the maids had found the blood on your sheets and began to ask questions. Come to think of it, no one has seen you outside of the castle since the night of the ball. Steve guessed that he was out of the clear since no one had come to collect him for the crime he committed.

A crime of passion, Steve would think to himself.

Loki had not mentioned anything to him about the wand either. Steve made sure to place it back where it came from when he ran back home after that night. Loki didn’t even press him for details about the ball. Just a simple “how was it?” and that was the end of that topic.

Days had gone by and then weeks without seeing you. Usually if you couldn’t attend riding lessons someone would’ve reached out to Steve to let him know, but there was no word from anyone. Around this time is when Loki decided to act suspicious.

“The princess seemed to have stopped her lessons,” he nonchalantly said to Steve.

“Maybe she’s just sick and no one thought to tell us. I’m sure the princess will return soon,” Steve tried to end the conversation.

“I heard they’re on a manhunt looking for the coward that took her virtue,” Steve faltered, but kept his composure.

“Rumors are rumors, Loki. Don’t believe everything you hear,” Steve was starting to sweat.

“I heard from one of the chambermaids that when she finally woke, there was blood on the sheets. The physician examined her and found that she had been taken. She won’t give up any names, so her father is combing through all the guards and servants,” Loki knows, Steve thought.

“Has anyone come forward?”

“Not that we know of. Everyone is too afraid of what the king might do,” Steve shuddered.

“It happened the night of the ball. The princess was dancing with a man before she had to go. It must’ve been a guest from the party,” Loki kept on talking as Steve tugged his collar.

“Poor soul, if he just were to come forward he can accept his fate a lot faster,” Loki turned to Steve.

“The king is offering a reward you know? Anyone who knows any information will be given a healthy sum of money for compliance. You know what I would do if I had that money, Steve,” Steve shook his head.

“I could make the punishment a lot less worse for you,” he knew.

“H-How did-”

“Oh I’m not an idiot. I heard you that night poking around. You’re not exactly a light foot are you?”

“Are you going to turn me in?” That was it, no more true love.

“I have a proposition for you. I turn you in and I change the king's mind,” Steve was confused.

“What?”

“I turn you in, I get my reward money, before the king has your head on a plate I wave my wand and the girl is yours forever,” Loki’s eyes darkened.

“Why would you help me?”

“For years I’ve been stuck here. I helped the royal advisor out more times than I could count. I was always promised a promotion, a chance to get out of this village, but no. I’ve been screwed over more times than I could count. I want my revenge. I want my happy ending,” Loki looked almost vicious.

“And in return, I get my princess?” Loki responded with a ‘yes’.

“You get your princess and you’ll be prince. I get to move on up the ranks with you. Then it’s king and queen for the both of you. I help you and you help me.”

“And if I don’t want to come forward against my own will?”

“Then I’m sure the king will love to add a severed head to his mantle,” Steve gulped.

“So, what do you say?” Loki stared him down with his darkening eyes.

“Okay, I’ll do it.”

“My lady, the king has called for you,” you arose from your chair and made your way down to the throne room.

It had been nearly a month since the incident had occurred. You think you know who’s responsible, but you have no proof besides the blood on your sheets. Steve must’ve done something to you, or maybe it was a guard? The night was all fuzzy, but you remembered Steve being there at one point, trying to kiss you during the ball.

“Daughter, please stand by me,” you entered the room and saw the man you feared the most, and next to him was the groundskeeper, Loki.

“Yes, father,” your father grabbed your hand and walked you towards Steve.

“Daughter, why didn’t you tell me you were involved with Sir Steven,” you were confused. The two of you were never involved.

“Father I-”

“We explained everything to him, my lady. There’s no need to keep secrets,” Steve grabbed your hands and gave you a looked that dared you to challenge him.

“While I am glad of your impending union, I do express my disappointment. Ladies are supposed to keep their virtue until the wedding night,” this couldn’t be happening could it?

“I understand, your royal highness, but life had a way of getting in the middle,” Steve had pressed his front against your back now.

Your father chuckled, “You don’t need to explain anything to me, son. I’m glad we all could work this out. Y/N, I’ll send over the bishop to go over the union. We need to marry you two as soon as possible!”

Your father walked away with Loki by his side. You tried to break away from Steve’s grip, but he held you in tight. He kissed your cheek as tears started to fall.

“Why are you doing this?”

“Because, my lady, we were always meant to be together. You just had yet to see,” he put a hand over your abdomen.

“I can’t wait till our wedding night, can’t you? Can’t wait for you to see what you’ve missed out on,” Steve kissed your cheek again as you cried out.

So this is love, mmmhmmm.

#Steve Rogers #steve rogers fic #steve rogers smut #Dark Fic #dark marvel #dark steve rogers #dark steve x reader #dark Steve rogers fic #dark captain america #dark!Avengers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x y/n #dark!steve rogers

339 notes · View notes

seasonsofeverlark · 4 years

Text

Long Lost Letters

Author: @norbertsmom

Prompt: Going home a few weeks Before Thanksgiving. Due to a tragic death. Cleaning up their stuff. You find a stack of letters addressed to you. You thought he never wrote you back. So, you stopped writing him years ago now older have a family. Writing back to him is a long shot because it’s been so long, but you do it anyways… and wait. [submitted by anonymous]

Rating: T

Author’s Note: Thank you nonny for the prompt. I don’t usually write angst, but I thought I would give it a try. I hope you like it. Thanks to my beta and bestie @mega-aulover for her constant encouragement.

____________

“You ready to do this?” Prim asks me as we walk through the door of our old family home.

“I guess,” I tell her as I look around. It feels so still. Everything is exactly as it was last time we were here over the summer, except mom’s not here. Coming back home without her here is surreal. The three of us shared a video call over the weekend to set our plans for Thanksgiving dinner coming up in a few weeks.

Two days later, I was at work when I got the call from the hospital that mom had collapsed; a stroke, the doctor told me. I had to call Prim and tell her that our mom was gone.

Now that the funeral’s over, Prim and I have to decide what to do with mom’s stuff. There’s no mortgage. Dad made sure of that. His life insurance was set up to pay it off when he passed all those years ago. Now they are both gone. Prim and I both relocated after college, so neither of us really wants the house. It’s not really home any more without them in it. I guess we’ll get it ready for a new family to call home.

Our husbands are both out with the kids. They’ll come back with some packing boxes to help us pack it all up later.

“Bedroom or kitchen first?” Prim asks.

“Bedroom,” I tell her. The kitchen was where we would spend all our time together during family visits. Too many memories there right now.

We head into mom’s room and I have to stop and take a breath. The scent of mom’s gardenia perfume lingers there and really hits me. It reminds me of the hugs she would give whenever we came home, soft and sweet. So much for putting off old memories.

Neither Prim nor I say a word as we head for the closet. We take turns pulling down hangers. Prim set aside a favorite blouse that she wants to keep, but otherwise, most of it goes into the donation pile. At the back of the closet we find mom’s dresses from when she was young, from designers like Halston, and Diane Von Furstenberg. They are considered vintage now. We leave those hanging for us to go through later with my daughter Holly.

The few pairs of shoes at the bottom of the closet go into their own donation pile. On the shelf above the hanging rod are a couple of boxes, keepsakes probably. We each grab a box to see what’s inside.

We sit down on the bed and before I get a chance to open mine, Prim gasps. She has her box open and one by one she pulls out a collection of small trinkets. Things we had given mom and dad over the years when we were kids, a macaroni necklace strung together with yarn, a lumpy clay statue that Prim swears is a true likeness of our old cat Buttercup, and a world’s best daddy keychain, among others.

“I have no idea why she kept this stuff,” Prim says as she wipes a tear from her eyes and sets the box aside. “What’s in yours?”

I lift the lid and I find a small stack of old letters tied together with a ribbon. “Looks like mom and dad’s old love letters.” I hand them off to Prim while I see what else is in the box.

“Ah, Katniss,” Prim says, and I look up. She’s got the ribbon untied and she’s leafing through the letters. “These are all addressed to you.”

“What?”

“Look.” She turns the one in her hand around and I see my name, well my maiden name there in a familiar scrawl that I haven’t seen in ages.

I grab it out of her hand and look at the return address, although I already know who it’s from, my childhood best friend.

We met when we were five and became fast friends soon after. His mom made him work at his father’s shop after school, so I would hang out there to keep him company. We did everything together. We even went to prom together. We were never really a couple, but everyone said we belonged together.

I was headed off to college, but he stayed behind. He said if he was going to inherit the family business, he might as well start working there full time.

“Right before I left for college, he asked me to be his girlfriend,” I confess, tracing the letters on the envelope. “I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t want to ruin our friendship if things didn’t work out. I told him I’d send him a letter with my answer.“

Silence falls between us.

“After I got to school, I missed seeing him every day. I decided that, yes, I did want to be his girlfriend, even if it was long distance. So, I wrote him a letter and included it with my letter back home to mom. I asked her to give it to him. I thought he never wrote back to me.”

“Did you try to call him?” Prim asks.

“Phone calls were expensive back then. You paid by the minute for long distance, remember?”

“Yeah, no cell phones like today.”

“Right. I asked mom in my next letter, but she replied she hadn’t heard from him. I even went to his father’s shop when I came home for winter break, but his mom told me he didn’t want to have anything to do with me. She never liked me much, so I didn’t expect much sympathy from her. She told me he had enlisted in the service. So, I gave up on him. I went back to college that January and made new friends.”

“I’m sorry, Katniss,” Prim says, rubbing my back as she hands me a tissue. I didn’t even realize I was crying. “I’m sure mom had her reasons for keeping these from you.”

We hear a commotion from the living room, and we both realize that our families are here. Prim gets up to go greet them as I frantically dab the tissue under my eyes. I clear my throat. “Give me a minute?”

“Sure thing,” she says as she hands me the pile of letters and pats me on the leg on her way out the door.

I know I need to get up, but I’m stuck in my spot on the bed, leafing through the letters, wondering why my mother would keep these from me.

A knock on the doorframe breaks me from my misery.

“Hey sweetheart.” My dear, sweet husband comes in and wraps his arms around me. He doesn’t ask me what’s wrong, he just lets me grieve. I’m a blubbering mess, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

I realize he probably thinks this is all about losing my mom, and truthfully, part of it probably is, but I have to tell him the truth. So, I take his hand and I tell him all about the letters we found and why they are upsetting to me.

After I’m done, he brushes my hair off my shoulder and asks, “Are you upset you never got the chance to see how things would have worked out with him?”

“No, I have a family, and I’m happy.” I try unsuccessfully to smile.

“Are you sure?”

“The more I think about it, the more I think mom knew things wouldn’t have worked out with him. She was trying to save me the heartbreak, but by doing so, I lost my best friend.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

“Don’t be. If that didn’t happen, I wouldn’t have you. I think my mom knew this was going to happen anyway, you and me.”

“So, you forgive her,” he asks.

“I do,” I tell him, with a watery smile.

“You ready to go out there?”

“Just a couple more minutes. Would you save me some pizza? I’ll be right out.”

“Take all the time you need.” He gives me a kiss on the forehead and walks back out of the room.

I pick up my phone and go online to a popular social media app to look up my old best friend. With a name as unique as his, it’s surprisingly easy to find him. I think for a moment before typing out a note.

Dear Gale,

It’s been years since we last spoke,

but I wanted to let you know I never forgot you.

If you haven’t heard, my mom recently passed,

and I found your old letters among her things.

I just wanted to let you know that I hope you are happy.

I’m happily married now with two great kids.

Your old friend,

Katniss Everdeen - Mellark

#everlark #everlark fanfiction #autumn #autumn 2020 #norbertsmom #submission #prompt

102 notes · View notes

brockadoodles · 4 years

Text

illicit affairs - a. matthews

AN: So this was actually the first folklore series fic I wrote, back when the album came out. I just never posted it because honestly I was scared to get mean, shitty anons for writing it. Because on my old blog, I always got rude shit about him. But like, so many people have asked for me to write for Auston and I wanted to so, fuck that, I’m posting it. Special shoutout to @broadstbroskis and @woah-were-halfway-there for hyping me up into posting it. And of course, miss @hockeyboysiguess who has known about it the entire time.

Word Count: 1886

Warnings: ANGST, literally no happiness, also cheating sorry, and mentions of drinking.

And that's the thing about illicit affairs And clandestine meetings and longing stares It's born from just one single glance But it dies and it dies and it dies A million little times

It had started off innocent, a way to fill a space in your heart while he was away, it was never supposed to become anything more. You should have known it was wrong, you should have known you were demolishing your relationship that never really had any problems in the first place. You could lie to yourself, blame it on the insecurities, blame it on the loneliness, but you could never blame him.

Auston wasn’t around all of the time, the nature of his job sending him away multiple times a week for months out of the year. He loved you, and by all accounts, he did everything right. He spent as much time on the phone with you as he could, being there in every way he could when he wasn’t physically in Toronto. By all accounts, he was the perfect partner.

You pushed away from the loneliness, the inner workings of your mind reassuring you things were fine. That you were happy, but happy people don’t emotionally invest in someone who isn’t their partner. They don’t do what you did.

Auston was with his team in California, a two-week-long trip that had you feeling more empty and alone than you had ever felt. You did everything you could to busy yourself, counting down the hours until he would call, hoping that the sound of his voice would bring you back to the happiness you once knew with him, but it didn’t. When he called, all you could focus on was the photo on your nightstand with him, one of you on his back after a night out, drunk smiles on both of your faces. You didn’t even recognize the person looking back at you in the dark frame. You didn’t even hear anything Auston said that night. All you felt was empty.

It was November when it started. A night out that led to the final nail in the coffin of your relationship. You saw him from across the bar, instantly recognizing the boy you once knew. He was everything that Auston wasn’t, and you found yourself nostalgic about the friendship you once had. He was shorter than Auston, smaller. His hair was light and Auston’s was dark. His blue eyes didn’t look at you with love like Auston’s, they looked at you with a lust behind them that made you feel wanted in a way that Auston couldn’t. Your heart wasn’t with Auston anymore, and all it took was a slap of nostalgia to pull you back from a relationship that at one point you thought you would sink without.

He came over, gliding up to you with ease. Conversation and drinks flowing freely. The gin was getting to your head, but your judgement had been clouded by more than just a shitty mixed gin and tonic.

His hand came gliding up your jeans, his fingers delicately along the rips of the black jeans, Auston’s favorite pair of jeans on you. You were relishing in the feeling, tuning out the noise of the bar, focussing on the guy in front of you, the guy that was everything that was wrong. Your phone was lighting up with texts from your boyfriend that you didn’t care to open.

“Are you seeing anyone?” The words slipped from his lips, fingers sliding further up your thigh. The question should have been enough to snap you out of it, to remind yourself that what you were doing was wrong. But it didn’t, because you didn’t care about your boyfriend who was currently miles away, sending you what were likely sweet goodnight messages. Instead, you took the hammer to your relationship and took someone else into your bed.

You should have known better with each text, flirtation, and appreciation evident in every word. You should have known better when texts became calls that had you sharing the most intimate details of your life. Never reveal that you had a home, one you shared with someone who had been your partner for the last three years. One who went away thinking nothing was ever wrong between you.

Calls evolved into dates, where you’d dress up in your most beautiful clothing, a spritz of the perfume Auston always said he loved. Dates became going home with him, hands roaming, stolen kisses in the elevator up to the home you shared with Auston.

You should have known better every time you put the photos of you and Auston in the drawer, never to be seen as another man sank into you each night you were otherwise alone. Each time you claimed it was the last, trying to convince yourself that once Auston was back you would stop. But you never did.

You were throwing things around in the closet, looking for something specific when you found it, the item that caused everything you were haphazardly doing to come crashing to the surface. The small black box that should have been the beginning of a life with someone else.

You held the small, velvet box in your hands, tears blurring your vision as you opened it. The ring was everything you would have ever wanted. A simple, yet beautiful diamond staring back at you. The ring glistened, a shiny reminder of everything you had done the last six months, every time you emotionally and physically left your own relationship, telling yourself it didn’t mean anything. Telling yourself Auston was away, and you were lonely. The most heartbreaking thing about it was that he trusted you, he fully trusted you, and you took that trust and threw it as far as you could, at the time not caring about the consequences.

Tears blurred your vision as the reality of your mistakes set in. Auston loved you, wholeheartedly. He did all of the things that people do when they’re in love. He took you home, he brought you into his family, he wanted a life with you. He knew you, only to be disadvantaged by a career that prevented him from being around all the time. He hadn’t done anything wrong, and you wrecked him anyway. The worst part was that he had no idea about any of it. He didn’t know that you had slept with someone else. He didn’t know that you had been doing it behind his back for months. He didn’t know about the late phone calls, the secret meetings, who you brought into your bed while he was away. He didn’t know that your heart had left long before that.

You choked back a sob, carefully putting the ring back where you found it, knowing full well you had to tell him. You couldn’t marry him, not after what you had done in the last six months.

When he came home and tried to kiss you in greeting, you pulled back. You pushed his body back from you, eyes diverting away from his as you spoke.

“I found the ring.” You whispered.

“Shit, I mean that’s not how I wanted to give it to you, but-”

“I can’t marry you, Auston. I’ve been with someone else.” You couldn’t look at him, you couldn’t look at his face twist and his eyes fall. You couldn’t look at the personification of his heart shattering right in front of you even though it was your hand crushing it.

“Has he been here?” Auston pinched the bridge of his nose, his own tears starting to form clouds in his eyes, hoping more than anything that the answer was no.

“Yes.” All he saw was red as you said it.

“What do you do with these while he’s here fucking you in our bed?” He spoke, his voice dull and full of disappointment, grabbing the photo of the two of you from the bedside table, the one you carefully tucked away each time. You couldn’t stop the sobs coming from your body, pleading with Auston that you were sorry. That it didn’t mean anything, that you never wanted to hurt him, even though your words meant nothing at this point.

He threw the picture frame at the wall, glass shattering all over the floor, a final representation of the now nearly four-year relationship that you threw away one night at a bar six months ago. His eyes were red, tears flowing freely.

“How long?” He asked, covering his eyes with one hand trying to steady his own breathing. You made no move to answer him, instead of looking down at the ground. Shame and guilt filling your heart, Auston was nothing but good to you, and you threw it back in his face repeatedly, for months.

“How fucking long? He repeated, growing frustrated with your lack of an answer.

“November.” You whispered, fresh tears falling down your cheeks. Auston looked at you, then walked into the closet, throwing things around before coming back with what you assumed was the ring in his hand. He tossed the box onto the bed in front of you, looking at you like you’d never seen him look at anyone before.

“Here, you can have this. Fucking pawn it for all I care.” His voice was cold, a tenor you had never heard him use with anyone, let alone you, and you couldn’t even blame him for it, all you could blame was yourself.

He didn’t say anything to you as you packed a bag. He didn’t say anything as you cleaned up the shattered picture frame from the bedroom floor. Auston didn’t have anything left to say to you at all, his own mind was still trying to work out how he had missed it. How he could have been better to you so that you didn’t need to look for comfort from someone else. He didn’t say anything when you left that night, or when you came back a week later to move out the rest of your stuff, letting you walk out and take your mistakes with you.

He didn’t stay in that room anymore, instead, he slept in the guest room. When the season ended, he caught the first flight back to Arizona and didn’t look back. He spent four years looking back for you, and now he had to learn how to live with his own broken heart and the mess that you made.

You only saw Auston once after that, at a bar, nearly six months after. The guy you had cheated on him with had been long gone, and you had spent those six months trying to understand what you had done. You were trying to piece yourself back together with a guilty conscience and a hole in your chest that had you feeling lonelier than you ever thought you were capable of feeling.

You made eye contact and watched his face fall, turning quickly away from you back to whoever it was that he was with. You downed the rest of your drink and closed your tab, walking out and closing the chapter on the illicit affair you had for good, a drunken promise made to yourself in an attempt to never be as lost as you were again.

#auston matthews imagine #auston matthews fic #folklore series #nhl imagine #auston matthews

85 notes · View notes

phairfantooooom · 4 years

Text

Angsty Headcanons That Nobody Asked For

In which you fail. And you die to Belphie. Permanently.

Mammon

He was in denial and refused to believe what his heart was telling him

He was the first to discover you, he is the fastest of the brothers after all

He had raced up the stairs and didn’t even notice Belphie was even there when he barged into the room

When he saw your crumbled body laying on the floor in the attic something in him snapped.

He didn’t even realize he was crying as he clutched you to him. Quietly muttering to himself he begged, he pleaded, for you to wake up. You could yell and scream and insult him for ever agreeing to let you go do this alone but just please wake up.

“You weren’t suppose’d to leave me! You promised…. please…. please just open your eyes…”

When Mammon sees Belphie finally, he connects the dots quickly, as he remembered how Belphie felt toward humans.

“You. You did this didn’t you? You killed them.”

Anger and rage would fill him. And he would welcome it, he’d rather see red than see you not breathing

It’s only when Lucifer comes and stops him that the blinding anger begins to fade. And he hates it.

Mammon would refuse to accept your death and would try to figure out a way to get you back. It’s only when Lucifer sits him down much later on and has a serious talk with him that he finally gives up. It’s not a pretty scene. Lucifer’s heart breaks a bit when he sees just how much Mammon is suffering because of this.

It takes several sessions of talking before Mammon begins to even vaguely resemble his former self

He hoards the stuff from your room and keeps a picture of you in his wallet so that he can at least have a part of you with him always.

In the end he doesn’t truly recover from your death but will pretend he is okay to keep his brothers from worrying

Leviathan

Was eerily quiet when he saw you laying all too still on the floor

A part of him had clung to the small hope that you could be saved if he got to you fast enough

Memories of all the times he saw you smile and enjoy spending time with him flooded his head and his chest shuddered as a silent wave of despair flooded him

He’d never get to play or spend time with you anymore. He’d never get to watch those romance animes with you. He’d… he’d never…he’d never get to confess

“.....Dammit…. Dammit…”

When he learns that Belphie killed you his feelings toward him become icy.

“You… you killed the human… I hate you. I. Hate. You. You took away the bright stars in my dark night sky. You killed the person I loved!”

He would mourn alone for the most part. Anything you ever gave him will become a treasure that nobody, not even his brothers, would be allowed to touch

Becomes even more of a recluse and eventually stops having pets as they only remind him of when you and him raised one of the fish in his aquarium.

He struggles to get excited about things he would normally enjoy. Ruri-Chan has started to collect dust. His Mononoke Land account hasn’t been touched in months. He no longer goes out for idol concerts.

Time feels so slow and yet so fast. Days turn into weeks and weeks into months. Everyone else begins to recover and he just can’t. He can’t let go of you. You who showed him that little things in life can make him happy, and gave him confidence to pursue coding.

You left a hole in his heart that can’t be filled.

He doesn’t play games alot anymore, but has instead spent his time slowly starting to build an AI via his knowledge of coding. Anyone who sees it knows it’s supposed to be you, but nobody is brave enough to call him out on it.

Will sometimes cry himself to sleep while clinging onto your old uniforms and clothes, wishing desperately that you would come back to his side. To wake him up from this horrible nightmare.

Beel

Guilt.

So much guilt.

When he finds out what happened he actually struggled to get mad at Lucifer for containing Belphie.

After seeing you pale and lifeless, it was the first time he had ever felt his hunger vanish. In a way it was worse, as what replaced the hungry was a heart wrenching feeling like no other. He had no injuries but yet it felt as if someone had shoved a hot poker into his heart.

When Belphie gives him the whole “All Humans suck speech” and tries to laugh it off, Beel loses it.

“She wasn’t like them!”

Even as you grew cold in his arms he had gently stroked the top of your head and whispered a sorrow filled farwell into your ear.

Over the course of the coming weeks he would move into your room. Partially because he wanted to be closer to you and partially because he couldn’t stand to be near Belphie.

He does his best to keep your room clean and tidy, while not moving your things out of place. It looks as if you had never left, almost to the point that sometimes he can easily imagine you opening the door and resuming your life here in the Devildom.

His appetite never truly came back, his love of food diminishing as he would remember all the times you and him would cook together. Or when you would treat each other to Hell’s Kitchen.

He visits where you were buried once every two weeks, so he can replace the Lilys he leaves on your grave

Satan

Ahhh.

Very angry. And gets extremely close to killing Belphie. It’s only through Lucifer’s and Beel’s joined effort that they are able to calm him down to a civil level.

“You bastard of a brother! What the hell have you done?!”

His temper flares constantly at the very mention of Belphie.

He researches night and day to find a way to get you back. No matter the cost, no matter what he needed to do.

It’s only when Lucifer quietly asks him “Do you really think the human would want you to sacrifice everything just to bring them back?” that his resolve begins to crack.

Of course he knew you wouldn’t want to see him like this. But you had no idea how much it hurt to not have you there.

Every moment you're not there by his side is another moment he has failed you.

Eventually he breaks down due to fatigue and he just cries. He’s frustrated because nothing was working. He’s frustrated that everything is a dead end. He is frustrated that you aren’t by his side.

He just…. he wants to see your smile. He wants to see that soft look you get when you hold kittens. He wants to be able to hold you again….

Eventually He gets a small therapy kitten and he names it after you when he notices that it shares the same color of your eyes.

He vents out his pain in writing, and he writes in as much detail as he can of what he remembers of all the times he spent with you

He wants to make sure, above all else, that your memory thrives even if you aren’t by his side

Asmodus

Gets very pissy with Belphie

Reasonably so

Doesn’t realize what he is feeling is heartbreak, as he has never lost someone like this before

He misses you dearly, and oftentimes will use perfumes or cologne that reminds him of you

Unintentionally finds himself often reminiscing about you for weeks

One day he sees someone that vaguely looks like you and his heart nearly leaps out of his chest.

Immediately starts putting the moves on them but quickly realizes the differences between you and them.

The difference in pitch in their voice, the way they walk, the way that their eyes are a different color, the way they laugh. The more he observes the more he asks himself why he ever thought it was you.

He finds himself distraught. This had never happened before when any of his partners left him…. Something had to be done about this.

Attempts to banish you from his mind and goes clubbing.

His plan fails miserably.

Under the dim lights and thudding of the music he almost feels haunted by you, it was almost too easy for him to imagine you sitting and waving at him from the bar with that soft smile on your face.

He gets drunk. Veryyyyy drunk.

When he gets home he ends up just going to Belphie and venting his frustrations.

“This is your fault! Do you have ANY idea how much your actions have hurt ME?!”

Before things could escalate, Lucifer comes and defuses it

After this Amso doesn’t go out socializing anymore. He feels awful everytime he does since you're not with him. And he swears that sometimes he sees you out under the glimmering lights and it reminds him of what he has lost.

He hoards all of the pictures of you he has, and when he has a bad day he goes through them one at a time.

“Even if you are no longer by my side, I will treasure you always.”

Belphie

Mr. Killer himself.

Could not give less than two shits about who you were and what you hoped to achieve

He would have kicked your corpse an extra time if he had known that you’d made Beel care about you.

When the brothers found him he had at least thought Beel, HIS TWIN, would side with him. But nooooo. Because of your meddling you had made him seem like a monster.

“Stupid human, you had no right to stick your nose where it didn’t belong.”

Didn’t understand why the other brothers held you in such high regard, and didn’t care to learn why

Until one day when he was in the House of Lamentation by himself

Everyone had been invited to a Gala at the Castle. Each of the brothers had been personally invited by Diavolo. Save for him, who was under house arrest for his actions.

Boredom struck and he found himself wandering around the house looking for something to do when he strolled past your room.

When the brothers were home they never allowed him to go in. They feared that he would destroy your belongings, and they would lose the last remaining things that were proof of your existence here in the Devildom.

Smirking to himself he made his way inside without a care in the world. Sure the other brothers may have cared for you, but he sure as hell didn’t.

He snooped around your room for a bit before sitting down at your desk.

“How boring…. don’t you have any secrets in here…?”

As if granting his wish he saw a leather bound notebook sitting behind a bunch of Devildom Law textbooks.

Quickly reading through the contents of the smaller book he realized that it was a Journal.

Completely filled with your private thoughts.

Believing he had struck gold he took the Journal back with him to his room and lazily sprawled out on his bed. All he had to do was just dig up whatever disgusting trash you were hiding and then he would be once more in everyone’s good graces. After all it’s not as if some stupid humans privacy matters to him.

And so he read.

And read.

He firmly believed that you had to have been hiding something, some dreadful secret. But the more he read, the more he began to have this strange feeling in his gut.

Your entries were normal, er well normal of a student going to a school full of demons, and occasionally you had placed photographs of some of the events you talked about.

One of them was a TSL competition with Levi. Another was a selfie of you and Beel at Hell’s Kitchen. There was a keychain stuck between two pages from a trip with Mammon, Satan, and Lucifer to London. There was even a candid shot of a pillow fight with Diavolo and Asmo.

Forgetting that this was your life written in ink, he read more and more about the lives his brothers had led in his absence.

It wasn’t until he laughed at something you wrote that he realized how comfortable he had gotten with the idea of you.

He nearly trashed the Journal after he realized that.

But…. something stopped him.

A while later he’d resume reading. Curious about your adventures… and…

He wanted to know what you thought about him.

Before long he found the entry where you had written about him and he felt his breath hitch.

Why did your opinion of him matter so much?

His fingers touched the inked lines and his jaw clenched as he read the last entry.

You had trusted him.

You who had held no prejudice against demons had trusted him wholeheartedly.

And what had he done?

He had killed you, without a second thought.

He had even enjoyed it.

The dam he didn’t know he had been hiding behind broke, and all the regret he had been burying since he had started reading your Journal had suddenly rushed to the surface.

He hadn’t noticed he had been crying until he saw the wet blots hit the paper and smudge your words.

“I…. what have I done…. I’m so sorry….”

Lucifer

The calmest of the brothers

Outwardly, at least

Internally he wanted to rip out Belphies throat because how dare he

Doesn’t express how much it hurts to have lost you, he needs to be strong. Both for himself and for his brothers.

The tragedy of being the eldest is that he was the role model. His actions would reflect on himself and his brothers. So his reactions are more forced rather than natural.

Diavolo often tries to coax Lucifer into opening up about it but fails everytime.

“If you really cared, you would bring her back, Lord Diavolo.”

Tension between Diavolo and Lucifer gets… bad. The anger and growing resentment toward the heir of the throne only got worse with time, and eventually Lucifer stepped down from his position with Satan taking his place.

He often goes to your old room and locks himself inside, thinking to himself. The brothers are actually a bit nervous every time this happens because they expect that this time Lucifer will finally snap and they will have to deal with an enraged Avatar of Pride. But it never does so it relieves them and makes them stressed at the same time.

But eventually...

It happens

Diavolo comes by to collect the remains of your belongings, with the intent of sending them back to the human world, to your family and friends

Lucifer sees him collecting your stuff and he fucking snaps

“If you value your life you will cease this at once.”

Before Diavolo can summon Barbatos to his side, Lucifer had managed to grab the prince by the throat. His form had changed to that of his demon self, and his eyes were mad from grief and anger.

There is a brief moment of struggle on Diavolo’s behalf followed by Lucifer leaning uncomfortably close with an aura of unbridled fury.

“You will bring her back, I know you are able to. And you will. Why? Because if you don’t I will rampage through this kingdom of yours until there is nothing but ashes left in my wake.”

#Obey Me #Obey Me Headcanon #Obey Me Lucifer #Obey Me Mammon #Obey Me Leviathan #Obey Me Beel #Obey Me Asmodus #Obey Me Satan #Obey Me Belphie #no beta we die like men

484 notes · View notes

mollymauk-teafleak · 4 years

Note

“don’t do that. don’t shut me out.” + Jupeter

I wrote this for @spiky-lesbian because she’s had a rough week so here’s some angst babe, go figure

----------

“I’m getting too old for this.”

Juno was pretty sure PIs were supposed to think that sort of thing when they were doing something cool and dangerous, like leaping the gap between the cars of a moving train or ducking behind crates at a harbour to avoid laser fire.

Rather than crawling on their stomachs to get their pet sewer rabbit’s favourite ball out from behind the sofa. But hey, it was his day off.

Then again, Small Fry did look delighted when he straightened back up with a loud groan and the cracking of some vertebrae, whiffling her nose and hopping excitedly, shaking the floorboards of their little apartment. Smiling fondly, Juno threw the ball off down the hallway so she could chase it, squeaking happily.

“Next time that happens I’m not getting it out for you! You can go make goo goo eyes at your daddy for a change,” he called after her, brushing dust from his curls and his shirt. But the smile didn’t fade from his face, even after she had rounded the corner to go and cause mischief somewhere else. Anyone who said keeping a massive sewer rabbit in a modest Hyperion apartment was a bad idea was just too afraid of cleaning up the occasional broken lamp or gnaw marks on the walls.

He was about to straighten back up and go back to the book he’d been reading, he got so little time to do things like that these days but his husband was still at work, the boys were asleep and Bianca was happily playing in her room, giving him a rare hour or two to himself that he didn’t want to waste. He was mildly tempted to crack the lock on the drawer where Nureyev stowed away any case files he brought home so he couldn’t continue working himself ragged outside of his own office but, contrary to the size of the lock and the dedication with which his husband hid the key, he really was getting better at giving himself time off.

After all, it had been a hell of a long time since work was the only thing he had to keep him going.

He was about to do that when something else behind the sofa caught his eye, something that wasn’t just a toy of Bee Bee’s that she’d forgotten or one of Small Fry’s hordes of left socks that she liked to build nests out of. He was about to sigh and mutter something about the wonders of having three kids being that you’d find trash in the weirdest places but something wary ran its way down his spine. Something that was maybe instinct, maybe his detective brain putting pieces together and proving yet again that the years spent theoretically on the other side of law and order hadn’t dampened his skills.

Whatever it was, it made him reach out, once again feeling the twinge in the base of his spine, using his hip to nudge the couch further out so he could snag it and bring it out.

It was a small bag, something designed to be inconspicuously held at the waist or over the shoulder, dark in colour so it wouldn’t catch the eye. Juno frowned, the wariness growing stronger as he sat on the couch and opened it up.

He recognised the precision and fastidiousness immediately, like it was rolling off it in waves like too much perfume. It was in the way everything was crammed in so tight there wasn’t a spare inch of space, everything chosen for its shape and size so it would go in seamlessly like a game of tetris. It was in the items themselves, every possible scenario accounted for; dried rations, iodine pills to purify water, vouchers for shuttle tickets that would take you anywhere in the galaxy, tightly rolled stacks of genuine honest to god Earth currency to take you even further than that, no questions asked, clothes folded so tightly they looked like napkins at first. And, in an even more closely concealed pocket on the inside seam, fake documents, fake IDs, fake cards loaded up with fake creds.

And a knife. If Juno had been entertaining any doubts, any lingering threads of uncertainty, then seeing his tired reflection in that razor edge snipped them neatly away.

He sighed, long and low, filing through the emotions rising in his chest, sending away any that he knew weren’t helpful or were just offshoots of his anxiety, counting backwards from ten like Buddy had shown him until all the messiness sorted itself out.

He didn’t pick his book back up. He watched the clock and waited for his husband to come home.

Nureyev really enjoyed working at the salon. He kept waiting, expecting to get bored or frustrated with it all, but it hadn’t happened yet. He just laughed at the conversations with his colleagues more and more, got more familiar with the smell of hairspray on his clothes and felt a small spark of pride at the ache in his ankles at the end of a long day.

It was enough to make him feel something approaching hope.

He slid off his shoes, not wanting to track any dust from outside into the apartment. Living on Mars had meant needing to get used to the fine red silt clinging to his soles every day and turning up in the most inconvenient places, no matter how careful he tried to be. Juno, the Aurinkos and Rita barely even seemed to notice it. Nureyev assumed that came from growing up with the stuff.

The apartment was surprisingly quiet, enough that he was already getting ideas before he walked into the living room and saw his wife sitting on the sofa.

“What exactly have you done with our children, my love?” he grinned, “Bought us some alone time?”

Juno started a little at his voice, even though he should have heard him come in, the door closing, his keys rattling into the bowl. And when his eye lifted and met Nureyev’s, it was immediately clear that his ideas had been far off the mark.

“Yeah, Rita has them,” Juno’s voice was even, not full of scowls and snarls as usual, not in any way a ‘we’re in serious trouble’ voice but Nureyev’s veins still flooded with adrenaline as he rooted to the spot, a discordant clashing in his ears, “I did want to have some time with just you and me.”

“And yet you’re still dressed?” Nureyev was a little impressed with himself, how his tone came out still perfectly light and joking, like he wasn’t completely gripped by panic and his brain wasn’t scribbling blue prints behind his eyes.

It would seem hairdressing hadn’t lost him all of his skills.

“Babe, listen,” Juno sat forward, eye gentle, “Just come and sit with me, okay? Nothing’s wrong, nothing bad has happened or anything like that. I just want to talk.”

Nureyev frowned. Maybe he had lost his skills a little. Or maybe they’d just never worked on Juno.

But he did sit, stiffly, still braced for something awful in spite of his wife’s reassurance. And when Juno wordlessly produced one of his getaway bags and set it on the coffee table between them, he was ready to run.

But Juno didn’t let the moment build, he didn’t keep him hanging. He simply sighed and reached across the gap between them to take his hand.

“Peter, I’m sorry.”

“What?” Nureyev looked up, certain he must have misheard.

But Juno’s expression was firmly set in penance, mouth turned down, brow fallen across his eye which was soft and sad, “I never once asked you if you were struggling to adjust to the way our lives are now. I never thought to check in with you. I let you down in that and I’m sorry.”

“I...what?” Nureyev was well aware he was falling short of his usual articulation but no more words were coming in to fill the blank gap in his mind, “You’re not...you’re not upset with me?”

Juno frowned a little, shaking his head, “No. No, why would I be?”

“Because…” Laughter, of all things, raw edged and disbelieving bubbled up in his chest, “Because the only thing to take from this is that I’m insane or I was going to leave you?”

“Are either of those things why you’ve got these bags?” Juno asked evenly.

Nureyev winced, “You found the others?”

“No but I know you enough to assume.”

Nureyev took a shaky breath, “I’m not leaving you. And...and I don’t know whether I’m insane or not, honestly.”

The sadness in Juno's eye deepened and he squeezed his husband’s hand, “I don’t think you are but we need to talk about this. What exactly were you trying to prepare for with these?”

“I...I don’t know…” Nureyev didn’t like this one bit, this reversal of their usual roles, Juno being so calm and collected and even while he sat here struggling to leash his emotions, “Nothing! I...I wasn’t…”

Juno exhaled, something cracking through his calm, “Don’t do that. Nureyev, please, don’t shut me out. That’s the one thing I need you not to do right now.”

Nureyev felt his throat close and he couldn’t have said anything if his life depended on it. He didn’t want to shut his wife out, he really didn’t, but it was so hard to unlearn something that had been your first line of defence since childhood.

But if there was anyone who understood that, it was Juno.

“Listen, Nureyev, there’s no answer you can give me that will make me angry with you or upset me. I just want you to feel safe here with me and with the kids and...finding this, it’s just made me worry that you don’t?”

Nureyev forced his lungs to pull in air and turn it into words, determined to not be the man who had shut Juno out for years, the man who had packed those bags.

“I do feel safe here, I am happy here,” he promised, feeling the truth of it and drawing strength from that, “It’s just been so long since I stayed in one place, since...since I could feel safe. And sometimes it feels like another cover I’m wearing for a little while, like something’s going to change and I’ll have to run again. And I guess I just wanted to prepare for that, even if it isn’t what I want. Even if I’m praying it never happens, I just can’t let myself be unprepared. It’s not how I was raised. And having those bags...I can breathe a little easier. I can settle into this more because even if the absolute worst thing happens, I’ll survive.”

Juno nodded slowly, eye never leaving his husband’s face, “Nureyev, we both knew this was going to be a change. And change is hard, even if it’s for the better. And if this helps you settle down, I’m fine with that.”

“But I’m not,” Nureyev croaked, wanting to wipe his eyes so the tears there didn’t fall but also not wanting to let go of Juno’s hand, “I don’t want to live my life like it’s not mine. This isn’t a cover, it’s my family and my home and I want to feel like that.”

Juno squeezed his fingers, “This is yours, Nureyev. I’m your wife and they’re our kids and this is our home. No one is taking any of this from us, I promise. And if you need me to remind you of that, I will, every single damn day for the rest of our lives if that's what you need. And it fucking sucks that everything you’ve lived up until now is telling you different.”

“Yeah,” Nureyev mumbled, the tears falling and dripping off his nose now but they hit Juno’s hands before his own and he didn’t flinch, “It does.”

“Come here…” Juno murmured, pulling him close, wrapping his arms around him as their bodies fit themselves together, “You can cry, it’s okay.”

Nureyev did. Because he believed Juno when he told him it was.

They spent the rest of their rare evening alone pulling out all of the getaway bags Nureyev had stowed over the first week of their retirement from the Carte Blanche, all of the stockpiles of food as well, everything he’d hidden underneath their new life with Mag’s voice and the voice of a hungry child guiding his hands. They didn’t get rid of it, he wasn’t ready for that yet, but it went into a box under their bed instead.

And Juno still told him he was proud of him.

Nureyev thought there was always going to be that part of him that had Mag’s rules in it’s mind and a constant hunger in its belly. All he could ever do was fold it up as small as he could make it and find space for it in the back of his brain.

But with Juno’s arm around him and red dust on the soles of his shoes, that felt easier than it ever had before.

#jupeter #tpp #the penumbra podcast #post canon #angst #hurt/comfort #angst prompts #juno steel #peter nureyev

68 notes · View notes

waitimcomingtoo · 5 years

Note

Hello darling! Currently obsessed with your writing! Srsly best seller list is shaking. Could I possibly request a peter Parker x reader where she falls asleep on peter while he’s doing homework at his desk and may walks in and it’s just cute and fluffy? Idk run with it. Thank you for existing!!💕

thank you!!

A Soft Place to Land

Pairing: Best Friend Peter Parker x Reader

Synopsis: Aunt May finds you and Peter in a compromising position

Masterlist

Requests are CLOSED

“PP.” You cut off your own sentence with a yawn. “Do you have your physics notebook?”

Peter swiveled in his chair and looked at you. You were sprawled out on his bed, lying on your tummy with your laptop in front of you, eyes dropping from exhaustion. Peters own textbooks and papers were strewn across the bed, bordering your body like an outline of chalk. Peter couldn’t help but smile at the sight, knowing his sheets would smell your perfume once you went home.

“I do.” Peter confirmed. “Do you need it?”

“Would you mind if I copied your notes? Mr. Brighton writes too fast and I missed the section on force.” You said slowly, signaling to Peter that you were beyond tired.

“No problem.” Peter smiled kindly and tossed his notebook at you. You failed to catch it and were hit in the face at full speed, letting out a surprised “oof.” Peter winced at his mistake.

“Oops.” He grimaced. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.” You laughed tiredly. “Woke me up a little.” You yawned again, this time turning away and disguising it into your shoulder so Peter wouldn’t see.

“Y/n, you should take a nap.” Peter suggested out of concern for you and your wellbeing, the only thing he was ever really concerned with. “I’ll move my stuff to the desk. You can sleep in my bed.”

Peters choice of words sent him back to another moment in time.

Peter saw you through you window and collapsed onto your fire escape. You were working diligently at your desk, and Peter hated the idea of taking you away from your work, but he needed you. Only you. Too weak to raise his arm, he hit his forehead against your window until it caught your attention.

“PP?” You asked in a hushed voice as you rushed to your window and opened it as quickly as you could. “How did you get up here? Did you climb the fire escape?”

“Not exactly.” Peter said with a pained smile as you helped him inside.

“What does ‘not exactly’ mean?” You asked, sounding like a parent as you sat Peter down on your bed. Peter gingerly sat down, wincing with every movement. He felt your heart rate pick up and he berated himself for worrying you.

“I climbed next to the fire escape.” Peter said sluggishly.

“On the wall?” You laughed, not believing him. You finally noticed how badly he was beaten. In the soft glow of your desk lamp, you could see bruises on Peters knuckles and under his eyes. He was sweaty and dirty, and definitely did not come from decathlon practice like he said he did. “What happened?” You asked calmly.

“I found the guy who killed Uncle Ben.” Peter have you a half hearted smile. It’d been three months since Peters uncle was shot right in front of him. Peter didn’t speak about it. He didn’t mention his name, or what happened. His casual drop of his deceased uncles name made You filly realize the extent of the situation. Peter was hurt, badly, and he had come to you. This wasn’t the time for questions. This was the time to help Peter.

“Okay.” You said calmly, looking into Peters tired eyes and giving him a comforting look. You sat down on the bed and placed a hand in his knee. “You found the guy who killed uncle Ben.” You repeated, so he knew you heard him.

“But he also found me.” Peter mumbled before collapsing forward into your arms. He was in and out of consciousness as you caught him and gently laid him on your bed, resting him against the headboard.

“Stay there.” You commanded, though he physically couldn’t disobey you. He couldn’t move. He let his aching body rest against your soft sheets, knowing they’d smell like his cologne when he went home. Peter opened one eye, the eye that wasn’t swollen shut, and watched you. You were in sleep shorts and an oversized decathlon t-shirt, looking as beautiful as ever. You paced back and forth around, collecting various things to patch Peter up. Your makeup free face was full of concern, which made Peters heart ache. Coincidentally, it was the only part of him not currently aching. He didn’t want you to worry. It wasn’t your responsibility. But he had no where else to go.

“Okay.” You said with medical supplies stacked up to your chin. “This is all I got.”

Peter wanted to tell you that it was more than enough, but he only had the strength for a weak, “Thank you.”

“Shh. Don’t waste your energy.” You hushed up as you propped him up against your headboard again, since he had begun to slouch. He wanted to take some of the work off of you, but could only be moved around like a rag doll. He gave you a grateful smile. In your eyes, it was enough.

“I’m gonna have to…um.” Your eyes darted down to his chest. He was wearing a huge, old fashioned looking brown jacket over some light blue sweat pants and red water shoes. Had he been in better condition, you would’ve questioned his outfit. Peter looked into your eyes and gave you a tired nod. You didn’t recognize the look in his eyes. He looked almost fearful, and a little hesitant. You unbuttoned his large jacket and slid it off his shoulders. You folded it neatly, noticing the initials “BFP” on the tag. So it was Bens, you thought. He was running around the city, in the dead of night, getting beat up in Bens jacket. You gave Peter a sorrowful look before your eyes trailed down to what was under the jacket. He wore a red hoodie with a spider drawn on it in sharpie. The sleeves were cut out and blue sleeves to match his sweatpants were poorly sewn in.

“Y/n-“ Peter croaked.

“I understand.” You cut him off. You looked him in the eyes and gave him a gentle smile. Your eyes told him that you were telling the truth. “You don’t have to explain anything to me until you’re ready. All that matters to me is getting you patched up, okay?”

“Okay.” Peter said weakly, wishing he could say more. He had so much he wanted to tell you. So much.

“I’m gonna have to unzip it now.” You warned him. “Is that okay?”

Peter gave you another nod. Not wanting to make the situation anymore awkward, you quickly unzipped the hoodie and slid it off his shoulders. Peters normally scrawny body was replaced with a six pack of abs. You gulped and felt your face heat up, hoping he couldn’t tell.

He could.

A deep gash, likely from a knife, was in his lower abdomen. He had other miscellaneous cuts and bruises covering his body. He was in bad shape, worse than you thought, but nothing you couldn’t fix. Your eyes slowly trailed up his body and met his eyes. Peter was staring at you, desperate to read your reaction.

“Are you scared?” He whispered. You laughed lightly and shook your head.

“Of you, PP? You wish.” You teased. You dampened a Cotton ball with hydrogen peroxide and gently dabbed it on the gash. It wasn’t deep enough to need stitches, and almost looked like it was healing in its own. You then applied some Neosporin and one by one, adhered a pink Hello Kitty band aid to the cut until it was covered. Peter noticed your choice of band aids and laughed, sending an ache through his chest.

“Cute.” He smiled.

“I couldn’t find the dinosaur ones.” You genuinely apologized, making Peters heart grow fonder for you.

“It’s okay.” Peter said, using all that was left if his strength to brush stray hair away from your face. You looked at him as he did it, and leaned into his hand. Peter smiled, grateful that through it all, he was still PP to you, the dumb nickname you gave him when you were kids when you couldn’t pronounce “Peter.”

“Should I be worried about you?” You whispered, your fingertips brushing his hand before closing you hand around his wrist, keeping his palm on your cheek.

“If I say no, will you be worried anyway?” Peter asked, feeling a little strength return.

“I’ll always worry about you, PP.” You said sincerely.

“I promise, I’ll explain it all one day.” Peter swore. You seemed content with his answer.

“Whenever you’re ready.” You told him as you tilted his chin towards your face. Peter froze, thinking you were going to kiss him. Instead, you pulled out a Cotten swab and gently dabbed it on the cut on Peters lip. A plus side to his powers, hydrogen peroxide didn’t sting anymore. After cleaning the cut, you leaned in to blow on it. Your puckered lips were almost touching Peters. Peter gulped and did his best to keep his pulse from getting to crazy. You then dabbed some Neosporin on his lip and got to work on the rest of his cuts.

Peter fell asleep in the middle of you playing nurse. When he woke up, he was in your biggest shirt, and a loose pair of sweatpants he’d seen your brother wearing before. He was fully under your covers now, and resting comfortably against your pillow. He slowly opened his eyes and saw you sitting at your desk.

“Y/n?” He called out, making you turn around.

“Yes, PP?” You said.

“I’m Spider-Man.” Peter admitted. His mouth moved faster than his brain. He didn’t think it through. He just told you.

“No.” You said sarcastically, and shot him a smile. Peter felt relived at your reaction.

“I feel better now. I can head home.” He groaned, and painfully tried to sit up. You rushed to his side and tried to get him to lie down again.

“You’re not going anywhere.” You laughed at his absurdity. “I texted May from your phone and said you were sleeping at Ned’s.”

“But I’m not.” Peter pointed out.

“I know.” You rolled your eyes. “You’re sleeping here.”

“Y/n, you don’t have to do that. That’s too much to ask.” Peter protested your hospitality.

“You’re not asking. I’m telling you.” You assured Peter. “And of course I do. You’re my best friend. And May can’t see you like this. You’re gonna stay here tonight.” You told him, absentmindedly tucking him in. Peter laughed at you slipping into motherly behavior. “You can sleep in my bed.”

“I can’t.” You said, breaking Peter away from the memory. “I have to finish this essay.”

“What you have to do is get some sleep.” Peter insisted, throwing a paper ball at you when he noticed you beginning to doze off. “How many hours did you get last night?”

“Dunno.” You said sleepily, resting your tired head on your hand. “One-teen.”

“One-teen?” Peter asked in concern.

“Mhm.” You nodded, head drooping further and further down until your arm slipped out from under you and you face planted into your textbook. “Maybe it was twelve-ty.”

“Y/n, you’re making me worried.” Peter chewed his bottom lip.

“The static on the TV makes you worried.” You pointed out.

“Because it makes a scary sound.” Peter defended. “Don’t change the subject. You need to get some sleep.”

“Sleep is for the weak.” You yawned.

“That can’t be true, because you’re the strongest person I know.” Peter quipped.

“Even stronger than that guy you fought who was made of sand?” You asked with hooded eyes.

“Yes, because he was made of sand.” Peter deadpanned.

“Mmm.” You laughed sleepily. “Sand. Yummy.”

“Okay, now I know you’re exhausted if you think sand is yummy.” Peter said, amazed that you were still in denial.

“What did you say, honey?” You murmured.

“No, not honey.” Peter laughed, cheeks hearing up at the accidental pet name. “I said yummy.”

“What’s funny?” You asked, now purposely misunderstanding him.

“Oh my goodness.” Peter laughed again. “Have you slept at all this week?”

“I have no time.” You sighed, eyes reluctantly going back to your essay.

“I can finish this essay for you.” Peter offered.

“I can’t ask you to do that.” You informed him.

“You’re not asking. I’m telling you.” Peter repeated your words from that night, wondering if you recalled that memory too.

“No, PP. You have your own work you need to do.” You insisted.

“My stuff isn’t due until next week.” Peter reminded you. “You always take care of me. Let me take care of you. Just this once.”

You seemed to consider his offer. “I won’t let you do my actual essay, because that’s cheating, but I’ll allow you to help me.”

“Fine by me.” Peter shrugged.

“Okay.” You gave in and went over to where he was sitting at his desk. “Scoot.”

Peter moved over in his swivel chair and let you share the seat with him. You rested your back against the arm rest and laid your legs on top of his before handing him your laptop. “I have my thesis statement and everything else, but I have no idea if it’s even coherent. It feels a little messy.”

“Here’s what I do.” Peter began to explain how he structured his essays. About halfway though his explanation, he felt pressure on his shoulder. You had rested your head there and were listening to him with a content smile.

“Keep going. I’m listening.” You assured him, letting out another yawn after. Peter kept going and soon picked up on your breathing slowing down. You stretched a little, your nose brushing his jawline and ended up even deeper in the crook of his neck. You began to lazily play with the buttons on his button down.

“Alright.” Peter said softly, not trusting his voice to be steady. “Then, I draw back to my thesis and make a connection. It should be a very obvious connection so that the person reading it-“ Peter stopped when he heard the soft whistle of your breath. He carefully adjusted himself and wrapped an arm around you, just so his arm wouldn’t fall asleep, or at least that’s what he told himself. He also didn’t want you to slip and fall off the chair. You ended up snuggling deeper into his side and throwing an arm around his waist. Peter smiled to himself and pulled your laptop in front of him. He revised your work and nodded in approval. You didn’t have much left, just needing proofreading. Peter took his time reading your essay, editing what needed to be fixed and making some corrections. He finished in about half an hour and emailed it to your teacher. He then picked up your planner and looked at what else you needed to get done. In your signature handwriting, was the following:

Write essay Copy(steal) PP’s physics notes Find quote for English project

Peter checked the time, and then your sleeping face. It was 11 now, and your curfew was 12. He could copy his notes into your notebook and find a quote in under an hour. He’d be damned if he couldn’t. And so, Peter took out your black marble notebook with the little Spider-Man stickers and began to copy his notes down. As he worked with his right hand, his left hand rubbed soothing circles onto your back. You let out soft noises in your sleep, that Peter found it hard not to fawn over. He got halfway through copying when he door opened.

“Are you guys-,” May said at full volume until Peter held a finger to his lips. A pretty harsh finger, one might add. May grimaced and nodded. “Are you guys alright? Need anything from me?” She said in a softer tone.

“We’re okay.” Peter whispered back. “I gotta get her home soon.”

“How long has she been out?” May asked.

“About an hour.” Peter replied.

“And how much sleep had she been getting?” May sighed, knowing you and your habits.

“None.” Peter sighed as well. “I don’t want to wake her so I’ll probably swing her back home, if that’s alright.”

“But that means you’ll have to swing back alone.” May reminded him. “I thought you hated swinging that late?”

Peter shrugged. “It’s okay. I’d rather get her home safely. That’s all that matters.”

“You’re a good boyfriend.” May smirked, already anticipated her nephews reaction. “Holding her while she sleeps and helping her with her work.”

“I’m not her boyfriend.” Peter said quickly, and a little too loudly, causing you to stir in your sleep and hug Peter a little tighter. “I’m her best friend, who’s a boy. Not her boyfriend. There’s a difference.”

“Is there?” May squinted her eyes.

“Yes.” Peter stated. “She doesn’t think of me like that.”

“But you think of her like that.” May said, as more of a statement than a question.

“Yes.” Peter nodded, then shut his eyes tightly. “I mean, no. No. She’s my friend.”

“Right. Of course.” May said sweetly. “Girlfriend.” She added under her breath.

“What was that?” Peter snapped.

“Peter, this is nothing to be ashamed of. You’re growing. Your body is flourishing now. It’s okay if your Peter tingle tingles just for her.” May teased.

“Please stop saying “tingle” May.” Peter groaned.

“All I’m saying is, I fell in love with my best friend too once.” May held up her hands in defense.

“Oh yeah?” Peter said sarcastically. “Then what happened?”

“Then I became Mrs. Parker.” May smiled.

Peter fell silent, focusing only on your breathing as he absentmindedly twirled your hair around his finger.

“May?” He said softly.

“Yes, Peter?” May answered.

“What do I do if she doesn’t feel the same?” Peter wondered out loud. It was his biggest fear. Him, finding the courage to tell you how he feels, and you rejecting him. Saying something like “aw, PP, you know I love you but-“ and then some recycled rejection that would utterly devastate Peter as he nodded along with a smile. He couldn’t bear the thought.

“Do you know how she feels?” May asked, knowing a little more than Peter. She had an outsider perspective on your relationship. She saw all the stolen glances and lingering looks that you two didn’t catch.

“Yes.” Peter huffed. May tilted her head to the side.

“Did you ask?” She continued.

“No.” Peter said sheepishly, knowing the point his aunt was trying to make.

“Then you don’t know.” May told him.

“We’ve been best friends for years. She would’ve said something by now if she felt that way about me.” Peter defended.

“Have you said something?” May folded her arms.

“No.” Peter said harshly, before realizing what May was trying to say.

“Then why would you expect her to?” May delivered the final blow. Peter knew he had lost the argument.

“I don’t like it when you get all omnipotent on me.” Peter grumbled. He looked at your sleeping face and sighed. He wanted to tell you. He did. And he wanted more times like this. He’d hold you every night if he could.

“That’s what aunts are for.” May smiled in triumph. Peter was quiet again.

“May?” He said finally.

“Yes, Peter?” She asked, having a feeling where he was going with it.

“I feel that way.” He admitted, without taking his eyes off your notes. “About her.”

“I know you do, Peter.” May nodded in understanding. She could tell her nephew had feelings for you long before he knew it himself.

“What do I do?” Peter asked, looking up sadly at May.

“Talk to her. You’ll know where to go from there.” May advised.

“And if I don’t?” Peter asked.

“She’ll know.” May said with an all knowing smile. She blew Peter a goodnight kiss and shut the door quietly. You stirred at the sound and slowly took your head off Peters shoulder. He went back to his work and pretended he never stopped it as you stretched.

“What time is it, PP?” You asked through a yawn.

“Quarter after 11.” Peter answered you, speaking in a low tone so you didn’t get startled.

“I gotta get home soon.” You sighed and adjusted your position, never taking your legs off his lap. You stretched towards the sky, but wrapped your seams around Peters neck this time when you finished. He felt his ears burn at your half asleep action. You were always clingy when you were tired, and right now, you were exhausted.

“I’ll swing you back.” Peter offered, pretending to be fully invested on your notes and not on the way your breath tickled his neck.

“You don’t have to.” You told him as you rubbed your eyes.

“And let you walk home in the dark all alone? I don’t think so.” Peter sounded almost insulted, but still had his signature playful tone.

You laughed lightly and rested your head back on Peters shoulder. He didn’t complain. He’d been missing the warmth you created.

“May was right.” You said quietly through a sleepy smile. Peter was a good boyfriend, you thought.

“What was that?” Peter asked. He had heard, but didn’t know what you meant.

“Nothing. Just a dream I had.” You shrugged and sighed in his ear, sending a shiver down his spine.

“Oh.” Peter said, not sure what else to say.

“Do you ever have those dreams that make you wake up with crushes on people you didn’t think you’d have a crush on?” You asked him, feeling a little more awake. The nap had helped, though you’d never admit it to Peter.

“Yeah, I do. Is that what you had? Do you have a crush on a boy at school?” Peter asked, jealously seeping into him like water through a crack in a boat.

“Kind of.” You nodded. “I had a dream a boy confessed his feelings for me, but not to me.”

“Oh.” Peter said simply. “How do you feel now?”

“Disappointed.” You laughed sadly.

“You’re disappointed that the boy likes you?” Peter said, barely covering up the sadness in his voice. He knew he was the boy. You must’ve heard the conversation with May in your sleep and thought you dreamed it.

“No.” You shook your head with a sleepy smile. “I’m disappointed that it was only a dream.”

Peter as quiet for awhile, thinking about what May had told him. “Y/n, I have to tell you something.” Peter looked you in your tired eyes. He nervously drummed his fingers on your leg.

“I wasn’t dreaming, PP, was I?” You realized suddenly. You looked to Peter for answers, who had that same look in his eyes as he did that night. Fearful, and a little hesitant.

“I like you, okay?” Peter admitted, knowing he was backed into a corner. “I like you and I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?” You furrowed your eyebrows.

“Because I’m supposed to be your best friend. I’m meant to be a soft place for you to land. I’m not supposed to be complicating your life and adding to your stress by developing feelings for you.” Peter said softly.

“This doesn’t complicate my life.” You said pointedly as you put your hands on his cheeks and made him look at you. “This only makes it better.”

“You like me?” Peter asked, wondering now if he was the one dreaming. “You like me, like me?”

“I do.” You smiled, your gaze dropping to his lips quickly before coming back up to meet his eyes. “Are you gonna make my dream come true, PP?”

Tag List 🏷

@maybemona @sunrise-shawn @meghan-8520xx @writing-for-hours-on-end @lavender-writer

#peter parker fanfiction #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #spiderman x reader #spider man: homecoming #peter parker fluff #peter parker #peter parker x best friend!reader #best friend!peter parker x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you #tom holland x reader #endgame rerelease #iron man #eddie brock #spiderman x y/n

7K notes · View notes

elsanna-shenanigans · 3 years

Text

April Contest Submission #4: Stupid For You

Words: ca. 6,100 Setting: Modern AU Lemon: No CW: None

Anna adjusts her car visor to block out as much of the sun as possible. Just because the weather feels nice enough to keep her windows down, doesn’t mean she’ll allow the sun cook her through the windshield.

It’s 2:25 PM on a Friday. Back in college, she would have been powering through her final class of the week, racing back to her dorm on her longboard, changing into her pajamas, and replaying the entire Mass Effect trilogy for the fifth time. Now, she spends it idling in the parking lot of West Arendelle Elementary, breathing in exhaust fumes from other idling cars, and pitifully swiping through a dating app.

And to be honest, she might like this routine a little more.

But only because, in a couple of minutes the bell will ring and her favorite ten-year-old will burst through the front doors, skip down to her car, and tap on the passenger windows with both hands.

Not that…she knows any other ten-year-olds, she only knows this one. She doesn’t have like a top ten list of favorite children.

Anyway yeah.

Anna presses against the corner of a parking sticker peeling off at the bottom of her windshield, knowing she’ll have to get a new one soon. The sound of her phone buzzing grabs her attention, and a little bit of hope rises in her as she checks the notification. Unfortunately, it’s just a text from her mother saying not to park behind her when she gets back home.

Anna grumbles, “I swear there’s like zero lesbians in this entire freaking city.”

She’s saved from her petty lamenting by the forementioned bell, and suddenly the barren entrance of the elementary school is buzzing with activity as children pour out of the doors in droves. Some are running, some are walking slowly with their group of friends, but only one of them is skipping.

Or at least Anna could only see one skipping since she wasn’t focusing on any other kid.

Gleefully making her way to Anna’s car is a little girl in a bright-blue skirt, a clean white polo, and a messy braid. Her hands are clutching the straps of her glittery backpack and her lunch box is hanging on for dear life around her neck.

Serah Langford, the self-proclaimed “cooliest” ten year-old in Arendelle.

Serah predictably taps her knuckles against the passenger window and Anna rolls it down. “What’s the password?” she asks.

“Fart Sniffer,” Serah says confidently.

Anna shakes her head, “That was last week’s password. What’s this week’s?”

Serah looks off in the distance and purses her lips. A second later, she says, “Alright I said it!”

“Say it out loud.”

Serah rolls her eyes and says in a dramatically bored voice, “Anna de Milo is the greatest, prettiest, most wonderful babysitter in the world and deserves a million dollars.”

Anna unlocks the door and grins, “That’s the one!”

The embarrassed fourth-grader shuffles into the car, placing her bag by her feet, her lunch box in her lap, and her phone plugged into the AUX cord. Anna would be offended if they didn’t have the exact same taste in music.

A babysitting job wasn’t at the top of her list after she graduated, but when months passed and she exhausted all the search results for “Writer” on Indeed, she was starting to get desperate. Her mother advised her to look for any job so at the very least she could have a steady source of income while she continued to look for writing gigs.

That’s when she found Bizzybee.

Bizzybee is a company that prides itself on being “Tinder for babysitters”, which is a horrible vision statement but she kept from mentioning that during her interview. After a surprisingly long assessment process, Anna was placed into their system and she was free to take on any babysitting/housesitting job she wanted based on the profile of the parent and their needs. Everyone started with the same hourly rate, but with enough good reviews she would be eligible for raises.

The first five families she worked for weren’t a good fit for different reasons (one of the fathers actually tried to make a move on her, which is an entirely different, creepier story). She was beginning to lose hope until she stumbled on the profile of a recently divorced mother named Elsa Langford.

From the very first interview with Elsa, Anna knew she’d finally found the right babysitting job for her. She and Serah hit it off right away, and they worked out a Monday-Friday schedule which allowed Anna to continue searching for jobs while still getting great hours.

Six months later and, despite a couple of job offers, Anna decided to stay on as Serah’s babysitter. It was risky and not at all the path she set out for herself after college, but she found herself enjoying babysitting much more than she thought she would. And because of that, she stayed.

Well…that, and another reason.

Anna snuck a peek inside the lunch box at a red light and frowned at the unopened bag of cookies inside. “Seriously?! I thought you liked Chips Ahoy!”

“Only the chewy ones,” Serah argued.

“They can get chewy if you dip them in milk.” Anna waved the bag obnoxiously close to the little girl’s face. “These things are expensive, you know.”

“They’re $20 on Amazon if you buy them in bulk.”

“$20 is still a lot of money.” The light’s turned green, so Anna has to open the bag with her teeth. When she does so successfully, she pours a couple of the cookies right into her mouth. Chewing with righteous indignation, she says, “You know what you can buy with $20?”

“Dinner with my mom?”

Anna almost chokes on the cookies.

She hears Serah giggling up a storm while handing her a water bottle to keep from dying. After downing half the bottle, Anna takes a deep breath and gets back into the center of her lane to ensure neither of them is going to die. “Serah! What did I tell you about saying that kinda stuff while I’m driving?!”

Serah bounces proudly in her seat, “Well maaaaybe if you didn’t have a crush on my mom, I wouldn’t have to bring it up.”

“It’s not…I’m not…” Anna slumps in her chair, wondering why she even bothers denying it. “Whatever.”

Yes, she has a big, stupid gay crush on the mom of the kid she’s babysitting. But have you seen Elsa Langford? She’s gorgeous. Pale skin, light blonde hair always in a neat, tight ponytail, eyes like calm pools of water, and a killer body she worked tirelessly on after giving birth to Serah. Anna had to drink three glasses of water just to get through the interview with her.

But there’s nothing to it, and nothing’s gonna happen anyway. It’s just a crush.

A stupid, dumb, big, stupid, fleeting, doesn’t-mean-anything, stupid crush on a stupid, sexy mom.

It’s stupid.

[Line Break]

Anna pulls right into the driveway of the Langford’s small, one-story house. It’s in the middle of a long suburbian row of houses that look nearly identical in their mundanity, but this one always stands out to Anna. Not because she’s been to this house countless times, but also because it’s got a vibrant feel to it; like you can feel two main characters live here. Serah skips over to her front door with Anna close behind. She notices the grass is getting a little tall and wonders if Elsa might need some help mowing it this weekend.

She unlocks the front door and Serah immediately takes off her shoes by the front door, places her lunch box on the kitchen table, and hums to herself while she walks to her room. The schedule used to be on the fridge, but by this point Anna’s memorized it.

Make a light snack for Serah, help her with her homework before dinner’s done, clean around the house (that’s not a requirement, Anna just does it), make sure she doesn’t watch the next episode of Grey’s Anatomy on Netflix yet, and then kick back until Elsa gets home. In between this time, Serah continues to tease her about her crush.

It’s been like that for weeks now, ever since Serah stole her phone one day and read the text Kristoff sent to her about Elsa. The subsequent conversation about what a “MILF” was didn’t exactly help things either.

This time, however, is different. Around 7 PM, while they’re watching an episode of American Ninja Warrior, Serah says something that doesn’t sound like a joke.

“She’d say yes, you know.”

“What are you talking about?” Anna asks cautiously.

“If you asked my mom out, she’d say yes.”

Unsure of how she’s supposed to react, Anna goes with an uncomfortable snort/laugh, “Wh- stop it. Stop kidding around, that’s…that’s silly.”

Serah shrugs like she didn’t say something crazy, and then she proceeds to say something even crazier, “She talks about you all the time.”

“Well yeah, I mean duh. I’m the babysitter,” Anna says like that’s supposed to be her superhero identity.

“No, she doesn’t talk about babysitting stuff.”

Finally, unable to help her curiosity, Anna asks, “What does she talk about then?”

Of course, she doesn’t get a chance to hear the answer. The front door unlocks and the woman they were just talking about arrives from work. Serah rushes to greet her mom and Anna stays sitting to let them spend their mother-daughter time together. And also because, like usual, she’s trying to figure out how to greet Elsa.

She decides on a cheerful “Hi!” followed by asking how work went; it’s casual and unassuming, but shows she cares about her. With that game plan prepared, she takes a quick breath, stands up, and walks over to the happy, little family.

“Hi!” she says with a practiced wave of her hand, though her voice is a little higher pitched than she’d like it to be.

Elsa’s clearly tired by the look of her, but when she smiles at Anna it feels like she’s genuinely happy to see her. Which of course makes Anna’s stomach do backflips, especially when Elsa walks over to her and gives her a hug. Even after taking off her heels, the exhausted banker still has a couple of inches on her.

“How are you?” she asks with her sweet, caring voice.

Anna tries to ignore the faint, flowery scent of perfume on Elsa’s neck, and the intrusive thought of wanting to hold her until all of Elsa’s troubles melt away. “Doing good,” she finally answers with her voice still an octave too high.

Elsa pulls away far too soon, keeping Anna at arm’s length while the younger woman is trying her best to pretend she doesn’t want to know how those lips would feel against hers. “Well let me write you a check and you can head out.”

What? No! Thinking fast, she replies, “No, you look exhausted. You can just rest, you don’t need to pay me right away.” Which is a lie, she has bills due next week.

“No I’d feel terrible if I let you go empty-handed. Trust me, it’ll only take a few minutes.”

“Ms. Langford, it’s okay. I’m in no rush tonight. Give yourself a minute to breathe, at least.”

Elsa frowns, but whatever she’s about to say gets interrupted by a long yawn. “Okay fine, if you can give me half an hour, I’ll have your check ready by then.”

“Sounds perfect!” Anna squeaks.

“And again, you don't have to call me Ms. Langford. Elsa’s fine.”

Elsa pats her on the shoulder and walks over to her room, Anna gets a glimpse of it before the door shuts and she can’t help but wonder what it would be like to be in Elsa’s room one day. Her shameful thought is interrupted by someone bumping her hip.

She looks down and sees Serah with a smug grin on her face.

“Oh hush,” Anna says.

[Line Break]

Anna hates taking breaks, and she especially hates days off. Not just because that’s one less day she gets to see Elsa, but also because that’s who she is as a person. Days she isn’t working provide zero structure, and she forgets how to be a human being without a structure.

The weekends, then, are a tumultuous time for her. If she doesn’t have pre-made plans with her friends, she’ll spend the days thinking about doing everything, inevitably end up doing nothing, and then dragging herself out of the house to do something.

This particular Saturday, that “something” happens to be grocery shopping. With a list that only has “Eggs?” on it, she ventures through every single aisle, wondering if she could get herself hungry enough to buy whatever she’s currently looking at.

So far, aside from the eggs, there’s only one other thing in her cart. And it’s not even for her.

“Pop-Tarts…I don’t know, they might sound good later.” She reaches to grab a box of the frosted strawberry ones but waves it off at the last second. Maybe the next aisle will have something she thinks absentmindedly as her cart almost hits the person in front of her.

Who somehow happens to be Elsa.

“Hi! Hey! Wow hi!” Anna says while Elsa looks at her like she’s genuinely startled. “H-hey there, Ms. Langford.”

After registering that the person yelling at her isn’t a threat, Elsa smiles. “Anna! It’s so wonderful to see you.” She looks as if she’s going to take a step towards Anna, but changes her mind at the last second.

Unfortunately, Anna took that as a cue to also step forward and didn’t move back fast enough. So now, she’s just standing between both carts like she’s commandeering both. “I-I didn’t know you went grocery shopping. Here, I mean. I’m sure you shop, but like…I live near here. Like five minutes away actually.”

Elsa chuckles, and honestly it sounds like honey-dipped guitar strings. But less sticky, and more sexy. “Well I was in the area dropping Serah off to her karate lesson, so I figured I might as well do some shopping while I wait.”

Right, Serah started her lessons last week. She told Anna that she was super excited about “getting to punch bricks and stuff”. Still unsure if she should move yet, Anna adds, “Well I like this place a lot. It’s like one of my top ten places to be- to go. Maybe top five.”

“I’ll make sure to keep that in mind,” Elsa grins like she really is happy to have run into her. She shifts her gaze down and remarks, “Oh, that’s a really nice chopping board.”

Oh. Right. The chopping board’s…still in her cart. Anna lifts it up and holds it like she’s showing off the finest new features in chopping board technology. “Yeah thanks, it’s on sale actually.”

“That’s good news, I’m looking to replace the one we have. I’m tired of scraping plastic off my chicken when I’m cutting it.” Anna knows this, of course, because Elsa’s muttered it to herself every time she’s in the kitchen. “Which aisle did you find that in?”

Forgetting why she has the chopping board in the first place, Anna holds it out and says, “Oh it’s okay, you can just have this one?”

“Are you sure? Don’t you need it?”

Now remembering why she has it, Anna shamefully pulls it away, “Yes. I mean no. No I don’t, I don’t need it. It’s in my cart, but I don’t need it.”

Elsa’s eyes narrow, “I-I’m sorry, I’m confused.”

Well this is happening. And it’ll be even more awkward to explain things if she shows up with the chopping board on Monday. She sighs, finally admitting defeat, “I…I heard you mention you needed a new chopping board, so I wanted to get one for you. This one, actually. This is the one I was going to buy. And then give it to you on Monday.”

Elsa goes from confused to flattered in a second, and much like all of her expressions there’s an inarguable authenticity to it. There’s no exaggerated gasp or a drawn-out “Awww”, instead there’s a smile that could melt a million hearts and a casual touching of Anna’s upper arm.

“I knew I picked a good one,” Elsa says, oblivious to the screaming and fireworks occurring in Anna’s head.

“Ah, i-it’s nothing really. I’m using my paycheck, so in a way you’re buying it yourself haha,” Anna tries to laugh but she squeaks like someone’s just pumped her full of helium.

“Nonetheless, you’ve helped lift so much stress off your shoulders and I want to show how much I appreciate you.” Elsa straightens up a little and looks at the frazzled redhead curiously, “What do you think about coffee?”

“You mean like a coupon?” Anna shakes her head. “I mean a gift card?”

Elsa opens her mouth to respond, but another thought seemingly goes through her head and she purses her lips. A second later, she smiles again, “Yes. Like a gift card. Young people still drink Starbucks, right?”

Anna scoffs, “Ms. Langford, you’re only nine years older than me.”

“And yet you still insist on calling me ‘Ms. Langford’, which always makes me feel much older than I actually am.”

A ton of bricks falls on Anna as she realizes her grave mistake. “Oh my goodness, Ms. La- ah I mean I uh…I’m so sorry. I didn’t- I mean that wasn’t my intention. You’re young, a-and beautiful, and still in your prime. No you haven’t even reached your prime yet! If I made you feel like you weren’t, I’m-”

She’s silenced by the feel of Elsa’s hand coming to rest on…her shoulder? Well that’s new. And exciting. Anna focuses half of her mind on calming down and the other half on what Elsa’s saying.

“Relax Anna, it was just a joke. You can call me whatever you want.” Though Elsa’s voice is reassuring, her smile has a glint of proud mischief from catching her off-guard. “I’m not about to police my favorite babysitter on what words she can use.”

Anna tries to speak but finds her throat too dry. She clears it and tries again, “Really? I’m your favorite babysitter? You’re not just saying that?”

“I went through far too many babysitters before I found you,” Elsa lets out a breathy laugh, eyes glancing to the side as if she’s remembering back to the years she’d had to find the right fit to take care of Serah. Anna wonders what makes her so different from the others, but thinks that’s too invasive to ask. “You’re the best.”

The casual yet loaded compliments and the feel of Elsa’s fingers so close to her bare skin combine to create a dangerous, stomach-churning reaction in Anna. One that sets all her impulses alight, screaming at her to kiss Elsa.

Before she even has the chance to compose herself, Elsa’s already pulled away and is back by the safety of the handrails on her cart. “Well I think I’ve used up enough of your time this weekend. And besides, I need to find something for dinner tonight. I’ll see you Monday, okay?”

Anna blinks, still trying to register things that happened five minutes ago. “Uh yeah, no problem. Sounds great,” she replies without knowing what she’s saying.

Elsa smiles at her and turns the corner, disappearing from direct sight. After an eternity of standing at the end of the aisle like an idiot, Anna groans and covers her face with her hands.

“Stupid,” she mumbles to herself.

[Line Break]

“The evil scientist shouted, ‘This ain’t over, Super Gal! One day-”

Anna presses the buzzer she bought at a dollar store. “There’s no such thing as the word 'ain’t’,” she corrects.

Serah groans, “You’re the worst.”

“You asked a girl with an English degree for help with your story. What did you expect would happen?” Anna taps against the table like an evil villain.

’“I didn’t expect you to not go easy on-”

Anna presses the buzzer again. “Double negative!”

“I’m not even writing!” Serah protests.

“My buzzer, my rules.”

The sound of the front door opening interrupts them bickering like long-lost sisters. Instead of running over to greet Elsa by the door, Serah shouts with exasperation, “Moooom! Anna’s being a jerk!”

“Well that’s what happens when you ask an English major to look over your story, honey,” Elsa replies.

Anna gives Serah a smug grin, the little girl sticks her tongue out in response. Elsa joins them at the dinner table, the tiredness on her face is less concerning tonight but Anna catches her wince when she sits down.

“You okay?” she asks.

Elsa smiles, “Fell off a ladder at work.”

“Oh my gosh, how bad does it hurt? I could-” Anna has to take a pause to let the unhelpful thought of massaging Elsa’s back go away. “-get you some ibuprofen or an ice pack.”

“Thank you, Anna, but I’m sure I’ll be fine in the morning once I sleep it off. After all, I’m not even in my prime yet.” Elsa winks at her, and Anna has to pretend her insides haven’t turned to jelly.

“Is this like that time you fell in the bathroom while trying to pull your pants up?” Serah asks.

“Serah!” Elsa hides her face in her hands, though it’s still possible to tell the remorse she feels through her voice. “Why did I even tell you that story?”

Serah feigns innocence and shrugs, “Because I’m your daughter and you like telling me things?”

Elsa sticks her tongue out in response and it’s much cuter than it has any right to be. Unable to help herself, Anna asks, “Are you sure I can’t do anything for you? I mean like with your back…or whatever.”

Elsa rests her head against one of her hands and doesn’t try to hold back the tiredness in her smile this time. “You’re very sweet, Anna, but I’ll be okay. Just need some rest.” She mumbles afterward, “And a vacation…”

Anna lets her mind wander for a second, thinking of what it would feel like to take Elsa somewhere she could unwind. Like to a spa, or a lake. Elsa feels like the kind of person who finds solitude near water. In her mind, she sees Elsa in a baby blue sundress and a wide brim hat, looking out at the crystal clear waters from a creaky, wooden dock. She sees herself walking down the same dock and Elsa turning to her with a smile, holding a hand out and beckoning her to come over.

“What do you think, Anna?”

The wishful thought dissipates, and Anna’s pulled back into reality by a question she’s not ready for. “Sorry, I was uh…thinking of a story idea. What were you guys talking about?”

Thankfully not asking where Anna’s mind was really at, Elsa repeats herself, “Serah was wondering if you wanted to go to her play tomorrow.”

“I’m playing a tree!” Serah says proudly.

This invitation comes as a wonderful surprise. Serah’s been hyping this play up for forever, but Anna always assumed she would want Elsa to be there. “Oh, I…did something happen? Can you not make it?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t dare miss seeing my little girl play the part of Tree #2. But I really-”

Serah clears her throat obnoxiously loud.

“Right. We would really love it if you came. Tickets are free, but they’ll be selling popcorn and soda for $2.”

“You can sit next to my mom!” Serah adds, and her failed blink shows she knows exactly what she’s implying. It feels odd having a ten-year-old be her wing woman, but Anna’s learning to roll with it.

“No pressure, though,” Elsa says while wringing her hands together. “It’s on a Friday night, and I know you might already have plans.”

“I don’t,” Anna responds far too fast.

Elsa’s eyes widen in surprise, “Oh. Then do you want to go?”

The chance to sit next to Elsa for an hour in a dark auditorium? Anna would be an idiot to pass that opportunity up. And it isn’t lost on her that it felt like Elsa was about to say she would personally love it if she went.

“Sure, I’d love to go.”

[Line Break]

Far too many questions are still punching Anna in the brain as she pulls into West Arendelle Elementary’s parking lot and walks towards the auditorium. Should she have eaten something beforehand? Is she overdressed? Is she underdressed? Should she have texted Elsa to coordinate outfits? What if this is all some elaborate prank to make fun of her for her stupid mom crush? Did she sweat through her shirt? Is it noticeable?

Her crazy thoughts are interrupted by her phone buzzing. She pulls it out of the back pocket of her jeans and sees it’s a text from Elsa. She’s waiting by the door so they can find some seats together.

Well, that eases her worry about trying to find Elsa in a crowded auditorium. Though crowded might be an understatement. It’s a fourth-grade play, not an opera at The Met.

Once inside, Anna takes a second to admire the impressive renovations of what used to be a musty, old gymnasium (they even put in carpets and sound dampeners). But she’s not here to appraise this place, she’s here to root for her favorite fourth grader/tree and keep the ogling of Elsa to a minimum-

Holy baloney, Elsa’s wearing a dress.

It’s got blue-and-white stripes, short sleeves, and a similar colored waist sash. And instead of her hair being in a tight ponytail, the nearly silver locks fall across her shoulders and down her back.

It’s casual, it’s cute, it’s gorgeous, it’s beautiful, and it’s a stark reminder of how absolutely smitten Anna is.

“I was getting worried you might not show up,” Elsa says with a smile akin to the one she showed off at the grocery store.

Up close, Anna also notices a thin, snowflake necklace around Elsa’s slender neck and she’s already failed in keeping her ogling to a minimum. “You can always trust me to keep my promises, Ms. Langford,” she says with a goofy grin meant to reflect something called confidence.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Elsa responds.

Feeling like she has to mention it, and also because her brain’s still currently fried from seeing an angel, Anna adds, “You look beautifuller. I-I mean not like fuller, I just mean you look more beautiful than usual. Oh gosh, not that you usually look bad because you don’t. You never look bad, you’re-”

Elsa lays a hand on Anna’s shoulder again, which might as well be her reset button. “Anna, do me a favor and take a breath.”

Anna takes a breath.

“Good job. Now let’s go find some seats, okay?”

Anna follows her, too caught up on the feeling of being told she did a good job.

They find a spot at the end of an aisle and close enough to the stage that Serah will be able to find them without looking too hard. Elsa takes the seat on the left, Anna takes the seat on the right. They don’t start talking again right away, not until the conversations all across the auditorium become a blanket of white noise.

And then Elsa lets out a breath, “This feels nice.”

Anna turns to her and notices her eyes are closed, but she still commits to perfect posture so it looks like she’s meditating. “What do you mean?” Anna asks.

“Being…present. Not having to rush to make dinner or beat traffic or anything like that. It feels nice to have a break and just be.”

Anna finds it hard to understand what constitutes this as a break, but then again she isn’t a mother. And she doesn’t know much about what it means to take a break anyway.

Elsa tilts her head like she’s about to rest it on Anna’s shoulder, but instead, she turns to look at her. “Thank you again.”

“For the chopping board?”

“For the chopping board, for taking care of Serah, for being someone I can trust…for everything. It’s hard to- I mean you know it hasn’t been easy for me relationship-wise.”

Anna nods. Learning about Elsa’s divorce and her subsequent failed relationships was a part of why she took this job in the first place. She sympathized with the single mother and knew even then that Elsa could really use someone to have her back too.

“So thank you, for being my…the person I needed through all this. My knight in shining armor.”

The lights haven’t dimmed yet, so she needs to hope the blush on her cheeks isn’t too noticeable. She bites the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling too wide, and then says, “Well, outstanding service is the Bizzybee guarantee.” It’s supposed to be a playful joke, but Elsa doesn’t seem to take it as such.

She frowns, “Do you really only see this as a job?”

This is different, but it doesn’t feel like a good different. Elsa doesn’t usually look like she’s staring into her soul, and she hasn’t asked anything this personal since the initial interview. To Anna, the answer is obvious, but she’s also caught up on wondering what answer Elsa wants to hear. If she says the wrong thing, will she lose her job? What’s the right thing to say? When did it get so warm? And is that citrus she smells in Elsa’s hair? Gosh, why is she so weird?

Shrinking further underneath Elsa’s stone-cold curiosity, Anna finally decides to approach this with honesty. “No,” she starts far too softly. “No, I think I would probably do anything for you…r family. You mean a lot to me. Y-you and Serah, I mean.”

She really hopes that doesn’t sound like a confession. The last thing she wants to do is get fired and have to run out of an elementary school auditorium in tears.

A soft, warmth presses against her hand that’s been resting on her seat. Anna looks down and sees Elsa’s hand on top of where hers should be. If this is a dream, then she never wants to wake up.

“Thank you for saying that,” Elsa replies just as softly.

Finally, the lights dim and the principal is on the stage talking about how hard the fourth-graders have worked on this rendition of The Giving Tree. And maybe it means nothing, but Elsa still hasn’t pulled away. Anna pushes away the thought of her own hand being too sweaty, and the notion that this could be a fulfillment of her craziest wish. Right now, she just tries to enjoy the feeling.

Serah turned out to be an excellent Tree #2.

[Line Break]

Next Monday, everything falls apart.

Or at least that’s what it feels like is going to happen when Elsa gets back from work and immediately asks Serah to go to her room so they can talk alone.

Anna’s never seen her this distraught before. Her ponytail is poorly put together, she’s not wearing any makeup, and there’s a coffee stain below her collar. When she asks if she can do anything to help, Elsa’s response is a quick but harsh, “No.”

She stiffens up. “Oh. O-okay, I’m sorry.”

Elsa shakes her head, places her hand on top of one of the kitchen chairs, but then pulls back like it’s hot to the touch. “Could we maybe sit on the couch?”

Right now, Elsa could tell her to cut off her hand and Anna would do it. She nearly trips walking the five feet from the kitchen to the living room couch, and tries to take up the least amount of space as possible when she sits down. Elsa sits on the far side, clutching a pillow to her chest with her mind probably anywhere else but here.

It’s not a good sight, and Anna’s not only worried about the safety of her job, but Elsa’s condition. She purses her lips to keep from saying anything stupid, and hopes this isn’t the horrible nightmare she’s expecting it to be.

Elsa closes her eyes tight, “I’m afraid I have to let you go, Anna.”

Anna completely deflates. Had she not been expecting this, it would have come as a greater shock to her. But when she pushed her luck at the play by trying to hold Elsa’s hand…she knew her days as a babysitter were numbered. “I understand,” she says sadly.

“I don’t think you do,” Elsa replies, quickly turning to look at Anna. Her eyes look like they’re pleading with her, like she doesn’t want to do this. “You were amazing, and I will give you the best endorsement for any job you apply for. But after the play-”

“I know. I was out of line.”

There’s a tense, awkward second of silence where the two women are looking at each other with equal levels of guilt and remorse. Though their reasons are vastly different. Elsa sighs and places the final nail in the coffin, “No, you weren’t.”

…what?

“Anna, I wanted you to hold my hand.”

What?

“You did?” Anna asks, trying her best to curb her optimism. This can’t possibly be going the way she thinks it is.

Elsa nods, “I’m not- well okay, first of all, I don't want to fire you. Serah, she thinks of you as her big sister, and the thought of separating you two tears me up. But this needs to happen because I…having you around…I feel something for you.”

“Feel something?” Maybe someday she’ll be able to say more than two sentences again.

Again, Elsa closes her eyes. A sternness falls on her face which Anna can tell she’s had to use a lot “Say it out loud,” Elsa mutters.

“What’s wrong?”

One agonizing moment later, Elsa reopens her eyes, and the guilt in them has worsened. “I-I’m attracted to you, Anna, and it’s getting to me. Really bad. I can’t sleep without thinking of you, I got a ticket for speeding a couple of weeks ago because I couldn’t wait to get home to you and Serah, and when you held my hand? Gosh, I felt something I never felt with anyone I’ve ever been with. I have feelings for you, and I have to let you go before I do something I might regret.”

She’s not dreaming, Anna knows that for sure because there’s no weird fog around her and Elsa doesn’t have a horse head. Yet she still can’t wrap her mind around the fact that this is happening.

Elsa Langford, the most beautiful mom- hell, the most beautiful woman- she’s ever known has just confessed she has feelings for her.

But she has to know for certain, so she finally musters up the lucidity to ask more than two words. “Do you really mean that?”

Elsa laughs. But it’s not a “gotcha” laugh, it’s a deeply embarrassed, caught-in-the-act laugh Anna’s far too familiar with. “Yes. I like you a lot.”

That’s all the confirmation she needs. With all the social grace of a bowling ball tumbling down the stairs, Anna responds. “I like you a lot too. Like attractively, I-I mean romantically.”

Elsa’s eyes widen, “Really?”

Anna shows off her expertly crafted awkward laugh. “Of course! You’re sweet, caring, and you’re so beautiful I bet a potato sack would look good on you. When I look at you or even think of you, I just see like rainbows and flutes and warm stuff like blankets or bedrooms- I uh, I mean like…soup. It was just a stupid crush at first, but honestly I don’t think I’ve ever felt this strongly for anyone before. Elsa, you’re a dream come true.”

Elsa’s pale complexion makes the redness that appears on her cheeks much brighter and more beautiful than Anna could ever imagine. This magical moment…it’s something she’ll always cherish and will never forget.

“I love the way you say my name,” Elsa says quietly.

“It’s a very pretty name,” Anna adds.

“Gosh, just kiss each other already!” Serah shouts from the hallway.

They talk for another hour. Despite the looming threat of being fired disappearing, Anna still agrees it’s best she stops working for Elsa. There’s now a conflict of interest, and the last thing they want is for either of them to get in trouble. Which means it’s back to job hunting. On the bright side, however, Anna can now come over whenever she wants so Serah will still have her “big sister”.

As for her and Elsa, they both agree to take things slow to make sure they won’t drive each other crazy. In a bad way, obviously. They both have big, stupid crushes on each other, but with Elsa’s track record for relationships and Anna’s overall social awkwardness, it’s clear that attraction will only get them so far. They have to work for this, if this was something to work for. Nonetheless, they remain optimistic and their first date is set for next week.

Elsa just needs to find a babysitter first.

#elsanna #submission #April 2021 contest #prompt: break

13 notes · View notes

wide-eyedscottishlass · 3 years

Text

Scarlett and the Professor - a startling revelation

[continued from] [contains brief NSFW material]

The way that Scarlett had kissed him when they parted lingered in Hennessy’s mind far longer than was fit for his intentions towards her. As he fell asleep in the nights that followed; when he woke up in the dark, needing to use the loo. Making him wonder if she was sleeping soundly, warm and soft, and far from his bed. Making him hope that he was the stuff of her dreams.

But this was ludicrous! Untenable and undisciplined. And even as he watched her, innocently sitting two rows back from his desk—modestly attired in a knee length dress of pale peach, silk chiffon, the flawless skin of her throat and decolletage beckoning to him nonetheless—he sure as hellfire intended to do something about it.

Thus far, she had made no obvious attempt to garner his attention. Throughout Monday’s class and today’s—which was quickly winding down—Scarlett had played the part of a model student. Seated demurely while studiously taking notes, alert and attentive, and even raising her hand in bids to answer questions. True, when he allowed himself to call upon her, the slight flush that colored her cheeks was surely on his account, but she answered so confidently that it almost felt like she was daring him to correct her.

She’d worn her hair loose today and on Monday too, instead of her customary chignon. Distracting him with thoughts of how it felt pooled in his hands, spread across the skin of his chest, and—for Christ’s sake!–brushing against his thighs when she worshipped him with her mouth. Goddammit! How the hell had she insinuated herself into his forebrain this way, and after such relatively little time? It boggled the mind.

Hennessy was particularly aware of her scent; the combination of her shampoo, the natural aroma of her skin, combined with her light, delicate perfume. He knew that couldn’t be helped, of course, as he’d worn her scent on his skin during their many hours of sin, and it had lingered on his sheets until his cleaning woman had changed them out. Whenever Hennessy walked the aisle where Scarlett sat, it assaulted his senses, made his mouth water, and caused him just the slightest hesitation in delivery of his lecture.

Even now, as he backed up the aisle on his way to his desk, she didn’t even react when his fingertips just grazed her arm where it rested on her desk. Scarlett before the series of sensual lessons he had granted her would have given a quiet gasp and wouldn’t have been able to tear her eyes from him. This Scarlett was gazing at the blackboard while she absentmindedly nibbled on the end of her pencil, seemingly unaware of how that action made him lick his own lips as he considered the taste and texture of her pretty, precious mouth. Hennessy realized he must do something soon to change the trajectory he was on.

He was so immersed in his thoughts that the noon bell took him by surprise, but he quickly recovered and muttered his dismissal. Scarlett was up and out of his classroom with the rest of the students, not even granting him a moment’s acknowledgement of their wicked secret. How was this to be borne! No lover had turned the tables on him so effortlessly before, and without even trying. But what could he do about Scarlett?

Hennessy took to his chair, mulling over his options, and each seemed less satisfactory than the previous one. His mobile buzzed with a text alert, and he grabbed his phone from the pocket of his jacket, which was draped across the back of his chair. “Well...I’ll...be...damned...” he grinned, his dexterous fingers skating across the keypad in reply. This is practically a deus ex machina, he chuckled, with timing that couldn’t be more perfect.

_______________________________________

Hennessy was nursing his second scotch on the rocks, taking his drink slowly as he figured he’d be hitting the road not long after his awaited guest arrived. This wasn’t so much a bar, as a seedy, roadside dive, but considering the nature of their meetup, it suited the mood perfectly. His belly felt tight with anticipation, further piqued by the burn of the liquor as he scanned the room, satisfied to see that the other few, isolated patrons were involved in minding their own business.

She was late, of course, a perpetual habit which he’d grown accustomed to years ago, but he expected her arrival at any moment now. And sure enough, as though he had summoned her by thought alone, his favorite tall and leggy redhead strolled through the door.

Sylvie Martin, Professor of Biology, specializing in Humans and Primates. Sylvie Caldwell nee Martin, he reminded himself as she approached and he caught the flash of her huge and rather gaudy diamond engagement ring. Interestingly, she was wearing it on her right-hand ring finger rather then her left. A portent of good things to come, as far as Hennessy was concerned.

She wore a snug, silk dress with a Mandarin collar and a slit up one side, with a dark green, Oriental print embossed on it’s emerald green background, along with her trademark spiked heels, in matching green. Sylvie knew that color flattered her best, and she certainly was a sight for sore eyes. Once she spotted him, she moved with unflappable focus towards his booth. “Darling...Henns!” she greeted him as he rose to embrace her, allowing him the familiarity of lingering his palm against her back. No bra...all the better, he thought, breathing in Dior’s J’adore, which had always been her favorite perfume, and wondering if she had arrived sans thong as well. He’d likely discover the answer for himself soon enough.

“Sylvie, you dazzle me as always,” he proclaimed, kissing her cheek, “And honestly, the island hasn’t been the same since you decamped.” Hennessy motioned to the cocktail waitress to bring the round of drinks he’d preordered for them; a dirty martini for Sylvie and another tumbler of scotch for himself. He waited for his guest to slide into the booth and then joined her, not at all hesitant to press his thigh against hers. “So tell me, darling- what brings you back to us now? Business...or pleasure?

“Hennzy,” she smirked, tracing the rim of her glass before eyeing him sideways, “A little bit of business, as I finally found a buyer for my old place.” Sylvie turned to him and ran the same finger along his cheekbone. “And as for pleasure, well...” she sighed and batted her eyes, “...I was counting on you for that.”

“Moi,” he exclaimed, feigning shock, “I thought those days were done! I mean, what would Gerald say?”

“That he married an insatiable tart,” she huffed, then took a deep swallow of her martini, “And that a leopard can’t change her spots, no matter how much luxury you lavish upon her...”

“Ahhhhh, my poor, dear Sylvie,” he tutted, biting his lip against a smirk of his own. Hennessy had been certain when she’d left the University without giving even a week’s notice, and had barely bid farewell to even her closest friends as she pursued the 50-something tech mogul that had feted her through a whirlwind courtship---following him to his home base in the States---that she would be back one day. In the finest gold digger tradition, they had married within a month. Hennessy hoped now, as he had when he first read her text announcing the news, that she’d been smart enough to get a generous prenup. “I’ll be only too glad to help, of course,” he patted her hand in mock consolation, knowing that her heart had never truly been invested in that relationship, “Just tell me what you need, darling.”

Sylvie laughed slyly, confirming what he had expected from the moment he had gotten her text this afternoon, “Well, we could start with a night full of shameless shagging.” Leaning into him, she murmured in his ear, “You know that you were always my favorite fuck buddy for that, Henns.” She tugged his earlobe between her teeth as she pulled away, and his prick twitched with the need she had awoken. “Please don’t say no, darling,” she pouted as she eyed him hungrily, “It’s been ages since I’ve been properly railed.”

Why the hell not, he thought, astounded that the universe had hand delivered the perfect answer to his dilemma. She’s the most delectable, effortless and no-strings-attached distraction that I ever could have asked for. Hennessy grabbed his glass and downed the remaining liquid in a single, hearty swallow. “What the fuck are we waiting for,” he growled, “Which will it be, darling- your place or mine?”

___________________________________

As Sylvie had arrived by Uber, they took took the Spitfire back to her hotel. Never one to stand on ceremony, she didn’t even wait two minutes before she snaked her hand across his thigh. “Mmmmm...good old Hennessy,” she purred, “And your...mmmmm...incomparable...dedicated...always delicious cock...”

He shifted slightly, instinctively thrusting his pelvis up to maximize her access, even while warning her, “Christ, woman---let me get us there in one piece first...”

“I can’t help it, baby,” she whined, “I’ve missed this...missed you...sooooo verrrrry much.”

Hennessy turned her way just enough to note the naked lust in every line of her gorgeous features. There’s never been anything subtle about her, he recalled, as a moue of distaste whispered at the back of his mind; but sometimes a man wants subtlety. Sometimes he wants a woman who’s soft and pliable, and...aching to follow his lead.

He gave a rough shake of his head, banishing that very uncharacteristic course of thought, and pressed his foot down harder on the gas pedal. Sylvie threw back her head at the sudden acceleration, laughing hard and taking that as a sign of his eagerness. “Oh, Henns, you know I’ve always adored when you go fast!” She gave the bulge in his trousers a hearty squeeze.

He grunted back, then plucked her questing hand from his crotch and raised it enough to give it a half-hearted kiss. “Not in everything, Sylvie,” he reminded her, his eyes remaining squarely on the road ahead, “And never when it’s crucial to go slow.”

“Hmmmmm...right. I’d forgotten that sometimes a devil like you can show the patience of a saint,” she trilled, taking back her hand and laying it next to the gear shift, “So I suppose I’d better follow your example---for the time being.”

“You best believe it, Syl...” Much to his chagrin, Hennessy was beginning to remember the slew of things about his friend-with-benefits that used to get on his nerves, and always ended with them going their separate ways for months at a time. Until one or the other of them had an itch for the kind of raw, filthy sex that had been their perpetual default setting. Of course, that was exactly what he was in need of now. At least once we begin, he reckoned, she’ll just shut up and put her mouth to better use than stating the obvious.

She stayed fairly silent for the rest of the trip, likely having picked up the vibe that he wasn’t in the mood for trifling. Sylvie did grab his hand when they exited the car---pulling him along from the parking lot and through the airy lobby, and then into the elevator up to her suite. As soon as the doors slid shut, she had draped her arms around his neck, pressed her body to his as tightly as she could, and captured his mouth with a relentless, probing kiss. Hennessy had answered her advance by cupping her bottom in both hands---finding that ‘yes’ was the answer to his earlier speculation that she might be completely bare under her dress.

He was thinking what a cliche this was, and that he wished she was making their liaison at least a bit challenging. Worse still, Hennessy was finding himself more than a little sorry for Sylvie, wondering just how miserable she must have been since the fresh bloom of her hasty marriage had faded away. That she’d fooled herself into thinking she could endure a union that had no true spark, and that Caldwell’s money would be enough to make her happy with a man who clearly didn’t understand or appreciate her true nature.

But as she swiped her keycard to grant them entry to her rooms, Hennessy reminded himself that he wasn’t here to be her therapist or confessor. He wasn’t going to ask about what problems she was having---be they marital or otherwise---and he hoped that Sylvie wouldn’t try to tell. They each had pressing needs to fulfill, and as far as he was concerned, this was simply a palate cleanser. A chance to put some distance between himself and the threat that he was developing an obsession for the most unlikely of candidates.

Once across the threshold, Sylvie headed towards the bar cart, where sat a sealed bottle of Glenlivit 12-Year, alongside a covered ice bucket. The sight immediately sobered him, as though the universe wanted to remind him of the very memories he was trying to blot out. It’s just coincidence, he tried to convince himself; besides which, Sylvie knows what I like. Of course she’d have that waiting for us, on the presumption that we’d end up here tonight. Hennessy didn’t say a word as she poured out for the both of them---moving to her side instead, to take the tumbler she offered him and set it back down on the bar.

Perplexed, she started to ask why, but he shook his head and then took her face in his hands, to land a needy kiss upon her willing mouth. All that he wanted now was to be in the moment; to spare no thoughts for the past several days, nor any for the future beyond what would happen in the confines of these rooms.

Ensnared in hungry, almost violent kisses to begin with, their hands plucking at one another’s clothing, they ended up on the sofa with Sylvie straddling his hips, bending low to slather his skin, his nipples, the contours of his ribs, with further hot, impatient kisses. Hennessy was well aware where she was leading, and he thrust both hands into her flame-red tresses, gradually guiding her down to her inevitable destination. She slid her body further down so that she could undo his trousers and nuzzle his erection through his briefs.

He groaned at the scrumptious sensation, watching her intently, and she looked up at him with a knowing smile. “Bet I still give the best head on the island, Hennzy,” she proclaimed, then wet her lips and smacked them hard.

“I’ll be the judge of that, Syl,” he countered, laying his head back while tightening his fingers in her hair, “Talk is cheap. Just fucking show me. Right fucking now...”

She tugged his clothing far enough down to give herself full access to his works. And good god, yes, she hadn’t lost a trick; her tongue was as silky and as talented as he remembered. Her fingers knew just what he liked. Her mouth welcomed him greedily, and it all felt bloody fantastic.

Yet something was missing. Something elementary, but vital enough that despite how great it was, he felt a sort of cool detachment. That he was experiencing a purely mechanical act, carried out by rote, devoid of...joy. Stripped of warmth and any connection beyond the physical. Sylvie was dedicated alright, relentlessly sucking and taking him deep, caressing his bollocks and teasing them with her manicured nails, groaning as she worked him---and yet, Hennessy didn’t feel any nearer to his climax. And shockingly, he didn’t care if he came or not.

Without intending to, his fingers went slack in her hair, although Sylvia didn’t seem to notice. He squeezed his eyes tighter, aghast at the sudden notion of losing his erection before she was finished with him. Desperately, he searched his mind for images to help him stave off a humiliation he had never experienced before. His heart jumping ahead, supplying the answer which he couldn’t deny.

Scarlett.

His soft, compliant, delectable Scarlett.

Hennessy drew a sudden gasp---Sylvie would take it for a gasp of pleasure---as the images flooded his mind. Scarlett kneeling before him in the sand, woefully inexperienced and skittish, but bravely following his first demand of her. In his study, sliding onto the floor from his lap, eager to please him, to taste him, but turning shy in the aftermath, at the relish she had taken in their shared sin. His Scarlett. The pure dedication in her eyes as she looked up at him before she began, and the small, sweet sounds she gave over as she generously loved him---which always felt like proof of her devotion. The astonishing beauty of her head and hands adoring him, reflected in the mirror above his bed. And then how she clung to him afterwards, leaving trails of soft, loving kisses on his thighs.

“Yes...yes...mmmmm...that’s my girl,” he murmured, beginning to thrust himself into Sylvie’s mouth. “My darling, little lamb,” he panted, repeatedly hitting the back of Sylvie’s throat, as he imagined it was Scarlett doing the deed, with her pretty, pouty mouth. Her tender, loving tongue. “Fuck...oh fuck, that’s good baby,” he groaned, the need to explode into his orgasm building and building all through his pelvis and his loins, as it hit him that when Scarlett did him, each moment of bliss she gave him arose from her generous and loving heart. “Mine...mine...” he cried out, arching his body off the sofa cushions, grunting with each hard pump of his hips and tugging hard on Sylvie’s hair. “...mine...my jo...” he sighed as he finished, the euphoria and warmth spreading through his veins, mercifully allowing him to forget for a little while that he’d been forced to fantasize in order to reach his to satisfaction.

Sylvie propped herself above him, her lipstick smeared, her mouth and chin slick with her saliva and his semen, and looking very pleased with herself. “God, how I’ve missed that, Henns! Just like old times,” she laughed, “But what’s with this little lamb shit? Where the hell did that come from?”

Hennessy had no problem fibbing his way through that faux pas. His mouth dropped open as though he was shocked and he huffed cynically, “Honestly, Syl? I have no fucking clue...”

She narrowed her eyes and frowned slightly as she looked for the lie on his face. “Alright then- but don’t do it again. If you’re going to call me by a pet name, I’d rather it weren’t a farm animal.”

“Got it,” he winked, “Let’s forget it ever happened.”

“Forgotten already,” she told him, then brushed a quick kiss on his mouth, before clambering off of him. The top of Sylvie’s dress was bunched around her waist, but she didn’t seem to care as she headed to refill her glass and fetch his. This time, when she offered him the scotch, he took it and immediately swallowed half ot it---for he knew he couldn’t avoid what was coming next.

“So, Henns...”Her voice had taken on a pouty, singsong quality, “Not to be gauche, but you owe me one now...”

Christ! Was she always like this, he wondered; and was I just blinded by the sex?

”...well, at least one,” she added, “Although I know you’re good for...many more.” She tossed back the rest of her scotch, gave a shake of her head as the burn went down, then wagged her head in the direction of the bedroom. “How about we crack on, as you Brits like to say?”

“Righto.” Hennessy finished his drink and stood up, resigned to the unsavory outcome he’d wrought for himself. Knowing that he was obliged to a small degree---the wheels in his head busy spinning as he searched for a way to extricate himself with his dignity intact, before he was quite literally in too deep.

tagging: @strangelock221b @thelostsmiles @letterstosherlock @splunge4me2art @tsukuyomi011 @emilyinnj4real @aeterna-auroral-avenger @frowerssx2 @groovyfluxie @humanbornarchangel @elizaaugust @ravencatart @doctor-stephenstrange @ben-c-group-therapy @cumbercougars

#my writing #Scarlett and the Professor #buyer's remorse #Scarlett Campbell #OFC #OMC #not my OMC and used with permission #(as long as tacit permission remains)#Scarlett's wicked Professor #Professor Hennessy #Hennessy.#OFC.#Sylvie Martin

11 notes · View notes