#a added complexity to this with Dream actually getting someone to sleep with him again (not like that | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

refinedbuffoonery · 4 years ago

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Looking Through A Window (2)

macriley married undercover au

masterlist.

Oh man. My dudes. I received so much love and support and excited feedback on the first chapter that I thought my heart was going to explode. Y’all are so wonderful. Keep it up. <3

*****

Luckily, Matty lets them take the Phoenix jet to Houston. Flying commercial would make today even more tortuous than it already promises to be, albeit for a different reason.

No matter how hard he tries to distract himself, Mac cannot stop staring at the diamond ring on Riley’s finger. The princess cut gem is stunning and ridiculously large, but it suits her cover as a lucrative arms dealer. A white gold wedding band sits below it. Riley left her usual assortment of rings at home, and Mac can’t help but think her long, delicate fingers look bare without them.

He tears his eyes away from the rings again and again, both on the plane and while driving to the safe house. Riley drives with just her left hand, her right elbow resting on the center console. Mac likes driving, but there’s something relaxing about riding shotgun while Riley drives instead. He’s never been able to put a finger on it, but the sense of ease washes over him all the same. Admiring the way sunlight illuminates her engagement ring is simply a bonus.

He doesn’t let himself imagine what he might give her, in an alternate future where she reciprocates his feelings and one day wants to marry him.

Harley obediently lays in the backseat, staring out the windshield. She's been on her best behavior the entire twenty four hours Mac's known her, ever the professional.

Which puts her completely at odds with Mac and Riley's shenanigans—cracking jokes, dancing on the plane and in the car, doing purposefully bad impersonations of Russ. These are the best parts of going on ops alone with Riley. They can let loose in a way they just couldn’t when anyone else other than Bozer was around. Everyone else is professional all the time; Mac and Riley are only professional when they have to be.

Riley taps the steering wheel in time to the classic rock song on the radio. “What do you want for dinner?”

“Dinner? We haven’t even had lunch yet!”

“True.” Riley chuckles. “Can you tell I’m hungry?”

Mac gives her a sly look. “Not at all.”

They settle on Texas barbecue for lunch on their way to the safe house, because that’s what Jack would choose if he was here. If only the old man could see them now, all grown up and getting sent to take down terrorists unsupervised.

Seated in a booth in the far corner of the restaurant, Mac raises his brisket sandwich in a toast to Jack, in whatever afterlife he found himself in. Hopefully it’s the one with an endless supply of good barbecue.

“Oh man, Jack would’ve loved this,” Riley says through a mouthful of food. She sneaks Harley a piece of brisket.

Mac smiles. “Yeah, he would’ve.”

It’s easier, now, to talk about him. At first, Mac hadn’t been sure he could ever get to a point where talking about Jack didn’t make him want to hit something or just curl up and sob.

But here he is, on the other side. Him and Riley both.

Their safe house is another twenty minutes away from the restaurant, in a nice neighborhood full of trees and children playing on the sidewalks. It’s so much greener than a California neighborhood could ever dream of being. There’s even a park across the street from their apartment complex. It’s exactly the sort of place a young, affluent couple would want to live.

Riley parks in their designated space, and the pair ascend the stairs to apartment number 202. Outside of the car, they don’t dare use each other’s real names until they’re sure the apartment is free of bugs. The place was furnished earlier that week by other Phoenix agents, but Mac and Riley do a thorough sweep of every room just in case.

It’s a nice apartment. Wood flooring, granite countertops, matching cabinets throughout. There are pictures on the walls, but Mac doesn’t bother to stop and check what they are.

Riley clears the space from back to front, so Mac does the opposite. He clears the kitchen first, frowning at the absence of any sort of food, before moving on to the living room.

Mac stops dead in his tracks when he enters the bedroom. The singular bedroom. With a singular, queen-sized bed.

Oh no. This is not happening.

Mac shakes his head and rubs his eyes, hoping his mind is just playing tricks on him and that there’s actually two beds. Or a whole other room he missed before.

The one and only bed seems to mock him.

He walks back out, finding Riley already sitting at the kitchen table, turning on her laptop. “Uhh, Riles? There’s only—”

“One bed,” she finishes, not bothering to look up. “I know.”

Oh god. He can’t do this. He can’t. Not with his dignity still intact. Mac stammers, “I’ll, uhh, sleep on the couch. You can have it.”

That gets Riley’s attention. “Don’t be ridiculous. We’re going to be here for weeks. You’ll hurt your back sleeping on the couch that long. Just sleep with me.” Riley’s eyes widen as she realizes what she just said. “In the bed,” she quickly adds.

Mac ducks his head to hide his blush.

“What are you working on?” he asks in a feeble attempt to distract himself from their sleeping situation. Because it will definitely be a situation if Mac’s not careful.

“Connecting to the Wi-Fi,” Riley says in a slow, “What else would I be doing?” sort of way.

“Right.” Mac silently curses himself. Of course that’s what she’s doing. “Anyway, I’m assuming you already know this, since you probably opened the fridge too, but we have no food.”

“I saw.” She’s multitasking again, manicured fingers flying faster across her keyboard than Mac can keep track of. “Why don’t you unload our bags while I finish this, and then we can go.”

Unable to help feeling like he’s been dismissed, Mac complies without protest.

Soon they’re back in the car, headed to the grocery store, and the whole thing feels ridiculously domestic. Mac’s never been a fan of grocery shopping, but Riley makes it almost...fun. For starters, she’s not methodical about it the way Bozer and Desi are. But more than that, getting to spend time with her doing mundane, non-work stuff is a nice reminder that their relationship is more than just the job. They’re friends too.

Mac wishes there is a way to tell her all that without it sounding weird.

They come home, unload the groceries, and take Harley for a long walk, and that feels easy too. It feels normal, even though literally nothing about this situation is normal, and Mac already knows he’ll miss this when the op is over.

But normalcy ends when Riley beckons Mac to sit beside her at the kitchen table, and together they write an advertisement for their arms dealing business. Once they’re satisfied with it, Riley sends it off into the dark web, and there’s nothing to do but wait, like a spider after spinning her web.

The waiting is the worst part.

Mac is contemplating taking Harley for a second walk when Riley asks, “Want to help me make dinner?” He takes one look at her hands on her hips and the “you don’t actually have a choice” look on her face and knows he’ll be left to fend for himself if he doesn’t help now. Mac learned that the hard way back when he and Riley lived together.

“Sure.”

They work in comfortable silence. Mac chops vegetables and grates cheese for their quesadillas while Riley does the actual cooking part. Even though they are doing separate tasks, Mac is acutely aware of every move Riley makes, no matter how insignificant. Flexing her long, thin fingers around a knife. Itching the back of her calf with her foot. Dancing in place, spatula in hand, while she waits to flip the quesadillas sizzling in the pan.

Mac smiles softly. Her random little dances are cute. He’s noticed them more and more since realizing he has feelings for her, but if Mac is being honest, he’s always thought the dances are cute.

Riley hisses as she peeks under the tortilla, checking to see if it’s browned yet.

“You good?” Mac asks, frowning.

“Yeah, I touched the pan by accident.” Riley runs her thumb under cold water.

Her laptop dings while they eat. Wide-eyed, Mac glances at Riley. That was fast. She grimaces before sliding the laptop closer and checking the notification.

“Is it them?” he asks tentatively. That’s the hard part about this; in order for their business to look more legit, they had to just put an ad out and hope for a response, rather than target the terrorist organization directly.

Riley exhales. “No, it’s not them. It’s someone else.”

Swallowing another bite of quesadilla, Mac says, “I don’t know whether I’m relieved or if that’s worse.”

“Same.”

There are no more responses that night.

*****

Mac wakes up in the same position he fell asleep in—on his side, facing outward, with as much space between him and Riley as possible. When they crawled into bed the night before, Riley did the same.

Harley spent the night on the couch.

She’s a very guarded dog, Mac is slowly realizing. Tolerating, but not trusting. Mac supposes he would be like that too if he was a dog and he got stuck with a bunch of strangers after his human suddenly disappeared one day.

He makes coffee, feeds Harley breakfast, and takes a shower, all before Riley loses her battle with the snooze button and finally gets out of bed. While she showers, Mac takes Harley for a walk in hopes that the cool, spring air will ease the anxiety that took root the moment Riley released their ad into the void.

It doesn’t.

Dark, puffy clouds loom on the horizon, and the few birds Mac hears shriek at each other in warning. It looks like a storm is coming.

When Mac returns, he’s met with a grim expression, one he understands without Riley uttering a single word. “They answered,” she confirms.

“What did they say?” Unclipping Harley’s leash, Mac moves to stand behind Riley, resting his hands on the back of her chair. The scent of her shampoo tickles his nose, and he forces himself to ignore it and focus on what Riley’s saying.

“They want to meet. Today.”

“Time or place?”

Riley points at a small box on her screen. “Just an address.”

“What’s there?”

“A warehouse,” Riley says. “Owned by the same shell corporation other Phoenix techs already tied to the organization.”

“Not very clandestine, are they?”

“No, they’re not.” Riley looks up at him, her head bumping his sternum, and butterflies ricochet inside Mac’s rib cage. There’s something soft in Riley’s expression that makes Mac want to kiss her. “Are you ready for this?”

Mac sighs. “As ready as I ever am. Are you?”

“Yeah,” she says, but her confidence falters. Without thinking, Mac squeezes her shoulders in reassurance before walking away to change.

*****

The warehouse is located on the edge of the city, in an industrial area that has certainly seen better days. Even from a distance, Mac can see cobwebs decorating the warehouse windows and rust creeping up the roller doors. Aside from Riley, there’s not another soul in sight.

As per the directions the organization sent after Riley confirmed the meeting, Mac parks on the south side of the building, near the only functional-looking door. He doesn’t look at Riley as they get out of the car, instead desperately trying not to cringe at the cold, heavy weight of the gun holstered at his side, hidden beneath his jacket.

High-end arms dealers couldn’t walk around unarmed, unfortunately.

Although her hands are occupied with holding Harley’s leash, there’s a gun hidden beneath Riley’s suit jacket as well. Mac’s stomach churns. The second Riley emerged from their bedroom earlier wearing that jet black suit, she was a different person. She was wholly Genevieve Turner, and no matter how hard Mac tried, he couldn’t find even a single trace of his best friend beneath the icy exterior.

Locking their SUV, Mac smooths the lapels of his own black suit and slips into character as well.

The dark clouds Mac noticed earlier are directly overhead now. Mac has never believed in omens the way Jack did, but he can’t help hearing Jack’s voice in his head, warning him that black clouds are a sign of certain doom. Or something like that.

There’s no one inside the warehouse, at least as far as Mac can see. “Hello?” he calls, the word echoing slightly in the open space. Aside from a few random wooden crates, the room is empty.

A door slams, and then an older man comes into view. He’s probably in his late fifties, with graying hair and a beer belly his shirt doesn’t quite cover. The man swaggers like he owns the place, although Mac doubts the leader of a terrorist cell would deign to play tour guide.

No doubt there’s a quip on the edge of Riley’s tongue about entitled white men, but she doesn’t share it.

The man extends a hand to Mac in introduction. “Conrad.” His sneer doesn’t reach his eyes.

Mac frowns, keeping his hands at his sides. “Last name?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

What he’s about to say might screw everything up before it even starts, but Mac says it anyway. In his gut, he knows it’s the right call. “If it doesn’t matter, then we’re done here. My wife and I have no interest in entering a business relationship with someone too inexperienced to understand that trust is integral to any transaction.” Mac spins on his heel and strides toward the door, Riley falling into step beside him.

“Wait!” the man calls. They pause, turning around slowly. “Deacon. Conrad Deacon.” The man seems to know he’s already lost. Good. “Welcome to the cause.” He gestures for Mac and Riley to follow him.

Mac stands his ground. In his peripheral, Riley stands utterly still, the perfect mask of cool, collected neutrality. Almost bored, even. It’s scary how easily she becomes her cover.

“Come on now,” Conrad says, taking a single step forward. “We have much to discuss.”

That’s enough of the power play, Mac thinks, but just as he’s about to give in and follow Conrad, Riley utters a single, sharp command that rings through the room. “Sit.”

Harley obeys.

Riley’s lips curve in a cruel, taunting smile. “Then enlighten us.” Mac suppresses a shiver; he’s seen this side of Riley plenty of times before, watched her hone it over the years, but it’s still unnerving. Admittedly, it’s also kind of hot.

Conrad ignores her entirely. He croons, “Why don’t we start with your names?” It’s phrased like a question. It sounds like a question, but Mac sees the demand for what it really is.

Mac gestures to Riley. “This is my wife, Genevieve Turner. And my name is James.” His father’s name tastes like ash on Mac’s tongue.

“And the dog?”

“Killer,” Riley sneers. Mac isn’t sure if she’s kidding or not.

Again, Conrad doesn’t acknowledge her. “James, why don’t I give you the tour and explain what we do here.”

“We’ll go on the tour, but we are not here to join your cause.” It takes every ounce of Mac’s willpower to maintain his neutral tone. “All we care about is what you’d like us to provide and how much you’ll pay for it.”

Conrad doesn’t hide his displeasure. “Fine. Follow me.”

Mac and Riley are led through the open warehouse. The layout is straightforward and nearly impossible to get lost in. But after Conrad shows them a room full of rifles—countless hung on the walls, floor to ceiling, the rest in half-open crates—Mac finds himself counting the number of wooden shipping crates scattered around the building.

He doesn’t like his final number.

Arming terrorists doesn’t sit well with Mac, even if it serves a purpose. It makes him sick, knowing he will likely be indirectly responsible for their next attack.

Especially because those crates are no doubt full of the kind of rifles designed to kill people most effectively. The ones hanging on the wall are military grade, probably cutting-edge. Desi would know exactly what they are and how they work.

Trusting Riley is paying close attention, Mac only half listens to Conrad babble about the cause. But then the older man says something that stops Mac in his tracks. “Our country is being run into the ground by whiny do-nothings,” Conrad asserts, “who waste our money and spew garbage that some people matter more than others. Well, you know what? Hardworking, everyday Americans matter. But no,” he scoffs, “those damn liberals don’t like it when we remind them of the truth. Once we’re rid of them and the insufferables who elected them, this country will be better off.”

The ground sways under Mac’s feet. He knows these people believe this, read it in Matty’s extensive briefing notes. But it’s another thing entirely to hear someone say it to his face.

He can only imagine what Riley must be thinking.

Clearing his throat, Mac tries to redirect the conversation. “Like I said, we don’t care about your cause. Just tell us what you’re looking for, and we’ll be on our way.”

Conrad eyes him suspiciously, but complies. “We’re looking for something a little more than what you can get at the store, you know?”

Mac doesn’t, not exactly. He’ll have to ask Desi later. “I do,” he lies.

“Good. Here’s what we’re willing to pay for it.” He hands Mac a folded piece of paper, and Mac does a double take when he reads the number. There are a lot of zeroes. “And as a show of good faith, we’d like it delivered tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Riley splutters. Mac feels it then, the broiling rage slipping through a crack in her persona. He needs to get her out of there. Now. Not just to preserve the op, but for Riley’s wellbeing. Some audacity Matty has making Riley play nice with men like this.

Mac slides his hands into his pockets, using the movement as a cover to brush his knuckles against Riley’s fist. I know. I’m here. I’m sorry.

For the first time, Conrad addresses Riley directly. “Yes. Tomorrow. Unless that’s something you can’t do?”

“We can do that,” she replies calmly, and the difference between her reactions is like night and day. As quickly as that crack appeared, it was gone.

“Excellent.” Conrad takes another step toward Riley, offering to shake hands, but Harley’s low, menacing growl keeps him at bay. Rewarding the dog with a quick scratch on the head, Riley closes the gap and shakes Conrad’s still-outstretched hand.

“It’s a deal,” she says. Following suit, Mac shakes Conrad’s hand as well and follows Riley out the door, neither of them uttering another word.

Mac drives. One look at Riley’s trembling fist decides for him.

By the time the warehouse disappears from the rearview mirror, he can’t take the silence anymore. “Hey,” Mac starts, but Riley cuts him off with a hand.

“Not until we’re inside.”

They hit every single red light between the warehouse and the apartment, and Mac anxiously taps the steering wheel. Raindrops land on the windshield. They’re small at first, but soon the drops are large and numerous enough to refract the streetlights, and Mac struggles to see where he’s going. He adjusts the windshield wipers over and over, never landing on the right speed.

Too slow. Too fast. Too slow. Too fast.

Mac settles on a setting that’s slightly too fast, and the squeak of rubber on glass nearly matches his heart thudding in his chest.

Riley stares straight ahead, unmoving, unblinking. Mac wants to reach out, to let a gentle touch say what he verbally can’t, but the road is slick enough to make him keep two hands on the wheel. We’re almost there, he reassures himself.

By the time he parks, it’s pouring hard enough that the ten second walk from the car to the door soaks them to the bone. Riley’s hands shake as she unlocks the apartment door.

Once they’re inside and Mac unclips Harley’s leash, Riley turns to him with pained, pleading eyes. His heart breaking all over again, Mac draws her in for a long, tight hug. She doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t have to.

Mac just cradles the back of her head and sways gently, wishing he could fix the world for her.

Neither pulls away, even when Riley suddenly says, “If Conrad was smart, he would’ve had someone bug our car while he paraded us around the warehouse. I don’t think he’s actually smart enough to do that, but we should check first, just in case.”

Mac curses himself for not thinking of that. “Good call.” He rubs Riley’s back, hoping the gesture is soothing. “I hate the way he treated you,” he snarls. “Like you weren’t even worth acknowledging.”

“Welcome to being a woman.”

It was more than that. They both know it. But neither say it.

*****

“You need what?” Matty shrieks over the phone.

Mac winces. “Sorry.” He’d called Desi first, to ask what kind of guns Conrad meant with his innuendo, and received a verbal lashing for not asking any follow-up questions. But she made her best guess anyway. Now on the phone with Matty, it doesn’t take even a single brain cell to know that her reaction will be much, much worse.

“He wants us to prove ourselves,” Riley adds. “As a show of good faith.” The words come out dripping in venom, but their boss doesn’t comment. Mac takes a second to study her; Riley changed into leggings and an oversized flannel shirt, and there are still remnants of dark makeup smudges under her eyes. Now, she’s sitting on the kitchen counter with her knees tucked into her chest. It’s weird to see her take up so little space.

Matty sighs, deeply and loudly in a way conveys her annoyance more than words ever could. “Fine. A few weeks ago, Border Control confiscated a huge shipment of smuggled guns near El Paso, so I’ll see if we can borrow those. But next time, Blondie, don’t make promises you can’t keep.” He doesn’t correct Matty in that it was Riley who made the deal. That would only add fuel to the fire.

“Thank you,” he says, and Matty hangs up. Mac runs a hand through his damp hair. “That went well.” Riley’s lips twitch, but it’s not the amused reaction he hopes for. He’s at a complete loss regarding what to say to her, so Mac gently asks, “What can I do?”

Riley slides off the counter, and Mac reaches for her automatically, although he doesn’t actually touch her; his hand hovers just beside Riley’s elbow. She doesn’t shrink away, but she makes no move to touch him either.

“Help me put him and everyone like him in a deep, dark hole where they can’t hurt anybody. And then just…” she trails off, taking a deep breath. “Keep being you.”

With that, she walks away, leaving Mac alone in the kitchen, racking his brain to figure out what that last part means.

*****

Later that night, Mac tosses and turns, replaying Conrad’s words. Once we’re rid of them and the insufferables who elected them, this country will be better off. They seem off-kilter, like what the man said and what he really meant are misaligned. Mac sighs, rubbing his face.

Another bolt of lightning illuminates the bedroom, and Mac automatically counts the seconds until he hears thunder rumbling in the distance. The storm is moving closer.

Beside him, Riley lies on her back with her eyes closed, although her breathing is too light for her to be asleep. Mac wonders if her mind is just as loud and chaotic as his.

For Riley’s sake, he hopes it’s not.

*****

Sleep never finds Mac.

The storm rages all through the night, but by the time dawn arrives, the thunder and wind dissipate, leaving just the steady downpour. The clouds are dark enough that Mac can hardly tell the sun even bothered to rise this morning.

When Riley’s alarm goes off, it’s like the shrill tone is mocking Mac for being awake. Riley groans as she shuts it off.

“Morning,” he mumbles. His throat hurts. He needs water. “Did you sleep well?”

Another groan. “No.”

“At least you slept,” Mac mutters.

Riley rolls onto her side, drawing one of the extra pillows into her chest. “Do you always toss and turn that much?”

It was his fault, he realizes, that she didn’t sleep. Mac suddenly feels guilty. “Sorry. And no.”

He expects Riley to be upset at being kept awake, but she isn’t. With a look that just might be understanding, she softly asks, “What were you thinking about?”

Mac can’t say that his thoughts whip around his mind like raindrops in last night’s storm. Not without sounding crazy, at least. So instead he says, “I don’t even know. I just have a bad feeling about this.”

“Me too,” Riley admits. “It feels off.” Her eyes are heavy, and Mac’s had enough early mornings with Riley to know it’s not just the lack of sleep weighing her down.

“Go back to sleep. I can handle the delivery.”

Riley rolls her eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not letting you do that by yourself.”

He doesn’t argue. “Okay.”

A moment passes between them. It’s been happening more and more lately—holding eye contact a little too long, sharing smirks when no one else is looking, stealing moments where it’s just the two of them and nothing else matters. Each one gives him hope that there’s not a wall between them, but instead, a door. Someone just has to be brave enough to open it.

Sitting up, Riley quipps, “Just don’t make me regret letting you sleep in the bed with me.” Mac snorts.

“No promises.”

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#beth writes #macriley #macgyver #macgyver fanfiction #angus macgyver #riley davis #looking through a window au

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tundrainafrica · 4 years ago

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Title: Lovebug (9/12)

Summary:

“It might be a bug.”

“A bug?”

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

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

Link to cross-postings: AO3

Other Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9

Notes: Sorry for taking my sweet time posting this. We had no wifi for a while, transpo issue and I was dead asleep as soon as I got home two nights in a row lmfao.

Anyway, feedback is very much appreciated :D

Levi might have felt a little guilty about letting loose just that evening but his conservative mind was finding all the ways to justify it.

Maybe the justifications held some weight. After all, taking the midnight train out of the city wasn’t the strangest thing to do. Hange and Levi weren’t the only ones at the ticket gate then they weren’t the only ones waiting on the platform. On the train, Levi could count the number of empty seats more easily than the occupied ones.

He started to relax as soon as he settled on one of the seats. He convinced himself that in the end, he had been overreacting. There was nothing at all odd with rushing to her home then to his, packing two overnight bags and buying two last minute tickets to the northernmost station of their country.

To Pemberley. Levi didn’t have the time to load the book into his reader again. He instead downloaded the pdf file to his phone.

He had willed himself to make sense of the black on the bright white screen before deciding, it was too late at night to read. Instead he propped his elbows on the windowsill and leaned his chin on his hand. He snuck a glance at Hange who sat in front of him, leaning on the window in that same way.

A long day behind them, they were both exhausted. On the bright side, if Levi closed his eyes and let the train rock to whatever rhythm it was most comfortable with, he was sure that in a split second, they would have arrived at their destination.

Sleep could have lasted less than a second. Next thing Levi knew, he was fighting to open his eyes. The sun rose without warning, the only thing between them just an empty glass that did nothing to protect him from the first rays of morning.

Levi quickly adjusted his view, making sure he wasn’t directly staring at the sky like a while ago. He craned his head back, instead focusing on the rolling hills and the countryside.

It wasn’t the British countryside in the book. It didn’t seem at all like a Pemberley or a Rosings Park or Longbourn. Still, he delved into the passing green and foraged for whatever similarities his sleep muddled mind could come up with.

One thing Levi dared to note, despite his limited experience traveling, the view from an interregional highway, or an interregional train, the rolling hills that passed by, the clusters of trees that varied in density and the plains that dotted the view were all the same regardless of location. Despite the variety nature could offer, nature still had unifying characteristics. While at the same time, nature was distinct from everything non-nature.

And when it wasn’t unwillingly tamed, paved over, forced to coexist with concrete, buildings and humans, it was a sight to behold.

It was enough to take his breath away, enough to make him almost regretful that the train was moving too fast for him to stare for just a second longer at a changing landscape or canopies that blurred amongst one another.

Eventually, regret at not appreciating nature had him exhausted. He turned in front of him to see Hange’s eyes were fixed at whatever passing objects caught her eye outside the window. Her head bobbed, her eyes darted from left to right and her mouth was half open and she didn’t seem at all in a hurry to close them.

“I’m sure this isn’t your first time seeing this much nature,” Levi said, a humble start to light conversation.

Hange seemed comfortable going along with it. “It isn’t. We had the country club,” she said. There was a nonchalant look on her face as if she saw the ‘country club’ as more of a consolation.

Levi couldn’t help but agree. Golf courses were all green, the mini forests that lined the paths from the golf courses, to the beaches to the summer houses were all nature. Yet they were of a type of nature, trained not to bite any unsuspecting visitors.

When Levi leaned back on his chair, turning his head out of the window, he appreciated the raw green for a second longer. Then he concluded, there was novelty in seeing nature at its most candid form.

Hange spoke up. “You know, I haven’t been able to leave the city since we left the country club. And not traveling in months... This feels new.”

“But you’ve travelled before,” Levi responded.

“Of course I have,” Hange said. “Zeke would always take me out to the best gardens, the best parks, the best hiking trails… He knows I like nature.”

“So he took you to ‘Pemberley?’ Then to ‘Rosing Park then Longborn?” Most were likely fictional places but at that point, Hange may have had her own idea of what fictional was.

“No, not to my Pemberley,” Hange said, like it was the most unimportant thing in the world. “Never.”

“So this was supposed to be your first time going together?” Levi asked. He noted that they never did get to sit down and map the route to Hange’s dream destinations. Hell, he didn’t even know where they were.

He opened his phone, then the map of the northernmost region.

The capital of the northern region had city buses, a small subway system, nothing like what they had back home. Levi traced the blue and the green, pondering for himself which had the most rolling hills, the most ‘gardens.’ Obviously, over a very zoomed out map and a few hundred mile radius, it would be difficult to tell so he consulted Hange. “We could take an unlimited bus ticket… or a two day all you can ride train---”

“No. We rent a car,” Hange said.

“Wait, but if we don’t know the land--.” There were too many excuses he could have brought up. The excuse he was most hesitant to even fathom seemed most pressing then. Levi didn’t know how to drive.

Hange probably saw through it. “I’ll drive.” The cheeky grin on her face was enough of a hint, she was more than ready for adventure.

Levi closed the maps application and pocketed his phone. “So I’m assuming you’ll be doing the navigation.”

Hange only nodded, her smug smile getting wider by the second.

***

Hange surprisingly knew how to navigate the complexities of building an itinerary. What the hell she was doing, how the hell she was doing it and what the hell her plan was, Levi couldn’t be too sure.

Thirty minutes into arriving at the regional train station, they had rented a car and secured a pocket wifi. Thirty five minutes into it, Hange was pulling out of the station in a rented sedan.

The train station was situated in the middle of the city and in the car, Levi had to subdue the panic which came with going out of the city then seeing the scenery slowly shift from five story buildings to two story houses then finally to the peaceful green offered by the city outskirts. He wondered why they had even taken a train station to town if they were going back into countryside landscapes anyway.

“Do you know where we’re going?” Levi asked. Levi knew that Hange had been there once before. Just the idea that someone could actually easily navigate expressways and exits without a phone on the dock and a guide seemed almost unnerving.

“Ish,” Hange said, her eyes fixed straight ahead.

“We have wifi, we could use a maps application to navigate?” Levi never drove, he wouldn’t know but, it couldn’t hurt to be just a little more careful.

“Maybe later. I’ve been here more than enough times,” Hange said. They rode in silence for a minute or so more before she turned to him. “We’re gonna be on the road for a while and driving on the freeway gets boring.”

Levi glanced up at her questioningly.

Hange caught his eye “Tell me a story.”

“About what?”

“How was your date with Petra?” The question came out of nowhere and Hange had said it too casually and too abruptly and that had Levi choking on his own saliva.

He recovered quickly, clearing his throat. “Excuse me?”

“Your date with Petra? Didn’t you tell me you would be going on one?”

“I did,” Levi admitted. “Because you asked me to,” he added, a second later.

“I suggested it.” Hange clarified. “And how did it feel?”

“Good.” His response was automatic.

One hand on the steering wheel, Hange pulled her phone from her lap, unlocked it and turned on her modified emotions alarm. “Turn yours on.”

Levi only saw one reason why she’d do all that. “Why? You don’t trust me?”

“Well, you went through all the trouble of making the gift right? Let’s make use of it.”

Levi could have fought. He only needed five seconds to see reason in her order. Besides, if she turned hers on, it would turn out to be a fair trade. He turned on his phone scrolled through the home screens and opened the application.

“So how did it feel?” Hange asked. She set her phone on the stand and hovered one finger over the activate button.

“It felt good,” Levi willed himself to say it with the same conviction as a second ago, firm and straightforward but just a little shaky underneath.

Still too shaky to deceive his own application. A yellow spot just under the words ‘happy’ would have been nice. After all, ‘good’ was a word that generally implied that something was good, something made me happy. The alarm flashed with green and Levi had half the mind to fling his phone over the backseat of the car.

“Happy sad? Or sad happy?” Hange asked, there was a laugh in her voice.

Was she mocking me? It felt like a much better argument to quote her, mock her maybe. He glared at her. You told me love is a choice right? By some allusion, Levi attempted to put it all together. “I’m making the choice to say it was a good and productive date. We tried to pick out a good present for you.”

“And in the end, you decided to make an application,” Hange said. “Did Petra suggest anything?”

“Tea, a wallet, a pencil case…”

“I would have enjoyed those,” Hange said.

“It didn’t seem like that to me,” Levi admitted. He studied her features as he spoke.

Hange’s face was unchanging, her eyes still looking straight ahead. Levi was almost amazed she managed to keep some of her focus in conversation. Hange turned the car, swerving towards one exit.

Levi winced at the white that flashed in front of him for a split second. “How do you feel?” He asked.

“About what?”

“About the date?” He answered. Levi gave Hange a good once over, ending with her hand on the clutch. Her hand wasn’t shaking, but she held it like she was going to pull it out of its place any second now.

Hange paused. She had hovered her hand over the alarm but she never did activate it.

Levi subtly turned towards the phone then back at her. “Happy?” At that point, maybe a mischievous side of him had taken over. He wanted to provoke her.

Hange poked the active button on her phone, much harder than necessary, hard enough for Levi to wonder if it had reduced the phone’s lifespan by even just a year or so.

Her phone flashed once again with a purple dot.

Levi noticed her eyes widen for a second then a flash of pink flowered on her cheeks before she looked away. “Angry sad or sad angry?” He asked, deliberately mimicking Hange’s old tone of a while ago. It came out more of a growl than whatever naturally sing songy voice Hange managed everyday. Either way it had been a satisfying set of motions.

“Angry sad… Or maybe sad angry?” Hange murmured. Then she hummed for a second longer, the car slowed down with it and she turned back to him. “I feel...purple,” she said.

Purple isn’t a feeling. Levi glanced accusingly at her. Hange though wasn’t looking back at him. If she saw anything through her peripherals, she didn’t make it obvious.

With her own series of gestures, Hange had given one message. She didn’t want to be bothered.

Yet, she had asked him about Petra for a reason.

Levi couldn’t tell how much he saw was a trick of the light or a clear hint. Hange’s jaw had tightened, her eyes narrowed ahead. She didn’t talk much after the word ‘purple’ that softened to a whisper mid word.

For the first time, she wasn’t being completely transparent

Levi then felt less obligated to open up. “If you’re feeling purple, then I’m feeling green,” he said.

They didn’t talk for a while after that.

The car exited the main road to a road half its size. Although the car always rattled, it was particularly more obvious then and as Levi looked out the window and back at her, he realized that maybe it was because she was slowing down.

Slowing down, or maybe vacillating the best course of action.

“You okay?” he asked.

“I’m fine. Just trying to remember the way around here,” Hange said. She looked behind her, then forward again.

“What are we doing here?”

“I’m gonna use this birthday weekend of mine to take a trip down memory lane, reflect on stuff.”

“If that’s how you want to celebrate your birthday…” Levi checked his phone once more before pocketing it.

“Thanks for coming with me,” Hange said, her tone more serious. “Going on these types of treks, they really help. More than you probably think they do.”

Levi could at least try to understand it, if he just focused on how far apart the houses were, the notable manicured green of his surroundings and every single tree, flower, root and bush that just seemed to have a place. All acting prim and proper as if they were doing the gardens a favor.

There must be some appeal at least. “It’s quiet,” Levi noted as the car slowed to a stop to the side of the road.

“Most of the houses here aren’t occupied,” Hange answered. “Who actually wants to live in the middle of nowhere all year round.”

Levi turned around once, scanning his surroundings for a second longer. The houses were too far apart, he counted five just by doing a 360 but he knew if he squinted and took in the other shapes far past the downhill slope he could count more. “From the looks of the houses here, rich people,” Levi said.

“During the summer maybe or during the winter vacation. Every other time of the year most people will stay out in the city so they’re nearer to work,” Hange said. “Zeke owns this house.” She didn't have to point far, Hange only had to casually brush her thumb over to her side for Levi to follow her gaze.

Of course Zeke would own one. When Levi looked behind him again, then looked to the far left and the far right, he had to admit Zeke had one of the grandest ones, a wide two story mansion situated at the top of a hill.

“This is my Rosings Park,” Hange said. She walked towards the small pedestrian gate, pulled a key from her pocket and with a quick flick of movements--- as if she had done it so many times before--- she unlocked then pushed the metal gate open with a creak.

The view behind the black bars was only more beautiful. They climbed the hill and slowly but surely, Levi was getting a much better view of the house on top. He noted that the house gleamed with a type of beauty that could take one’s breath away. He had been a little self conscious though and he found himself willing his mouth shut, letting his breaths come out with a more rehearsed rhythm.

“Did you ever continue the book?” Hange asked, her eyes fixed ahead.

It was easy to tell which book she had been talking about. “Since you spoiled me? No,” he admitted.

“Then I don’t think you’ve read far enough into the book if you still think Elizabeth ended up with Mr. Wickham,” Hange said. “You probably won’t appreciate Rosings park then.”

“You still remember…” Levi could have sworn it had been months since he told her about the book.

“The book means a lot to me,” Hange said. Her words were a bit more careful that time, but she was starting to climb the hill, a little faster as if whatever scenes were running through her head then had injected in her, enough energy for adventure.

Levi brushed away a rush of guilt and he followed behind her. “Go spoil,” he said. I’m sorry about being angry. He didn’t say those last two words, awe, exhaustion or maybe a combination of both had him opting to stay quiet. Maybe he chose to reflect and as he followed behind, he started to wonder why he had been angry about her spoiling in the first place.

Hange seemed surprisingly eager to spoil him. The first words out of her mouth came out unimpeded. “Rosings Park is where Mr. Darcy first proposed to Elizabeth.”

First proposed. “So she rejected him?” Levi asked.

Hange turned back to him and nodded, a strange smile on her face. “And why do you think Elizabeth would reject Mr. Darcy?”

“He was an asshole right?”

“According to Elizabeth that is…” Hange looked at him expectantly but Levi for the life of him couldn’t tell what she wanted. She didn’t give him time to answer. She ran straight ahead towards the side of the house.

Levi was left with no choice but to follow. After all, the grounds were much larger than Levi had expected. From his view at the bottom of the hill, the house had seemed small, only composed of the front porch. As Hange went behind the house, disappearing in the corner, Levi started to suspect that the summer house was larger.

Consequently, Levi was occupying himself over the wealth of Zeke.

Again. The view didn’t do anything to help. The corner opened up to manicured gardens, clean cut hedges and flowers that could have been arranged by some invisible hand. Or maybe they were arranged artificially. It probably wasn’t beyond Zeke and his money to find ways to grow flowers so they were evenly spaced, further accentuating the fiery orange and bright red on the simple green.

Hange followed the stone path that lined the large house, slowly balancing on the pebbled line that cut between the cobbled stone path like it was a tightrope. She had the balance, maybe the eagerness to look straight ahead, and Levi couldn't really follow her gaze or be certain of where she was staring.

She didn’t look particularly entranced at anything as if she had seen it so many times before.

“This is one of Jaeger summer houses,” Hange said. She stopped by the fork of the path, one side circled the house, the other went straight into the garden. “He has others all over the country, others abroad. Too many to count and I don’t even think I’ve been to all of them.”

“Okay.” Levi had felt pressured to say something. As the awkward silence dragged on, Levi realized that might have not been the best thing to say.

What else was there to say though?

Wow the garden is so nice. It seemed like an appropriate thing to say but it didn’t feel like something he would have liked to admit to Hange.

Wow your husband is so rich. What else would that do but reiterate what Levi already knew?

Wow, I wish I was your husband. That last one felt like a mind fart. Something that had seemed natural to think but as Levi pondered it for a second longer, he realized just thinking that exact phrase seemed all the more inappropriate.

“Does it seem artificial?” Hange asked.

“Yes, it does.” That answer came out easier definitely, especially when it wasn’t a begrudging compliment. Especially when in the back of his mind, he could remind himself, those weren’t his words, those were Hange’s.

Hange continued to indulge him. “Gaudy?”

“Very tacky, incredibly tacky.” Maybe those words had seemed more for him than for anyone else. A hint of guilt settled at his chest but then he remembered, the Jaeger family had more than enough money. He could spare a few unkind words. He looked at Hange, trying his best, to keep his eyes away from the garden in front of him, before he started to doubt the reliability of his own words.

Despite the ‘gaudiness,’ Hange walked ahead, following the stony path and Levi followed behind. Beyond the shiny manicured hedges were benches, a gazebo and Hange sat one of the ones closest to the top, just before the steep incline fell. It was a good vantage point for a comprehensive view of the garden.

At the highest point, the green expanded in all directions. He could pick out how the sun kissed the lawn, the trees and how they shone with something seemingly unnatural. The more Levi stared, the more easily it became to pick out what gaudiness Hange had been talking about.

With his eyes looking out for the right glimmers, he soon figured for himself, they shone like plastic. It soon became apparent to Levi, there was something artificial and tacky about manicured lawns, well trimmed hedges and carefully positioned flowers. The guilt assuaged and Levi felt all the more confident to look back at Hange. “Why do you like it here then?”

“It’s still Rosings park to me,” Hange said matter-of-factly.

“And what’s so special about Mr. Darcy’s first proposal?”

“Read the book,” Hange said as if that were the easiest thing to do then.

The book was loaded into his phone. It was just a few clicks away, reading was an entirely different process and Levi found it tempting to overlook that order---or that friendly suggestion altogether.

“Just spoil me. You spoiled me already before,” Levi said.

“Mr. Darcy first proposed here.”

You said that already. “And? What’s so special about that?”

Hange didn't reply to him immediately. For a long few seconds, she stared at nothing in particular then turned to him, a defiant look on her face. “You know, you remind me of Mister Darcy.” A backhanded insult maybe, enough to have Levi looking away as blood rushed to his face.

Anger, it was definitely anger. “How do I remind you of Mister Darcy?” Levi challenged.

“Read---”

“Don’t.” Levi looked away.. “Tell me to read the book.”

“And there you are again.” Hange waved one hand at him, as if making a point.

A point Levi could only grip weakly. “You think I’m an asshole?” One realization dawned on him, maybe he had been pressing a little too much at her points.

“Not an asshole. A well intentioned man with a very abrasive manner of speaking.”

“Abrasive?” Levi asked. When he realized he put a little too much lip into the ‘br’ and too much throat into that last last syllable that Hange might have just been right, but only just. “What makes you think I’m abrasive?” He added, a second later, just making his manner of saying the word ‘abrasive,’ softer and tamer.

Hange looked pointedly at him. She stood up, right in front of the gazebo. And she stood there for a second longer, as if she expected him to follow.

It was awkward to sit alone on a bench, in a garden he wasn’t familiar with, especially when the partner of the owner was standing seemingly uncomfortable by the gazebo. He stood up and walked towards her.

“Was I at least tolerable?” Hange asked with a very distinct tone, a hint of a mock accent in her voice.

Tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt me. For some reason, those words had stuck with him. “Why the hell are you citing the book?”

“Oh, so you noticed. I wanna play a bit,” Hange said.

“Play what?”

“Just play a bit with the man who reminds me so much of Mister Darcy,” Hange said. The insult still poked at Levi at his most irritable and he was tempted to walk away.

Hange put one hand out and the most natural movement was to look back. “What do you want?” Levi asked. Two parts of him were grappling for control, one with the intention to walk away and one tempted to take her hand. “Why are you putting your hand out?”

She’s married. She’s married. She’s married.

“May I have this dance?” Hange asked.

No, you cannot dance with a married person. People go to balls because they’re single. His conscience wasn’t screaming but it had grumbled it with utmost authority.

Holding hands was off limits. Holding hands with a married person in one of the summer houses of her billionaire husband was very much off limits. What the hell was Hange thinking? His head started to spin, there was a hitch of breath and Levi didn’t even think confusion could have sent a prickle in his eyes.

The hand quickly disappeared from in front of him. Levi looked up to see Hange had pulled that hand back and it fell to her side. Still, Hange was moving it, as if it was still very much fair game. “See, you’re a softie at heart,” she said.

“What are you trying to prove?” Levi asked.

“That you’re like Mr. Darcy?” Hange was getting more and more smug. “Mr. Darcy didn’t wanna dance either.”

“We’re not in a ball,” Levi said, blood rushing to his cheeks. Suddenly everything seemed like an insult. Darcy was an asshole yet a big softie. Two descriptions on two different ends of the spectrum. Levi started to reflect. Which description was more insulting?

Hange leaned back on the gazebo. ”Let me enjoy this, I met a guy who reminds me of mister Darcy. Then when we first met, I thought you hated me, if not hated me, I thought you just hated the world,” she said.

"How can you assume that from our first meeting?" Levi asked.

Hange sighed. "You sat too far away from me, you acted like my being there was an inconvenience and you weren't too happy to be answering all my questions."

"I was being professional."

"I have met sales people nicer than that."

Levi wasn’t a salesman. That much, he could admit. "And just because I was a little abrasive, you'll assume I hate you?"

"What can I say, that's my prejudice," Hange said. She didn't look like she would have bothered to hear much about his explanation.

"And what are you going to say now? My own abrasiveness is pride?" Levi challenged. Really, he was in no mood for a challenge then, a challenge he didn’t himself understand. He sighed and turned back to the bench. From the mischievous glint in Hange’s eyes, it was obvious there were way more things he still didn’t understand. “Give me time to finish the book,” he said.

He stretched his legs out, unlocked his phone and opened the ebook file.

He didn't remember the last words where he stopped but he did remember one particular passage that seemed a little bolder, the ink darker particularly on the bright white of his phone screen.

You could not make me happy, and I am convinced that I am the last woman in the world who could make you so.

Then comprehension came quickly after that. Levi scanned through the next page, until reaching a point where he knew there was new information.

Back to that asshole Darcy. At that point, Levi was in less of a mood to reflect. Hange had called him Darcy, he still considered that one character to be a total asshole and he found himself torn between denying and accepting his sad fate.

Hange continued to move, a flicker at his peripherals. He felt it clearly, she sat beside him again. He heard the click as she unlocked her phone. Then the all too familiar sound as the love alarm activated. Love alarm or Emotion alarm?

Levi cursed himself for reusing that damn sound. He glanced quickly, just to search for some flash in the color. He couldn't really tell the contents of her phone from his angle. And when he had gathered up the courage to look, Hange had already pocketed it.

“Peaceful isn’t it?” Hange started.

“How do you feel today?” Levi asked. He kept his voice disconnected, not looking at all at Hange.

“Happy,” she said.

Levi had turned on his own application almost surreptitiously, making the conscious effort to silence it just a second ago.

The alarm flashed before him again. A very familiar yellow, with the words happy on top.

“Good for you then,” Levi finally responded.

He made another conscious effort, a quick sanity check, just to make sure the smile wasn’t apparent in his tone.

The house wasn't empty.

As Levi soon found out as they made their way back out to the gate, there were housekeepers, gardeners. And they seemed fond of Hange, fond enough to even remember her birthday. Some had even been friendly enough to ask who the man with her was.

Friendly. Or suspicious. For a while longer, Levi was self conscious.

But there was nothing to hide. He and Hange after all had just gotten friendly over the months.

“This is Levi, he’s a developer helping me work on my PhD,” Hange explained it like it was just the truth.. “And I thought I’d show him around the estate. If you don’t mind…” And it was the stone cold truth and as she spoke, Levi couldn’t help but be fascinated at how feelings of sadness, guilt and relief mixed so easily together inside him.

The housekeeper shook her head. “No, we don’t mind at all. Do you two need lodging? We could prepare---”

Hange put her hands up in front of her. “No, that would be too much. We’re only here for the night and I think I wanna go further up north.”

“Just like last time?” Worry flashed across the housekeeper’s face for just a second. “You know it gets dangerous nearer to the mountains…”

“We’ll only be there for a while, just long enough to see it again. And we’ll be careful about it.” Hange looked like she was saying too much. But she always talked so it shouldn’t have been such an odd thing to think. Maybe because Hange spoke with a little more tension, her words came out of her much faster, sometimes stilted and Levi found himself staring, then avoided her gaze as he realized he couldn’t even control what he was feeling.

The quick exchange eventually ended and he was following Hange out of the house. Her strides were much harder to keep up with.

“Sorry about that,” Hange said. “I get nervous when I visit the Jaeger estate alone.”

“You’re married to Zeke, you have every right to be there.”

“I married Zeke, not his money. I don’t wanna play the partner that just suddenly enjoys all the richest and powers of my husband. That’s why I didn’t even take his name. I’m not a gold digger. I’m not a Jaeger, we just so happened to get married.” She got into the car and closed the door with a louder slam than usual.” I’d feel much better staying over if Zeke was with me.”

“You didn’t have to take me here either if you were uncomfortable.”

“I wanted to show you my Rosing Park,” Hange said. She placed her hand on the clutch and started the car. “And next, we go to ‘Pemberley.’ It’s a few hours away from here so buckle up.”

The car pulled out from the driveway and soon they were out on the road again.

A few minutes of silence later, Levi started to get a little restless. “This book really means a lot to you huh?” He asked.

Hange nodded then she was quiet for a while longer and Levi thought it proper to just let her navigate her way through. The car continued to whirr and if Levi looked closely, he even noticed his body was shaking with it. If he read for a while longer, he could end up with his head spinning and his eyes crossing. He increased the font size and willed himself to read again.

“You know,” Hange’s voice was ringing in the silence and it pulled him out of his semi concentrated state.

Levi looked up at her, and just behind her, he saw they arrived back in the free way.

Hange continued. “One thing about Pride and Prejudice, the author doesn’t spend too much time talking about how the landscapes look like. The appearance of the houses and gardens are up for interpretation.”

Levi recalled, Hange was a very inquisitive person. Enough to hyperfixate on landscape? He was doubting. “Then why did you imagine Zeke’s manor as Rosings?” He asked.

Hange shrugged. “If you read the book, you’d see, it was the home of Lady Catherine, an incredibly tacky place and if you remember the gardens behind the house, they’re very green but they seem…. Artificial? Rehearsed?” She gave a pained look.

“Then why do you care enough to look at them if you hate the gardens that much?”

Hange shook her head. “I don’t hate them but the novel, it made me reflect on a lot of things and sometimes, when I allow myself to look at the landscapes, I’m able to think about what happened in the book, and about love and---”

“So Mr. Darcy proposed to Elizabeth,” Levi interrupted. “Then what happened?”

“She turned him down,” Hange said.

“Why?”

“To put it simply, because she thought Darcy was an asshole.”

“It’s only natural that people wouldn’t want to marry an asshole right?” Levi asked. “Books should be teaching those types of things.”

Hange spared him a long glare. “Well, here’s the thing. Mr. Darcy isn’t an asshole. He’s misunderstood.”

“And what do romance novels do but romanticize every single ‘misunderstood’ man.”

Hange hummed and stared back again at the front. The car continued to move at a steady pace. A long pause followed. Then she spoke up again. “What if I told you Pride and Prejudice is not really a romance?”

“When it follows a couple and the development of a relationship, I think it counts.”

Hange patted the steering wheel. “Well sure, the novel tackles love and marriage but the approach is… cold, calculating. If you notice, they spend more time discussing money, properties, duty. It takes into account money, status, upbringing… so it seems more like a social commentary to me. ”

You could not make me happy, and I am convinced that I am the last woman in the world who could make you so.

“Then how did this book shape your idea of love?” Levi asked.

Hange put her finger to her chin. She had a far off look. “I like the idea of approaching love as something to calculate and to think about. Like Elizabeth and Darcy, they explored it, they thought long and hard about it..”

“Oh?” Levi asked, one eyebrow raised. “Is this where your ‘love is a choice’ schtick comes from?”

Hange bit her lip. “Not just that definitely. There’s a lot to learn about being hasty, about having to think long and deep about love and marriage. They didn’t fall in love at first, they were prideful. They had their prejudices but they made it work… And I thought to myself, maybe these are what love and marriage are? Maybe they're calculating like a science, maybe we should consider everything from reputation, money, family and convenience when we deal with something like love and marriage and it’s okay to approach life that way.”

For some reason, that tirade only made Levi heavier and heavier the more he continued. "The main character… she turned down Mr. Collins proposal and that was because she didn't love him right? Emotions play a part too," Levi said.

"I'm not denying it," Hange said. "But ask yourself, how much of a part are emotions supposed to play?"

That question, Levi couldn't answer. Somehow, that should have been something someone a little more experienced like Hange should have answered for him. Instead, she kept quiet, her eyes looking straight ahead, but she blinked a little faster the next few times as if she was struggling with something he couldn't see.

It could have been uncharacteristic. It was an odd set of emotions to play with but Levi was suddenly more and more compelled to break the silence himself. With nothing much else to say, he let his emotions speak for him. "If I were a little cold before, I didn't mean that."

"No offense taken," Hange grinned at him knowingly. "You seem tense." She was studying him for that glimmer of a second before she started to fiddle with her phone with her free hand. "I have the audiobook for Pride and Prejudice. You wanna listen?"

***

"They gradually ascended for half a mile, and then found themselves at the top of a considerable eminence, where the wood ceased, and the eye was instantly caught by Pemberley House, situated on the opposite side of a valley, into which the road with some abruptness wound.

"This is supposed to be my Pemberley," Hange said. She had been hyping it up since a while ago that it seemed almost anticlimactic then. With the tone Hange was giving, he was sure she had been a little disappointed too. "Believe me, it looks nicer on good days," she added.

It had been a good day until a while ago. He could have sworn the sky had been blue for at least half the trip. Grey clouds were a strange things, part of the clouds were grey from afar but never looked too menacing until they was looming directly above them. Only when it was nearer did it have the tendency to just blanket everything in a very dull and unbearable grey.

Any color would look grey with the right level of dimness. He wondered for a while longer why Hange was still continuing the trek. The longer they walked, the farther they got from the car.

Levi’s worry, his nervousness only increased threefold, fourfold then he lost count. After all, they had stopped on what could have been the middle of nowhere. He couldn't tell where they were. Any inkling of sense laid out in front of them was in the form of a dirt road, just stretched out from the freeway with no buildings for miles, no pit stops.

And if it actually started to rain? Levi imagined it for a second before shaking his head. He tried to focus on other things like the ease of walking, his manageable energy levels.

The meagre late lunch of a drive-through burger meal was more than enough for a quick hike. Levi found himself pondering whether energy should have even been expended for something so grey.

The color grey just didn't seem worth the hike to see. "Why are we here?" Levi asked.

"Let's just stay long enough to climb the hill." Hange seemed persistent. Her back was on him and he couldn't tell the face she was making then. “It might look better on the other side.”

They were near enough at least that Levi had to crane his neck to see the top and he consoled himself. Maybe it was worth the hike. Maybe Hange was more privy to weather patterns and she at least calculated the quick hike and the awe that it would be worth.

Then Levi reminded himself, it was her birthday. Whether it did leave him as in awe as she was was irrelevant. That was a consolation Hange afforded herself. He was merely a companion. There should be things to get out of the conversation at least. “Tell me about your Pemberley,” Levi said.

“You’re gonna continue reading right? Do you really want to know?” Hange asked, seeming suddenly careful with her words.

After spoiling me the rest of the way? Levi would have wanted to ask.

“You seemed invested,” Hange said. It was a sufficient answer to his silent question. “I’d rather you read it on your own. Especially the part about Pemberley and the scene in Rosing’s.”

“Why? After spoiling me this much?” His abrasiveness, the irritation had made his legs lighten under him and he moved a little faster catching up to Hange.

Hange seemed concentrated, looking ahead, not hesitating even as the incline presented itself right in front of them. It was getting steeper and Levi felt it as an ache in his legs as he climbed but Hange, admirably or begrudgingly, seemed unfazed

Levi was a few inches shorter and maybe he was at a disadvantage. He didn’t have the same investment either but he stepped forward, going at the steeper incline with wider strides while maintaining speed. He looked to Hange who was right next to him. She continued to look ahead, she craned her head back, her hastily tied hair fell behind her and she was whispering something.

If Hange hadn’t seemed hypnotized yet disturbed, if the fat cold droplets didn’t settle on his arms, getting stronger and more numerous by the second, maybe he would have let her climb and climb. He would have obediently followed behind.

It had been everything at once. Maybe confusion at everything had been that one final nail on the coffin. Irritation welled quickly, then anger. Hange hadn’t been speaking in any straightforward manner for a while already so he forced it out of her.

“Why the hell does Pemberley mean so much to you?” Levi raised his voice. Just in case that hadn’t been enough, hell, that had actually been enough, he pulled her from behind.

The rain accumulated on the dirt road quickly and when Hange turned to answer, she fell backward rapidly. Right on top of him.

It was a quick and terrifying sequence or movements, Levi found himself sandwiched, Hange in front of him, his behind buried in mud and dirt, blades of grass were brushing heavily past him. But he didn't stop.

They didn't stop. Gravity had them moving down, naturally quickly and violently down the steep incline and Levi could only be thankful that the grass had been kind, absent of anything that could have snagged at any part them.

A few long seconds later, by some miracle, they were unharmed, still very much alive.

It didn’t change the fact that at the bottom, they were both fucking dirty. And he was a little--- scratch that--- very rattled. And Hange was on top of him, her hair clung close to her, her glasses had fallen to her mouth and she seemed just a little disconcerted.

Hange pushed herself up. “I’m sorry, are you okay?” She put one hand on his cheek, one filthy hand.

Instinctively, Levi pushed it away. She was disgusting. They were both disgusting. He could taste a hint of dirt at his lips and he closed his nose and shut his mouth before he could taste anymore.

It was disgusting. And in that state, he was recalling how pleasant almost drowning seemed when he was covered in mud, the rain only continued to pour. He would rather have been drinking salt water then.

When he noticed that a minute passed under the rain, he started to observe then search for signs on how Hange might have been feeling. They had left their phones in the car. He was thankful they weren’t casualties but he was a little regretful that he couldn’t read her then.

Purple. He made a guess. That was the only reading she had given then. Sad angry? Or angry sad?

But when he looked for sadness, angriness, he saw it in those wide eyes in the red just under her eyes. Or he could have been projecting. It could have also been a placebo affect.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have. I got so fucking worked up over this. Let's go back." Hange's voice was stilted, alarmingly cold.

"You've done this before right?"

The rain wasn't stopping anytime soon. In fact, it came down hard and Levi could have felt like he was drowning again.

The storm had proven to be a worse adversary. The wind was almost as menacing as waves.

He struggled to his feet. Hange had held out her hand, wrapped one arm around his shoulder and standing up became a small feat.

"Hey, are you okay?" Hange asked again, her voice a whisper that brushed at his neck. She was close enough to even overwhelm the pouring rain just outside their small bubble.

He hadn't answered her earlier. He didn't even know how she had been able to get the message to him in spite of the wind blowing at their face, the thunder and the patter of the rain on the dirt road.

When they were close enough, shoulders and arms touching, her lips almost brushing against his ear. He thought it close enough that she would probably hear if he whispered. Maybe it was worth just opening his mouth to speak. Two words or maybe four. Just long enough so she won’t have to speak again the whole trek back to the car.

“Let’s just go back.”

***

Adrenaline, exhaustion and the shaken state eventually gave way to irritation once again.

It was a slow process but Hange was silent. She had been driving much slower and with the peace, the slow rhythm of the whirring of the car, Levi had time and space to contemplate.

Levi was contemplating the expenses of cleaning a rented car. When the mud started to dry and harden, when they caked at his skin, they only aggravated the at first, silent irritation. It was silent but it was irritating altogether. He angrily wiped his hands on the dashboard of the car, and reached for his phone next to the clutch.

“Levi, I can pay for cleaning up the car," Hange said.

Levi kept quiet. For one, he didn’t want to entertain the idea of making her pay for all of it. A part of him though, the stingy part, would have rather she did.

“Levi, are you angry at me?” Hange asked a minute later.

And that phrase always had that magic of making most people angrier than they were already. Levi was no exception.

Still, he did try to be just a little nicer. “You’re driving aimlessly on the road. We’re a mess in the car. We’re both covered in mud, my legs and my arms hurt. Hange, think.”

“Think?”

“Who wouldn’t be at least a little angry?” His tone betrayed his words. Hange had been responding in questions since a while ago and it only served to further aggravate it.

“I told you, I’m sorry.” She did say 'sorry' a while ago but he wasn't in the mood to accept it then. So it slipped his mind.

“Well, finally you’re being more direct but you know, it would have been helpful if you’ve been more open since a while ago.”

“More open about what?”

Levi smacked his hand on the dashboard. “There you are again, you ask questions but you never fucking answer. And if you answer you’re fucking vague, or you fucking digress.”

“Any... question you wanna ask?” Hange asked hesitantly.

“Why does Pemberley mean so much to you? Why does this damn book mean so much to you? You’re a scientist, a researcher. Why are you getting so worked up over a fucking social commentary?”

Hange gave him a wounded look, and she stared for a long time. Levi only noticed then, that that had been the longest stare she had been giving him in a while. The fiasco of a while ago was enough of an evidence that Hange did get worked up over it and Levi held it like a memento, just in case Hange decided to play oblivious.

She didn’t. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I got emotional.” But she still wasn’t answering questions.

“Why does Pemberley mean so much to you?” Levi asked again. He kept this voice hard, stone cold and firm. He enunciated every syllable and every word like they were separate from one another.

Hange avoided his gaze. “Well, I really like the relationship between Elizabeth and Darcy---”

“Why do you like it so much?”

“It’s because I would have wanted the same for myself---”

“Would have?” And Levi caught it, two words that had hovered in the air for a second.

Hange clamped her mouth shut.

“Would have?” Levi repeated again in the silence. And the irritation, the discomfort and the fury from being caked from head to toe with semi dried mud had somehow been released with two words.

“I have the same for myself,” Hange clarified.

“Would?”

“It’s a slip of the tongue,” Hange said. She didn’t look back and it didn’t look like she would be prodding that topic anymore.

So Levi brought up another question. “What about Elizabeth and Darcy’s relationship do you like?”

“It’s... “ Hange was hesitating. “It’s in the small details…” She seemed more concentrated on the road ahead of her.

“Go on.” Levi gripped on the seat cushion underneath him. Somehow, the car was starting to move in time to the patter of the rain.

“You might even think I’m crazy for looking at them…” Hange continued.

“But…” Levi turned to Hange, he looked closely as her lips parted as if she was about to say something.

Then her voice filled the cramped space inside the car for only a split second, before the squeak of tires, the spray of water and the burst of sensations that came with the dizzying experience of his body lurching forward in his seat.

For a second, Levi could have sworn he was dead.

***

They weren’t the only ones who decided to call it a day. It turned out there were numerous people who had been wandering around that side of the country and it looked like that particular motel had been the only one for miles around.

The first warning should have been the fact that it had taken Levi and Hange minutes to navigate a pretty small parking lot, just to find a place to fit the car. The second warning should have been the amount of lit up windows.

At that point, they were both exhausted and Levi had focused too clearly on the ‘open’ sign.

Open 24 hours.

So he didn’t waste any time. Hange didn’t either. It was cold, it was raining and Levi could forget that it was too early in September for him to have been shivering, for white fog to be accompanying his shuddering breath.

It was his first time up north, autumn came much earlier. That didn’t stop him from grumbling silently about why autumn rains had to be so cruel.

It was barely even autumn. Shitting on the weather proved to be an adequate consolation for their very uncomfortable state.

Hange seemed unsure and maybe she had heard his grumbles, maybe she had assumed it was about her. “I’ll check if they have any rooms,” Hange said, an apologetic smile on her face. She looked down towards his elbow. “And I’ll ask for a first aid kit, so we could do something about that.”

His body had been a conglomeration of discomforts since a while ago and the bleeding scrape on his elbow had been a terrible surprise. Not so terrible actually as he looked closer, he barely even felt it.

Before he could stop her, Hange had went ahead to the reception, covered in mud and all. Levi was grateful at least that they both had cleaned their shoes on the way in. The headache would be left to whoever would be cleaning their car.

The man at the counter was apologetic, a little too nice and he spoke to Hange like he was talking to some higher figure. It was a simple back and forth.

They were guests, he worked in hospitality. It was a natural exchange.

Maybe Levi had just been a little perceptive because everyone seemed to approach Hange with some unique form of respect. After a brief back and forth, Hange turned back to Levi, a flash of uncertainty on her face.

Just a flash. Before Levi could perceive more, it disappeared.

Levi still saw that as a cue to follow behind. “What?”

“So there is only one room left, towards the back...” Hange started.

“Apologies about this…” The receptionist bowed his head. “The roads get slippery… And it’s dangerous to go out so many people….” He was babbling at that point and all Levi wanted him to do was get to the point.

Hange let out a sigh then dropped her credit card on the table. “We’ll take it.”

“You managed to get a room, why is he apologizing?” Levi asked, turning to the comparably more coherent Hange Zoe.

“Well, there’s only one room left,” Hange responded.

“And?”

“There’s only one bed.” Hange had said that part with a straight face. She huffed and put one muddy finger up in front of him. “But you know, I really think we can make this work...”

#levihan #levihan fanfiction

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mimiseda · 3 years ago

Text

Title: Just Messin’

Fandom: Dead by Daylight

Ship: Jake Park x Reader

Genre: Fluff. A lot of it.

Words: 2,696

Note: Created for @sirpeanutthethird Happy Birthday 🎉🎁

. . . .

“Mm..” You’re awake, but your eyes stay closed in hopes of falling back to sleep.

Disoriented as your mind may be, you figured the time may be around four to five in the morning. For some reason, your body is trained to wake up around this time. A good assumption may be from getting ready for your classes at the University you attend. Except.. you don’t have any classes today, until tomorrow that is, which just so happens to be your birthday. Shame it has to be on the day you have school, but you’ll accept that today is your day to kick back and slack off. Hopefully along with your boyfriend, Jake.

Speaking of..

You open your eyes to a dark room, dimly lit by a warm lamp on his side. The first thing you notice is how close you are to him, that and the way he’s holding you. He’s got one arm under you and the other around your shoulder. His palm is cradling the back of your head, feeling a tiny bit ticklish since his fingertips skimmed lightly against your scalp. You don’t mind though, it’s always a good thing to wake up next to someone you love. Others may see his way of snuggling you this close as clingy, but you think you’re just as clingy as he is.

With what little space you have, you lift your head to kiss the flat of his chin. Jake’s breathing stuttered and his body shivered at such a small act of affection. Is he still asleep? Curious, you scoot back to try and get a better look at him. However, every time you move, his hold on you gets suspiciously tighter.

“Uh-“ He doesn’t want to let you go it seems. Time to look at other options instead. Shuffling from your side to your stomach, you try to wiggle out of the sleeping man’s arms into freedom. You only got about halfway down his torso, until he suddenly grabbed you by your underarms and moved you back to where you started. There, you see that the mischievous man is awake. The tiredness on his face did not match his playful attitude.

“You were awake this entire time?” You yell, but quietly.

“Why are you up so late?” Jake completely disregards your question and resumes cuddling you again.

“I just woke up.. what time is it?”

“I dunno. But I’m going back to sleep.”

“Well.” You squirm against his hold again. “I’m gonna check the time. Lemme go.”

“Nope.” Jake says in a heartbeat. “Not gonna sleep without you.”

“I’m gonna be back! .. After I get some water too.”

“You’ll take too long.”

You smile a little. He’s so needy. “I won’t, silly. I’ll be right back, okay?”

“Hmm.” His dark brown eyes examine your face. For a lie, you think. Or maybe he’s just considering freeing you from his heinous clutches.

And to your surprise, he actually lets you go. “Then by all means.” Jake covers himself with the blanket you two shared. Taking more than usual for him. You briefly wonder why, but don’t question as you pull away.

As soon as the covers are off of you though, you immediately feel cold air creeping up on your skin.

It’s so unexpected, you cross your arms and shiver down to your core. Why isn’t any source of heat on? Or more alternatively, why is the cold air on? Once you stood up, your feet felt icy even against the carpet floor. “Cold?” You turn to Jake at the sound of his sleepy voice. He’s wearing a smirk that he tried his best to hide.

“Y-yeah.” You look around the room, unsure if you even wanted to go through the cold for just a glass of water.

“Then come lay down with me.” You thought about his offer for a few seconds. Getting back in bed doesn’t seem like a-

Hold up.

Something’s not adding up.

You turn to Jake again, seeing the smirk on his face a little wider than before.

No-

No he did not. “Jake, did you tamper with the thermostat?”

“.. Maybe I did.”

You pout at him. “Whyy?” Shaking your head, you crawl back in bed to avoid freezing to death. “What’s the point??”

“Because I want to.” A very cheeky Jake helps himself and wraps his arms around you again. “And it gets too hot.” You sigh and cave in to the warmth he graciously gave you; wrapping your legs around his, your arms around his torso, and head leaning on his chest again. “This has never been a problem before.” You mumble.

“Well it’s a problem now.” Jake simultaneously pecks your forehead and cheeks, sweet-kissing your annoyance away. He can’t have you mad at him, if he plans to cuddle you into your dreams.

You groan, feeling your face tingling with acceptance at his unapologetic affection. Oh well.. “Jake?”

“Mmhm?”

“I’ll stay in bed, if you get me some water.” You look up at him and smile again. If he wants things to go his way, then he’ll have to do some of your bidding.

Jake hums delightfully at your request though, then readies himself to get up. “That’s a fair trade.”

. . .

The hall is empty.

Except for one.

Jake strolls down the corridor, paper in hand as he tries to read from it. He’s having a hard time making sense of any of it. It’s like his professor compiled the most complex words in the dictionary and shamelessly typed them on this paper. Every time Jake passed by a trash can, he highly considered crumbling up and tossing the worksheet in there. He wanted to forget about the damn thing entirely.

It isn’t a very responsible thing to do though, he thought to himself. He made it this far without anyone criticizing him. Much. He’s probably tired, or maybe he’s just-

Thump, thump, skeeeeet

The hell?

Jake comes to an abrupt stop and turns around, hearing someone running behind him. Last he checked, no one really visits this specific hall. For why? He doesn’t really know, but he assumed it may be because the classes here are rather.. insignificant compared to other courses, although Jake took one of them. This hall contained extracurricular activities that rarely anyone attended: like sewing, graphic design, and just outside of this wing lies a golf court. The students in this school are just like him, learning about the money and the business world to make their parents proud.

“Uh.. hello?” Jake calls out, unable to see who ran. The corridor is narrow, the only way for the person to pass him is if they went into one of the classrooms. That, or in front of him where there’s a turn on his left. All of the classes had their doors shut with barely any noises sounding from them, so it shouldn’t be hard to find the clown, if they toy with him again. Jake looks around one last time, the trash bins, the potted plants, pillars and a few decorations that covered the hall with colorful pride for the University.

He sees no one and turns around to walk again, slowly this time.

The hall is empty.

Except for two, now.

Jake only got so far as five, careful steps until he hears those running footsteps again. He turns, concerned, but done with this. “Alright, you wanna fuck around?” He folds the paper six times and stuffs it into his pocket. With his mind made up, he began to search the hall for any signs of a human being other than him. Any hints of clothing, hair, or even breathing will be useful to him. He’ll deliberately hunt down whoever’s responsible.

Your legs ache from kneeling down the trash can too long, but it’s sooo worth it. Suppressing your laughter is way more important right now, especially when you’re hiding from Jake.

Initially, you wanted to find him and have a normal conversation with him, especially since you haven’t seen him since morning. You know he usually comes to this side of the University to either attend one of his classes or study, since it’s almost completely silent. Yes, you being there could mean being a distraction to him.. But all that jazz is thrown out the window once you’ve decided to mess with him for a bit.

So here you are, hiding with a few beads in hand you gathered from an art class in this wing. You won’t throw any at Jake of course, but you’ll use them to bamboozle the ever living hell out of him. You wonder if your boyfriend will eventually think he’s crazy. Perhaps he’ll call you, scared of a ghost and needing you by his side. Although you’ve never seen him scared before, you’re still interested in how this goofy session will turn out. For both you and Jake.

While he looks around for you, you hide behind anything that could obscure you from his vision. He gets closer, hotter. Jake searches a spot where a pillar stands with a big potted plant in front of it. The one you moved, looking out of place. As soon as he turns his back on you, your heart raced with a bit of adrenaline. The thought of Jake finding and catching you made you feel too many rushed feelings at once.

An idea lights in your head to confuse him more. Quickly and quietly before he moves again, you take three beads in your hand and toss them down the corridor. The little noises alerts Jake. He snaps his attention behind him, leaving his current spot to check out where the beads are coming from. You giggle for a split second, then go silent.

Jake reaches the end of the hall, where it turns left towards other classrooms. Once he disappears, you stand up from your hiding place to follow him. You’re not done just yet, you’ll stop at one more throw of beads, then reveal yourself to him as the villain of such tomfoolery.

With your playfulness intact, you kept walking until you reached the end. You see shadows in the light, one unmoving and the other picking up something from the ground. Jake. You hold your breath for a moment, waiting until he moves away from you again. You watch his shadow examine something in his hand, probably the beads you threw. Then, he stands up and disappears along with his shadow.

You start breathing again, relieved that he didn’t walk back to the corridor you’re in. Calming down a little, you move to follow Jake again. You kept going, no longer hearing his footsteps, but you’re determined to find him anyway in this one-way place. When you reached a turn on your right, you leaned against the wall and peeked out from the corner.

“Ah!” You half gasped and squealed like a bird.

Instead of seeing another hall with doors, water fountains, and decorations; maybe Jake walking down the area as well..

He’s right in front of you.

Before you could do anything but chuckle nervously, Jake grabs you by your waist and holds you against the wall. All of the annoyance you previously saw on him is replaced by a slight, mischievous look. “You thought I wouldn’t catch you, huh?”

You bit your lower lip, especially once his hands moved to a much more sensitive spot of your body. It’s hard to push aside your excitement to speak. “H-how’d you know I was- Eee!!” Jake’s fingertips wiggles at your ticklish spot, not too soft or harsh, just enough to get you laughing in front of him. You drop everything, the beads in your hand fall to the ground. “S-st-stop! We’ll get in trouble!”

“Guess you didn’t think about that before throwing those beads.” Jake continues his tickle-fest, following your movements as you try to get away from his hands.

“Okay! Okaay! I-I’m sorry! I’m- oh!!” It was set. It was only a matter of time before you two done something to get you both even more in trouble. Jake accidentally bumped you against a wall, which had artwork of the University’s mascot taped to it. The tape fell and the paper tore a little, creating a sound that echoed the empty hallway. You and Jake stared at each other in shock. It wasn’t until the sound of a doorknob brought him back to his senses. He grabbed your wrist and hurried both of you out of there, before you two got caught.

“Sorry Jake..!” You whisper loud enough for him to hear.

“Shh..” He shushes you, guiding you away from the “crime” scene and towards the more quiet areas of the wing. You two reached the lockers, where only a few of them are occupied. Jake comes to a stop, still holding your wrist as he catches his breath. He eventually chuckles, so light and happy it becomes contagious. You clasped a hand over your mouth, snickering into your palm.

“It wasn’t your fault, it was mine.” Jake says, clearing his throat and needing water from all of that childishness.

You shrug. “I came here to just talk to you, but.. Mm, I dunno what came over me, heh.” You exhale your final, heavy breath. It’s a little hot in here now, but you feel invigorated around your boyfriend.

“I can see that.” He smiles, and you smile too. “I’m glad you’re here, don’t worry. I got something for you too.”

Your eyes widen. “For me? What is it?”

Jake holds up a hand and fishes in his pockets for something. First, he pulls out the folded paper from before, looking at it in sheer disgust. You snort at his reaction and conclude that it may be school work of some kind. About three seconds passes until he pulls something from another pocket: a small, baby blue box. Satisfied, Jake puts the folded paper away, completely forgetting about it. “Here. I made it for you.”

You look at the small box with deep interest. Grabbing it, you held it close and opened it with pure curiosity. There, you see a bracelet, shining in what light the area gave. It’s made of silver, crafted with tiny charms of favorite animals and your favorite colors. One charm resembled food you loved to eat. You couldn’t help but gaze at it in awe, it’s easy to tell how much care and thought was put into it.

“Happy Birthday.” Jake cheers quietly, but fondly. You look up at him, heart swelling with the loving look he gave you.

“Thank you! You made this??” Gently, you pull the bracelet from it’s little home. Jake takes the box from you, appearing sheepish as you immediately clip the piece of jewelry around your wrist. It fits perfectly.

“Yeah. You like it?” He rubs the back of his neck. Truth be told, one of his classes teaches fashion and the history of such. Jake never thought he’d be interested in them, but as it turns out, he’s skilled with his hands at not only outdoorsy activities. He loves crafting and creating things in general.

You blink. Looking at him as if he asked a dumb question. “I love it! Look at it!” You twirl your wrist around, watching the cute charms sway. It’s so adorable, and the fact that it’s made by him makes it a million times better. You’ll cherish this, the jewelry and this moment you have with him. “How long did it take you?” You ask, walking closer to him to hug him tight.

“A week and some change.” Jake pulls you in, hugging you back. “Getting the materials was another thing, but I got them just time for you.” You unconsciously swoon over his words. It’s always nice, having someone think about you so kindly, when you have no idea. Reaching up to his face, you kiss his lips a few times.

“Thank you so much..” Another kiss you two shared. “I love you.” Then another. Jake is a bit flustered at your immense display of affection, but he’s happy nonetheless.

“I love you too. Happy Birthday.”

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slapshot-to-the-heart · 5 years ago

Text

Shotgun - m. tkachuk

And here is 8.7k of a road trip with Matthew Tkachuk, which honestly, is the real dream. Let me know what you think of it, reblog (I love looking at tags!!) and pop into my inbox if you’d like!

Wine pairing from someone with zero authority on the subject: a nice brut rosé - crisp, fruity, bubbly. Plus, I like the vibes.

It all started with a text. What are the chances you can get the week after next off? Matthew had sent. Madison’s brow furrowed. Doubtful, but I can try. Are you going to tell me what this is about? There was a week left in the season before playoffs started, and with the points spread in the Pacific being what it was, the matchups were all but locked in. It took less than a minute to get a response. No :) I’ll let you know once you get an answer. She got approved for the time off two days later. Her phone rang as soon as she texted him the news. “How do you feel about road trips?”

---

Maddy had met Matthew about a little over a year prior, soon after she moved to Calgary from her hometown of Toronto. Having finished her first week of work as a computer programmer, there was nothing Madison wanted more than to let loose and enjoy a few drinks with her friends. She was sharing a two-bedroom with her best friend Emily, who Maddy would swear up and down was the sunniest, warmest, most kind person she’d ever met. Not like Maddy wasn’t a nice person — she was — but where her idea of relaxing meant going out bouldering, or camping, or a last-minute road trip, Emily was more of a homebody.

But going out meant going out, and so Emily was happily dragged along to a bar downtown; which one, she couldn’t really say. Madison walked up to the bar as soon as they entered, catching the bartender’s eye and ordering a Tom Collins. She tapped her fingers on the counter as she waited, glancing around the room. It was ten o’clock on a Friday night, so it was plenty packed. “What are you getting?” Madison asked Emily curiously.

She held up her Molson. “I’m a woman of simple tastes. Plus, I didn’t feel like waiting around for the bartender to actually make me a drink,” Emily added dryly.

Maddy rolled her eyes. “What’s the point of going out to a bar when you’re just going to be drinking something you could get at the liquor store?” Emily stuck her tongue out. The bartender slid Maddy’s glass over, taking her card and swiping it through quickly. “Thank you!” she chirped, whipping around to head over and snag a free table she had seen a few minutes before.

She never ended up getting to the table. Instead, she ran straight into 6 feet, 2 inches of pure Midwestern beef. “Woah!” Matthew said, steadying her as she watched her glass fall to the floor, thankfully not breaking but absolutely spilling its entire contents over the wood. “You good?”

Madison nodded, grabbing a rag from the bartender. Matthew followed suit, joining her on the floor. “Got a little on my shoes, but it’ll be fine. They won’t stain.”

Matthew nodded, giving a final wipe before taking her rag and handing both back over the counter. “Did me spilling your drink all over you ruin my chances of getting your name?”

“Madison St. Pierre,” she said, laughing and sticking out a hand for him to shake.

“Matthew Tkachuk, but—”

Maddy cut him off. “I probably already know that?” Matthew ducked his head sheepishly. “I may be a long-suffering Leafs fan, but I don’t live under a rock.”

He took a sip of his beer, leaning up against the bar. “Not from around here, eh?”

Maddy shook her head. “Just moved a couple weeks ago. I’m from Toronto, moved here for a job. I do computer programming,” she said by way of explanation.

“A smart girl.”

She tilted her head. “You could say that.”

“Well,” he said, “I feel bad about spilling your drink on you, let me buy you another.”

Maddy laughed. “If you insist. It’s really the least you could do.”

Matthew nodded at the bartender, ordering her another Tom Collins and putting it on his tab. “You and your friend are more than welcome to join us,” he gestured behind him to where the rest of his group was sitting, “we were playing a drinking game and could use a few more players anyway.”

And that was how Matthew met Maddy.

---

Day 1

Ten days later, Madison was hefting her duffel bag into the trunk of her Nissan. It was 7:00 on a Tuesday. Normally on a day off she’d be taking advantage of every possible minute of sleep she could get, but lines to cross the border could be long and they wanted to get to Montana by lunch. She waved goodbye to Emily, hopping in the driver’s seat and starting the engine. Matthew had initially suggested they just get a rental car, since it would save Maddy the 20-hour drive back. But a quick Google search let them know that the chances of finding a company willing to let them drop off a Canadian car in Nevada were slim to none. Plus, Maddy had always liked driving, so it wasn’t really an issue for her. They weren’t going to be alone on the trip; Matthew had invited Elias and Rasmus along. She felt a little bit like a school bus driver, stopping at Elias’s complex to pick him up, then Rasmus’ condo, finally pulling into the underground lot of Matthew’s apartment building. Holding one hand up in greeting, he wheeled his suitcases over to her car.

Maddy unblocked her seatbelt, hopping out to help him. “Why on earth did you need so many bags?” she huffed, turning one on its side and wedging it in between hers and Elias’s.

He shrugged. “I’ve got a bag for the trip, a bag of actual clothes and workout stuff for the series, and the suit bag.” He hung the offending article on a hook. “Did you think I’d be able to set my vanity aside for a whole four days?”

“I should have known that would be too much to ask.”

Matty threw his head back, laughing. “Anyone ever told you how funny you are, Mads?”

“Once or twice, Ratthew,” she said, slamming the door shut.

Maddy hopped back in the driver’s seat, jamming the key in the ignition and turning the engine on. “Next stop, boys, is America.”

---

Well technically, the next stop was a gas station off of Highway 2, about twenty minutes from the border. “Wait, wait,” Matthew said, a conspiratorial grin on his face as Madison took the pump out of the gas tank.

She raised one eyebrow. “What?”

He made grabby hands at her keys. “Let me drive.”

“Why?” Madison asked. “I’ve been driving for like what, two hours? I’m not tired yet.”

“I’m the only American in the car.”

Maddy put the pump back. “And?”

Matthew looked sheepish. “Someone said that the border patrol officers will tell Americans ‘welcome home’ when they’re coming back. It’s never happened to me flying so I wanted to see if it would be different in a car.”

“If it means that much to you?” she said, tossing the keys over the hood of the car. Matthew caught them. Maddy rounded the back of the car before she could see him ducking his head, blushing.

They arrived at the Piegan/Carway crossing shortly after. With exactly zero cars in front of them, Matthew pulled straight up to the booth.

“Purpose of your visit?” the officer said, looking into the driver’s side.

“Three of us play hockey, we’re road tripping down to Las Vegas before our playoff series starts in a few days,” Matty answered easily.

He nodded. “And how long will you be in the States for?”

It was clear either this man had never watched a series of professional sports in his life, or he was just following a standard script. “Depends?” Matthew said, fully aware of how questionable that sounded.

Maddy piped up from the passenger seat. “I’m driving the car back, so I’ll be back in eight days.”

“Right,” Matthew nodded, “But this trip to the US, we’ll be back in seven days. We’re flying back on the team plane, so it’s not a land crossing.” He decided to forego mentioning that, barring a sweep, they’d be back again in two weeks.

The poor officer looked bewildered. “Team plane?”

Matty shrugged his shoulders. “We play for the Calgary Flames, the team charters a plane to fly us from Calgary to wherever we’re playing and back. We decided to take the scenic route this time.”

“Okay,” he said, but Madison still wasn’t convinced he actually understood what Matty was saying. If the border officer thought anything of the American, Canadian, and Swedish passports he was handed, he didn’t say anything. Giving a cursory glance, he handed them back. “Welcome back,” he nodded to Matthew, waving the car through the gate. Matthew pumped his fist.

---

An hour later, Matthew pulled into a dirt parking lot on the edge of Glacier National Park. “WE MADE IT!” he exclaimed, putting the car in park and throwing his hands up.

“We drove three hours,” Elias said from the back seat.

“And?” Matty challenged, opening the door.

Maddy grabbed her backpack, stuffed with sandwiches and snacks that they had gotten on their way in. “If you guys brought hiking boots or good tennis shoes, now’s the time,” she said, lacing up her own boots. “There’s a loop around here that’s a little under four miles long, doesn’t sound like it’s too difficult but there is some elevation climb, so better safe than sorry.” People typically didn’t peg her for it, but Maddy was a very outdoorsy person at heart. She had taken up rock climbing in high school, and was a regular at the bouldering gyms back in Toronto until she moved. She’d found a climbing gym she liked well enough in Calgary, but with Banff just over an hour away from the city, the park had become her go-to for climbing and hiking. Matty had come with her on more than one occasion, and had surprised her with a long weekend camping for her birthday in March. The snow hadn’t all melted yet, and waking up to the powder-dusted fir trees outside of their tent had been one of the most beautiful sights of her life.

“Everyone’s got a full water bottle?” she asked, tying up her hair. The last thing anyone wanted was to get heatstroke in one of the most remote parts of the park with only one phone that could even connect to an American cell tower.

The group started off at a leisurely pace, wandering off-trail to check out anything and everything that caught their interest. The edge of the St. Mary Valley served as the perfect backdrop for lunch, Maddy pulling the sandwiches out from her bag and doling them out. “Oh thank God, I’m starving,” Elias said, grabbing his food from Maddy practically before she even had it in her hand.

“Did you not have breakfast?” she asked incredulously.

He nodded. “I did, but I’m still hungry. Should have brought snacks.” Off to his side, Matty snickered.

Day 2

Elias had volunteered to take over from Matthew to drive through the night, switching off sometime around sunrise with Rasmus. “I 100% have a crick in my neck,” Maddy grimaced, blinking the sleep out of her eyes and checking her phone.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” Matthew smiled. Maddy groaned, leaning into his side. Almost instinctively, his arm wrapped around her shoulders. He unscrewed the cap of his water bottle, taking a few gulps before setting it back down on the floor of the car, where it promptly rolled away.

“Who do I have to blow to get a decent cup of coffee around here?” Maddy groaned. Matthew almost choked on his water. He had to get his mind off of the idea of Maddy blowing anything or he was about to have an issue. He pulled out his phone, jumping on Google maps.

“There’s a little coffee shop a few miles ahead, off of the Spruce Drive exit?” he asked tentatively.

She yawned. “As long as they sell caffeine, I’m game.” They did indeed sell caffeine, and after inhaling two cappuchinos and a small mountain of pastries later, Maddy hopped back behind the wheel. “You sure bear claws and muffins are on the meal plan, boys?” she asked, a smile playing on the corner of her lips.

Rasmus waved her off. “It’s not like you’re going to rat us out, are you?”

She shrugged, wiggling her phone in her hand as she pulled up at a stoplight. “Bold of you to assume I don’t have Coach’s number in my phone.”

Matty plucked her phone from her hand, placing it back by the center console. “Be that as it may, sweet Madison, you neglect to remember that I’m the only one with coverage in the U.S.” He might not strike most people as a particularly sentimental person, but Matthew loved his family, and decided that the extra charge was well worth being able to call his parents and sister whenever he was missing them.

She stuck her tongue out at Matthew. “You ruin all of my fun, you know that?” All he did was grin. The drive to Mesa Falls wasn’t long at all, they had just finished their food — Matty popping bites of muffin into Madison’s mouth as she drove — when she pulled over to the curb by the sign. Maddy threw the boys’ backpacks to them, pointing to the single bathroom stall in the tiny rest area. “Go change, I’ll use the car.”

“Why can’t we have the car?” Matthew complained.

She looked at him. “Three full-grown men, all over six feet, in one car. I know you see each other’s dicks all day in the locker room, but I’d really rather not have that in my car. Think.”

Matty made an “o” with his mouth. “Gotcha.”

Swim trunks were much easier to get on than a wrap bikini, Madison was finding, and the boys were finished changing well before she was done figuring out her top. She bit her lip, poking her head out of the door. “Matty?”

He turned around, eyebrows raised. “Yeah?”

“Could you help me tie this?” she asked, gesturing to the halter top. “I think it’s stuck or something.”

Matthew swallowed hard, his eyes widening as he tried to stutter through a sentence. “Uh, yeah. I can do that. For sure,” he said, shuffling over to the car. He gently untwisted the straps, gathering them into a bow at the base of her neck and trying very, very hard to not think about how soft her skin felt underneath his fingers. This was one of his best friends. And best friends weren’t supposed to think about that kind of stuff. Right?

Behind them, Elias and Rasmus shared a glance. They had expected something was going on between them, really ever since the party in November, but this was something new. They had never seen Matthew gone this far for a girl before. And they liked this side of him.

“Thanks,” she said, squeezing his shoulder before disappearing back into the car to throw on a coverup. “How long is the walk to the actual waterfalls?”

“Not long,” Elias responded. “Ten minutes or so?” It was an easy walk to the falls, which were mercifully empty when they got there. They kicked off their sandals, leaving the bags under a nearby bush. Matthew knew Madison was pretty. She wasn’t a nun and he wasn’t a saint; she had seen him shirtless more times than he could count and he had seen her come out of his guest room in nothing but an oversized t-shirt of his after she stayed the night. His thoughts hadn’t exactly been innocent. But as she pulled her t-shirt over her head, leaving her clad only in that damn red bikini, he was convinced he’d never seen a more gorgeous sight.

She turned around just as Matthew tore his eyes away, looking mischievously at him. “Last one in?” They sprinted to the water. Matty let her win.

---

About half of their stops had been planned in advance; the others were pulled from websites or Google suggestions or whatever their waitress’ recommendation was for a local must-see. The Idaho Potato Museum fell into the latter category. Rasmus had floated the idea shortly after they had left Mesa Falls, and seeing as how nobody had anything better to suggest, they ran with it.

“Free taters for out of staters,” Matthew said, reading off of the pamphlet they had been handed at the welcome desk.

“Will they give me extra since I’m Canadian?” Madison wondered aloud. “For all intents and purposes they think you live in Missouri, Matty.” The nickname rolled off her tongue so easily, she didn’t even think twice.

He passed the paper to her, the tips of their fingers barely brushing together, but Matthew could have sworn his heart skipped a beat. “Don’t get greedy, Mads.” They walked down a dimly-lit hallway lined with black-and-white photos.

“Did you know that the first potatoes grown in the United States were planted in Londonderry, New Hampshire, by Scotch-Irish immigrants?” Elias read off of a placard, his voice sounding like a disinterested radio announcer.

Maddy shook her head. “I didn’t, thank you so much for imparting on me this most important knowledge, Elias.”

“My pleasure,” he replied.

“Did you know that you could survive off of a diet of only potatoes and butter?” Rasmus chimed in, reading another sign.

“Really?” Matthew asked, leaning in to read. He turned to Madison a moment later. “Really, apparently.”

Half an hour of wandering later, Matthew and Madison had stumbled into the “artifacts” portion of the museum. “What kind of artifacts does a potato museum have?” Maddy asked, looking supremely confused.

Matthew wiggled his eyebrows at her. “Why don’t we see?” For some reason, he decided it would be a good idea to hold his hand out for her. And for some reason, Maddy took it.

The “artifacts” turned out to consist of some old farm tools, dusty burlap sacks, and the world’s largest potato chip. Elias and Ramsus were on the other side of the museum, leaving Matthew and Madison to drift through alone. “Crisp, actually,” Matthew said, reading the card under the glass case. “Because I guess they’re worried about people stealing it?”

“There’s a difference?”

He shrugged. “Apparently it’s only a chip if it’s a slice of potato. This was made from dehydrated potato flakes, or something like that.” Maddy wasn’t sure if it was the sepia-tinted lighting, or the lingering memory of how Matty’s fingertips burned like fire against her back as he tied her bikini, or if there was something particularly romantic about dehydrated potato flakes, but they were alone in the room and suddenly she was looking at him a little bit differently. Matthew looked at her, gaze soft as his eyes flickered almost imperceptibly down towards her lips. Her lips. His body leaned in, and just as she closed her eyes, waiting for his lips to meet hers, wondering if they were really going to do this in the middle of the Idaho fucking Potato Museum—

“We were wondering where you guys had gone off to!” Elias’s Swedish accent cut through the silence. Matthew threw his head back, silently cursing his teammate’s timing. If Elias and Rasmus realized anything was off, they didn’t say. “The lady at the front said it’s closing in ten minutes, so we thought we should head out and get something to eat.”

Maddy nodded in agreement, her cheeks burning. “Sounds good. I could go for some food.” They made their way back outside, Matthew settling behind the wheel as he steered the car back onto the highway. He tried to shake the almost-kiss from his mind, but the more he tried to forget it, the more the memory stuck.

Elias looked down at his phone. “Yelp says there’s an Indian place coming up on the left if that sounds good to you guys,” he said, shaking Matthew from his thoughts.

Maddy scrunched her nose. “All due respect, I don’t trust this town to make good Indian food. Potatoes, burgers, meat, sure. I buy it. But I haven’t seen a single person of color since we left Glacier.”

“Fair.”

The burgers were good; nothing to write home about, but Maddy was honestly thrilled to eat something that didn’t come out of a bag. The plan had originally been to drive through the night again to reach Salt Lake City by the early morning, but Maddy made it clear her back didn’t take too well to sleeping in the car, and the others agreed. “Rasmus, mind finding a hotel nearby? Doesn’t have to be anything fancy, just somewhere not too far off of the freeway,” Madison asked. He nodded, pulling out his phone. They had gotten tired of passing around Matthew’s phone anytime they were out of Wifi range, so after a little complaining and one of Maddy’s puppy-dog eye looks, he finally relented and turned his hotspot on.

“There’s a Holiday Inn up off of the next exit if that sounds good to you guys,” Rasmus said. He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel to the beat of the Post Malone song that Matty had plugged in. They switched the aux every few hours.

“Yeah, works for me.” Madison hummed her agreement; Matty nodded. Rasmus flicked on the blinkers, gently cruising down the offramp, pulling into the parking lot of the Holiday Inn about half a mile down the road.

Madison bit the inside of her cheek. “They’re going to have rooms available, yeah?”

“Mads, it’s May in the middle of nowhere, Idaho. I don’t exactly think they’ve got business lining up out the door.” Matty said, looking at her from the side as they walked into the hotel lobby.

The whole trip was Matthew’s idea, so he insisted on footing the bill, handing his credit card and license over to the receptionist. Maddy snickered behind her hand. Matthew turned back to look at her, one eyebrow raised questioningly. “Something you’d like to share with the class, Madison?”

“Missouri licenses look weird,” she commented.

“And Alberta’s any better?”

She scrunched her nose. “We have a dinosaur on ours. Beat that.”

“I’ll let you have that one,” Matty said, the corner of his lip twitching as he thanked the receptionist, tucking the cards back into his wallet. She handed over the room keys, Matthew passing two to Rasmus and Elias and one to Maddy. “I had us together, if you don’t mind.”

Madison shook her head. “Fine with me.” It wasn’t unusual for her to stay over at Matthew’s apartment, either after going out or when their movie nights ran a little long and she woke up to Matty tucking her into the bed in his guest room. She had a toothbrush in his bathroom, a change of clothes in the dresser. She had offered to take her stuff back a few months ago, not wanting any girl he might bring over to get the wrong idea. “It’s fine, don’t worry about it,” he had said when she asked, waving her off. Though, come to think of it, he hadn’t brought any girl home — that she knew about — since sometime around the beginning of the year.

They waved goodbye to Rasmus and Elias, promising to wake up bright and early to get the first crack at the breakfast buffet when it opened at 7. Matty swiped his card, holding the door open when the light turned green and the knob twisted. “After you, m’lady.”

“Why thank you, good sir,” Maddy giggled, ducking under his arm into the entryway. She stopped at the end of the hall, eyes flickering into the room.

Matthew stopped behind her. “What’s up?”

“There’s only one bed.”

His head jerked around the corner, not like he doubted her word or anything, but he needed to see it for himself. There was only one bed. One big bed, one very comfortable-looking bed, but one bed. Matty dropped his bag on the floor. “Uh...D’you want me to call down? I can see if they’ve got another room if that would make you more comfortable.”

Madison pursed her lips for a second before shaking her head. “No, it’s fine. We’re adults, we can share a bed without burning the house down.” It wasn’t like Maddy was lying for Matthew’s sake; she really was fine with it. Maybe a little too fine. But they had slept together — in the innocent sense of the word — before, and everything had turned out okay. His arm draped over her shoulder as she cuddled into his shoulder on a late night, her legs tangled in his when some of his friends from St. Louis were visiting for the weekend and took the guest room. He had offered to take the couch that night, but Maddy didn’t want to relegate him to a night of back cramps and drafty breezes, especially when he had an early practice the next day. Nobody ever made it weird, so it wasn’t weird.

She took her bundle of clothes into the shower, relishing in the feeling of hot water raining down on her aching muscles. Maddy was loving the trip, genuinely, but being in a car for twelve hours out of the day took something out of a person. Slipping into an old college t-shirt, Madison thought for a moment about putting on a pair of sweats. It wasn’t particularly cold — the opposite, in fact — but she didn’t know if it would make Matthew feel weird if she wasn’t wearing pants. Fuck it, she thought, pulling up her boyshorts. If he had an issue with it, it was his problem. Throwing her hair up in a towel to dry, she turned the doorknob, poking her head out the door. “Shower’s open if you wanted to hop in,” she said.

Matty nodded, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. “I shouldn’t be too long, why don’t you find something for us to watch?” he asked, tossing her the remote. It wasn’t quite nine o’clock, and while she was tired, Maddy knew if she tried to go to sleep she’d wake up well before dawn, and that wasn’t something anyone wanted. Madison climbed up onto the bed, tucking her feet underneath her and grabbed the channel guide. True to his word, Matthew was in and out in under ten minutes, rubbing his hair with a towel as he walked out. Athletic shorts. Shirtless. Maddy couldn’t help but give him the once-over, having to jerk her eyes back up to his face the moment she realized what she was doing. Matthew met her eyes, the ghost of a smirk playing on his face. “I can put a shirt on if you’d like…”

“No! You’re good,” Maddy replied, maybe a little too quickly to avoid suspicion.

He ducked back into the bathroom, throwing the towel over the shower curtain. “So, what did you settle on?”

She looked back at the TV. “Diners, Drive-ins, and Dives?”

Matty jumped onto the bed. “Guy Fieri. What a legend. Awesome. Where’s he going?”

Three and a half episodes later, it was almost eleven, and Madison’s eyes were starting to droop. Sometime midway through the second episode, when Guy was visiting an Asian fusion restaurant in Colorado, her head had drifted onto Matthew’s shoulder, where it had stayed ever since. His arm wrapped loosely around her, Matty brought his hand up to brush away a stray piece of hair that had drifted into her face. “Getting sleepy, Mads?”

She yawned, nodding and trying to push herself up. “‘M looking forward to a good night’s sleep in an actual bed.”

Matthew laughed softly. “Let’s get you in bed, then.” He threw back the comforter, Madison crawling under, and reached over to the nightstand, turning off the lamps and TV. “Give me your phone,” he said.

“Why?” Maddy asked, her brow furrowing.

“You always forget to charge it overnight, and I don’t want you to be grumpy when it dies at 10 AM.” She mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like a concession, handing over her iPhone. Matty plugged it in, clambering beneath the sheets. “Sweet dreams, Mads. Good night.”

“Night, Matty.”

Day 3

The first thing Madison noticed when she woke up was the warm, unfamiliar weight slung around her waist. It took her a moment to realize that it was Matty’s arm, who hadn’t woken up yet. For some reason that she couldn’t quite identify, or maybe didn’t want to confront quite yet, it wasn’t unwelcome at all, and she savored the last few minutes of physical closeness before he woke up. And he did, wake up, that is. His cheeks reddened as he opened his eyes, pulling his arm away to wipe the sleep out of his eyes. “Sorry about that,” he said sheepishly.

Maddy ducked her head. “Nothing to be sorry about. I didn’t mind.”

Matthew yawned. “What time is it?”

“Uh, just before seven,” she said, rolling over to look at the alarm clock. “I’d love to stay in bed a little longer, but we did promise the boys we’d meet them down at breakfast soon.”

He nodded, making a very concerted effort to not read into her statements any more than he absolutely had to. “Yeah, good idea,” he said, tossing the covers off and walking into the bathroom. “I’ll sit on you if you’re not up by the time I get back out there.” Maddy took the opportunity to change, threading a belt through her jeans and half-tucking a t-shirt. “I like the look,” he said when he walked out, as Maddy was twisting her hair up into a bun. It wasn’t entirely unusual for Matthew to compliment her; she had accompanied him to more than one charity event for the Flames as his date, but she had always been dressed up. Dress, heels, makeup that she probably stressed way too much over. Dressed to the nines, never in jeans and a t-shirt before. But she didn’t really notice, the compliment meaning just as much to her as if she’d been in a floor-length gown.

“Thanks,” she said, stuffing her clothes from the night before back into her duffel. “I packed the rest of your bag while you were in there, figured I might as well.”

It was Matty’s turn to thank her, squeezing her hand appreciatively before giving the room a quick look. “We didn’t forget anything, then?”

Madison laughed. “We really didn’t stay long enough to unpack, but yeah, we’ve got everything, don’t worry.”

---

Elias had volunteered to do the drive down to Salt Lake City. Matthew’s inner six-year-old had returned, insisting that the group stop at a dinosaur park in a rural part of Utah. What “dinosaur park” meant, Madison wasn’t sure, but it made Matty happy, so she didn’t fight it.

The museum was mostly outdoors, with life-sized dinosaur models dotting the massive field. “Were you much into dinosaurs as a kid?” Matthew asked Madison.

“Kind of?” she replied noncommittally. “I always loved learning about them, but never had like a ‘dinosaur phase’ like David or Cody,” she said, referring to her older brothers. “My family used to go to the Canadian Museum of Nature a ton when I was a kid, since it was only a few hours away in Ottawa, and it has like a billion fossils in it.”

“Which was your favorite?”

“Pachycephalosaurus,” she said easily.

Matthew blinked. “Pachycephalo-what?” he asked in confusion. He thought he knew all of them?

Maddy laughed. “Pachycephalosaurus. They had these really spiny heads. But secretly, I think I was a little bit of a teacher’s pet who just liked saying the name. Pretty sure they were actually native to Alberta?” she added. “What about you?”

“Well, now I’m embarrassed to say.”

“Oh, come on,” Madison said, nudging him with her shoulder. “Promise I won’t make fun of you.”

“Fine, fine,” Matty gave in, “it was the brachiosaurus.”

“How come?” she asked curiously.

“I liked the long necks.”

They spent another hour or so at the park, Matty grabbing a keychain on the way out. “They didn’t have a brachiosaurus,” he muttered, half-angry, picking up a T-rex one instead. It wasn’t a long drive to the actual Great Salt Lake, and for some reason, they had trusted Elias with the aux. Much to Maddy’s chagrin, he didn’t end up playing ABBA, and they were instead led to cruise down I-15 to the dulcet tones of J.S. Bach.

Madison looked down at her phone. “Anyone want to go see the Joseph Smith sphinx?”

“Joseph Smith?” Rasmus questioned.

“Sphinx?” asked Elias.

Matthew laughed. “You know those Egyptian statues of like the cat ladies? Where they have cat bodies but the faces of people?”

“Joseph Smith was the founder of the Mormon church,” Madison explained. “Well, technically it’s called the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, but—”

“Know-it-all,” Matty said in a sing-song voice. Madison shot a glare at him from the back seat.

“But most people still call them Mormons. And apparently they made him into a sphinx.”

Elias looked at her, still dumbfounded. “But why?”

Maddy shrugged. “Honestly? Beats me.” The weather had dropped too much by the time they had reached the lake to make swimming very practical, so the four of them settled for taking off their shoes, rolling up pants, and wading into the shoreline.

Matthew bent down, picking up a chipped white rock from the ground, the water just lapping at his fingers. He handed it to Madison. “For you.”

She took it gently, running her hands over the jagged surface. “Aren’t you not allowed to take anything from a national park?”

He winked. “I won’t tell if you don’t.” They stopped at a Chipotle just as the sun was beginning to set, Matthew taking over driving duties from Rasmus. The plan was to drive for another two hours or so, stopping somewhere in southern Utah for the night to spare themselves from another night spent in her Nissan.

They drove in silence for a while, Elias and Rasmus drifting to sleep in the back row, before a road sign caught Matty’s eyes and he spoke. “I’ve never been to the Grand Canyon, you know,” he said as they continued down I-15.

Maddy looked over at him. “Do you want to go?” She didn’t know where the suggestion came from, but it was out of her mouth before she could take it back, and after a moment, she realized that she didn’t even want to.

His eyebrows raised as he glanced over at her before turning back to the road, the car’s headlights the only thing in sight. “You mean it?”

Madison shrugged. “Yeah, why not?” She quickly popped the directions into her phone. “It’s only a few hours out of the way, if we drive through the night instead of stopping somewhere we should have more than enough time.”

“But didn’t you say sleeping in the car made your back hurt?” Matty asked curiously.

She smiled softly. “I don’t mind, really. I’ll drive. You’re more important.” Honestly, Maddy surprised herself with her boldness. She wasn’t shy by any stretch of the imagination, but it hadn’t escaped her that the dynamic between her and Matthew had changed in the past few weeks and was about to come to a boil. Matty wasn’t exactly the type of guy Madison expected to have a lot of friends who were girls. And a part of her hated that, hated that because of his reputation she automatically assumed when they became friends that all he wanted to do was get in her pants. There had only been one time in their entire year of friendship when they’d even done so much as kissed, and it wasn’t exactly what you’d consider normal circumstances.

---

It was November of the previous year, about six months after Matthew and Madison had met. Matthew had been even more in his head than normal; he hadn’t scored a single point since midway through their East Coast road trip over two weeks ago, and the disappointment was really starting to rag on him. It might not have been something he outwardly showed all that much, but those who knew him knew that Matthew was actually a deeply sensitive person, who took pride in his wins and carried losses with him well after they had faded from the minds of the rest of the hockey world.

When it had gotten to the point where his frustration was starting to affect his game, Maddy knew it was time to do something. “You’re so much more than your stats, Matty,” she had said, calling him right before she left for the Saddledome. “I know you take this personally, and you feel like you’re letting down the team, but that’s bullshit and somewhere deep down, I know you agree.” Matthew grumbled something that might have been an agreement. “Your team trusts you, they trust you with the puck and with the A, and you’re never going to disappoint them as long as you’re giving it your all. And if you’re the Matthew Tkachuk I know, there’s never a time when you don’t. And win or lose tonight, there’s nothing you could do to change the fact that your family loves you, and your friends love you, and I love you too. Okay?” Clearly, something in her little pep talk had flipped a switch in Matty, because he returned in spectacular form that night, scoring a hat trick in a roaring 5-1 win over the Coyotes. And he didn’t throw a single punch all game.

A good game without a travel day following usually calls for going out, and a great game with your best friend scoring a hat trick definitely calls for going out, so she dragged Emily along to the bar that Matthew had told her to meet the team at. Matthew had pulled her into a hug the moment she arrived, kissing her cheek and trying his damndest not to spill the beer in his hand on her shoes. An hour and a half into the night, Madison was four drinks in, well and truly drunk, and Emily had wandered off and appeared to be flirting with an extremely oblivious Noah Hanifin.

“How are you doing, Mads?” Matthew asked, coming up from behind her barstool and resting his hand gently on the small of her back.

She looked back at him, a goofy smile on her face, and took another sip of her drink. “I’m good, I’m realllly good,” she giggled. “Did I ever get a chance to tell you how good you were tonight?” Matthew shook his head, very poorly concealing a laugh. He had had more than one beer, sure, but he was nowhere near as gone as Madison. “Because you were really good. A-ma-zing,” she added, punctuating each syllable. Her eyes softened as she leaned in. “I know the points drought was starting to weigh on you, and I’m really glad you were able to do this for yourself. I’m always proud of you, Matty, but I was a little extra proud of you tonight. People sometimes write you off as just another good player without any real subsistence,” she paused, correcting herself, “substance, off the ice, but I know the real you, and the real you is even more incredible than the you that plays hockey. It’s my favorite thing to see.”

“It is?” Matthew asked softly, leaning into the hand that had begun to caress his cheek a little bit imprecisely, but that somehow communicated every kind of unsaid word between them.

Madison nodded, touching his forehead to hers, and then she tilted in. And then she kissed him. Her lips met his, and she tasted like lime and spearmint chewing gum and his favorite kind of tequila. Her lips met his, and it seemed like the room stood still; he barely heard his teammates’ wolf-whistles or Emily’s elated gasp in the background. Her lips met his, and he drank in every second of the kiss until she pulled away.

---

Maddy hadn’t been drunk enough to black out that night, and she came to the next morning with a roaring headache and the pang of regret in her heart. She thought it was shame at her behavior, embarrassment that she could act so impulsively, but the more she thought about it, the more she realized. The fact that she kissed Matthew wasn’t the issue, not to her, at least. It was the fact that she was drunk in a bar after a hockey game and that wasn’t how she wanted it to happen. She pushed her feelings to the side, trying desperately to focus on work and supporting Matty through the rest of the season, but they always tended to flare up when they were least welcome. Like at the Idaho Potato Museum.

Which of course meant that Matthew would choose this moment, driving down I-15 with two sleeping Swedish hockey players in the backseat, to bring it up. “I remember when you kissed me, you know,” Matty said softly, reaching up to brush his fingers over his lips, like if he tried hard enough he could remember what it felt like to have Maddy’s pressed against his.

Madison froze, which isn’t exactly what you’re supposed to do when you’re driving. She thought he had forgotten. He had never brought it up, so she really had no reason to believe he would have remembered. “You do?” she asked, swallowing.

She saw him nod out of the corner of her eye. “Mhm. I hadn’t thought about it in a couple weeks, but back in Idaho, in front of the World’s Largest Potato Crisp…” He let out an airy chuckle.

Maddy breathed in sharply. So she hadn’t imagined that. Her fingers tapped nervously against the faux leather of the steering wheel. “Yeah…” She trailed off nervously. “I was drunk.”

“Oh, you were hammered,” Matthew agreed. “But do you regret it?”

There it was, the million-dollar question that she somehow actually had the answer to. A long moment passed before she answered, figuring it would be best to just rip the band-aid off. Worst case, Matty would hate her and she’d only be stuck in a car with him for ten-odd more hours. No big deal. “No,” she whispered, voice so small he almost didn’t hear it.

“I’m glad, because I don’t either,” Matty said. Madison hazarded a glance to her side; he looked almost nervous, and nervous wasn’t a look Matthew Tkachuk did all that often. “I had wanted to for a few months, but it always seemed like it was never the right time, or something interrupted us, or I didn’t know how you felt about me. But you made the first move, and I’m glad you did.”

“How come?”

He sighed. “I don’t know how long I would have waited to do something, or if I ever would have done anything. I feel like sometimes…,” he searched for the right words, “the confidence that I have on the ice can be misleading. Hockey is about reflexes and instincts and knowing the game, but it’s also thinking three steps ahead, anticipating every possible outcome and preparing for them. And that’s the part that I carry off the ice. I think I was worried if I ever brought it up with you, if I ever mentioned that I so much as remembered the kiss, you might clam up and tell me it was a stupid, drunken mistake, and I don’t know what I’d do if you said that. Because I don’t know how you feel about me, not like that”

Her breath caught in her throat, but she managed to force the words out, as scared as she was about admitting them. “I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you and I’m terrified.” Matthew had never seen Madison like this before, unsure and worried and downright vulnerable, and it meant so much to him that she was letting him see her like that.

Matthew let out a watery laugh. “Only pretty sure? Hurts my ego a little bit.” Maddy opened her mouth, but he waved her off. “Because I’m definitely sure I’m in love with you.” This wasn’t ever how she imagined telling him, and it wasn’t how Matty thought he’d tell her, on a freeway in Southern Utah on their way to the Grand Canyon, but sometimes life throws unexpected things at you and you have to roll with the punches.

“When did you know?” Madison asked curiously.

Matthew bit his lip. “Few months ago? I knew I liked you as more than a friend probably since you kissed me, but it was after that game against Vancouver that I really understood I had fallen in love with you.” Maddy remembered the game. It had gone terribly for the Flames, a 4-0 shutout with more than one fight and the bench racking up penalty minutes. What she didn’t know was what made that one special. Matthew looked over at her, answering her unspoken question. “Why that one?” She nodded. “I think it’s because it was such a shitty game. I wouldn’t have blamed you at all if you had just skipped out after the end of the third, I know I can be hard to deal with after a loss. But you didn’t leave, you stayed. I remember seeing you outside the tunnel, swallowed by my jersey because it’s three sizes too big for you and you refuse to let me buy you another—”

“I don’t want another because it’s yours, and I love it,” Maddy said quietly.

Matthew smiled. “Your call. But when I turned the corner and saw you, I realized three things at the exact same time. You were there for me when you didn’t have to be, and I wanted to be able to do the same thing for you. Second, you’re who I wanted to come home to. And last,” he gathered his thoughts, “I realized if I never saw another girl in my jersey for the rest of my life, that would be fine with me.”

“I think I knew when you introduced me to your family, when you flew me down for the All-Star break?” He nodded in recognition. “Just seeing you with them, how much you love your parents and adore Taryn. You even managed to not chirp Brady for a whole dinner.”

“My mom threatened me.”

Madison laughed. “Even so. It just gave me a whole new side to you. I had seen you with your friends, and with the boys, and with me, but it wasn’t the same. How deeply you cared about making sure I fit in with them, and had fun, and felt included. It was the last piece of the puzzle, really.” Her hand rested on the center console after she downshifted.

“So, are we going to do this? Do you want to do this, Mads?” Matty asked, wrapping his fingertips gently around her free hand.

Flipping her hand around, she interlaced her fingers with his. “I’m all in if you are.”

Matthew bent down, kissing their hands. “I’ve been all in since the moment I met you.” He glanced behind him to the backseat, where Elias and Rasmus were still fast asleep. “What do you think they’re going to say when they wake up?”

“I’m not sure,” Madison said, laughing. “Probably tell us it’s about time. Pass me my phone, will you?” Matthew pulled out her phone from where it was charging on the passenger side.

“What do you need to look up?” he asked curiously as she pulled off of the freeway and into a gas station; the directions were already programmed into the car’s navigation system.

Maddy gave a coy smile, gently putting the car into park. “I’ve got to text the girl’s chat, tell them they’ve got to make me a jacket. They’re going to go wild.”

Day 4

The chat did go wild, even more so after she sent a picture of her kissing Matty’s cheek. After about a half-dozen “we called its” and a promise for her jacket to be ready by the first home game of the series, she turned her phone off, leaning over to ruffle Matthew’s hair; he had taken over driving sometime around four o’clock. “I like that I can just do this now,” she mused, playing with his curls as they crossed the border into Arizona.

“Please, no PDA in front of the children,” he said playfully, gesturing to the backseat. Elias flipped him off.

The entrance to the Grand Canyon was only an hour past the state line, and there were more than a few cafés to grab a quick breakfast at. Most of the day was spent walking around the vast expanse of the park, marvelling at its natural grandeur, and taking more than a few incredibly aesthetically pleasing Instagram pictures. A few minutes before they had to pack up and leave for the last leg of the drive, they had hiked over to the South Rim.

Matty leaned on the barriers overlooking the canyon. “It’s so big.”

Rasmus snickered from behind them. “Duh, Tkachuk. That’s why they call it grand.”

He ducked his head, blushing. “Yeah, I mean, obviously. But it’s just kind of surreal, you know?” Madison nodded, leaning her head on his shoulder. He wrapped one arm around her waist, and if either of them had turned around they would have seen Rasmus and Elias sharing a very “I-told-you-so” look. “Kind of reminds us how small we are in the grand scheme of things.”

It seemed like only a few minutes later that they were pulling into Las Vegas, Rasmus steering the car into the underground lot of the team hotel. None of the boys were expected at practice until the next morning, and they had decided before leaving that the easiest thing to do would just be to book the rooms for the one night.

“Anyone feeling up to going out?” Maddy asked as they walked down the hallway to their adjoining rooms. “I found a tiki bar a couple blocks away, great Yelp reviews.”

“Sounds good,” Rasmus said. Elias nodded.

“I’m in,” Matthew added, unlocking the door. “Meet out here in ten?”

The break allowed Madison to get a much-needed change of clothes while Matthew hopped in for a quick shower, emerging in a T-shirt and very, very nice-looking pair of black jeans. Maddy bit her lip, looking him up and down. “You like what you see?” Matthew asked, expression cocky.

She shrugged. “I don’t have to hide it now.” Madison slipped her phone into her back pocket, grabbing her jacket from where it was slung over the lounge chair. “You ready to go?”

“Yeah,” Matthew said, poking his head out the door. “Boys are already out.”

The walk to the bar couldn’t have been more than five minutes, but it felt like twenty in the best way possible. She was holding hands with Matty, his thumb absentmindedly rubbing over the top of her hand, the twinkling lights of dozens of Vegas casinos in their view. Two and a half mai tais and an hour later, the group sat at a table in the corner as Maddy giggled, retelling a particularly embarrassing moment on her high school volleyball team when she tried to make a dive that instead ended up with a ten minute pause in gameplay and the worst nosebleed of her life. She finished the story to raucous laughter, leaning into Matthew’s side. He bent down, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “What is it, Matty?” she asked, pulling away to look at him.

Eyes soft, he tucked a piece of her hair back behind her ear before speaking. “Just thanking God I invited you on the trip. And for the Idaho Potato Museum.”

Madison laughed, the sound like music as it reached his ears. “We should write them. Thank them for helping to get us together. Maybe they’d give us season tickets.”

“Who needs season tickets when I have you?” Matty chuckled, leaning in and pressing his lips to hers. Sure, Madison was a few drinks in when she kissed him. And sure, it wasn’t like Matty was exactly sober either. But this kiss was different. This kiss was the start of everything.

#hockey imagine #hockey smut #nhl imagine #nhl smut #matthew tkachuk #hockey #hockey imagines #hockey writing #nhl #nhl imagines #nhl writing #matthew tkachuk imagine #matthew tkachuk writing #rat king

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reidecorating · 4 years ago

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the bau team and their star signs based on science

hotch: clearly an aries. this is not up for debate and i don't take criticism. natural born and excellent leader? maybe. but bossy boots because he is just a bossy boss man who probably sleeps in a suit or those pyjamas that have suit graphics on them? most definitely. when he speaks, his voice sounds like it’s coming out in all lower case, when he yells, it’s all caps. angery. down to throw hands at anything in his immediate line of vision probably. will exterminate you like a roach if you mess with someone he cares about. don't break the rules or my boss will kill me 😡 to you're breaking the rules under MY supervision, that way my boss will kill US 🥰. probably microwaves food a lot. type of dad to say no to getting a dog, then two months later get matching christmas costumes with said dog. never stops working because he is an absolute UNIT built like the circuit of one of those infinity pools in bali. could use another sabbatical.

rossi: i saw his birth certificate and the rumours are true, he’s a november sagittarius. two wives away from being a modern day king henry the eighth. it’s rossi’s world and we’re all just living in it. he is a prophet. his third eye has been opened and he ascended to the seventh dimension at the age of 24. when he takes leave, the only way to contact him is through a ouija board in latin or maybe greek depending on the position of the sun. he will only die when he chooses to die but will dissolve at the words ‘what are we?’. the major arteries in his body are just long pieces of macaroni. definitely has hooked up with one person from every state the jet has landed in. no filter between his brain and mouth, will destroy your self confidence intentionally. uses abbreviations when texting. liberal - because of the experimenting back in college. probably friends with your mum on facebook.

prentiss: imagine her being anything but an air sign. you can't because she's clearly an aquarius?? work comes first (first equal with her girlfriend). if you tell her to do something she simply won't do it, especially if it was something she was just about to do. she once came home from a run with her mother in the summer and her mother politely suggested that she should drink some water. emily, an anarchist, did not drink water and was hospitalised for heatstroke in due course of proving her point of nonconformity. has been to jail. sucks on candy canes and makes them pointy because christmas is one of her least favourite days. on probation. no, i really like him *deletes his number*. maybe moves to iceland to become a sheep herder to avoid having to ever see anyone she has romantically affiliated with ever again. actually quite the jester, joke levels exceed 4000, but can make you laugh and cry in the span of approximately the length of a short youtube ad. the antichrist.

morgan: has at some point caused someone to question their sexuality. am i really a straight man? do i really only like women? - direct quotes from anyone who has seen him. if that doesn't scream libra i don't know what does. i’m trying to refrain from using the words ‘hot’, ‘sex god’, ‘rail me’. the kinda guy who will hold open a door for you, but also have no problem kicking one down for you. has never ditched class before. momma’s boy. tries to make his pecs move in the mirror. he KNOWS he’s hot okay??? but THEN its not just that because people are like ‘oh he's attractive’ but then they find out he’s RESPECTFUL, and INTELLIGENT and COMPASSIONATE and then that awkward moment when you just DIE because he is not flawed??? it’s like he’s a lucid dream??? probably secretly is really good at baking some obscure european good. uses colognes that have really manly man sounding names for instance, ‘Man Musk’, ‘Mystical Muscles’, ‘Beards and Buttercream’.

garcia: the epitome of a female pisces. a baddie™. definitely owns a pair of those really skinny sunglasses that influencers wear and looks like god herself while in them. spirals from being the momma bear to the wine-aunt. she will care about you so hard but if that's not reciprocated, will hack into your my eyes only and fax those pictures to every machine she can connect to. accidentally has flirted her way into at least 19 relationships. really good at writing fan fiction??? like - seriously good. knows 4 different synonyms for the word “member” iykyk. researches things the people she loves most enjoy, so when she talks to them she can have more detailed conversations. catches feelings for people who are definitely not good for her. sometimes just takes off her glasses because she's tired of, well... seeing. hand makes cute lil earrings for her friends. a master at fireboy and watergirl and will never play with anyone else because ‘another player just slows you down, i can do it myself in half the time’. THAT FRIEND WHO WILL WAIT FOR YOU TO TIE YOUR LACES.

jj: virgo. she was definitely that girl who had notes with pretty titles and colour coded highlighters in school. also did extracurriculars in the weekends so she’d have to be picked up from sleepovers early to go to soccer games. when she takes the time to learn something she learns it well and perfects any craft handed to her because anything less than 100% is failure in her eyes. gets annoyed when other people cry for too long probably. will judge you. so much. silently. especially if you cry. don't make her mad because she has caused civil unrest in 13 continents. live, laugh, love signs in her kitchen. security footage surfaced in 2007 of her roundhouse kicking a middle aged man, in the junk food aisle of a trader joe’s, after he took the last re-stocked bag of cheetos. has a ‘mom first, agent second’ mug that garcia got her. likes family walks which will most likely be planned out meticulously, involving a detailed itinerary of the day i.e. Henry’s toilet break, 10AM

reid: he despises star signs and anyone who gives them any thought because “where is the SCIENCE?” this bitch is a scorpio. definitely only knows his sun sign. so intense! have you seen the way he looks at things?? the way he stares??? the way he analyses dead bodies??? the way he loves??? ridiculously put together to everyone around him but emotionally life is soup and he is fork. kinky. breaks off bananas little by little with his hands before eating each piece individually because eating them normally is too sensual and he’s paranoid morgan might see him doing it and take a picture. wants the kind of love he reads about. has a superiority complex about having a superiority complex. keeps a straight face while saying literally anything so you cannot tell if he’s being serious or not like one day he’ll just be like “yeah i killed a man with an axe once to enable myself to more easily empathise with future unsubs who potentially work as lumberjacks or have a history of logging. it’s called method axing,” and then leave the room to draw circles on maps or something. believes that parallel parking should work, in theory, but never seems to work for him in practice.

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amazingphanisnotonfire-imagines · 4 years ago

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Jonathan//and the heart i know i'm breakin' is my own

hey! if you haven’t already noticed, i’m posting quite a lot of christmas themed things for stranger things. i’ve done nancy, robin and now jonathan! so keep your eyes peeled for steve because i have something big planned! have a great day/night!

For Jonathan, Christmas isn’t a time for celebration. It hasn’t been for a long time now.

For years now it’s just been another time of the year ruined by monsters, both human and other-worldly.

The first Christmas he remembers, he spent the majority of it in his room. Playing with the very few toys his mom got him while awful Christmas music played over his parents screaming and shouting at each other.

The next his mother served Christmas dinner with shaky hands and a fake smile as she tried her best to make sure Jonathan had the best day ever.

He spent the one after that with Will, the two of them hiding underneath Jonathan’s bed as they shared toys.

Christmas never really got any better after his father left. He thought for a while they would. There were a good few years that The Byers had an actual happy Christmas. With presents and food and real, proper smiles.

And for a while, a small part of him thought there was hope. That they could pick up whatever was left of this ruined tradition and stitch it back together, no matter how rough the edges were or how close it was to unravelling again.

But then Will disappeared and he watched his mom slowly spiral, and as he stood in his dark house with Nancy by his side, watching the Christmas lights flicker around him, he knew this would be the last time he’d see them up.

And he was right. After the Christmas of 1983, the lights never went back up. Joyce tried her best to make every Christmas after that the best she could, but it was never good enough. They were always one loud noise and wrong word away from someone breaking.

And when he got his own apartment ten minutes away from his mom’s new home, he let out a deep breath. He’d never have to see another Christmas decoration ever again. He could go through the month of December, happily denying the existence of anything jolly and accepting the fact that he’ll be fighting for any scraps of sleep he could get for a whole month.

But then again, it’s no different to October or July, so really, he’s used to not getting enough sleep, especially after him and Nancy broke up.

Two lovely Christmases he spent not celebrating. He was happy being the only person in his apartment complex not to have a wreath hanging on the door or a piece of mistletoe hanging above it.

He went home to see his mom, Will and El, they exchanged small presents and talked about what new things were going on each other’s lives but then he went back home and spent the rest of Christmas day alone, lying in bed and listening to music.

He thought this year would be the same. He’d see his mom, engage in small talk while eating and then go home.

But then he met you.

His new downstairs neighbour, who for some reason thought it was a brilliant idea to move into a new apartment on Christmas Eve and decided to keep with the holiday spirit by adding huge, hideous bows to each and every one on your boxes.

Because he didn’t have anything else to do and welcomed any distraction he could get, he agreed to help you move the rest of your boxes in. Maybe it was because it was a good distraction, or maybe it was the way you smiled at him...either way he was glad he agreed.

And as he hauled the rest of the boxes into the bare apartment, the smell of new paint and old furniture flooding his senses, he swore he’d never seen anybody smile brighter at a dingy, falling apart box apartment than you did.

A small Christmas tree sat in the corner of the room, sparsely decorated with one present sat underneath, but the sight made something inside him stir. It looked almost depressing. A Christmas tree with one present, three baubles and half broken lights, but in a way it was nice.

Hopeful even.

You decided to celebrate Christmas, despite being alone in a what he assumed was a new city.

You ate takeout together on an old blanket with hand-me-down cushions being the only thing to separate the two of you from the hard wooden floor. Candles lit the dark room, casting shadows that danced on the walls and your skin and made you look like you were glowing, despite the very awful lighting.

Snow fell on the darkened street below, as you told him stories of your hometown and your journey here. How you almost didn’t make it in time due to the weather, and how as soon as you saw the bright lights of the city you could have cried, finally the future you’d dreamed of was becoming a reality.

The date changed to the 25th and the two of you were still sat on the floor. Only one candle remained still burning and the snow had stopped but you two were still talking. Still talking about your past, about what you were hoping for, about the things you missed about home and the things you were glad to get rid of.

Of course Jonathan didn’t say much, he just listened to you talk and sleepily sing an incredibly off key Christmas song.

And for the first time in a long time, Jonathan Byers smiled on Christmas day.

#jonathan byers #jonathan byers imagine #jonathan byers x reader #jonathan byers x you #jonathan byers x y/n #stranger things #stranger things imagine

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salemroleplayhq · 3 years ago

Photo

❝ If you’re going through hell, keep going. ❞

MEET…

Jude Anthony Wilson

Age: 30

Birthday: October 14

Gender/Pronouns: He/Him

Hometown: Salem, Massachusetts

Length of time in Salem: 28 years (2 years in Washington DC)

Occupation: Ghostwriter

Faceclaim: Brant Daugherty

HIS STORY

trigger warnings: alcoholism and child neglect/abandonment

It felt as if the Wilson children were doomed from the start.

There were judgmental whispers. Concerned looks. There were those who snooped through closed shades to catch a glimpse at the latest drunken theatrics from Addison Wilson. The children were planted into a situation they couldn’t control with a mother that preferred the company of the bottle than that of her own flesh and blood. Alex, the oldest of the trio, took it upon herself to take care of them all while juggling school at the same time. Jude’s four years her junior and tried to help with chores and figuring out ways to stretch their dollar. There were days when it felt as if all was lost, their home utterly broken and bleak. He knew a day would come when they’d find solace from this depressing existence their mother dropped on them but those days felt far away.

When Alex was away busting her ass to care for them, taking the role of mother their mother pissed away, or taking Harlow to the library for her own little slice of escapism; Jude turned to stories of his own. There were little blurbs, much along the lines of A Series of Unfortunate Events but the stars were the three Wilson kids who fought to keep their head above crashing waves of neglect. They weren’t stories of pity but those of resilience. They told encouraging tales for a better tomorrow and how each of them have real capabilities to pull them out and show the world they’re not doomed. Not anywhere near it. These stories helped Jude from slipping into a dark, seedy world of addiction, something which was expected of him by teachers and those who wrote him off as a lost cause; merely because he didn’t participate in class or found the importance of completing assignments. Why does it matter when those things can’t be applied to the real world? It didn’t do their family any good and came across as a waste of time.

By the time Jude graduated high school he picked up a job at the elementary school as a custodian. Far from glamorous but it helped bring money into their house and alleviated some pressure on Alex, doing everything he could to give her that much needed break from having her childhood robbed due to an alcoholic mother. That very mother whom he kept at arm’s length after all the shit he put them through. The very mother who tried to sweet talk him into going to the liquor store or to pick up a sixer from the gas station. The thing was Jude loves his mother. He hates that he does but that love is there. Yet, he cannot bring himself to be around her for long without anger threatening to further destroy their already fragile family; the very family Alex fought so hard to hold together.

Shortly before Alex left for Houston Jude was given an opportunity to write for a paper in DC. This came as a surprise because he didn’t apply for any such job and came to learn that a teacher submitted his writings without his knowledge. Those stories of hope and escape turned into a passion for storytelling. It ranged from complex plots which painted a shattered home life to actual articles for the school paper. Jude didn’t expect for this to lead to anything and when a chance presented itself he jumped on it after great deliberation. This would take him away from Harlow and Alex, his two rocks, but it needed to be done. He needed to see what world there is outside of Salem. A world away from his mother.

Living in DC brought many new experiences. When he arrived Jude quickly realized how ill prepared he was for this transition and lived in a seedy motel for a couple weeks. He managed to find an ad for a roommate online and hoped whoever this person was wouldn’t slit his throat in his sleep. But, he was desperate to be away from the underbelly which gravitated to the motel and landed a room with Corinne. Jude kept to himself while they lived together for the first few months, too focused on the newspaper job and proving to everyone there he’s qualified for it; considering his dismal high school grades and lack of experience. As time went by Jude started to open up to Corinne about his past and they quickly bonded over their own pained experiences. She’s one of the first people he didn’t feel looked at him as some dirty kid with an alcoholic mother, but someone who went through shit and did everything he could to hold himself together.

After close to two years in DC, Jude felt renewed. He dated and socialized. He went out to bars and movies and actually felt for what passes as normal for the first time in his life. His walls lowered and had his first real relationship with a guy he met at the paper, something he never dared to do back in Salem; mainly because he wasn’t completely sure he was into men or more curious. Yet, after those two years and his life forming into one he only dreamed of, a phone call changed everything.

Jude returned to Salem and went to a neighbor’s house, one of the few who actually were nice to them when others placed great distance. His mother was in bad shape, more so than before. He learned of her legal issues and warrants due to numerous DWIs. He also learned she was behind on bills and was about to lose the house. This placed him in a tough spot because he didn’t know whether to tell her to fuck off, that she buried her own grave, or to help. In the end Jude’s heart guided him to help and after talking to a lawyer they agreed treatment is the first step. However, picking this also meant Jude needed to say goodbye to DC and moved back to his childhood home.

Their mother went through rehab twice after he returned home, the first time everything went well but after four months he found out she’d been sneaking drinks and falling into bad habits again. Harlow had been coming around by then and it made it easier to get her to go in the 2nd time while they worked together with the attorney to get her legal issues under control. Alex wasn’t very involved when it came to anything regarding their mother and with good reason as she forced the eldest Wilson to be a mother-figure to two kids for many years. Since Jude couldn’t work at the DC paper anymore he picked up some freelance writing jobs and eventually came into contact with an agent who referred him out to interested parties in need of a Ghostwriter. At least with this he’s able to keep home and help with whatever’s needed. Even after their mother celebrated 5 years of sobriety Jude’s reluctance to move away kept him there until just a few months ago when he finally moved into a nearby apartment. One that’s not too far from the one Alex moved into after her return from Houston.

Now, the Wilson children are back in Salem once more. Maybe, just maybe, they can rewrite the paths they were given as kids and prove to the world they aren’t doomed. They’re resilient.

PERSONALITY

+ Adaptable, Romantic and Imaginative

- Frugal, Cautious and Moody

JUDE is played by JESS 2.

#jude wilson #all #m #oc rp #town rp #city rp

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raleighcarrera · 4 years ago

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make way

open heart | bryce lahela x mc (casey valentine)

the prompt said: ‘bryce tells mc that he loves her while she's falling asleep and the next morning she just assumes it was a dream bc she was just so tired’

also for @choicesseptemberchallenge20 day 1 which worked out nicely (tired)

tags: @choicesarehard ; @zigtheeortega ; @omgjasminesimone ; @beccadavenport ; @pixeljazzy 💕

~2.3k words | T

she’s coming off of thirty-six hours straight at the hospital when it happens.

it’s been an exceedingly long week. balancing her work on the diagnostics team along with her regular responsibilities and managing her intern would be difficult enough without the added wrench of a bus crash thrown into her day, but, of course, that’s the way life at edenbrook goes: every day has its own new bus crash, in one way or another.

regardless, there’s new injured patients to treat and old ones to check up on and high-profile cases to worry about in the interim, so she can use her strategy to save the hospital and then rub dr. ramsey’s self-righteous nose in her success (in that order).

there’s a lot going on, and not much time to sleep. there’s brief breaks, here and there -- just enough for a quick nap in the on-call rooms -- but then it’s right back to work.

and before she knows it, it’s been thirty-six hours and bryce is forcibly dragging her onto the t in her scrubs, and she’s falling asleep with her head on his shoulder and almost definitely drooling onto his jacket.

because he’s bryce, and he’s perfect, he doesn’t say anything about that. he only runs his fingers through her hair and takes her home to his blessedly quiet, roommate-less apartment, where the pizza delivery’s been timed so perfectly that the driver is actually coming up in the elevator at the same time they are.

casey’s so grateful she could cry. instead, she waits until her mouth is half-full with her third slice to look over at her boyfriend with wide, appreciative eyes and groan, “god, you’re wonderful.”

bryce laughs at her. “please. i’m just glad i found you before you actually collapsed in ramsey’s office.”

she nods, finally chewing and swallowing the bite she’d paused to sing his praises. “i am going to sleep -- all day tomorrow.” her head is throbbing. it’s a massive effort just to remember what day it is, but there’s one thing sticking out to her, a fuzzy memory from when they’d compared schedules last weekend. “wait. you have to work?”

he sighs, dusting off his hands. “yeah.” bryce pulls a face as if to imply that it’s the single worst thing that’s ever happened to him. “sorry, babe. wish i could kick it here with you.”

“it’s okay.” a wide yawn stretches her mouth open. “you don’t mind if i stay here?”

“nah.” bryce’s smile is easygoing and a little excited. “stay as long as you want. knowing you’re here will make my day go by faster.”

maybe, she thinks deliriously, her limbs feeling even heavier now that she’s eaten than they had on their commute home, she can do something nice for him tomorrow. make dinner, or something -- after she’s slept.

casey blinks, realizing all at once that she’s completely zoned out again. “what? sorry. i’m just --”

“i know.” there’s a fondness in his voice and a softness in his eyes when he stands and pulls her to her feet, tugging her in so she can lean against him. she does so immediately, burrowing into the warmth of his chest. “come on. let’s get you to bed.”

she isn’t sure exactly how it happens, but when she yawns at him next, it’s from the lush safety of his mattress and the blankets on his bed; casey cuddles into the pillows and blinks sleepily up at him, waiting for bryce to join her. the only thing in the world that could make going to sleep now, at eight o’clock with a day off ahead of her, is having her boyfriend’s body heat beside her to soak up.

but bryce laughs at her again, shaking his head. “i gotta put the food away. i’ll be in in a minute.”

“fine,” casey mumbles. the word breaks with another yawn halfway through. her eyelids are already fluttering. “just -- hurry up.”

“of course.” she feels the brush of his lips against her forehead, and then her mouth, bryce’s kiss so gentle it’s almost not there. his fingers slip through her hair again.

the sound she makes is somewhere between a delighted groan and a sigh of pure content. she isn’t sure she’s ever been so comfortable in her life; bryce’s bed is warm and cozy and the sheets are clean -- they smell like him, and so does the shirt she’s wearing. her whole body is heavy with exhaustion and the satisfaction of the work she’s done. she feels cared for. she’s happy.

just before everything goes dark, somewhere, in the space she’s floating in between sleep and wakefulness, she hears bryce’s voice -- one last hesitant murmur of her name. it’s only on the very edge of her conscious, but she’s positive the words he says are, “i love you, casey.”

the apartment is predictably silent when she wakes up.

there’s nothing like the peacefulness that comes from waking up in an empty apartment. with so many roommates, it isn’t something that casey’s accustomed to, and she relishes it now, soaking up the stillness of bryce’s bedroom joyfully.

there’s birds chirping outside. she turns her face into the pillows and breathes in slowly, burrowing a little further into the sheets.

there’s nothing on the horizon, for today -- no work, no chores, no responsibilities. it’s the perfect way to start her day, if only her boyfriend was in bed beside her.

speaking of. casey reaches her hand out, fumbling blindly on the nightstand until it closes around her cellphone. she finally blinks her eyes open when she pulls the device under the sheets with her, balking at the time displayed on the home screen.

it’s past two-thirty in the afternoon.

she blinks, knuckling sleep out of her eyes. she really had been exhausted.

there’s a slew of text messages waiting for her, mostly from her roommates. the group chat is abuzz with wondering where she is and if she’s alive; casey holds off on answering them in favor of navigating to her thread with bryce, where he’s texted good morning beautiful and text me when you wake up. getting out of bed this morning was impossible with you in it

her teeth bite at her bottom lip to stifle the smile that’s threatening. eight months of being official with bryce and it still never gets old, to be on the receiving end of those cheesy, over-the-top compliments. no boyfriend of hers before him had ever sent a good morning text message.

hiiiiiiiiii she writes back, spreading out in his bed, just woke up. hope today’s going well for you. can’t wait to get you back in this bed with me

his reply is almost immediate. fuck you, it says, making her grin up at the ceiling, i’m about to go into surgery. you’re evil

casey settles for an onslaught of heart emojis, as she rolls out of said bed and heads for the kitchen. as expected, there’s no food in bryce’s fridge, but there is coffee, and she takes her time enjoying it and flipping through the channels on bryce’s tv -- they don’t have cable, at her place -- before finally making her way into the shower.

she’s in the middle of shampooing her hair when she remembers what happened last night. it comes back to her abruptly, the memory too vivid to be true. bryce’s lips, brushing against hers -- his hands pulling the comforter up to her shoulders -- and then...

i love you, casey.

she frowns, tipping her head back under the water to rinse her hair.

that has to have been a dream, right?

she’d remember it, if it were real. she’d’ve said something to him, last night, or... today. he’d’ve said something about it.

right?

casey marinates on it for the entirety of her shower, waffling back and forth. it both feels like a dream and not, making it difficult to ascertain what really happened. she was exhausted last night -- she barely remembers leaving the hospital, after all. but if bryce had really said... for the first time...

she’d have to remember that, wouldn’t she?

she thinks about it when she gets dressed and heads to the store to find something passable she can make for dinner (though it’s definitely going to be pasta, again). last night was a blur; her memory of everything that happened after bryce found her in the on-call room is in bits and pieces. there’s only the vague outline of their evening flashing in her mind: sleeping on him on the t, eating pizza shoulder-to-shoulder on the couch, stumbling into his bedroom and falling into bed...

and then the same bit she can’t stop thinking about, as clear as day -- his kiss, and the soft, hesitant sound of his voice when he’d said those three words and that reverent utterance of her name.

it plays in her head on a loop in the check-out line. it has to have been a dream, that’s the only explanation for it.

he wouldn’t -- they don’t -- because he’s not...

...except that he might be.

he might be, because she’s pretty sure that she is, and -- if he felt the same way, that would be... life-changing. exceptional. pretty much the greatest thing to ever happen to her, outside of her professional accomplishments.

because bryce is pretty much the greatest thing to ever happen to her. he is everything she’s ever wanted and didn’t know she was looking for -- completely different from her usual ‘type’ in the best way. bryce is smart and thoughtful and funny and witty and devastatingly sexy -- complex and considerate and an amazing listener and a world-class shoulder massager...

someone so easy to fall in love with she hadn’t even realized it was happening until it was too late.

so her stupid, useless brain had probably imagined that he’d said it first to give her something pleasant to dream about. casey glares bitterly at the tomatoes she’s blistering when the realization washes over her.

and that’s how bryce finds her: in the kitchen, stirring spaghetti in sweats she stole out of his closet, her long hair still drying where it’s damp on her shoulders. he’s loud when he crowds in behind her at the stove, talking a mile a minute about his day, how good it smells in the apartment and how much he missed her, all at once.

he buries his face in the crook of her neck and inhales, pressing his lips lightly against the side of her throat. “you sleep okay?”

casey relaxes despite herself and her annoyance, melting a little against his chest. she nods. “yeah. thanks for taking care of me last night.”

bryce’s hands are warm when they slip under the hem of her (his) hoodie. his hands fan out over her hips. “of course,” he murmurs, nuzzling his nose at the base of her neck, “anything for you, babe.”

maybe he had said it.

she thinks about it some more as she spoons pasta into two plates and they tumble back onto the couch together. the words bounce around in her brain while he slurps spaghetti beside her, interspersed with more compliments: how good dinner is, how thoughtful she is, how multi-talented she manages to be.

well, there’s only one way to find out.

casey lets him clear the plates away and load the dishwasher because she cooked, and it’s only fair, and waits until he’s back on the couch with her with that inviting space at his side wide open.

then, she slips into it, wrapping her arms around his waist and leaning against him. bryce’s arm curls around her shoulders in turn, and his lips press a delicate kiss to the top of her head.

“i love you,” casey sighs. the words leave her lips so easily she’s hardly able to believe that there was once a point in time where she felt nervous to be the first to say so.

it’s true, after all. she’s not sure if she’s ever been in love, before -- she thought she had, but it wasn’t like this (nothing could ever be like this) -- but she’s positive about bryce. with her life constantly in flux, filled with so much chaos, being with bryce is the one thing she feels like she’s actually gotten right.

his hand stills from where he’d been rubbing her shoulder, hesitating for just a moment. then, he says, “i love you, too.”

casey turns her cheek to look up at him, her eyes wide. “really?”

the laugh he gives is low and fond, sending a thrill of happiness straight down her spine and to her toes. “how could i not?”

“so... you did say that last night. i thought it was a dream.” the swarm of butterflies in her stomach beat their wings harder at the very idea.

bryce makes a noncommittal hum into her hair. “i wasn’t sure if you heard me. i meant it, though. i love you, case.”

casey opens her mouth to crack a joke, but her throat feels suspiciously tight. how emotional she is catches her completely off guard, surprising her silent.

so -- she’s loved. by probably the most perfect man on the east coast, if not in the entire united states of america. or the world.

weird. part of her had thought something like this might never happen for her.

“i...” she trails off, shaking her head. it’s overwhelming, just how happy she is. her arms press bryce a little closer, pulling him to her a little tighter. “um, thank you.”

he laughs again, sounding taken aback. “for what?”

“for loving me,” casey answers, as though it should be obvious.

she can feel bryce’s shrug against her side; the movement jostles her against him, a little -- but then he squeezes her back, crushing her into the broad planes of his chest.

“it’s easy,” he promises, and though he’s the first person to ever say so, she believes him.

#open heart #bryce lahela #casey valentine #bryce lahela x mc #bryce lahela x casey valentine #bryce x casey #bryce x mc #myfic #long post #ty again for sending this request anon i loved it a lot 💕💕 hope you like the fic !!#choicesseptemberchallenge #choicesseptemberchallenge20

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fuckinuchihas · 4 years ago

Note

Emergency request! Around valentine day I requested an emergency request where male reader felt lovable and lead to sugawara confessing. And it was really comforting so I know it's weird but I've want a part 2. I just went to a wedding and it kinda hurts seeing people be in so much love. I was think just a part 2 where reader is like " do you really love me" and suga tells him yes and then proposes please and thank you , your work is amazing.

Okay so this came spilling out, apparently I really wanted to write this too! Well I hope you enjoy and while it does start off with insecurity and sad thoughts, I promise you its 100% happy ending, the happiest of endings so no worries please <3

Something has changed, shifted...and you’re not sure where you went wrong but you can feel him pulling away.

It’s been a while since this beautiful man came into your life and turned everything on its head by actually wanting you. Sometimes you still wonder if it’s a dream but then you’ll wake up with a feathery silver strand of hair stuck to your lips or his arms wrapped so tightly around you that it feels like he’s just as terrified to let go as you are that he’ll want to someday.

That day seems to get closer and closer with every breath.

It started with his jacket.

He’d been leaving it at your place for a while now but when you opened the small closet off to the side of your bedroom the familiar navy blue was gone, as was a couple of his shirts that had managed to make their way into your laundry.

You told yourself he probably just needed them because it was getting cooler, but then he wasn’t...wearing them.

Then there was the early Saturday morning spent with a friend, which by itself wasn’t a big deal, but he’d never intentionally left you out of his plans, not-not even as a friend.

You rack your brain trying to find anything that you could have done to change things...were you too clingy? Too insecure? Too...overwhelming?

Every insecurity you could think of suddenly rose to the surface and made it hard for you to breathe.

No...No, you forced the thoughts back down. Sugawara wasn’t perfect, not nearly as much as you’d initially believed but he wasn’t a coward or deceitful. If he wanted the relationship to end, he’d tell you outright. Even if it was a difficult conversation.

You sigh to yourself as you change from your slippers into actual shoes so you can check the mail. You shake yourself out of the funk as much as you can on your way down to the small mail office in your apartment complex.

When you open the box you feel a moment of soft surprise before your heart sinks back to your stomach.

Yet another wedding invitation.

You don’t mind spending money on a gift or even dressing up for the occasion when it’s someone close to you but the more weddings you attend the more disheartened you become.

Maybe that’s it…

Maybe Koshi has picked up on your wedding fever/depression and got scared away. You hadn’t really thought about it when mentioning your future plans that you had in mind. You didn’t need all the fancy stuff, not into the large crowds or dove releases, or any other number of shenanigans that normally turned out to be disasters.

Even if it were just you and him, a couple friends to witness and someone to officiate…that’s all you cared about.

*sigh*

Your phone buzzes in your pocket just after you step back through your front door and you glance down to see a text from the man himself.

Message from Koshi: You free this Saturday?

You narrow your gaze down at the phone.

Message to Koshi: You ask that as if I’m not always free on Saturdays….

Message from Koshi: Well it’s only polite to ask, otherwise I think it would be considered kidnapping...adult napping? Personnapping

You chuckle under your breath despite it all and smile down at your phone.

Message to Koshi: I’ll try to pencil you in.

Message from Koshi: Okay, I deserved that one...still, don’t make plans.

Message to Koshi: Well I can’t make any promises...if Kakashi sensei shows up I don’t know if I can hold back.

You know wherever he is right now he’s rolling his eyes at you but that’s okay, because he’s smiling too...or at least you hope he is. The old Sugawara would have smiled and laughed…

Message to Koshi: Is Saturday the next time I’ll see you?

You were almost too afraid to send it, not wanting to see the affirmation of that given it’s only Wednesday and you’ve gotten used to not sleeping alone.

Your mind goes through a variety of scenarios for the thing Saturday, is it a breakup thing? Is he going to explain why he’s been so distant? Is it...no, you won’t get your hopes up. It’s better to deal with worst case scenarios so you know how to handle yourself with whatever comes to pass.

Finally your phone buzzes again and you let out a low sigh of relief.

Message from Koshi: Of course not, I’ll be over for later...want me to stop and get food?

Message to Koshi: No, I’ll take care of dinner. You just bring yourself. TTYL

Message from Koshi: TTYL

That’s another thing that’s changed lately….he still says he loves you, it’s still there and it feels nice to hear it. But it’s changed somehow, like it’s as if he has to push it out rather than it flowing naturally. He gets this odd look in his eyes sometimes when he says it and if you didn’t know him better you’d worry he didn’t mean it at all.

But Sugawara isn’t insincere or deceptive.

Saturday comes and you wake up alone, it’s...not a great feeling.

You blindly reach for you phone waiting until your vision is actually useful before you check your messages.

Message from Koshi: Went for breakfast, bbs.

Well...that’s not so bad.

You check the clock, it’s a little earlier than you usually get up… maybe an hour or so. You contemplate going back to bed but if he’s getting you something warm to eat and drink, it might be worth staying awake.

When that hour passes alongside another, you start to worry.

Message to Koshi: Everything okay?

Almost immediately you have a response.

Message from Koshi: Yes, sorry I got caught up with something but I’ll be back in 10.

You try not to focus on the long absence instead, moving to get dressed. Something about still being in bed half naked leaves you feeling vulnerable.

When he enters the apartment a few moments later, as promised, he’s wearing a warm smile, flushed cheeks, and holding out a bag of piping hot food and a warm drink that heats your hand when you take it.

Things aren’t adding up… how has he been gone so long, gotten caught up in something unplanned, and still carrying hot food and drink when he returns?

Something dark and ugly curls in your belly.

“Suga…” you start, wanting to bring it up but part of you is also terrified that this will spur the impending talk ahead even faster.

“Yes?”

“Nevermind,” you say, taking a sip of your drink. “This is good thank you.”

“Of course. Anything for you, Love.”

It almost hurts more than it heals.

It’s nearly time to get ready, he mentioned wanting to leave around seven so you start to ask questions. “Where are we going? What should I wear? Etc…” all the accompanying answers are vague at best, but you don’t push. Despite the logical part of your brain knowing you need to confront this, something that feels protective, or like a defense mechanism, is screaming at you not to push. As if holding your tongue will make him want to keep you around, even for just a minute longer.

When he shows back up at your apartment after leaving to get dressed, you feel completely lost. He looks good, well he always looks good but...fuck you were not prepared for the sight of him in dark slacks with a crimson button up and a silver vest that hugs his form.

“I am-I’m completely underdressed...why didn’t you tell me…” you say, feeling both frustrated and emotional because wouldn’t it just be your luck that the man you love looks his most beautiful on the night he breaks your heart.

“You look amazing, don’t worry… there’s not going to be a crowd, c’mon.” he says, offering his arm and though neither of you usually engage in pda, there’s something that seems so inherently romantic about it that you can’t stop yourself from taking it.

“Are you willing to tell me where we’re going...now?” you ask, but he just winks at you and shakes his head.

You try to hide your frustration, it must not work too well because he just laughs, “Don’t worry, I’m not personnapping you, if you don’t like it we can leave.”

You move together side by side for a while until a familiar path comes into view.

“The pier?” you ask, blinking at him.

“Surprised you didn’t figure it out sooner.”

“Why did you get all dressed up for the pier? Wait when did they put lights up? Is this new?” you ask, glancing around at the countless strings of fairy lights hung from the posts of the nearby shelter and all along the handrail of the dock.

“I’m not sure, I think it’s a recent addition…” he says, and you can hear a slight quiver in his voice.

“Oh okay,” you say, as you let him lead you to the small picnic area.

On the table there’s a huge basket filled with food and a bucket with a bottle of wine chilling.

“Koshi this is- this is-” you want to say sweet, romantic, amazing… but the words get caught in your throat.

Surely he wouldn’t do all this, make this amazing picnic just for you, only to dump you...right? Like there’s such a thing as too amicable at the end of a relationship…

“You don’t like it?” he asks, rubbing nervously at the back of his neck.

“No! No that’s not it at all,” you say in a rush, the volume a little loud in your hurry to reassure him that it’s amazing. “I just...can we sit and talk for a minute first?”

“Yeah, of course…” he says, though he’s still clearly very nervous. Maybe he knows you’ve caught onto him…

“Sugawara-”

“Koshi-” he says, with insistence.

You nod, “Koshi, I just-I’ve noticed that you’ve been pulling away lately...It’s not that I-I mind I guess, I just, I want you to know that if I’ve done anything or...or you’ve just changed your mind-”

“I haven’t,” he says firmly, reaching his hand out to pull your chin up so he can look directly into your eyes. There’s a soft whisper of your name but then he’s smiling and shaking his head, tears forming at the edge of his eyes. “I guess there’s only one way to prove it to you though.”

“What?” you ask, a little alarmed that he seems so close to crying and this close you can watch it happen.

He says your name, like a whisper like a prayer and then he drops to one knee in front of you.

Your brain, the one that’s constantly overthinking everything, goes still in that moment. All whirring brought to a quick, silent stop.

“For me it wasn’t immediate, though sometimes I like to think it was because it makes me look a little brighter, but falling for you was a slow progression of events to the point that I didn’t even realize how deep I was until you told me that no one would ever want you... I just sat there staring at you thinking you were the most fascinating, most hilarious, most warm human being I’ve ever known,” he says, hand shaking as he reaches into his pocket.

Your pulse spikes but you’re still struck frozen, speechless.

“Every day your smile, your laugh, the way your nose pulls up when you’re angry, all of it...it makes you even more gorgeous than you were the first time I saw you...I haven’t been pulling away, I’ve been trying to surprise you with this,’ he says, opening a small bright red box up and holding it out to you.

You gasp when you see the minimalist band, gems embedded into the metal to give it a smooth finish rather than the traditional engagement rings that stick out like a sore thumb.

“Koshi I-Are you sure?”

“I’m absolutely certain,” he says, “The question here, is are you? Will you marry me?” he asks, a soft whisper of your name shakily coming out after the question but you barely even heard it over the loud pounding of your heart in your ears.

“Yes! Yes yes, no takebacksies,” you say, feeling and maybe sounding like a damned kid you’re so gleefully happy.

“Not even if Kakashi shows up?” he says, raising an eyebrow at you.

“Not even then,” you say, pulling him in closer until he gives in and gives you what you want.

You get lost in the kiss for a bit, long enough that you’re grateful none of the food was meant to be served hot.

“I kinda thought you were going to break up with me…” you confess softly, a little while later while lazily plucking grapes from the bunch and passing them over your shoulder to your boyfr-fiance...your fiance. The word itself gives you a rush of excitement up your spine.

He splutters a bit but eventually just decides to chide you a little, “What do you take me for? An idiot?” he says, “Only an idiot would leave you...I was umm, I was planning this and I was slowly moving some of your things over to my apartment. You didn’t notice?”

“No...I noticed your stuff missing but not mine…”

He sighs, and pats you on the head. “Of course you did. I’m sorry, Love. Next time I’ll just ruin the surprise and tell you.”

You laugh, “Oh so you plan on proposing again?”

He shrugs, “You never know.”

You do know...two weeks before your tenth anniversary, Sugawara stops grading papers to look up at you while you’re drinking your morning cup and says, “I’m going to propose to you in two weeks...so don’t get any crazy ideas like I’m leaving you again.”

You choke on your drink and glare at him when he laughs at you for it.

“You’ll be lucky if I say yes, Sugawara Koshi!”

“Yes I will.”

Thanks so much for reading!!

Masterlist

#not naruto #not knb #haikyuu!!#sugawara x reader #sugawara fluff #sugawara proposal #🚨 emergency request 🚨#kel answers #my stuff

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clownistyping · 5 years ago

Note

Hello Elizabeth! Do you mind if I send you some tmnt request? Those guys are usually the ones saving people, so how about this time someone saves them? Like maybe they got ambushed by foot clan or something?

I don't mind at all and actually want them! I'm assuming you want the reader to save the bros lol. Also I have no idea how someone could take on like...more than 5 footclan members and be a human being. Bc I sure can't. So I may go a bit weird. also idk if u want bayverse but I love bayverse so u get bayverse.

Readers gender is: Tired. (Gender neutral)

You were peacefully buried yourself deep into your blankets as your soft white noise machine played and your dreams were soft of you having a picnic in the park. Only for it to be cut short by; grunting, yelling, swords?

You sat up, sighing you turned on your light and got out of safe haven. Unsure of where the sound was coming from, you checked the living room. Nothing. Kitchen, empty. Bathroom, dripping faucet but no swords.

Leaving the bathroom you hummed, shrugging the sound off as a neighbors TV you went back to bed, light off, eyes shut, dreamland doors opening.

And they slammed right in your face. Sitting up again you looked right at your window, now slightly agitated you slammed your window open.

The fighting sounds were much louder, and you looked down at the alley way. Being on the third floor wasn't that bad, you could easily see the ground, but it was still dark.

"HEY! QUIET THE FUCK DOWN! PEOPLE ARE TRYNA SLEEP!" You yelled, staring down at the shadowy figures who all paused.

You heard footsteps quickly running and you just rolled your eyes, turning around you sat on the windowsill now fully awake at 4 AM. You feel cursed since you have a shift tomorrow at a the Stone Pizza Palor.

Only to jump from the window when the fire escape shook from behind you.

"Hey thanks for the save!" A voice called and you went stiff, what the fuck.

"Mikey! Get down from there!" Another voice called from below, and slowly you turned to face the voices. Sighing internally that you couldn't see the person's face. You stayed right where you are.

"Chill out bro, I'm just givin my thanks!" The voice, who you can assume is 'Mikey' laughed.

"Um uh...you guys were keeping me awake..so I had to. But um no problem?" You said,

"Oh sorry about that, just was protecting the city like bam and punch!" You couldn't see the movements he was making but assumed they were action poses, but right in the middle of a pose the fire escape shook again. Another person joined Mikey.

"Mikey, what the hell do ya think ya doin'?" The voice was rough.

"Owowow! Raph come on man! Just bein a good samaritan, man!"

"You don't even know what that means." As the two argued you slowly backed up, reaching for your lamp you switched it on. Your eyes went wide.

"Aw shit." The one called 'Raph' muttered and Mikey waved, you could only stay stiff as you finally realized that you were not talking to humans, or even bodybuilders.

You were talking to two giant...green things...you don't know what they are exactly…

"Are they okay?"

"Cours' they ain't, they did just see our ugly mugs!" The one wearing red yelled and managed his way into your bedroom. He pointed a finger at you.

"You. If you eva tell anyone about thi-"

"Raph!" Another voice spoke making you gain consciousness again and sit on your bed in shock.

Mikey joined the bedroom, sitting near you with a smile that made you unable to blink. Then ANOTHER turtle joined the room, not even asking for permission. This one wearing blue,

"How many times do I have to tell you-"

"I know Leo, don't threaten, maim, harm or harass any humans. But hey, not my fault I'm defensive!" The red one argued. The other one wearing blue, named Leo, held his face and groaned.

"Well technically it's Mikey's fault for this stranger seeing us, I mean he did come up to their window. We could've just left before they called the cops on us." Another voice said from the window, a head peaked in. This one, wearing purple and large glasses. Mikey just shrugged, not even defending himself.

"Hi, I'm Donnie." He said with a wave and you just sighed. Suddenly all eyes were on you,

"Please tell me this is some dream I'm having after binge watching monster movies."

Mikey laughed,

"This is real, dude!" He said with a smile that didn’t help the situation at all.

"He's right, this is all real-" Leo tried to speak,

"Come on, we coulda just knocked their ass out and left!"

"Raph no!" As the red and blue argued, the purple one 'Donnie' slipped inside. Well not slipped he did struggle because of the gear on his back,

"Plus dreams can't get that complex based on things you see in real life. So yes, sadly, this is true. Also sorry for keeping you up."

"So what are you four gonna do now, kill me or something?" You said, Mikey shook his head.

"Nah man that's against our code." He put his fist and palm together and bowed,

"We're ninjas." He smiled, Donnie added on.

"And we're teens."

"We're fucking mutants." The red one snapped, turning back to the blue one,

"But we're not monsters, we're just turtles." Leo tried to lighten the mood with a smile but by then you were too tired to care.

"And now, we are forever in your debt!" Mikey said, getting on one knee he held your hand. You quickly pulled it back and made a confused face.

"What- why?"

"Because you totally saved us, dude! You scared away those bad guys who were totally kickin' our asses!"

"Mikey!" Raph tried to defend himself but Mikey stopped him,

"Sorry, butt."

You stood up and sighed,

"Listen you are not in debt to me, none of you are. I just wanted some sleep, I always yell out that window, well..mainly at crackheads..never at..giant..turtle boys."

"Men." Mikey winked and you blinked,

"No," you shook your head, "listen if you all just leave, right now, I won't tell a soul. Not even a stray cat. Alright?" The turtles hummed,

"Deal but. If you tell anyone. We will find you." Leo said his finger almost in your face and you rose a brow,

"Ya, you know where I live. I expect that." His finger curled away and he blinked, then he shook his head and left through the window.

Then it was Donnie, Raph and Mikey. Who sat in the windowsill. He looked at you,

"Wait, I have a question."

"What is it?"

"Why..why aren't you scared of us?"

"I live in fucking New York City, I see shit like you guys everyday. You're not the first mutants I've met." You said, and Mikey then smiled with joy and shock.

"Awesome, I'll catch ya later dude!" He waved and suddenly he disappeared. You stared out the window, watching as Mikey joined his brothers telling them of what you said. While you couldn't hear them, you know that you're bound to meet them again.

#tmnt leo #tmnt raph #tmnt #tmnt 2014 #tmnt 2016 #tmnt michelangelo #tmnt donnie #tmnt x reader #tmnt imagines #gn!reader #leonardo x reader #raphael x reader #michelangelo x reader #donnatello x reader

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bookandcranny · 4 years ago

Text

Beatrice - Chapter Three

On a table in what she supposed was the dining room there was a floral centerpiece, dead and rotted. Freesias and baby’s breath were shriveled with blight and yet the dead petals remained frozen in place, refusing to fall. Gianna wondered if they’d somehow been preserved that way intentionally. She couldn’t imagine why, ugly as they were.

Soft footsteps padded across the tile behind her, and for a brief moment the anxiety resurfaced, seizing at her throat.

“Gianna?”

She took in a deep breath, letting floral sweetness flood her senses. “It’s me, Bea.”

Gianna was too stubborn to call out of work in the morning, but stubbornness only got her as far as until the gallery manager saw her flagging at her station and urged her to go home. The fumes from the conservators’ delicate chemistry could be dangerous on a good day if you weren’t careful, she reminded her, nevermind if you were already feeling sick. She wasn’t sick, just tired. At least that’s what she was telling herself. Still, she stopped by the drugstore just in case the faint nausea and light-headedness were indeed early signs of some bug.

On impulse, she also picked up some hair bleach and a box of dye. She hadn’t done anything new with her hair since before moving and her brown roots were starting to look more like branches. Normally this wouldn’t have bothered her except, well, for the first time in a long time there was someone she really wanted to look good for. If she was going to ask Beatrice out, first she needed to be in an attractive state of mind.

All her vanity was in vain however; by the time she’d arrived home whatever sickness had grabbed a hold of her was setting in in earnest, leaving Gianna feeling weak and off-kilter. With the last of her strength she managed to force down a couple painkillers along with a cold glass of water before collapsing into bed.

When she woke up from her addled fever-sleep her skin was clammy and cold. She wrapped the blanket around her shoulders and forced herself to sit up, squinting in the dark of her surroundings. Something had woken her. The sound of that finicky overhead light blowing out after she’d passed out with it still on. Somewhere in between the passing out and now, night had swept over the city, but as was its nature, faint fluorescent light still streamed in from the world outside her window. She hobbled over and pried it open.

Though the breeze made her shiver, it also brought with it the sweetness she’d come to recognize as the combined scents of the Rappaccinis’ garden. The familiar smell revitalized her somewhat. Actually, she felt remarkably improved after just a few short minutes of sitting by the window. Maybe all this was just chemical fumes messing with her head. She’d never had a problem with it before, but she’d been working longer hours lately. That combined with the recent stress, of course it would leave her feeling poorly, she thought.

Down in Casa di Rappaccini there were lights coming from every window and shadows moving before them. Gianna had never even entertained the idea of the family having company. Dr Rappaccini really didn’t seem like the kind of man to throw a house party in the middle of the week.

Gianna pushed up the screen and went to climb down to her usual spot. It was only when she was hovering with her hands on the railing and her blanket still slung around her shoulders like a cape that she realized just how bad an idea that was. She was liable to break her neck or worse trying to climb down in the dark with a fever, and Beatrice certainly wouldn’t be gardening at this time of night. She was probably inside, socializing and having fun, impressing their guests with her vast horticultural knowledge and reciting poetry in Latin or something. Though it might get her attention, lurking around outside her party on the fire escape was not the way to get a woman to like you.

She returned to her apartment and to her bed, pulling the pillow over her head as if to guard against any more bizarre dreams. After a time, she managed to drift back into uneasy sleep, while violet eyes kept a watch on her window from below.

In the morning Gianna roused to a concerned call from work, but her groggy reply was more than enough to secure her another sick day. She went back to sleep for another couple hours, woke, forced down some more pills and some leftover stir-fry, slept, and finally woke again feeling not quite recovered, but at least somewhat rested.

She staggered to the bathroom and washed her face. Her skin was oily to the touch and her eyes were bloodshot but otherwise she didn’t look too bad, she thought. Recalling the night before, she went to sit by the window and indeed the fresh air made her feel worlds better. Whatever it was that was slogging through her system, she reasoned, couldn’t be too bad. Probably just some twenty-four hour flu or something.

As she leaned her head out the window she caught sight of Beatrice working in her garden as usual and she was out and shimmying down the ladder before she could remember her decision not to.

“Hey,” she called, her voice still slightly rasped with sleep.

Beatrice looked up and beamed at her, although her smile faltered slightly to see the loose curls plastered to her brow.

“How are you feeling?”

“Oh, is it that obvious?” she huffed, trying to pinch some life back into her cheeks. “I’ll be alright, just a fever or something.”

“That’s why you weren’t here yesterday. I looked for you.”

Something in Gianna’s gut twisted hotly. “You missed me?”

“Of course I did.”

It was a much more frank answer than she’d expected, and Gianna felt herself blush. No need to worry about her color after all.

“I was worried, I guess. You were acting sort of strange the day before. I thought I might’ve done something wrong.”

“No way,” she assured. Wow, I really am that obvious. “I was just sleeping this thing off most of the afternoon. I sorta thought you’d be too busy to notice, with the party you were having.”

Beatrice rolled her eyes. “My father was having one of his dinner socials. I couldn’t have gotten away for long either way but believe me, I would pick you over any one of his colleagues in a heartbeat.”

Gianna raised her eyebrows. “Isn’t that kind of thing hard on him? With his health, I mean.”

“He hires people for all the preparations and cleaning up after. Father can’t get out very much because of his condition, so this is how he… connects, I think. Otherwise he wouldn’t talk to anyone at all.”

“We all need to connect I guess.”

She nodded, looking away again. “He has his colleagues bring people for me too. Sons or nephews, you know. Boys he thinks would make a good match for me.”

“Oh. That’s… oh.”

“It’s sort of old fashioned, I know. I don’t really-- I don’t like any of them that way. You’re right though, we all need to connect. I used to think I didn’t need anyone else, but lately…”

Cautiously she met her gaze. Her brows were knit together like she was trying to piece together some puzzle in her mind. Gianna thought she should say something, offer some reassurance, but the image of Dr Rappaccini and his equally decrepit associates presenting her with an array of their eligible legacy offspring turned her stomach so sourly that she had to bite her tongue to keep from spewing something venomous.

Luckily or not, before either of them could speak there came a call from within the house.

“Beatrice, come here, girl!”

Gianna bristled but the young woman only turned and said sweetly, “Coming, Father!” She gave Gianna an apologetic glance and then added in a low voice, “There’s something important I want to talk to you about, but I don’t think I can do it here. Come over tomorrow?”

“You mean… like, in person?”

“Yes! Tomorrow my father is going to be out of the house from two to four o’clock. That doesn’t give us long but it’s the only time I can do it.”

Do what, she wanted to ask, bewildered and enticed all at once.

“Are you sure you don’t want to just get coffee somewhere?”

“The code for the door is 5214. Meet me here. I promise it’ll be worth your time.” She fidgeted her hands together. Her eyelashes fluttered. “Maybe I can even show you around the garden.”

Something about the way she said that made Gianna suppress a shiver.

“Of course I’ll be there,” she said. She hated to miss more work than she already had, but she doubted they would suspect anything. Even now her fingers trembled and some of that clamminess was returned to her skin, but oddly enough, she was feeling better than she had all week.

-----

The name placard next to the buzzer read G. Rappaccini. It didn’t sit right with Gianna, the conspicuous absence of the apartment’s other occupant.

Even though she knew she was expected, she felt compelled to announce herself. She pressed the buzzer and after a moment a quiet voice came through the intercom.

“Hello?”

“It’s me,” she said.

“Oh.”

She frowned. “Is that still okay?”

Beatrice let out a sigh. It sounded thin and tinny through the crackle of the speaker.

“Yeah, of course, come on up. Do you remember the code?”

Gianna punched in the numbers and made her way to the apartment. At least this complex had an elevator, saving her the strain of the climb. She was feeling less shaky but at the expense of her appetite which had vanished and made her wary of taking on too much additional strain. Her heart was pounding as it was, watching the floor numbers slowly tick by and thinking about how soon the two of them would be in the same room for the first time.

Beatrice had never been too eager to meet up with Gianna outside their customary rendezvous, which Gianna had always attributed to her not wanting to leave her father alone for too long. She’d never analyzed her motivations too closely because doing so would mean having to take a serious look at her own.

The truth was, Gianna was scared. This thing she had with Beatrice was different than any relationship she’d had before, for reasons she couldn’t confidently place, and she was afraid that somehow breaking out of the pattern they’d established between them would change things, would tarnish the magic of it somehow.

Too close now to turn back, she stepped into the apartment. Right away the high ceilings and lavish spaciousness inspired a pang of envy. The furniture was antique, yet in pristine condition, everything so clean and crisp that it looked like something out of a catalogue. Not exactly homey. There were several signs of life however: books piled up on an end table in the living room, dishes drying in a rack by the kitchen sink, a stack of empty boxes piled up next to the garbage can.

There was no TV or telephone, though she supposed that wasn’t so uncommon anymore. But paired with the furniture and the sterile environment it gave Gianna the feeling of being cut off from the modern world entirely. The very idea was stifling to her.

Soft footsteps padded across the tile behind her, and for a brief moment the anxiety resurfaced, seizing at her throat.

“Gianna?”

She took in a deep breath, letting floral sweetness flood her senses. “It’s me, Bea.”

Beatrice looked different. Most notably because she was wearing canvas coveralls that seemed to be too big for her, the sleeves rolled up to her elbows to make room for a thick pair of gloves. For all the times she’d watched her working in her garden, Gianna had never seen Beatrice actually dress like a gardener. It made her feel a little silly for dressing up herself. She’d, perhaps optimistically, assumed that the first time they met face to face without the span of the alleyway between them would be a special occasion worth dressing up for. Maybe Beatrice didn’t see it that way.

“Are you still feeling sick?” Beatrice asked. “You don’t look so good.”

Gianna forced a grin. “Don’t worry about that. I’m just happy to be here.”

“Here, sit,” she beckoned. “I wasn’t even thinking. I’ll make you some tea.”

“That’s okay, really. I’m not much of a tea person.”

“You’ll like this tea, trust me.”

Gianna found she didn’t have the energy to protest and soon she was sitting in the kitchen holding a steaming mug. It was far from her drink of choice, especially in the summer months, but she gave in and took a sip for politeness’ sake.

It was good. More than good, it was delicious! As soon as it was cooled enough she drained half the cup in one go. Almost as soon as she had, she found herself feeling better. Her headache was gone and nausea abated. In fact, she was starting to feel hungry.

“Good, right?” Beatrice smirked. As if she had read her mind, she fished out a box of cookies from the cupboard and slid them across the counter to her. “It’s a family recipe, made with herbs from the garden. Everything that grows there is medicinal. You just have to know how to handle them.”

“That’s incredible,” she said between bites. Now that her appetite was finally back it seemed to be making up for lost time.

Beatrice flustered prettily. “It’s not hard when you get to know the plants like I have. The garden was my father’s before it was mine, we grew up together.”

“So the flowers are kind of like your siblings,” Gianna joked.

She beamed. “Exactly like that. Drink your tea. You have to drink all of it for it to really work.”

Gianna did so.

“I know I didn’t say it before,” Beatrice murmured. “But I’m really glad you’re here too. To see you, really really see you, I can’t… there aren’t words, Gianna. It probably sounds crazy but sometimes, when I couldn’t see you, when I couldn’t speak to you, I started to worry you’d disappeared and I would never find you again. Sometimes I even worried you were never real at all. That’s why I… I was afraid to invite you over here. I was afraid to break the illusion, to lose you.”

She stared, speechless, her mouth gone dry.

“I know how that sounds, I just-- for so long my world has revolved around taking care of father. I didn’t think I could have this, didn’t think I’d even want this. Not as much as I do, at least.”

“Beatrice,” she whispered breathlessly. “I know how you feel.” She reached across the countertop to touch her gloved hand. “I know what it’s like to want something and feel like you shouldn’t. I know what it feels like to be stuck in the shadow of parents who don’t understand you. I promise, you’re not crazy, and you’re not alone.”

The girl made a wounded noise, half gasp and half whimper, and clamped a hand over her face. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what--”

“It’s okay.” She threaded their fingers together. “It’s okay.”

Beatrice shook her head. “Gianna, I have to tell you something. Something important. Before we get in too deep or you hear it from someone else, I want you to hear it from me. I’m not normal.”

“I know, you’re not like anyone I’ve ever met.”

“No!” she cried, frustrated. “I’m not--”

The door creaked open and she spun around, pulling her hand away. Standing in the doorway was the hunched form of Dr Giacoma Rappaccini himself.

“Ah, good,” came the rasping voice of the elderly doctor. “You made the tea. I trust you’re feeling better now, Ms Alexander.”

Gianna tensed, unsure of how to respond.

“Father, you’re home early!” Beatrice chirped with false cheer. “I’ll make you a cup too then.”

“No need,” he said with a dismissive wave of his leathered hand. He set down his bag and shut the door behind him. “I had some this morning, remember? Ah, you might’ve been out in the garden then. You have been busy today.”

She shrunk back under the weight of his stare.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, sir,” Gianna said stiffly with a hand outstretched. “I’m--”

“I know who you are.” His laugh was the sound of dry reeds in a breeze. “Gianna Alexander. I’ve been keeping an eye on you ever since you started to show an interest in my daughter. I was curious to see how things might progress between you two, but considering the circumstances I decided it might be time to intervene.”

“Father--”

“Beatrice,” he reproached. “Going behind my back? Making secret meetings? You know better than that. Apologize to our guest.”

After only a moment’s hesitation she turned to Gianna and said, “I’m so sorry, Ms Alexander.”

Gianna balked. “What? You don’t have anything to apologize for.”

“I’m afraid that’s where you’re mistaken,” said Dr Rappaccini. “You see, there are proper steps to be taken in situations like this. My daughter should’ve spoken with me so I could arrange a proper interview. We could’ve had dinner. It would’ve been so nice.

“Instead, I had to find out what you were doing and pretend to leave my own home unawares just to get us all in a room together. I’m getting too old to play these games with you, Beatrice. It’s disrespectful to me and it’s disrespectful to our guest.”

“I’m sorry, Father.” Her voice had become empty, almost robotic, and she cast her eyes to the ground. Gianna felt a dawning sense of dread at the sight.

“Now then,” The old man pulled up a chair and sat with his hands folded over his lap. “Shall we get down to business? Beatrice, as you know, is a very special girl. In fact she’s the product of years and millions of dollars of research.

“I’ve dedicated my life to studying the medicinal properties of plants and cross-breeding exotic species to develop into natural pharmaceuticals. Eventually I realized that no amount of remedies I could create in my lifetime would be enough to fix every inherent flaw of humanity, so I shifted my focus. Instead of searching for the perfect cure, I decided to create the perfect human being, one immune to mankind’s deficiencies. From my experience with altering and combining the genetic structures of various plants, I crafted a new, superior breed of human. Beatrice is the product of those tireless efforts.”

Gianna’s head was swimming. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Dr Rappaccini smiled ruefully. “I’ve long accepted that I likely won’t live to see my quest come to fruition. It took trial upon trial just to bring Beatrice into the world, and she’s only the first step. More accurately, the first generation.”

He put his hand on his daughter’s shoulder. “Someday, my Beatrice will be the mother to a brand new species, a new humanity. With their drastically increased lifespans, immunity to disease and disorder of the body and mind, and overall genealogical superiority, my creations will rapidly become the dominant species on earth, replacing the feeble excuse for intelligent life that exists now. And, well, with all that revealed, it’s obvious why I couldn’t let this little game of yours continue, isn’t it?”

He looked at Beatrice with an expression that was as a mockery of compassion.

“Socialization is fine, even healthy. I don’t blame you for that. It’s my own fault really, for not providing you with more enrichment and opportunities for companionship here at home. I’ll be more mindful of that going forward. In fact, if you want to continue these little play-dates I am in full support, as long as they’re supervised from here on out. Not for a while though, of course. That’s just what happens when you break the rules, my girl.”

Gianna stood up, slamming her hands down on the counter. “Are you completely insane? This is a person, your daughter, not a pure-bred show poodle!”

Dr Rappaccini spoke to her calmly, a faint amusement in his wrinkled features. “I don’t blame you for your anger, Ms Alexander, because I know it stems from ignorance. Beatrice is special but she also has a volatile, toxic nature the likes of which you can’t comprehend. She needs a guiding hand to help her control herself and make the right choice. Isn’t that right, Beatrice.”

“Yes, Father.”

Gianna stared at her friend in horrified awe. “Beatrice, you can’t possibly be okay with this.”

She didn’t move, she didn’t speak. She gave no indication she’d even heard her. It was as if she had been hollowed out, only the fragile husk of her remaining.

“You can throw as big a fit as you want,” Dr Rappaccini said snidely. “But as long as you are a guest in my home I have to insist you abide by my rules.”

Gianna glowered. She spared one last furtive glance towards Beatrice. Her chest ached. “Then I guess I’m leaving.”

next chapter

#writeblr #original fiction #horror romance #gothic #lgbt #rappaccini's daughter #my writing

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gloryofluvfanfics · 4 years ago

Text

It Always Was You: Chapter 1

Diavolo x F!MC

(There are other pairings but this is a nice slow burn between these two with them being the primary focus.)

Summary:After being certain of events that preceded the complexity of this human, there were more questions to ask. Things that drummed in Lord Diavolo’s mind. Can a soul remember things after they were reborn? Would it be wrong to admit? This impulse wasn’t demonic or even natural. It felt wrong, but was it?

Lord Diavolo pulled the strings in his Devildom. He knew that with certainty. However, what if an angel was what nurtured this adoration for humans. What if, she was the catalyst to it all… and why?

Chapter One

Long ago in a world that was still new. There lived a little prince with eyes as beautiful as golden grains of wheat in the sun. He would dance in the sunlight of dreams, and I would walk him through the vast land that wasn’t yet ripened. He was wonderfully kind, and I, his friend and companion.

“Where are we going today?” a boy’s voice ran in a bright landscape.

“To my favorite place in all of the realms. Did you want to see it?” a gentle young feminine voice responded.

“Okay! My father never lets me go anywhere,” the child laughed.

The woman blinked and took in the dark room as the laughter faded. She felt the odd sense of peace from the dream as she had many times before. She never quite saw forms or people, but it always was soft and pleasant to surface from one of those dreams.

She picked up her D.D.D and scowled at the missed call. Interesting. She dialed, clicked the contact, and put the phone to her ear.

“Good morning, Aliyah,” Barbatos declared.

“Good morning, Barbatos. I’m sorry I missed your call. I was sleeping,” she grumbled.

“I apologize if I disturbed you. I was hoping you wouldn’t mind coming to have breakfast this morning. Lord Diavolo was extremely entertained with the topic of breakfast foods in the human world yesterday. So, I had made plenty this morning, and it was likely more than what we both could eat,” Barbatos explained.

Aliyah smiled and exhaled. “That actually sounds delicious, Barbatos. I will get dressed and be on my way shortly.”

“That sounds wonderful. I’m positive Lord Diavolo would love to have company.”

“I’ll be over in fifteen minutes,” she declared.

“We shall see you then,” Barbatos said and disconnected the call.

Aliyah yawned and climbed from the sheets. Her lengthy black hair swayed as she wandered to the dresser. Dressing for breakfast was one thing. Going to the Demon Lord’s Castle for breakfast, well, that was another thing entirely.

She settled on a blouse that Lucifer bought her and some jeans before placing on makeup. Her sunkissed skin and particularly unique eyes were the standouts in her normal human appeal. Heterochromia Iridis in both eyes created a portion of her blue eyes to shine with spikes of gold spreading out from her iris.

The woman drew dark wings with the eyeliner off her eye and then raced to slide on her shoes. Snatching up her bag, she left the room, heading to the restroom before heading out. Luckily the demon brothers all were usually late sleepers on Saturday mornings. Aside from whoever had to cook.

Aliyah skipped down the staircase and out the door with her hair waving with motion. The Devildom. Such a wonderful sight, even without sunlight. A bright moon shining above with thousands of stars. The almost sweet and welcoming texture of the air when a breeze blew by. It was hard to imagine never seeing this place again.

She had no fear even before she discovered about Lilith. No, not even when she had demons who despised her. The truth was, she always felt like, even in the worse moments, that she was supposed to be here. The surprises weren’t even all that surprising when you thought about it.

Stepping up the staircase to the castle, Aliyah smiled as the door opened. “Good morning, Barbatos.”

“Good morning, Aliyah. I’m so pleased you made excellent time,” Barbatos beamed.

She rocked her head while stepping inside. “How was your Friday? Did you do anything special?”

“I read the entirety of breakfast recipes from the book you gave me for my birthday,” he smiled.

“I hope you enjoyed that,” she giggled.

“I most certainly did,” Barbatos laughed as they reached the dining hall. “Young master, we have a guest this morning,” he said while opening the door.

“Oh, who is it, Barbatos? I haven’t had my tea yet. If it’s Lucifer coming for work this early, I don’t want to start yet,” Diavolo grumbled from inside the room.

Barbatos gestured for Aliyah to enter the room, and she paced forward. Diavolo’s grouchy scowl over paperwork was a different appearance for the demon prince. His attire was casual and untidy, which was another call to the oddity and added to his grimace. His nature had always been neutral at worst, a happy dancing puppy at best. However, when his eyes glanced up from the pages, he smiled.

“Aliyah! I wasn’t expecting you this early,” he laughed and stood up.

She strolled into the room with a soft grin. “Yes, Barbatos invited me over to try his human breakfast cuisine. You seem quite invested in your pages. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“Oh, no, no, you didn’t. Come sit,” he chuckled and ushered her into a seat next to him.

She sat and touched his arm. “So, what’s going on?”

“The usual. Meetings, decrees, paperwork,” he smirked and waved his hand. “How about you? It’s Saturday. Don’t you have some sort of event planned?”

“Well, I don’t have anything planned until this afternoon,” Aliyah declared and tilted her head. “I could help you if you need it. I help Lucifer all the time when he needs someone to review pages for editing. I was going to school for that before the Devildom.”

Diavolo laughed and shook his head. “Oh, no, I would never want to take advantage of you like that.”

“I mean, you’re not taking advantage of me. I’m offering,” she voiced.

His smile softened as he stared at her. “You’d be willing to do that for me?”

She rocked her head. “I always offer, and you have yet to utilize it. I don’t want anything from you, Lord Diavolo. Only the chance to help a friend.”

“Lucifer does say you exceed expectations,” Diavolo chuckled.

Aliyah’s cheeks held a light dusting of color as she bit her lower lip. “He’s very kind with his praise then.”

Diavolo reached for an empty teacup and poured the tea. He then dressed it before handing it to her. “I do adore him. He’s very protective of those he’s loyal to. I often wonder what he wouldn’t do for those he cares for.”

“Obviously not much,” Aliyah laughed and shook her head. He had made her tea how she liked it. “I find him quite the enigma. Just the other day, he was scolding me for helping Satan with a prank and then hands me this shirt,” she said before sipping her tea.

“Ah, yes, he is like that, isn’t he?”

She rocked her head. “I do believe he feels akin to me like they all do because of Lilith.”

Diavolo rocked his head. “She was a charming angel from what I gathered. Her disposition was very much like yours. Playful but soulful in one breath.”

Aliyah beamed and slanted her head. “That’s good to know I’m a decent legacy then.”

Diavolo shifted, and his brows tightened a fraction. “Do you believe in kismet, Aliyah?”

“Oh, yes, it’s such a weaving of connections through life. We are meant to experience certain things,” she agreed.

“Good,” he smiled and reached over, grabbing the pages on the table. “I have been working on a few new laws and need them proofed. I also require assistance with planning my next event.”

Aliyah pulled the pages in front of her and sipped her tea. The prince had beautiful handwriting. Looping and friendly, and most of all, legible. She was a sucker for great penmanship. Her eyes read through the lines and shifted. He was pretty damn good, all things considered, with the draft.

“A few missing punctuation marks, but all in all, it’s quite sound,” she hummed while flipping through the pages.

“Excellent,” Diavolo beamed. “I have a meeting today you might enjoy going to. Would you like to join me?”

“Oh? What type of meeting?” Aliyah questioned as she glanced at him.

Diavolo leaned his elbow on the table as he rested his face against it to look at her. “Oh, just some garble about showing up at the shops and letting my people see me in them. It’s all very boring, but it would be nice to have someone to talk to while doing so.”

She beamed and nodded. “I could do that. I know your time is precious, and it would be nice to get out.”

“You’re naturally a kind human, Aliyah. It surprises me,” Diavolo declared.

“You mean compared to Solomon, who bleeds ink because he’s so scientific?” She asked with a teasing smirk.

Diavolo laughed and rocked his head. “Yes, he is quite interesting. I hear that you’ve excelled his expectations as well.”

“I feel like a science experiment half the time,” she confessed.

He frowned again. Aliyah didn’t like this expression on his face. Diavolo twitched his nose and exhaled. “I’m sorry that you feel that way. We have never spoken about your contentment due to Lucifer reporting to me about it. Are you happy?”

“Oh, yes, Lord Diavolo, I’m so happy. I have a family I didn’t have before, friends, interesting things I’m able to learn, and all because of you. Your kindness and allowance of having me in your home and kingdom. It’s my privilege to be here,” she said and reached over for his empty hand. “I’m just expressing my oddity,” she laughed.

He ran his thumb over her fingers and nodded. “We are fortunate to have you, Aliyah! I tell Barbatos all the time how wonderful it is that you’re so comfortable around my demons. It’s an aspiration of mine always to keep it that way.”

“Mission accomplished,” she giggled.

He beamed and continued their contact. “I’m relieved. I will always keep your happiness in mind while forging forward to the future.”

His golden eyes kept her eye contact, and she couldn’t help but feel the warmth building in her cheeks. “Thank you, Lord Diavolo.”

Barbatos. The most keenly timed demon that he was walked into the room with a large tray. “My goodness, Barbatos, did you need help?” Aliyah asked as she moved to stand.

“No, thank you, Aliyah. I’m quite capable of handling this task,” he chuckled and set down the food across the table from them.

“Barbatos! That smells exquisite!” Diavolo exclaimed as he shifted forward.

The butler demon beamed and began setting out the plates. “Thank you, my lord. I was truly looking forward to crafting breakfast this morning. So much so that we do have ample amounts of food. Luckily, Aliyah decided to come for breakfast,” he declared.

Interesting. He was the one to invite her yet takes no credit for the call?

“Well, that certainly is a wonderful relief,” Diavolo chuckled.

“Barbatos, you are remarkable, you know? These look like gourmet dishes I’d never be able to afford,” Aliyah laughed as she shook her head.

“Luckily, Aliyah, all I ask for is your time and happiness,” Barbatos said before setting down empty plates in front of them.

“I’d kiss you if I didn’t think you would get upset and toss me back in time,” she teased.

Barbatos’s cheeks tinted as he chuckled. “I wouldn’t punish you for an act of gratitude. However, I do have several things to complete after breakfast. We will be heading into the heart of the Devildom today, and I must prepare.”

Aliyah blew him a kiss and smiled. “You’re too kind. Thank you for the stellar breakfast.”

Barbatos nodded and turned toward Diavolo. “Is there anything more I can do for you before I eat, my lord?”

“Absolutely not, Barbatos. Go ahead and enjoy your solitude, and we shall keep each other company. I know you much prefer to eat on your own,” Diavolo declared.

“Thank you, Lord Diavolo. I will return shortly,” he replied and, with a pivot, headed out of the dining room.

Aliyah’s eyes wandered over the six different platters of food. There was enough here to feed five people. Well, five humans. She knew Lord Diavolo could eat because Beel told her he had quite the appetite. She stood up and gestured to the food. “Did you want me to get it for you?”

He blinked at her with mild shock riddled on his face. “Oh, you don’t have to. Please serve yourself,” he waved.

She snorted and took his plate before scooping a bit of everything on it. “Lord Diavolo, we need to work on your human skills a bit. If I offer, it’s because I want to do so, not because you’re a prince.”

“Truly?” he asked.

“Absolutely. I mean, I respect you immensely, and I know your title bears weight as well as etiquette. However, I only offer because I care, not because I’m obligated.”

“Which you are not,” he added.

Aliyah set down the plate in front of him and moved the syrup and butter within his reach. “I enjoy showing my respect and care. Acts of service is a pretty big love language for me.”

“Love language? Can you explain this term to me?” Diavolo asked.

Aliyah was collecting food on her plate as her eyebrows raised. “Oh, love language is how we enact our forms of care and affections. A great example is Lucifer’s is quality time. He may not have a lot of it, but he shares what he can with someone he loves. Often grumbling about his brothers’ antics but going along with said chaos,” she said with a smile.

“Fascinating,” Diavolo nodded. “And you said yours is acts of service? Like Barbatos?”

She laughed and sat down. “Well, it’s one of mine. Not my big one. I do love quality time as well. Probably why I understand Lucifer. We share similar ways to show our affection.”

“I do enjoy quality time,” Diavolo agreed. “Do me, what’s mine?”

Aliyah stared at him, and her head slanted. “Honestly, Lord Diavolo, we rarely have spent much time without Lucifer or another of the brothers being there. This is the first time I think we’ve actually been alone,” she finished with a shrug.

“It is refreshing,” Diavolo said, and his amusing smile lessened. “I’ve rarely had the time to enjoy moments like this.”

Aliyah touched his arm. “You’re the prince. You strive for such excellence it makes me dizzy! I would never want to impede you.”

“Please, don’t suggest you ever impede me, Aliyah. I savor each and every moment I get to speak to you,” He declared and touched her fingers with his other hand.

“Then we should do this more often,” she smiled.

“You really want to? I don’t expect it, nor is it a requirement,” Diavolo responded.

She rocked her head. “I wouldn’t suggest it if I didn’t want to.”

Her D.D.D went off, and Aliyah pulled it out. Now, why would Satan be calling her?

“Just give me a moment,” she sighed.

Diavolo nodded and turned to his breakfast.

“Satan, what’s wrong?” Aliyah asked as she set the phone against her ear.

“Aliyah, where are you? I knocked on your door four times, checked the library, and even asked Asmo if you came into the kitchen this morning,” Satan explained.

“Oh, I forgot to tell someone! I went to The Demon Lord’s Castle for breakfast,” she declared.

“You’re having breakfast with Lord Diavolo? Why?” He sounded suspicious.

“Because of human cuisine and a lovely change. I promise we’re still going to the park at four for the poetry reading, alright?”

“Okay, well, Lucifer looks concerned,” Satan chuckled.

Aliyah groaned. “Tell him not to worry. I’m not in trouble or debating on leaving. I’ll talk to you later.”

“See you later then,” Satan sighed, and the call disconnected.

“They are always worried you’re getting into trouble,” Diavolo chuckled.

“Always,” she puffed and lifted her fork. “It’s quite exhausting to be babysat by chaotic demons.”

“I understand the concept of being babysat,” he snickered.

Aliyah laughed and poured syrup over her hotcakes. “Well, I’m positive you do. Do you ever take a day off?”

Diavolo shook his head. “No, I wouldn’t have much to do if I did.”

Aliyah hummed and chewed her bite. “Maybe you can take tomorrow off, and we can do something fun then. What would you like to do? What would make you happy?”

Diavolo scowled and twitched his nose. “Honestly? I would just be happy doing whatever you think is fun,” he smiled.

“I actually don’t like going out and racing around as much as I do with the brothers, believe it or not,” Aliyah declared. “I could come here. If you can’t afford to take tomorrow off, I understand as well.”

Diavolo shook his head. “I can afford it. I have very little on my schedule as far as mandatory issues. Sundays I usually spend in my study, working.”

“Then it’s a date. I’ll bring over some of my human realm items to show you, and if you have to work, I can assist if you need it,” she replied before reaching for her tea.

“A date?”

Aliyah just realized what she had said, and her cheeks bloomed with color. “Oh, I mean, it’s an expression,” she puffed.

“I still will look forward to it regardless,” he laughed.

They spent the rest of breakfast chatting about inconsequential things. Favorite colors. Favorite food. She even got Diavolo to tell her about his routine, which sounded completely exhausting. However, what occurred to her most, was how starving the demon prince was for companionship. Well, that needed to be mended.

#om! fanfic #obey me fanfiction #obey me fandom #obey me diavolo #obey me mc #obey me barbatos #obey me satan

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daily-dose-of-imagines · 4 years ago

Text

𝘚𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘝𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦𝘴

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

Hi, so I wrote a story. Well, the first chapter of a story. I hope that you guys enjoy. And thanks to Admin Ko and Brando for helping with the production~~and for future help~~

Tags/warnings: nothing as of right now, but that will change once more chapters come out, but for now- MATURE AS FUCK.

Next~

Enjoy!

>Admin 𝕋

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The sound of bass boomed through the club, bodies of all sizes grinding against each other, sweat coming off them in waves. But none of them paid it much mind, too immersed in the music to care. A typical Saturday night, where crowds of people came together from all kinds of backgrounds to forget about their daily hardships and just have fun. But, this wasn’t any old club with just music and booze. No, this was a mix of burlesque, stripping, and clubbing. Audiences will come and enjoy themselves, but in the back of their heads, if known, they’ll be waiting for the real show to begin.

“Welcome, ladies, gentlemen, and those who are neither! This is the place for dreams to come true and where your wishes become realized! For the regulars, I hope you appreciate another wonderful show by our amazing dancers, and for anyone who’s new here--” a pause of anticipation rang out into the crowd, “welcome to Silent Voices.”

꧙꧙꧙꧙꧙꧙

Chapter 1: Meetings and Regulations

⸻

The apartment was quiet and serene, perfect for getting that extra five minutes of sleep. The young woman didn’t care about that however, and she pulled open the curtains, letting the morning sun pour in. Hands on her hips, she turned around to face the lump on her couch.

“You know,” the brunette scolded, pulling the blanket off of (y/n) in one quick motion, “you are going to be late if you don’t get going now. And look, you aren’t dressed or anything.” The sudden brightness startled (y/n), making her groan into the couch.

“Please let me just, not go to work for once. Maybe a tornado will come and sweep me off to a place where magic exists.” (y/n) begged, unmoving from her face down position.

“Okay, this isn’t Kansas, and there is no magic, so you better get up and go. To work. Before you get fired.” (y/n) groaned again, louder this time, and kicked her feet onto the floor. She stood slowly, stretching and offering her friend a confident smirk.

“You and I both know that they wouldn’t fire me. I am the best they have.”

“Uhuh, sure, whatever you say. Just hurry it up already.” Exhaling a defeated sigh, (y/n) walked to the front door, grabbing her shoes. As she put them on, her beloved friend tapped her on the shoulder, causing her to turn around and come face to face with a blueberry muffin.

“Oh, how nutritious, a blueberry muffin. With blueberries. And muffin.”

“I swear to god if you don’t take this muffin, I will make you eat it right here and now. Also, you didn’t get dressed--”

“I am already dressed.”

“In your pajamas!”

“Yeah, well, I am going to get dressed again when I get there so there really is no point in wearing actual clothes.” (y/n) argued, smirking in victory when she saw the look of exasperation on her friend’s face.

“You-- I-- ugh-- I hate the fact that you aren’t wrong. Whatever, do what you want. Take your muffin and get out of my house.” Her friend shouted, pushing her through the front door of the apartment, (y/n)’s shoes not even fully tied. “And you better have a fantastic day!” She added with an affection yet oddly strong door slam.

“Thanks Uraraka, you too.” She responded, giggling at her best friend's aggressive affection. Biting the top of her muffin, (y/n) set out of the apartment complex. She looked up at the sky, clear and blue and beautiful, a perfect day for a walk. She had a car she could take, but the bus stop was right there and her job was just a few stops away. Also it would be much better to save the gas money for more important things, she thought. After the moment of silent contemplation, (y/n) walked to the bus stop. She sat at the small bench, but she didn’t have much time to relax. Like clockwork, the vehicle came driving up the street and came to a slow stop, opening its doors to let her in. (y/n) stepped into the familiar, slightly too air conditioned vehicle and surveyed the scene. There weren’t many people on board today, save for: a couple of old people sitting next to each other, seemingly to be together, a mother and her child who was sleeping in her arms, a middle aged man who looked like he just wanted to go into a coma (relatable), and a man about her age sitting where she usually sat, staring out the window with the hardest glare she had ever seen.

Not to exaggerate, but he had to be the world’s angriest looking man. Even his hair looked angry, the blonde spiky updo adding to his already fearsome physique. And the worst part was, he was sitting in her favorite spot on the bus, where the sun hit the window just right to give her some warmth in the cold winters. As much as she wanted to stomp over to him and tell him to move, he would probably murder her without regret, and (y/n) really didn’t need death today. So, as any sane person would do, she sat down in the very back, far away from the scary looking man. She shot a subtle glare to the man, still grumbling about her spot. He turned his head just in time to lock eyes with her for a brief second, (y/n) jumped slightly, turning her head as fast as possible the opposite direction to avoid his gaze. She sighed, already exhausted.

(y/n) gently rested her head against the wall of the bus. Life wasn’t supposed to turn out like this. She was supposed to have a career that paid her six figures. She was supposed to be a CEO of a renowned company and shoving it in the faces of those that thought she wouldn’t make it big in the world. But, as life would have it, here she was. Living on her best friend’s couch, thousands of dollars in debt, and nowhere near where she wants to be.

Well, at least I am making a decent amount of money and looking good doing it, she thought, stepping out of the bus. (y/n) shook the tension out of her shoulders and set forth to her destination. Like the walk from the apartment to the bus, this one wasn’t very far either, just a couple blocks away and she would be where she needed to be. She playfully inspected the scenery of the neighborhood, being so familiar with the area that she could walk there in her sleep. Most of the time, however, nobody was in this part of town at this time of day, but this time, someone was going in the same direction as her.

Trying her best to remain calm and collected, (y/n) took a quick peek behind her to see who was following her. To her surprise, it was the same angry guy from the bus, his hands in his pockets and the same scowl on his face. It seemed that he was going in the same direction as her. It even seemed like he was...Staring at her. Probably her imagination. But those red eyes of his felt like they were glaring daggers into her back.

What if he wanted to kill her? Or worse, try to have a light conversation with her? She shuddered from the thought of it. Picking up her pace, (y/n) shoved her hands in her pockets and gripped the little can of pepper spray that was latched on her keychain and kept an eye on the man behind her.

He was even more suspicious, the blond man now speed walking, getting closer and closer to her. She knew these streets weren’t the best, but seriously? He couldn't kill her in a more clean place, but whatever, right? Since when did murderers have standards? Never.

But instead of giving in to her fate, she saw the doors to her workplace. Looking back, (y/n) stopped in her tracks, almost colliding with the stranger-- who was surprised she stopped and couldn’t stop himself from his fast pace-- and promptly kicked him in the crotch area, effectively ceasing his chase. “Hey fuckface, learn some decorum and method before trying to kill someone or you’ll never be a good murderer!” she yelled before opening the doors to Silent Voices and quickly walking in.

Shutting the large doors before her, (y/n) let out an anxious breath, proud of herself for standing up to a stalker or murder. “Didn’t think I had it in me…”

“Didn’t think you had what in you?”

“Gah! Kirishima! Where did you come from!?” the girl shouted. The man, Kirishima, chuckled and shook his head.

“I came from the break room. I was actually just about to call you. Nemuri is pissed, and I really think you should go pray.” Kirishima told her, to which (y/n) grunted and hit her head against the door she was leaning on.

“Of course she is. I’m like, five minutes late, and she hates when people are late.”

“Yeah, so why were you late?” Her friend asked, curiosity sparkling in his eyes.

“I woke up late and had to eat a muffin.” that was all she was going to disclose. As much as she would love to tell him about the crazy stalker that was following her, Kirishima was a bit too protective, so she decided not to say anything. Hopefully, it doesn’t bite her in the ass.

“I see. Well, that isn’t going to work for her, so might as well count your blessings while you still have them!” Kirishima exclaimed, “Now if you could move from the doors, I have to go out and set up before we open.”

Moving from the mentioned entrance, (y/n) gave Kirishima a goodbye high five and started towards the break room, where she knew she was going to get eaten alive. Going to the very back of the club, where only employees are allowed, (y/n) pushed the bead curtain out of the way and saw Nemuri--or Midnight, as she likes to be called-- standing in the middle of the room, with the other dancers already getting ready for the opening. The gorgeous choreographer was obviously angry at (y/n), her arms crossed over her chest and her brows furrowed in irritation. “Hey. I know I’m late and I’m sorry I--”

“Nope! I don’t want to hear excuses! Do you know how important this night is, (y/n)?!” Nemuri exclaimed, glaring harshly. “Tonight is the night you finally get to do your solo! The one I choreographed specifically for you! And it’s great!”

“It is, and I am so appreciative that you did that--”

“You better be!” There was a moment of silence between them before the older woman huffed out a breath and uncrossed her arms, adjusting her uniform. “I’m glad you made it, just in time. But next time, do. Not. Be. Late.” she warned before walking off to talk to the stage manager. (y/n) sighed, guilt weighing on her shoulders as she walked to her personal vanity. She set down her belongings on the chair and groaned.

“You doing okay?” one of the other dancers asked-- Mina-- asked. She was clad in a skintight black dress, showing off her assets beautifully, her hair in curls and her makeup was dark and seductive. It seemed she was all ready to go. Probably since she is the first act.

“Yeah I’m. Fine. Just late, overslept and all that.” (y/n) explained, pushing her bag to the floor and sitting down. She then opened her makeup box, taking the needed appliances that would compliment tonight’s costume.

“That happens to all of us! So, don’t look so down! Here, let me do your makeup for you, so you can just rest for a bit.” Mina said, taking the foundation away from (y/n) started to apply it for her.

“Thanks, Mina. I have been a bit more tired lately.”

“Don’t mention it. We gotta stick together, keep each other happy! Isn’t that right?”

“You got that right.” (y/n) laughed, closing her to let Mina do some of her makeup magic. It didn’t take very long, seeing as Mina was one of the best with makeup, and soon enough she was done.

“Okay, look in the mirror and tell me what you think!” blinking her eyes open and shifting her weight to look into the mirror, amazed at how well Mina did her makeup. She didn’t look like a different person, but the makeup did enhance her features for the better, and it felt great.

“Wow, it looks great. Thanks so much, I would’ve messed up so bad.” she said to Mina, who giggled and patted her shoulder.

“Anytime. I’m gonna go up to the stage and get some practice in before we open.”

“Don’t slip on the pole!”

“Like hell I will!”

(y/n) chuckled and got up from her vanity to put her costume on. It was a sparkling blue bikini that only covered the important bits. What one would expect from a strip club. At least there was a long silky robe with a fake fur lining, so it wasn’t that bad to walk around in it. Putting on the bikini like attire, (y/n) decided to just put her hair in a ponytail and spritzed some perfume on to complete the image. “Welp, I hope this is good enough because I am not in the mood to do anything extra.” she told herself, moving to the exit to leave the break room and headed toward the bar. “Todoroki, do me a favor and get me a shot of tequila. Maybe four. I don’t want to remember tonight.”

“I’ll give you one, and a glass of water.” the bartender responded, making (y/n) groan in indignation.

“Fine, whatever.”

“What’s up with you?”

“Ugh, why does everyone keep asking me that!” she shouted, hitting her head against the table of the bar. “Sorry for yelling.”

“It’s all good.” Todoroki muttered, amused by her exasperation, though his face didn’t show it.

“It’s just--I woke up on time for work, but I didn’t want to come, but I need the money. So I got my happy ass up and walked to the bus stop, which was all fine and dandy, the sun was out and it was bright and warm; great for a walk--” she inhaled to continue-- “but I saw a really weird guy with really spiky blond hair and big fucking muscles and a glare that could practically kill someone. He got off the same stop as me and started to follow me and it was really creepy--”

“By creepy guy, do you mean that one?”

“Oh yeah, him! Anyways--” she stopped mid sentence, and turned back again to look at the man Kirishima had brought into the club. “Oh my god, it’s the creepy murder guy.” she whispered, to which Todoroki heard.

“The what?”

“That’s the creepy murder guy that I kicked in the crotch before I got here.”

“You did what?!” Todoroki’s shout of astonishment caught the attention of Kirishima and the blond man, and the way the stranger went from “What the hell was that,” to “Oh, it’s the person the kicked me in the balls,” was astounding for (y/n) to see. And (y/n) did nothing as she watched him move straight from the entrance to the club, dodging all the tables, until he was right in her personal bubble, taking her by the robe and scrunching it up. His eyes held murder and his fist was way too close to her throat.

With a low, menacing-- albeit kind of attractive-- voice, he muttered, “You.”

Yeah.

It bit her in the ass.

#my hero academia x reader #mha x reader #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #boku no hero x reader #bnha x reader #my hero academia imagines #bakugou imagines #bakugou katsuki #my hero academia au #silent voices #bouncer!bakugou #reader insert #x reader #my hero academia #my hero academia scenarios #my hero imagines

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