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sorrowsofsilence · 10 months ago

Text

Diagnosis • Sebastian

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x Fem!Reader

Words: 4.1k

Warnings: Smut (18+, fingering, female!receiving), PnV pls wrap it b4 u tap it, male!recieving, choking, doctor x patient (uncomfy situation so pls don't read if the idea of a doctor being unethical isn't your vibe- it is also not my vibe but yk, Dr. Davis can do anything to me lol)

Prompt: You had no idea your past highschool school hook-up would be your substitute doctor during your annual check-up; but let's just say you were in desperate need of a physical.

Author note: LOL I AM GOING TO HELLLLL - but also I've seen so many Dr. Davis ideas I had to create one myself; so thank you to especially (@valiantroeagleangel) whose work inspired me. You are wonderful. And shout out to some sexy phrases by @loveisanimaginarydagger3000 - I’m weak

THIS IS A FANFIC USING REAL PEOPLE IN A FICTIONAL SITUATION! I AM NOT IMPLYING THAT THIS PERSON WOULD DO THIS IRL OR ACT LIKE THIS! ITS FICTION!

Tags: @sammyjoeee @cookiesupplier @th4t-em0-k1d @dsireland86 @whenthesummerdies @spicywhenspeaking @gretaswhore28 @veronicaphoenix @lma1986 @calleyx13 @somewhere-diamond @talialovesmiw @auratheopossumwitch

(I wasn't sure who I should tag, and if you would like to be tagged in one-shots please let me know! If you’d like to me to remove you as well pls also let me know!! I just took some tags that I've had in past one-shots, and those I think would enjoy! <3)

You picked at your fingernails nervously as you sat in the waiting room, your leg bouncing up and down rapidly.

Something about Doctors’ offices always made you nervous, especially when it involved a doctor that wasn’t your own. You were getting a routine check-up and your first pap smear, scheduled with your regular doctor, but she had a last-minute family emergency. This meant you were going to be inspected by someone else, and that thought made you slightly uneasy.

You played with the mask that covered your nose, pinching at the metal band that rested on the bridge before tugging at the string.

The old woman next to you watched your anxious wading with curious eyes, and you simply shifted in your seat, avoiding her gaze.

Your name was finally called and you followed the nurse, allowing her to check your height, and then leading you into a room located at the end of the hall.

She sat you down, your legs crunching beneath the paper as she placed the blood pressure bump along your arm, squeezing until it tightened and let go.

“Your blood pressure seems to be a little high?” She said, eyebrows furrowing.

You rubbed your hands nervously between your thighs, “I’m just a little anxious.”

Her eyes smiled, indicating a soft grin beneath the mask she wore, “You’ll be just fine. Dr. Davis is a fantastic doctor.”

His name rang off her tongue, piquing your interest. Davis. You knew someone with that last name in high school.

“You can take your mask off in here by the way. Just set it on the side.” She nodded before leaving and you sat there for a few more moments, nervously shifting in your seat.

After a few minutes, you heard a soft knock on the door and you sat up straight, anticipating the man who would be taking care of you today.

The door opened and a man with soft chestnut hair that fell slightly in front of his face walked in, thin-framed glasses sat promptly on top of his nose, covered by a black mask. He hadn’t looked up from the clipboard that was in his hands as he kicked the door closed with his foot gently, tattooed fingers holding up the top page as his eyes skimmed rapidly over the words.

“How’s it going? I’m Dr. Davis.” His voice fell from his lips in a firm but gentle tone and your eyes widened in surprise as you remembered the faint lisp at the end of his ‘s’, and the twang in his accent.

“Hi,” you whispered as you absorbed his image, eyes skimming over his white coat that draped down his long body. The light-blue button-up sat tightly against his neck. You swallowed gently at the ink that crawled just above the collar, sinched between a black tie traced with binary code as the pattern.

“Y/N Y/L/N?” He asked with a curious tone, gaze immediately leaving the page as his orbs met your own, and your heart raced as his ochre eyes bore into yours.

His professionalism dropped slightly as his eyes skimmed over your face in recognition, and your lips parted slightly. He stood still, frozen in remembrance before he coughed, setting the clipboard on the counter and taking a seat next to his computer.

Noah Sebastian Davis is your doctor.

He immediately avoided your gaze as your face began to warm, and you crossed your legs, feeling vulnerable under his authority as he sat there, distracting himself with his computer.

Your high school hookup is your doctor.

“Well,” He began typing, a soft waver barely evident in his voice, “It’s been a long time.”

“Thirteen years,” You licked your lips quickly, smiling shyly as you stared at your legs, glancing up every so often to steal a look at your doctor. You felt even more nervous than before as the man who sat in front of you eventually turned, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose as he watched you intensely.

“Look, let’s just keep this professional. If you’re more comfortable with someone else I can get another doctor in here.” He said monotonously, leaning over his lap as his elbows rested on his knees.

You mustered a small smile as your chest hammered, eyes grazing across the tattoos embedded into his fingers Memories of the way they used to dance along your skin left your stomach swirling.

“It’s alright, I don’t mind…” Your thoughts trailed off as you looked at the ground, “if you don’t mind?”

Dr. Davis maintained strict eye contact, his voice proper and fixed, “It’s my job to remain professional and competent. I strive for nothing but efficiency, and I’ll have you in and out Mrs. Y/L/N.”

“Miss,” You corrected quietly, picking at your nails again.

Something flashed across his eyes at the realization, and your ears flushed as you adjusted yourself on the examination table.

He turned on the chair again, fingers tapping on the keyboard.

“Let’s go through some medical history to clarify things under your files. It seems you usually have Dr. Thomas, am I correct?”

You hummed in confirmation, nodding along.

“Any health concerns to bring up in your visit today?”

You shook your head, “Just a routine check-up and a pap smear.”

Dr. Davis nodded along, shifting in his seat at the mention of a pap, his hand reaching to pull against his collar as if loosening the tension that was building within the room.

“Any issues regarding mental health?”

You shook your head.

“Eating and drinking well?”

You nodded.

“Any allergies?”

You shook your head.

“Sexually active?”

You noticed his voice hither slightly, as he glanced over at you briefly, before fixating his eyes on the computer again.

“Not like, regularly.”

He shifted in his seat, nodding.

“Multiple partners?”

“Uhm,” you began to stutter nervously at his questions, “A few. Not frequently changing.”

It was a routine check-up, you reminded yourself. Doctors asked these questions.

You shrugged, eyes skimming up towards him again as his eyes bore into you once again, your abdomen clenching as his gaze darkened.

“How many since me?”

You coughed, caught off guard as you stared at him in disbelief, “P-pardon?”

He didn’t repeat the question, but instead continued typing, clicking away at your file.

“Three,” You then said, watching him carefully and he hummed in response.

“Anything else you think I should know?” He asked, returning to his cool, professional composure.

You shook your head again, watching as his chest heaved slowly as he stood up. He grabbed the stethoscope that hung around his neck, and you watched as he placed the ends in his ears before standing in front of you, maintaining a distance.

“Let me check your lungs… can you take your jacket off?” He asked, watching you carefully as you peeled off the layer, placing it to the side.

Dr. Davis then sat next to you on the examination table and your heart began to pick up pace at the proximity of his body, his cologne melting into your senses.

His shoulder brushed against yours as he leaned behind you to place the end of the stethoscope on top of your back.

He asked you to take in a deep breath, and you inhaled swiftly, attempting to exhale in a slow, controlled pattern; but the breath that left your lungs was shaky and uneven.

“Sorry,” you whispered, and he ran the stethoscope across your back again, this time placing it underneath your shirt, the cold metal causing a shiver to run down your body.

“Three more,” He asked gently and you obliged, each breath faltering again as your heart raced.

There was no doubt he could hear the thump of your heart pick up as his warm fingers gently skimmed your skin as he controlled the stethoscope; knowing how nervous his proximity made you.

He pulled away, staring at your flushed face before leaning behind you to grab an ear otoscope.

“Just going to check your ears,” he said as his warm hands pulled along your ear, his warm breath creating goosebumps along the skin in your neck as the hairs stood up.

Your stomach butterflied as he then grabbed a wooden popsicle stick, standing in front of you now, placed between your legs.

“open,” he commanded and you obliged, sticking out your tongue and making an ‘ah’ sound.

Dr. Davis held underneath your chin to look up at him as he placed the wood on top of your tongue, pressing down slightly. Your abdomen clenched as a rush of emotions ran through your body, making eye contact with the tattooed doctor as he stared back, not even looking at the back of your throat as your mouth was agape, open widely for him.

You wanted nothing more than to reach up and pull against the fabric of his mask, greedily wanting to expose his lips to see the rest of his face and smile, to see how handsome he had gotten with age.

Your chest heaved as his fingers slid from underneath your chin, trailing down your throat with firm but gentle fingertips, the tension between you building as seconds passed by. He pulled back his hand, along with the popsicle stick, and your mouth closed slowly as he took a step back.

As he turned from you, the way he slid his hand into his pocket to readjust himself didn’t go unnoticed, before he faced you again, nodding curtly.

“I’ll let you get undressed from the waist down. You can place this blanket over yourself, I’ll be back in a few minutes.” He averted his gaze as he opened the door, closing it gently behind him.

You let out a breath as your mind began to race. The way your mind kept tracing back to years of messing around with him in high school sent your stomach into a lustful spiral, the warmth of his inked fingers relighting years of memories he engraved into your skin.

Noah had given you years of orgasms, some of the best you ever had. None of your other lovers had compared to him, and your body knew this, sparking complete excitement at his presence once again.

You shifted on your feet embarrassed at this, peeling off your jeans as you folded them neatly on the chair. You slid off your black panties, placing them on top of your pants before lying down on the bed, the cool air causing you to shiver.

Or perhaps, it was the fact Noah was going to be extremely close to your intimate space after so many years of deprivation.

You two hooked up on and off for years during adolescence, never forming a relationship beyond that; even though you always wanted to.

You always had feelings for Noah, but you knew he wanted nothing more than to fuck you senselessly, and then part ways. No strings attached.

After high school graduation, you two parted, never speaking to each other again. You had always wondered what he had gone off and set to do, and being a doctor was honestly the last thing you’d think he’d do. Noah had always been extremely smart, but it still came as a complete shock when he was the one who walked through that wooden door just fifteen minutes prior.

You covered yourself with the thin blanket and a moment later Dr. Davis came through the door again, glancing at your exposed legs before turning to grab a pair of gloves from the counter.

You watched him intensely as he pulled the latex over his fingers, almost drooling at the thought of them running along your folds. You shook away the thought, knowing that you would be completely dripping by the time he would be sitting between your legs, examining you.

The last thing you wanted was for him to know the effect he still had on you, even after all these years.

He made eye contact with you again, tugging at the tie around his neck once again as he took the chair, rolling it to the edge of your feet. Before sitting he pulled out the stirrups.

“You can rest your heels on here,” He pointed to the plastic, and you noticed how his ears began to flush red, his chest rising and falling quickly as he glanced into your eyes once again.

When he looked away you glanced down at his black slacks, swallowing harshly at the bold outline of his erection that was extremely evident, through his tight pants.

You swallowed as you slowly lifted your legs, exposing yourself to the man who now sat at the end of the bed, the thin blanket sliding down your thighs gently, leaving your body on display for Dr. Davis.

“Fuck.”

The word was barely audible. He had whispered it so quietly through gritted teeth, but you still managed to hear the four-letter word, and it sent another rush of warm lust through your body.

“I-I’m just going to examine you before inserting the speculum.” Dr. Davis’ professional tone faltered briefly, and you wanted to look down at him so badly.

You knew that he was aroused, but you had no idea how badly Noah wanted to tear into your pussy right then and there.

For years Noah wondered what happened to you. After years of dedication to med school, he didn’t have much time to form relationships, and he usually had a quick fuck here and there to tie over his cravings. He reminisced frequently about how good you felt wrapped around his cock, all of his past flings never making him feel quite how you did.

This morning when he agreed to substitute at the clinic he had no idea what to expect. You were the last thing he thought would happen, and the second he read your name on that piece of paper as he entered your room he felt his mind begin to spiral.

How was he supposed to remain professional around you?

His biggest regret was never pursuing anything further with you years ago, worried that if feelings got involved he would lose the best thing he ever had. In turn, he fucked himself over in the end, because he had lost you either way; but now, you were right here in front of him, naked and on display.

The second he saw you sitting on the exam table he felt an immediate rush to his pants, his mind racing as he began to sweat, the room suddenly feeling stuffy and tight. He couldn’t help but watch your lips as they parted when you talked, memories of them wrapped around himself as your tongue slid up and down his length leaving him unable to concentrate as he attempted to read your file.

He watched as you shifted nervously in front of him when he checked your lungs, heart racing rapidly under his touch. He wanted to rip your thighs apart, slipping his fingers into you, wanting to leave you begging.

Noah wanted to pull his name from your lips; leaving you worshiping him, needing him.

He kept reminding himself that he was a professional now and that it was unacceptable to push the boundary of client-patient professionalism. There was a code of conduct and ethics he was required to follow; but he wanted to forget years of practice, just to get a taste of you.

You lay there, trying to keep your heavy breathing quiet; but you immediately gasped as one of his covered fingers spread you open, barely touching your skin, afraid to go further.

You closed your mouth tightly, biting the inside of your cheek as you scolded yourself.

Don’t fucking moan, don’t fucking moan. He barely touched you.

“I’m going to insert the speculum now,” He said quietly, and you heard him whisper another sentence to himself, “God, you don’t even need lube…”

You knew that he knew how turned on you were by just his presence alone, and you closed your eyes as Dr. Davis inserted the plastic into your body, the feeling of fullness causing you to chew on your bottom lip.

Dr. Davis clicked the hinges as the speculum opened you up, and you covered your mouth with your hand, something Noah had noticed.

“Are you in pain?” He asked gently, and you shook your head.

“N-no, I-I’m okay.”

He hummed again, and it was quiet for a moment.

There was a lack of movement for a second until you felt a gloved finger brush across your clit slowly, and you furrowed your brows in anticipation.

Fuck, that had to be an accident, right?

You tried to think rationally about the situation, but your thoughts trailed to dirty places, silently pleading that Dr. Davis would press against your intimacy again.

Noah had listened for your reaction as he sat before your legs that held you splayed open for him, his mind battling. He swallowed hungrily.

You felt his fingers brush against you again and your thighs jolted to his touch, before you felt the pad of his finger press firmly against you, tracing small circles as he tried drawing a moan from your lips.

Your mouth fell open in satisfaction as your body clenched, Dr. Davis’ fingers rubbing faster and faster.

You couldn’t help it as a gentle whimper crawled from your chest, and with furrowed brows, you bucked your hips into his touch; giving him the permission he desperately wanted.

You felt the speculum being removed, and seconds later a wet swipe trailed up along your folds.

“Oh my god,” You whispered and Dr. Davis hummed, his lips latching onto your sweet spot before two gloved fingers slid into you, curling upwards.

You began to moan again, pulling the blanket away to see the brunette devouring your body. He looked up at you with lustful eyes, his mask pulled underneath his chin.

You ogled upon seeing his entire face, brows furrowed with desire as he remained stone cold.

“If you moan loudly one more time I’ll stop.” He said as he began licking your body once again, eyes fixated on your own.

“Y-yes.”

“Yes, what?” He said, pulling his mouth away as he continued to pump his fingers in and out rapidly, taking his thin glasses off and placing them on the table.

“Yes sir.”

“Good girl,” he praised, burying himself between your legs again in famish, devouring you feverishly with complete craving.

Your legs began to shake from his praise and you covered your mouth with your hands as your hips pushed into Dr. Davis’ touch, completely engulfed with euphoria.

You didn’t know that he was palming himself through his slacks as he ate you out, desperate for friction, desperate for you to be the one touching him instead.

“Cum.” He demanded, and in a second his tongue swiped along your folds you felt the knot that he built release, elation washing through you as you choked back a desiring cry.

Your free hand gripped Dr. Davis’ hair as you pulled him closer, rubbing yourself along his face as he ate you until it became too much, pushing him away.

He stood up, mouth agape and wet from your release as you watched him with yearning, both your chests heaving.

He hastily began pulling off his white coat, throwing it to the floor as you watched him loosen his tie. Sitting up you beckoned him over and his fingers gripped your throat, pulling you towards him as his forehead rested against your own.

You looked into each other’s eyes as unspoken words danced between you, both of you needing each other but too afraid to speak.

He held you firmly for a moment before pulling your lips to his own, kissing you completely with need and hunger, forcing you to taste yourself

You groaned quietly into his lips as your tongues ran along each other, your fingers shaky as you began unbuttoning his blue dress shirt.

His fingers tightened around your neck as your hands trailed to the hem of his black pants, tugging at his waistband as you pulled apart his belt, sliding the zipper down slowly.

He moaned softly as your fingers slid along his abdomen, threatening to dip in to grab where he needed you.

“You’re in no position to tease princess, remember that,” He squeezed your neck again as he towered over you in authority, and you smiled.

“This is wrong.”

“So wrong.” He mumbled before kissing you in desperation again, your minds fogged with nothing but lust and arousal.

Dr. Davis’ hands pulled your shirt over your head as he pulled back, taking in the image of your exposed body, ready for him.

His covered fingers found their way to your core once again, slipping in and out as you pulled down his underwear, his body hard and ready to devour you.

You licked your fingers, smiling up at him as he watched with lustful eyes, before grabbing hold of his erection, pumping up and down as he thrust into your hand in eagerness. He pulled his fingers in and out of you quickly, your mouth falling open as you watched each other, pleasing one another.

“Spread your legs, baby,” Dr. Davis pleaded, and you opened your thighs farther.

“That’s it… Wider,” He whispered, before pulling his hands away from you, wrapping them around himself as he positioned his body to yours.

Dr. Davis didn’t hesitate any longer before he pushed into you, a loud whimper leaving you. His eyebrows furrowed angrily as his gloved hand covered your mouth, pushing you back into the wall.

“Be fucking quiet,” He said through gritted teeth, his chest heaving as he continued to thrust into you, filling your body, claiming you as his own.

He tore into your skin with his motions, the feeling of him pulling out before pushing back in deeply causing your legs to clench shut. He pushed them open with the hand that wasn’t covering your mouth.

“I said to spread them,” He scolded, fingers digging into your thigh before he slapped the top of your intimacy, earning a yelp from you as your body jolted from the contact.

He remained cold and composed, attempting to keep up his professional facade that was beginning to crumble before you. His eyes squeezed shut as he pushed your thighs back towards your chest, opening you as he fucked your body with possession.

You watched his head tilt back, exposing the tattoos on his neck as his lips fell open in complete satisfaction.

Your body felt perfectly wrapped around him, years of need ready to release into you.

Dr. Davis wanted to flip you over so you stood in front of him, one leg lifted onto the bed as he gripped your ass and pounded you; but he knew that right now, he needed to watch your face contort in pleasure for him, from him.

Your body clenched around him, “Dr. D-Davis,” You whimpered, still trying to remain quiet so as to not be heard by the rest of the clinic.

“Noah,” the brunette growled, bringing you into a kiss and you nodded, murmuring his name back to him against his lips in a plea.

He was close to his release, but he held back, waiting to pull another orgasm from you before he would bring you to your knees, ready to cum down your throat.

“You can do it, that’s a good girl.” He praised and you melted at his words, letting go as he thrust into you one more time, your body completely enveloping him as your mouth was covered by his hand once again to mask your screams. Your body shook through the orgasm Noah offered you.

He slid in and out slowly, before pulling away. His fingers were threaded through your hair as he guided you to the floor, placing you on your knees.

You took him into your mouth mercilessly, sucking and bobbing along his length before he gripped your face, pulling you closer.

You gagged along him, tears forming as a deep growl rumbled from his chest, signalling he was close.

Seconds later Noah’s release coated the back of your throat, and you swallowed his orgasm, looking up at him in commitment.

“You’ve always been mine to ruin,” He said, panting as he pulled you off of him, and you sat on the ground, smiling up at him.

The two of you got dressed in silence, the hormones lingering in the air as he pulled off the gloves, grabbing his prescription notepad and a pen.

“I wasn’t able to get a good enough sample to send off to the lab,” He said, scribbling away, “I’ll need you to meet me at my office this weekend.”

Dr. Davis handed you the note and you looked at the paper, staring at the phone number and address as he nodded toward you, opening the wooden door and leaving the office.

hshshgsghshghsshgh ok i am a mess

#bad omens #noah sebastian #bad omens cult #bad omens band #noah sebastian davis #metalcore #dr davis #Dr. Davis #noah sebastian smut #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian x reader #smut #bad omens smut #Doctor Noah Sebastian

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herejusttosufferalong · 3 months ago

Note

ust when I start to feel like I have a grip on what happened with the part 2 premiere and papgate, I learn or remember something that completely throws me. I feel like I need to lay out some evidence for my own mental clarity.

I had a bad feeling something was brewing the night of the London premiere before the BackGrid pictures came out based on L’s energy on the red carpet. Here is evidence that SOMETHING was up.

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZPRoTmvL4/ People have focused on how cute this is of N and LT, but it’s telling that LT and Claudia form a little huddle of love around her and Hannah joins in. People were feeling very protective of N that night. I can almost imagine LT whispering in her ear, “How are you doing?” and Nic saying with a smile plastered on her face, “He brought her.”

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZPRoT9dYE/ Some interpret this as Golda smirking at the lovebirds, but I have never seen anything other than pure disdain in her expression. She is thinking “You motherfucker” and you can’t convince me otherwise.

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTNbowwQu/ I was reminded of this clip here a few days ago and holy shit. Sam and Joanna are protectively huddled around N, the expression on Sam’s face as he looks directly at L is…not friendly, and I totally see the “stupid arse” thing. That’s not to mention L, who legitimately looks like he’s going to throw up. He is paranoid they are talking about him and, guess what, they are.

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZPRoTvvuH/ Let’s not forget this little dig. N is too classy to reveal anything outright, but her response feels so pointed and L’s reaction is so awkward.

A few more random thoughts about the night:

I can’t find clips right now that illustrate this, but I remember noticing that L was constantly flicking his eyes upwards throughout the red carpet. He was hyperconscious of the fact that A was watching him from up in that glass box AND that N and the cast knew A was up there.

It struck me recently that I hadn’t seen any pictures or videos of C or LT with LN on this red carpet. LN had a hug with HD and there were those documented moments with Simone, but I would find it very telling if we couldn’t find a single pic or video of C interacting with LN that night. Happy to be proved wrong on this one #showittomeRachel.

I know the official story is that N left the afterparty early because she started filming TMFT the next day, but let’s be real. This was the final event for HER season of Bton. This is a project she loves and a cast that she cares deeply about. If she had wanted to shut the party down, she would have.

So far, all of this awkwardness could be explained simply by A’s presence and nothing at all related to the paparazzi. The thing that is still SO suspicious to me that makes me think L knew the paparazzi would be there when he left the party is that he was the last to leave the party. Think about everything you have ever read/heard about L in social situations. That sort of gathering is absolutely not his scene. He’s talked about how much he loves an Irish Goodbye. I also feel like it’s sort of cringey to be the last one at a party like that, especially if all of the other main actors have left, including your costar. Why would he have waited until literally everyone else had gone if not because he didn’t want anyone else around for the pap pics? I know people really don’t want to believe L was involved because it is shitty to think about, but I think there are too many odd things that stack up for him to have been blindsided by it.

The thing that haunts me is that he seemed AWKWARD about everything that transpired that night. This was not a man who felt confident and in control of his life decisions. If this was meant to be the hard launch of a girlfriend, a million different things could have happened. He could have told interviewers how excited he was to have his mom, sister, and gf with him for the event. He could have put his arm around A, grabbed her hand, smiled at the camera, kissed A’s cheek, etc. while the cameras were flashing.

So, that leaves me convinced of two things: Luke knew the paparazzi would be there AND he didn’t want to be photographed with A (at least in a way that would confirm a serious relationship). After tossing around different explanations in my mind, here is what I have come up with.

L is a serial monogamist who really struggles to be alone. He kept A around during the WT because it gave him comfort and a feeling of power to know he had a romantic partner. This would have been important to him for various possible reasons: maybe N was attached to someone during this time and he didn’t want to be the single one; maybe N had rejected his advances and he wanted to seem unbothered; maybe neither he nor N had made a move on each other but he was feelings things towards N he didn’t know how to cope with and A was a distraction. Regardless, he kept A in the picture, though their relationship obviously had a LOT of asterisks surrounding it. He invited her to the premiere at a time when he was feeling especially insecure (for any of the reasons I mentioned above). In his mind, it was going to feel good to have her there. And I think at some point right before the premiere, she convinced him they needed to launch the relationship. If it’s true that something had been going on between them since the fall, then it had been at least eight months of her letting him keep her hidden in the shadows while he flirted shamelessly with his gorgeous soulmate–I mean costar–for the world to see. He agreed to this at a time when he wasn’t secure in whatever he and N had and couldn’t find a compelling reason to say no to A’s request.

But I think he underestimated two things:

1) How shitty it would feel to have A at the premiere as his date after getting so close to N in those last few legs of the tour. I think Ireland especially shifted something and he realized not just how much N meant to him but, very importantly, how much he meant to N.

2) How much N would care about A’s presence. I think N must have played it very cool about A during the tour. Either didn’t really acknowledge her or brought her up in a casual way to show she was unbothered. But I think the sequence of Brazil, Toronto, and especially Ireland hit N hard and she became emotionally invested in (and available to?) L in a way that she hadn’t let herself be before. I’m not sure she said anything to him, but I think they could both feel it. A’s presence at the prem ended up feeling like a slap in the face to N in a way that L did not anticipate.

I think L initially thought that having A at the premiere would be a confidence boost, but having her there backfired. He didn’t realize how awkward and embarrassed he would feel by A’s presence. When it’s just L and A or when they’re with R and S, L doesn’t feel as self-conscious about things like A’s age, her SM antics, her unseriousness. But when he, N, and A are all in the same space, the silliness of his relationship with A and the differences between N and A really hits him. Frankly (and I don’t say this to be cruel to A), I think he feels mortified about N witnessing his relationship with A up close and personal. So I think what we’re witnessing at the red carpet and in the pap pics is a man who committed to a plan (inviting A and setting up the pics) at a time when he felt a) insecure in his connection with N, 2) unaware of how much N cared about him, and 3) unaware of how much he would care about N’s opinion of him (sorry, that’s convoluted). We know he is not a decisive person, so he let this nightmare scenario play out and is now living with the consequences of his passivity.

That is ALL TO SAY: I think it’s possible to believe that L was involved with the pap pics AND that he cares about N/didn’t want to hurt her/is totally in love with her. Anyone else out there who feels like it’s possible to hold these two truths in your head at once?

so this is more of a take I saw floating around in the wake of it all

curious to see how it lands with y'all now

#this is all opinion #theories

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thiccsys · 10 months ago

Note

can u dump random error facts.. maybe..

FACTS?? cracks my little knuckles

TW FOR SUICIDE MENTION!

okay. im gonna go off memory. so if i get anything wrong someone correct me.

- Error’s glasses have been around since Aftertale! Geno got them from Alphys with the wrong prescription. Because Geno is.. well, himself, he decided that the shitty prescription was “good enough” and rolled with it.

- Error is nearsighted. In the askerror comic Swap paps is seen standing far away. He is blurry. The closer he got to Error, the clearer his image became

- Error’s REAL name is Gaylord Scooter Brighton (im not making this up)

- Contrary to popular belief, Error can feel guilt. Guilt is hinted at in CQ’s summary of what could’ve been (a completed Error comic much like Aftertale).

- Error Papyrus and Error Undyne are canonical characters within his story. I, however, don’t enjoy them as much as I enjoy Error himself, so they’re irrelevant to me

- Errors are literally some sort of species. Error isn’t the only one (Circuit, Proferror, the ones mentioned above, Blueberror). My memory might be failing me but I remember hearing that an Error’s “last thought” before becoming corrupted is very important. Why? I forgot. Is this actually true? I forgot, but i cant be bothered to check

- Error IS suicidal. After destroying all fhe AUs, he will kill himself. In addition, Error would kill himself if he ever became mentally sane enough to understand how hypocritical he is.

- Error has a sensitivity to Papyrus. He doesn’t like being asked about him, or “his brother.” In addition, he struggles to kill them, shown in the AskError comic as well. Geno’s still in there and it’s sooo so amazing to think about

- Error’s very insecure. Although the idea of him being this slay girlypop feather boa wearing king is amazing, he could never. I remember seeing a comic where he indirectly says he dislikes himself. Which makes sense— his narcissistic characteristics definitely stem from insecurity. “i feel like i’m the worst so i’ll act like im the best” mentality (we genuinely relate too much to this).

- Error canonically has five blue tongues

- Error’s glitches temporarily blind him at random. Yes, it happens when he is agitated or upset, but it also comes and goes as it pleases.

- Error’s glitches are painful. Crashes are painful. The scene of him first pulling strings from his sockets was likely EXTREMELY agonizing (i’m pretty sure he said it hurt himself while showing it all to blue).

- Error’s portals do seem to have some sort of replay ability. After all, how else could he have shown Blue what happened to himself?

- He’s very lonely. He wants friends. Living friends.

- CQ stated that Error is INTENTIONALLY made to make no sense. His character doesn’t make sense to you? Good! That’s the point! He’s an enigma that doesn’t even understand himself.

- Error can see and read code as if he were looking at a computer screen. He likes picking through the code of an AU before he destroys it

- Error loves Outertale and Undernovela. He will never finish his little job.

okay thats all i remember ty for asking :3

#undertale #utmv #i lov error #undertale aus #error sans #canon #probably #loverofpiggies #crayonqueen #gaylord scooter brighton #ASKS!

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zelphin124 · 11 months ago

Text

Cross x Y/N Short Story

In all honesty this was very spontaneous... And I just got home so I can get back to writing everything else!

(I do not claim the art as my own)

*cough* @tehrogueva @kuuuuro @pandimoostuff

Cross belongs to @jakei95

TW: Suggestive

Enjoy!

~o0o~

OuterTale. The place where the stars shined brighter than the lights in the city. The place where comets and galaxies shimmered with color. An empty space where people came to contemplate life and make big decisions.

OuterTale was an AU that could never be forgotten. OuterTale was where the darkest secrets unfolded.

You were told to meet one of your closest friends here, Cross. He seemed so nervous when asking you, which was unusual for his behavior. Sitting down on a cliff edge, you start to recall the conversation a week before.

You were at a Grillbys in some AU that you forgot. Cross was sitting across from you and you guys had a lovely conversation. There was lots of laughter and wheezing, to the point most of the people around you looked genuinely concerned for your guys' well being. You ended blaming it on whatever drink you had that night.

"Y/N," Cross calmed down before changing his tone. "Uhm... Would you be able to meet me at OuterTale this time next week?" He scratched his head nervously as he stared you down. His eyes were shaking, but he remained firm in his ask.

How strange, what caused the sudden change in his demeanour? You hope you didn't say anything wrong, though Cross didn't seem upset.

You asked him where specifically, as you didn't care for going into the villages of other AUs. It was hard enough to blend into other universes, let alone OuterTale.

"The cliffs near the floating islands," Cross answered, twirling the glass in his hand. "I uh... Wanted to try out that camera Paps got me. Would you wear something nice for them?"

You blushed, and quite noticably. The face Cross made when he mentioned you wearing something nice was so adorable, as if he stared in admiration. Come to think of it, he always did that. The last time you wore something nice, he couldn't take his eyes off you.

It was one of the reasons why you loved him. Oftentimes you were called a simp amongst your peers due to your crush toward him. You loved anything and everything Cross did for you. Whether or not that was bringing you flowers, getting you food after a hard day at work, or just hugging you until you stopped crying... Everything about him captivated you. His style, his personality, his smile, his laugh... Oh gosh his laugh. If only you could somehow keep it on repeat, you would. It was music to your ears and made all the butterflies in your stomach fluster.

Your friends often said you craved him. They weren't wrong. You longed to be in his presence, for his eyes to meet yours, to hear his voice speak to you, for him to touch you-

"Y/N?" Cross leaned over the table and snapped his fingers in front of both of your eyes. When you came back to reality, he smiled softly. "You able to come?"

You told him you wouldn't miss it for the world, after apologizing for zoning out.

"Tch," he snickered, giving that smile that made your heart pound. "Alright, I'll walk you home and see you then."

You sighed happily as you remember the walk home and how it was full of dancing and signing. Cross taught you a few more steps to a dance you were learning with him before he said goodbye. Dancing was the only excuse you could find to be close to him other than hugging. You wondered if it was obvious to Cross that you liked him.

However, you couldn't figure out if the feelings were reciprocated. Cross didn't seem to have the same responses to things that you did. Although you were told many times by others that he was into you, you couldn't wrap your head around it. There's no way he could like you that way... Why would someone as great as he love a human like you?

This very reason has kept a tight seal on your lips. There were many times where you wished you told him, but the fear of ruining your friendship got in the way. What if he didn't reciprocate those feelings? Would all be lost? Surely it would be awkward. Though, you wouldn't know, as you any memory of your past relationships had faded when arriving in the multiverse.

"You came," a sigh of relief came from behind you.

You stood up and turned to face your best friend. He was... To put it simply, stunning. He wore a long black suit with a white X across his chest. He adjusted his tie with one hand and held your favorite flowers in the other. Your blush didn't help hide how grateful you were for his thoughtful gift. He was always good at remembering your favorites, rather than giving you whatever he could find. His eyes glowed softly, and he smiled wildly at you. "Wow." He breathed.

You had worn your favorite color dress that changed shades all the way to the bottom of your ankles. You thought it would be better to leaves the sleeves on your arms rather than your shoulders. Perhaps it would be better for photo taking as Cross had planned.

You thanked him for the flowers with a squeak before asking him where he would like you to stand.

"Oh we can worry about that later," he set the camera down on the rock as it flashed red. "For now, I wanted to practice our dance."

Your face was tomato red. Dancing with your crush in nice clothing under the starry cover of OuterTale? This was a dream come true. You nodded and adjusted your dress so it would flow smoothly.

Cross wasted no time as he came toward you and swooped your arms into his. Immediately, his feet began to pace. You figured out the rhythm as you danced along, following his lead. The song slowly started to play in your head as you moved along the cliff edge with him.

Cross's eyes were sinking into you. The more he looked at you, the more purple his face became. His grip around your waist became more snug... As if he was holding the most precious jewel in the world. His thumb traced your hand with the grace of a feather, and his eyes were drooped so perfectly.

You found it difficult to focus on the steps as your heart pounded from excitement. He was so close, so peaceful... So absolutely perfect. You knew you would treasure this moment forever, and nothing would ever compare to this.

Cross's pacing slowed, pulling you closer to him. You gasp as his hand that was holding yours traveled to your cheek and jawline. His breath became shaky, and it was hard to see his eyes against his purple blush. "Y/N... I... I love you..." His voice was barely above a whisper while his eyes were locked on your face.

What? He... Did he just say that? You would've called him on his bluff if you didn't see the hearts in his eyessockets.

"Everything about you drives me crazy for you... I adore you..." His face got closer with every breath, and his words got slower and slower. "You're so beautiful, and kind, and I..."

You were dreaming. You had to be. This was too good to be true. Cross loved you back?! Not only that, but he adored you?! Nah, you would wake up any moment now.

But that kiss proved you otherwise. There wasn't another word that escaped his mouth before he caught you up in a loving kiss, your body pressing up against his. It was long, gentle, and made both of your faces turn into bright colors.

He broke away after a few seconds, his breath shaky and his smile wide. When he saw you were panting, blushing, and gripping his chest, he kissed you again... And again... And again... Until you lost count of how many times he came back to your lips, begging for more.

Your feet were lifted off the ground many times. His hands tightened around your head and waist to press you closer to him. Your body shook with pure bliss. Your heart had stopped from utter shock and surprise, though, you knew it was still alive because of how flustered it was.

It ended too soon, as he sat you back down on the ground and rested his forehead against yours. "Sorry, I..." He sighed. "I got carried away... I didnt mean to-"

You told him to shush, letting him know that you enjoyed every moment of it. After you explained to him that you had liked him all this time, he was relieved and satisfied.

"I... Stars, you're beautiful... Everything about you... is amazing, and... I always want to be with you... Protect you... Love you..."

Cross continued to whisper all that he felt and all that he had to say as you two swayed under the stars. It was pure bliss, and you couldn't believe it was real. Though, Cross reassured you it was real through many kisses. He explained he had held back such affection for so long, he wanted to get it all out. You were too much of a blushing mess to give any affection back, though, he didn't seem to mind. Cross seemed perfectly happy with growing the blush on your own face. Since he had known you for so long, it was easy for him to find out what physical things you liked very quickly.

To this day you can't wrap your head around how lucky you were. Cross since then had provided, protected, and loved you like you never had, or as much as you could remember. You must have been the main character in a story, as it was the only explanation you could find to explain such a wonderful, disney-princess moment.

However, you decided that chance or not, you were the luckiest person in the whole multiverse, because you were in your lovers arms, and he loved you more than anyone else could.

#cross sans #yn #sans x reader #reader x sans #sans x yn #cross x yn #short story #ooooh boy #i might be a simp now #OH WELL HAHAHA

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makncheese12 · 2 years ago

Text

Top Shelf pt. 2

Part 1, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7

Masterlist

Summary: being the kid of a well-known book store owner was easy, so was running into famous people. But being book smart doesn’t make everyone people smart.

Warning: my writing, I don’t know how to fully play chess so it’s a bit weird haha, very awkward, a little rushed if you come back tomorrow sometime after twelve it should be better

Word count - 3.1k

Credits: @novmoth (my friend from school who feeds into my delusions and gives me more ideas for this story🫶🏻)

“So,” Lyle starts as you move a piece across the chess board and look up to him then back down at the half played board. “You mean to tell me you ran into Jenna Ortega—“ he says through gritted teeth and puts his hands together and leans his forehead against them.

“—and you didn’t know who she was? She’s known world-wide after her recent show on Netflix!”

Why was he so surprised? He knew your parents situation and how it was critical that your mothers family didn’t find her.

Why would you want to be on social media so much anyway? All the drama involving celebrities and people switching up on them after finding some stuff they don’t like.

Hell people could even find information to black mail or threaten you with, that would just be your luck.

It was better to not get caught up in all of that. All you had was Instagram that had nothing to do with the last name and TikTok with no post that you barely used.

“You know I don’t watch a lot of TV.” You mumble watching him move the white piece taking your black on the board between the two of you. “Dude,” Mj starts looking up from pride and prejudice.

“We all used to watch her on stuck in the middle in sixth grade at Rosa’s place before Marco moved.” She says, clearly uninterested in the conversation yet wanting to be right.

You knit your eye brows together making Lyle stare at you like you were some kind of idiot. “She played Harley, middle child AKA stuck in the middle.” You continue to stare dumb founder.

The large man only groans and Mj scoffs at your lack of knowledge. Dru is then seen, holding a pile of games he wanted to try out.

“The chick with the hot sister who used her for an invention with her boyfriend.” He hums, placing the games next to the computer nearby.

Realization hits you like a brick and you nod, now knowing who they were talking about and the seeing the resemblance.

She both sounded and looked older now, you noted before moving a chess piece.

“If that’s what it takes for you to remember things then we’re all doomed.” Mj states as she pulls her legs up to her chest.

“Okay, when did she come exactly?” Lyle stares at the board, eyes clearly focused but keeping his attention on the conversation.

You think back to the interaction as he makes his move. “A few hours ago, right after lunch when people usually come in.”

“Wonder how she got here without getting noticed.” Mj wonders out loud. This girl must have been a big deal if she can’t get away without being noticed.

“Check,” Lyle hums and your eyes snap back to the board to see him move his piece. You narrow your eyes at the board for a moment and huff out.

You two had decided to create your own set of rules after playing together for so long it had become a bit boring. With his idea, you both made the game a little more interesting and complicated.

“She probably has little disguises, you know to specifically get away from the paps.” Dru mumbles, face inches away from the screen.

You grimace at the sight, now seeing why he needed glasses yet he was still doing it with them on.

“He has a point.” Lyle replies watching you make your move before his smile grows. “Checkmate.” He flaunts making you groan as he snatches your king.

“Your slacking, Y/N, do better.” He shakes his head before putting all the pieces back in place.

His teasing only making you groan again, louder this time making him chuckle.

“You’re making me feel like a sin getting scolding by his father after a bad game.” You mumble before sitting up again and making the first move.

“Good,” he laughs watching you make the same move as before. “You need it.” He says in response.

“Fuck the game, what are you going to do about Jenna Ortega?” Mj speaks up closing her book and slamming it on the table.

Usually, you’d scold her for doing so but it was after hours and no one was inside to bother.

Lyle huffs. “Never say that again, this game is very important.” Mj rolls her eyes in response, everything was important to him.

“What would you have me do? Send her a quick text and ask her to come back?” You laugh at the thought.

It would have to be a miracle to get any celebrities number, it would have to be a god send to get her phone number.

“You’re such a pessimist.” Lyle snorts and you send him a glare. “I would be if a cute celebrity showed up and I never saw her again.” Dru calls out making you huff.

“I will see her again, actually. I think, at least.” Mj perks up at this. “Oh? How so?” She asks, leaning forward on the table.

You send her a glare and lean away. Why was she suddenly acting like a fourth grade friend who finds out about your crush.

“She borrowed the book, so she kind of has to come back.” You grumble scooting your seat farther away from her.

You didn’t really think you’d actually be excited for someone to return for a book. Sure, there were cute people that came in and out of the library all the time. But none had really had any real affect on you like she did.

Though the interaction was short and quick, it was probably one of the most interesting ones you had with a customer.

You’d do anything to see those freckles in person again.

The clicking sound of a phone brings you out of your thoughts as you glance up to Lyle whose holding up his phone.

“Sorry,” he mumbles as he begins angry typing. “You just looked so aesthetic with the chess board, I gotta post it to Insta.”

You roll your eyes before they move to Mj who paces back and fourth.

“Okay, so that would probably be your only chance at actually talking to her.” She says as if she were talking to herself.

“She’s so delusional

“That is if you don’t fuck it up,” she mutters that last part with a as she continues pacing making you point to your face that is clearly unamused.

“But how will you do that? You’re a horrible flirt, that much is true and your humor is as dead as Lyle’s hair.”

“Hey!” He quickly goes to cover his purple hair with his large arms. “There’s no hiding that atrocities.” Mj rolls her eyes, once again for the hundredth time tonight.

“I say you just go for it.” Dru says tapping his computer key quickly and you notice the game to be ‘cookie clicker’, an online game that is not any of the games in his pile.

“Be yourself and you’ll be fine, if she doesn’t like that oh well.” He says inching closer to the screen, glasses almost touching it.

“Wow DD,” Lyle says, looking up from his screen that was suddenly getting lots of notifications. “I never thought you could be so poetic.” He teases and Dru sends him a side eye glare.

“That wasn’t even poetic, just common sense.” He replies, eyes traveling back to his screen.

Lyle sticks his tongue out at the older man who doesn’t even notice.

“I want sushi,” You say standing up watching the abandoned chess pieces fall from their place. “Let’s go get some.”

“Right behind you,” Mj says eagerly as she grabs her book and jacket, Lyle not too far behind her.

“Wait, give me a second!” Dru calls but you just laugh and continue your way to the door.

“Wait! I want sushi too! Stop!” He calls out louder as Lyle holds the door open. “Just abandon mission dude! Sushi is way better.” Lyle says as you begin walking down the street, Dru coming out not long after making sure to lock the door.

————

You carefully pull books out of the return section as the beat of your music rings through your ears making you bop your head lightly.

You glance over to Lyle who sat in the desk chair, playing Call Of Duty mobile on his phone. You wouldn’t usually be allowed to do that but it was a particularly slow day.

It had been two weeks since Jenna had last came to the library and to say you were disappointed was an understatement.

You knew it could be months before she would have to return the book and you would have to charge her for it if she really didn’t and that is what you didn’t want to do.

Mj made sure you didn’t forget either, sending you cheesy pick-up lines and ‘how to flirt’ website which only aggravated you and hurt your ego.

You did look at a few though and had to admit some were actually good while others made you skin crawl.

You don’t notice the sound of the bell ringing or the way Lyle quirks up slightly glancing toward you

Jenna looks up to him as her body guards walk to a side table in front of the window allowing her a little freedom to walk after seeing there weren’t many people.

He makes his lips into kissy form and a small ‘ooh’ leaves before turning to you, back turned as you sort through the books.

He looks back to Jenna who is now standing at the front desk contemplating to help her or not.

He decides against it but doesn’t want to leave the celebrity waiting. He stands up and quickly grabs the closest thing to the back room door before putting his finger to his lips.

“Shh..” He says, eying her as a playful threat before chucking the item at you and rushing through the door.

The thing hits your head and you whip around, barely missing Lyle as your eyes land on Jenna who held her books, glancing between the storage room and you.

“Did you..” you say, pulling your headphones out and picking up a mouse key that had been ripped off from the cord. “Did you just throw a mouse key at me?” You ask with playful tone as you walk toward her.

Jenna thinks back to Lyle’s silence threat before speaking. “You weren’t paying attention, it’s bad customer service.” She just shrugs.

“Oh, my bad.” You say putting your hands up in defense and her smile grows. “I’m sorry I was doing my job,.” You say shaking your head before playing glaring at her.

Be confident, all girls like that!

Mj’s words ring through your head making you cringe slightly.

Not too confident, that’ll get you punched.

Dru had stated after and your lips pull up at the memory of Dru getting punched at the skating rink during you tenth grade year.

You think of all the pick-up lines that actually seemed subtle and weren’t cringe worthy but decided against it as she pushes the books toward you.

“So, what’d you think?” You ask taking them and scanning the under the red light and pressing the ‘return’ button on the computer screen.

“I actually enjoyed between shades of gray surprisingly even though it was pretty dark,” she says shyly and you nod. “But the other wasn’t really good.”

“Just shows I have better taste than you.” You tease lightly, attempting to flirt but realizing it wasn’t actually flirting.

You were starting to realize how bad of a glitter you really were and Mj was right.

You feel your phone buzz go off multiple times at a time as Lyle comes out of the storage closet with a box full of old tapes you had just put back in there a little while ago.

He takes his seat and watches through the corner of his eye, looking through the black blocks clearly acting like he was doing something as he ease-dropped.

You roll your eyes before leaning against the counter, rolling your thumbs around each other, becoming nervous by the sudden pressure of his gaze.

“Does he always stare at you like that?” She suddenly asks, amusement clear in her voice making you snort.

“Unfortunately yes,” you say and his head yanks toward you, fake offense taking over his features. “He’s always been weird but I guess that’s what makes us friends.”

He forms a heart with his hands before blowing you a kiss making you grimace at the large man.

“So,” you say looking back up to her, noticing her biting the inside of her lip slightly before looking back to you. “Looking for anything else or should I just get back to work?” You ask, smirking slightly as you look up toward her.

You hear a quiet snort come from Lyle and send him a mental glare in the process. Oh how you wished it was Dru here instead, hell even Mj would do.

“Actually, yes.” She says, perking up slightly at your mention. “I was hoping to get another suggestion from you, since you know.” She finishes making you raise an eye brow and hum to yourself.

You think through the hundreds of books you’ve read before coming to your conclusion and standing up straight.

“I have one,” you say and she nods. “I figured.” She replies as you pass through the low door and around the counter.

“It’s sort of the same as Between Shades of Gray, same time frame.” You say walking toward the historical section. “I will need to help get it though,” you snort to yourself, feeling glare in the back of your head.

“I’m actually six foot two if you remember correctly, it’s just the angle your looking at that makes me look shorter.” She argues and your smile grows.

“I’m sorry, I completely forgot I hope I haven’t offended you too deeply.” You tell her, bowing slightly as she passes you walking into the aisle with her head high.

“But in all seriousness,” you say scanning over the the spines of the books. “What made you think the name ‘Top Shelf’ wouldn’t be quite literally the top shelf.” You reach out and grab the book ‘The Book Thief’ before turning to her.

“I thought it was like a metaphor or something.” she mumbles taking the book from your hands, reading the cover.

“Oh definitely, especially with the owners being tall themselves.” You say, laughing at her glare at you through her eye lashes.

She rolls her eyes before moving past you and toward the front desk.

You follow after her quickly and go behind the desk again before pushing past Lyle who was messing with the computer.

“Excuse you,” he stares at you wide eyed as you click back to the search bar. “Your fault you were in my way.” You mumble only giving him a glance.

“Name?” You asks glancing toward and you can almost feel the glare Lyle gives you.

“You’re joking?” She asks, clearly unamused. “It’s policy.” You send her another playful smile watching huff out.

“Jenna Ortega.” She says before Lyle pinches your side making you jump slightly. “Stop that,” you whisper before kicking your leg back at him, you miss completely.

“Burrowing or buying?” You ask and she again, rolls her eyes. “Burrowing.”

You feel Lyle pinch your other side and you send him a glare, clearly wanting him out of your bubble and away from your conversation. “You’re so annoying.” You say before watching him stick his tongue and move back to his seat.

You look back toward Jenna who was, once again, chewing her lip.

You take her credit card and swipe it quickly, using your hand to keep him a safe distance away from you.

“Anything else?” You ask, glancing up to the girl who is already staring at you.

“Actually,” she mumbles quietly as Lyle pinches your arm pit making you elbow his chest and he lets out a hard huff.

“You seem pretty cool and I was wondering..” she hesitates for a moment, trying her best to maintain eye contact which makes Lyle stop, chest against your back.

She continues you hesitate as you bag the book and slide it toward, you fidgeted slightly as anxiety creeps up to your core.

“If I could have your number? Or maybe I could give you mine?..” there’s a sort of shyness in her voice and she begins to bite the inside of her lip again.

You stare at her dumb founded a second, not fully expecting that.

But then again it was very obvious it was coming from the first part of her sentence, that was clear especially to Lyle who glances between you two.

The two wait for your response that seems to never come which makes Lyle’s eye twitch and Jenna to shift on her feet.

“You can say no, of course I just thought I’d ask.” She says, voice even quieter which makes Lyle decided to take matters into his own hands.

He snatches the phone from your pocket and sends you a small knowing smirk before turning to the girl. “Excuse her, she’s not used to these kind of interactions.” He says unlocking you phone and opening your contacts and going to the number screen.

“She is, after all, a librarians daughter. She just has no game what’s so ever.” He shakes his head and clicks his mouth. You quickly snap out of your dazed state to glare toward him.

“Yeah, sorry but I’d actually love that.” You say before watching her smile grow and all the nervousness leave her body as she begins to type.

“Cool,” she says before handing you your phone back. “Very cool.” Lyle states as he nods and gives you a knowing look.

“Text me,” she says before picking up her bag and walking toward the door. “I mean it!” You watch her stern look as her body guards stand and open the door for her with a goofy smile on your face.

“I will!” You call out as the door shuts behind her.

“Holy shit,” Lyle mutters watching her walk down the street. “Holy shit.” You repeat, still a little shocked by the whole situation.

“Jenna Ortega thinks my best friend is cool and gave her her number.” He says pulling out his phone and typing quickly before you feel a buzz in come from the phone in your hand.

You open the text messages in the group chat and see a series of text between Lyle, Mj and Dru. They had to have been spamming the entire time.

You read over the last text and snort.

My best friend is cooler than you, you also owe me twenty bucks <3

Read next part here!

A/N: Lyle being R’s wingman is in fact canon🫶🏻

Also, while you’re here why don’t you request something for different characters. I have some drafts for other things I’m working on but I would let to create some you guys ideas!

#Jenna Ortega #Top shelf #jenna ortega fanfic #Jenna Ortega x reader #tara carpenter #scream 5 #scream 6 #wednesday Addams #Vada Cavell #jenna ortega x you #Lorraine day #x #the fallout #Jenna Ortega imagine

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toko-tuesday · 1 year ago

Text

Don't Forget Your Keys (Diluc x Reader)

For definitely not the first, but probably not the last time, the Darknight Hero had overestimated himself. After yet another encounter with the Abyss Order, Diluc found himself dragging his feet through the streets of Mondstadt in the middle of the night. He winced as he covered the bleeding wound on his side with his gloved hand. Despite the pain, Diluc continues on, making his way towards Monstadt’s gate. He’s praying to every Archon above that he doesn’t get spotted.

But eventually, he feels too weak to continue on.

“I won’t make it to Dawn Winery in this condition,” he thinks to himself, leaning his back against a wall as his chest heaves.

His break is short lived as he hears the sound of what would possibly be the eighth Pyro Abyss Mage he’s seen tonight. He swears quietly as he begins to walk again, hoping the monster hadn’t seen him already.

His breath hitches as he remembers something. Your house was nearby. In fact, you had given Diluc your spare key just in case he needed it. He silently thanked the Archons for giving him such a caring and thoughtful partner before he made his way to your doorstep. He leaned against your door as he reached into his pocket to grab the keys you gave him. His blood instantly runs cold when they aren’t there.

He defeated sigh rolls off his lips. Your bedroom was on the top floor of the two story house, meaning he would have to knock loudly to get your attention. With the area still being compromised by the Abyss Order, he wouldn’t want to knock and risk being found by them in his weakened state. Plus, he would feel guilty about waking you. The pain from his battle wound courses through his veins like lighting as he thinks, causing him to groan.

He looks around for something, anything, that could get your attention without making too much noise. His gaze falls upon a nearby flowerpot. He sighs, rolling his eyes at the pathetically cliche idea that’s formed in his head. He quietly shuffles over to the flower pot, reaches into it, and pulls out a few small stones. He shamefully shakes his head to himself before looking up to the window of your bedroom.

One by one, he begins to weakly throw the stones. They each bounce off your window with a rhythmic “wa-pap!” sound. He pauses for a few seconds between each one, just in case you wake up and open the window. He begins to lose hope as the pain from his wound becomes more intense with every throw. He looks down at his hand, eyebrows furrowing as he realizes that he’s quickly made it to his last stone. Though he doesn’t believe in it, he kisses it for good luck before throwing it at your window… maybe a little too hard.

The sound of shattering glass jolts you awake. You’re practically panting from fear as you sit up in your bed. You turn your head to identify where the rude awakening came from, only to see your bedroom window has been broken. You light the lantern on your bedside table, and begin to investigate. You make your way over to the window, careful to avoid stepping on any of the glass shards or the small stone lying amongst them.

You cautiously look out your broken window and see a familiar silhouette. You rub your eyes to make sure you aren’t dreaming, but doing this only makes your vision clearer. There, in the middle of the street, stands an embarrassed and extremely guilty looking Diluc.

“What the fuck, Diluc?” you whisper-yell, not wanting to wake up your still sleeping neighbors.

A string of apologies fall from your partner’s lips before he explains, “I forgot my keys, love. I was just trying to get your attention, but it… backfired.”

You sigh and roll your eyes as you make your way downstairs. You unlock your door and motion for Diluc to come in. He quickly enters your partially shared house, quickly shutting and locking the door behind him like he’s running from something. “Diluc?” you begin to ask, surprised by the redhead’s out of character behavior.

He doesn’t meet your concerned eyes, his chest rising and falling heavily as he leans his back against the door.

By now all the color has drained from his face. The bangs of his fiery red hair are stuck to forehead by the cold sweat streaming down his face. Your eyes trail down to his gloved hand which has been firmly planted against his side since you saw him. He winces as you gently intertwine your fingers with his, slowly pulling his hand away so you can see what’s wrong. You gasp upon seeing the long, heavily bleeding gash on his side.

“Archons above,” you whisper as you look up from Diluc’s wound to meet his eyes.

Thankfully, you look up just in time to see Diluc’s eyes flutter shut. You brace yourself as his body becomes limp and falls towards you. You use every ounce of your strength to keep him from colliding with the floor. You begin to slowly guide him to the living room couch.

“‘Mmmsorry…” he mumbles as he slowly starts to regain consciousness.

He groans as you help him sit down.

“Stay here. Don’t move a muscle,” you say, before making your way to the kitchen.

“Couldn’t if I wanted to,” he replies quietly, his half lidded eyes following you.

From your cabinet, you pull out a small box of medical supplies, along with a white cloth. You set the supplies down on your living room table before returning to your kitchen. You then grab the loaf of bread you made earlier, cutting off a slice for your wounded partner. You bring it to him with a glass of water.

You sit down beside him on the couch, bringing the glass to his lips. His head falls back as you help him drink the water. After a few sips, you move the glass away as a drop of water rolls from Diluc's lips. You gently wipe it away with your thumb. You sigh with concern at how weak he's become.

"Let's get these off of you," you say, tugging at his heavy leather jacket.

You're pretty much puppeteering the crimson eyed man as you stand in front of him, helping him out of his blood soaked gloves, jacket, plethora of belts, and his disheveled white vest that was now stained red in some spots. He reaches his weak, trembling hands up to his neck to undo his tie. You gently push them down into his lap, sighing as you remove the fabric for him.

Now for the most emotionally taxing part. You slowly undo the buttons of his torn undershirt, silently praying that Diluc’s wounds wouldn’t be as bad as they seemed once you could see them better. Your prayers unfortunately fall deaf upon the Archons’ ears as Diluc’s shirt rolls off his shoulders. Apart from the bleeding wound, his whole torso was littered with fresh bruises and cuts. Your hand flies to your mouth at the sight.

“Diluc…” you say, barely above a whisper, “Honey, what happened?”

He turns his head to avoid looking into your worried eyes.

“Abyss Order,” he mumbles, causing another sigh to escape your lips.

You grab a small vial of medicine from your box of supplies. You pour a moderate amount of it on the white cloth before gently pressing it against Diluc’s wound. He hisses at the contact.

“So, is it safe to assume that the Darknight Hero got his ass handed to him tonight?” you ask as you carefully swipe the cloth over the gash.

Diluc “hmph!”s in response before saying, “Well, maybe someone has to get a little roughed up to keep this city safe from the horrors of the night.”

He winces again as you continue to clean his wound.

“This isn’t ‘a little’, Diluc,” you say, matter-of-factly.

With help from the medicine and applied pressure, the wound has stopped bleeding. Now that you can see it clearly, it isn’t awful. Still pretty bad, but not awful.

You give him the slice of bread you had cut for him. He quietly takes small bites out of it while you begin to tend to his smaller cuts and bruises, placing small drops of medicine and bandages over them. You then reach into your med box once more and pull out a roll of bandages. You position yourself so that you’re now straddling Diluc’s lap. You place his aching arms on your shoulders. They rest there as you start to wrap the bandage around his waist, covering his now medicated wound.

“You know,” you begin as you continue to doctor your partner, “It seems a little unfair that the safety of Mondstadt is on a single man’s shoulders when we already have guards and whatnot.”

For the first time tonight, Diluc turns to face you. He studies your face, taking in how focused you look while trying to secure the bandages around him.

“Mondstadt wouldn’t need me to protect it if the Knights of Favonius weren’t so damn incompetent,” he retaliates, his voice coated in annoyance.

You scoff at Diluc’s comment as you give the bandage wrap one last tug before securing it.

“Oh, so proving you’re better than the Knights is worth more than your own life?” you ask sarcastically, your eyebrows furrowing in frustration.

“Absolutely. Without a single doubt,” he sternly replies through gritted teeth.

You groan so loudly that it practically comes out as a scream. Before you know it, you’re off of Diluc’s lap and pacing around your living room, while he continues to sit on the couch with his arms crossed over his well bandaged torso.

“I just don’t understand it, Diluc,” you say, stopping in your tracks to face him, “I know you don't see eye-to-eye with the Knights of Favonius, but risking your life every night isn’t the way to go about this! Why do you insist on dancing with death for the sake of proving a point?”

You feel your face become hot with anger when your question is met with silence. You fight back tears as you watch Diluc continue to avoid your gaze by staring at the wall.

“You are so fucking stubborn. Would it be too much for you to just consider your own well-being for once?”

The tears that you’ve been fighting begin to make themselves known as they stream down your face.

“Because you aren’t being careful,” your words become broken as your sentences turn to sobs, “And I’m tired of being scared that you won’t be able to see tomorrow if you step out that door.”

You don’t know how you ended up there, but you find yourself kneeling on the floor, sobbing loudly into your hands. Before you can even process anything else, Diluc is on the floor with you, holding your trembling body against his chest.

“I’m sorry… I’m so so sorry,” he whispers over and over again, “I never intended to make you cry.”

His large, warm hands cup your face as he wipes away your tears with his thumbs. He places soft kisses on your forehead as he continues to apologize to you until you’ve calmed down.

“I… didn’t realize how much this was affecting you,” he says, quietly.

“Clearly not, asshole,” you mumble, but he still hears.

He lets out a soft chuckle at your brutally honest reply.

“Then, I’ll make you a promise. After tonight, the Darknight Hero will no longer make nightly appearances. You’ll only hear about him when the city needs him the most. And I’ll try to be more cautious. Okay?”

You tilt your head up upon hearing Diluc’s proposition. You scan his face for any hint of deception. His tired crimson eyes look back at you, filled with nothing but honesty. Nevertheless, you hold up your pinky, never once breaking eye contact with him.

“Are you serious?” he asks, laughing softly at your childish gesture.

You don’t say anything. You reply by raising your eyebrows and waving your pinky in a slow circle.

Diluc sighs, wrapping his pinky around yours before bringing your hand to his lips to place a soft, apologetic kiss on it.

Soon, waves of exhaustion crash into you, reminding you of how late it’s become.

“Let’s go to bed,” Diluc says as he pulls you into his lap.

He brings you as close as he possibly can to his chest before standing with you in his arms. His weak legs shake as he tries to gain his balance. “Don’t push yourself,” you say, gently placing a hand on your shoulder.

He replies with a soft kiss on your nose as he begins to make his way up the stairs to your, and sometimes his, bedroom.

Once in the room, he’s reminded of how he woke you up in the first place as he gently sets you down on the bed.

“I’ll make sure that gets fixed,” he says, referring to your shattered window.

“I sure hope so,” you reply with a yawn.

He carefully makes his way to the other side of the bed, trying to avoid stepping on any of the glass shards still on the floor. He kicks off his boots before getting underneath the duvet covers with you. You bury your face into his chest as one of his arms snakes around your waist, pulling you closer to him. The sound of his heartbeat and shallow breathing begin to slowly send you back to sleep.

But suddenly, you and Diluc hear a sound that makes both of your bodies tense up. It’s the familiar sound of a lone Abyss Mage still roaming the streets of Mondstadt.

“Shit,” Diluc whispers, recalling the monster he hid from moments before coming to your house.

He gives you a pleading look, knowing he won’t be able to sleep if he doesn’t take care of the problem now.

You sigh, giving Diluc an affirming nod. He gives you a small, thankful smile before he pulls you in for a kiss. He kisses you slowly and longingly, like he’s apologizing for having to leave again.

“Don’t forget your keys,” you mumble sleepily against his lips as he continues to kiss you.

He chuckles softly, thanking you for the reminder.

“I’ll be back before dawn. I promise,” he says as he slowly begins to shuffle out of bed.

He begins to rummage through your wardrobe, searching for some of the clean clothes he’s left behind. He settles on a white button up.

“What else do you promise?” you tease, as you watch him button up his shirt in the moonlight.

“I… promise I’ll be careful?”

“And?”

“And… I promise your window will be fixed first thing tomorrow morning.”

“Atta boy.”

You roll over on your side, snuggling into your warm pillows with a sleepy smile. Diluc hums softly as he makes his way back to you. He plants a gentle kiss on your cheek before saying, “I love you”. You hum back in response, already being pulled back into another dream. Diluc smiles as he makes his way back downstairs. This time he makes sure his keys are in his pocket before leaving the house. He’s going to need them if he genuinely intends to keep his promises to you.

#genshin impact oneshots #diluc ragnvindr #diluc x reader #genshin diluc #diluc x you #accepting commissions #genshin impact #one shot #a03 fic

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piratefishmama · 2 years ago

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For One Night Only | Part 2

Eddie remembered a lot about Steve Harrington, so to get this fresh new perspective on him… it was wild. He remembered a jock, the king of Hawkins High, the king of Hawkins in general, women wanted him, men wanted to be him, or in some cases men also wanted him. Rich, popular, kind of a jackass at times but never mean enough to warrant dislike. Would have never associated with Eddie’s kind, but yet there he was, comfortable on Eddie’s hotel bed, one long leg crossed over the other as they moved on from pleasantries to business.

Steve wasn’t there as a social call, no matter how fun it might have been to catch up. He had a job to do, and Steve was good at his job.

“Alright, considering our history, or what little of it we have, it might be a good idea to use it if asked on the carpet how we met, I can spin a story about us being secret high school sweethearts who recently reconnected as friends if you want, really big you up to the paps.”

“As lovely as that idea is since high school me would have been thrilled to have been your secret sweetheart” Steve grinned “shut up, I was a nerd with a crush leave me alone” the snigger that followed only made Eddie smile, it wasn’t a hurtful laugh, and Steve’s smile was just to radiant to be mad at. “I said shut up!”

“Shutting up” the smile stayed though as he mimed zipping his lips. Adorable bastard.

“Anyway, as lovely as that idea is, too many people knew us in high school, if the press got word that it was a lie from one of our mutual past acquaintances, eh it’s a hornets nest I don’t wanna poke. Too many what ifs, but we could say that we went to school together, it’s true, we could say that we reconnected recently and… y’know, hit it off…”

“We are hitting it off.” Steve mused, tapping his finger to his chin in thought. “I like it, easy, close to the truth, very little room for mistakes. So I’m to be your date, not just a friend joining you for the evening?” That was what the invite had requested but… Steve was clearly amusing himself by making Eddie squirm a little.

“Mmmhm, yep. Steve Harrington, my date, Can time travel just exist already?”

“Haha, why?”

“Teenage me could do with a visit right this second to tell him Steve Harrington is gonna be our date someday.”

Steve covered his mouth as he laughed so sweetly, the picture of perfection as always. His nose scrunching just a little as he laughed. “Were you always this cute, Eddie?”

“Mmhm, once upon a time, I was even cuter, I swear.”

“I’ll believe you.”

“You shouldn’t.”

“I know, thousands wouldn’t, but I’ve always been a sucker for cute brunettes with big ol Bambi eyes, can't help but believe everything they say.” Eddie hadn’t felt his cheeks warm in years and yet there he was, hiding behind his hair, his complexion turning as red as a fire hydrant, stupid pale skin.

Speaking of brunettes, and incredibly convenient subject changes for the safety of his own composure. “Wait, YOU’RE who Nancy knows!”

“You know Nance?”

“She’s our manager now, man, gets us all the best shit! I met her in a bar after she totally blew off the journalism thing, something about sexist work environments and bosses who wouldn’t know a real story if it slapped them directly in the face. They kept giving her fluff pieces.” Nancy Wheeler, a fluff writer, the audacity of anyone who ever made that assumption. “Now she’s the most badass manager in metal history. I swear to god she’s made many a producer pale in fear at the very mention of her name.” She read all the fine print, with a goddamn magnifying glass. She’d made a grown men cry multiple times, it was badass. “She’s the coolest.”

Steve’s smile was so fond Eddie could have swooned just having it aimed at him, even if the fondness wasn’t for him, it was beautiful enough for it to be swooned over anyway. “She is, cool. I’m glad she found her people.” Even if they no doubt made a funny looking group, little not so primp and proper Nancy Wheeler among a bunch of metalheads. It fitted, in a strange kind of way, she’d always wrangled Mike easy enough.

“How did you uhm… y’know… it’s probably none of my business and I keep changing subjects so stop me if I keep jumping around I’m still a little flabbergast from seeing you at my door but uh… how’d you—y’know… what’s this uh… the whole thing like?” Steve tilted his head like a confused puppy and Eddie just kind of wanted to melt into the floor. “The escort thing.” He added on, for clarification.

“Oh, uhm. Chrissy? Chrissy Cunningham, cheer captain of ’86?”

“I know her, she and Gareth have this—”

“Thing! Yes, she talks about him regularly with Robin.” Robin? He doesn’t think to ask, Steve and Robin, Robin… who would be associated with Steve a Robin whom Steve would just mention as if expecting him to know. He only knew one Robin from those days, and he didn’t even really know her.

Just kind of… existed near her in band for a few months until his style of music pissed the teacher off enough to kick him out. Couldn’t be that Robin, right? Not important.

“Oh my god don’t tell me that and expect me to keep it a secret that’s brutal of you.”

“God, tell him, please, I didn't even know who he was but she keeps talking about him and waiting for him to ask her out. Eventually she’s just going to pin him against something and kiss him so—”

“Tell her to do that but god wait until I have a camera please!” Eddie Munson was not against begging, his grin wide and eyes shimmering with gleeful mischief. “It’s reciprocated, totally and completely one hundred percent reciprocated, he is so gone on that girl, it’s adorable.”

“I will let her know, at least now I know he's one of yours and a good guy." Gareth was the best guy in Eddie's opinion, like a brother to him, not that the others werent too, but... Gareth had known he was gay since Hawkins High. Just him and Uncle Wayne in the know, and he'd always been there to support him, Gareth was good. "Anyway… we ran into each other in this café that I’d gotten a part time gig at in Indy, she looked good, healthy…” he didn’t need to say that Chrissy had had a problem. But she had, and that problem began with ‘M’ and ended with ‘other,’ hers to be specific. “She was already doing it, loving it, I was dubious, asked if she was okay, if she needed help, but no she was loving it, thriving actually, and well… I like making people feel good, both emotionally and physically” oof that was a tone that went straight to a place it shouldn’t do “why do it for free, y’know? She got me set up and the rest is history.” He enjoyed himself.

He loved his job, his love language had always been acts of service, he liked making people feel good, liked making them feel wanted, feel loved, feel seen and heard. Eddie couldn’t help himself “ever do anything… y’know…?” He really wished he could help himself sometimes.

“Sex related?” The red in his cheeks only deepened, Steve didn’t seem offended, or upset, in fact his smile only warmed, eyes crinkling at the corners, gods above and below he was beautiful, how did anyone survive after a night with him, having to let him go? “Sure, like I said, if I’m good at something, why do it for free?”

“Even with…” Eddie motioned to himself

“You?”

“N-No! No, Men—wait sorry—that’s—that’s none of my business” he turned away to move, to pace, so much energy in his body suddenly there with nowhere to go “none of this is any of my business, I don’t usually ask these kinds of—I mean it’s really wrong of me to even ask this sort of—" Steve was just there so fast, hands on Eddie’s biceps, holding him in place, Eddie hoped he couldn’t feel him almost vibrating out of his skin.

“It’s okay, Bambi” Eddie’s eyes snapped up to meet Steve’s, his wide and unblinking, like a deer in headlights in the face of Steve’s so warm and understanding, Bambi really did suit him, Steve thought, his left hand lifting to rest on Eddie’s cheek as if to ground him, it worked. God it worked. “Ask all the questions you like, but maybe save some for later, we don’t have long before we have to go.”

“…Later you’ll be leaving though...” he didn’t want Steve to leave. He didn’t want his next time seeing Steve to be part of a lottery, would he come next time? Would someone else who Eddie didn’t recognise appear in his place?

“We’re hitting it off, remember? I’m sure there’s going to be an afterparty we can both be caught sneaking away from to hang out, right?” Eddie kind of felt like he was flying. He felt like a teenager again, a nerdy, virginial teenager. He refused to acknowledge that little goblin voice telling him that Steve was actually probably just doing his goddamn job, he was on the clock dammit. He just wanted to have this. “You can ask me questions then, I promise I’ll stay.” He didn’t have anywhere else he needed to be.

“…Yeah… if that’s okay with you.”

“More than. Now how about you introduce me to the rest of Corroded Coffin, we all need to be on the same page before we get there.” Work now, catch up later. “Sooner we get this over with, the sooner we can ditch the after party to hang out.” Eddie giggled, an honest to gods little giggle. He really did feel like a teenager again, only Steve was looking at him. Holding him. Grounding him. Steve Harrington was seeing him.

Teenager Eddie would have shit a brick.

“Alright, I’m warning you though, I think you let Tommy H. stuff Jeff into a locker once so don’t expect a warm welcome.” Steve grimaced a little but nodded. He was a different person now, but that wouldn’t erase the mistakes he’d made as a stupid teenager. Plenty of bridges to rebuild and apologies to give. Jeff wouldn’t be the first or the last.

“Bring it on, Bambi.” Eddie could only hide behind his hair again, bashful and flustered.

Part 4

#For One Night Only #PirateWrites #Steddie #ficlet #Stranger Things #no upside down au #Escort!Steve #Rockstar!Eddie

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gretavanmoon · 3 months ago

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an omnipresent force• ch 2

Chapter 2- DARK ENIGMA

Jake x reader (we'll get there... I promise)

Words: 12.4k

A/N: Semi-AU// Set six years in the future, the world has decided to cast humankind aside, starting with the poisonous entities that are destroying her the most.

Warnings: Dystopian Horror Cursing, Smoking, Mention of Drugs, Feelings of Fear and Uncertainty, An Apocalyptic World, Hunting, Violence (mention of firearms), Kidnapping, Wounds and Pain, Blood, Death & Dying, Burials, Lying, Deceit, Sadness, Panic Attacks, Use of Restraints, Mentions of Sex

Cheatham County, Tennessee

Five days later

Y/N

The old wood of the rocking chair squeaks beneath me as I gently move my body back and forth, snuggling into my thick afghan wrapped around my body. There is a light dusting of snow on the ground, and I’d spent the majority of the evening out here on the porch, taking in the scene of my grandparents’ farmland before me. The lead in the pencil I’ve been writing with all evening is starting to dull, but I press a little harder to get the last few sentences written down into my journal.

December 29, 2030

Day five back at Pap and Gran’s farm. We didn’t do much today except peel some potatoes and boil chicken for broth. Gran’s state has deteriorated since we made it back here. Paps and I truly thought that maybe bringing her back to her home would make her feel better, but she’s only gotten worse. Part of me thinks that she might have just wanted to find her peace here, in her own home, in her own surroundings before she decides it’s okay to let go. Awful of me to think that, isn’t it?

I miss my Mom. And I miss my dad, and I really, really miss my brother. Having nearly no time to mourn them has truly put me in a weird headspace, I don’t know how I’m making it day to day. Sometimes I think back to that fear I felt when I first realized I had to get the hell out of my house when I found the faultline in my foundation, that feeling that it could all come crashing down on me at any second, burying me in walls and furniture and drywall to the point I can’t breathe… That’s what this feels like. Like I’m standing in my basement again, just waiting for the whole thing to crush me.

The only thing that is keeping me going is Paps and Gran. And the fact that if I stop, then they stop. And Gran is already slowing to a crawl.

I pull out my pocket knife from my pants, opening the blade and sharpening the graphite in my pencil a bit before licking the tip, and getting back to work.

I’ve lost nearly 16 pounds, and my hair feels so thin. I can feel my muscles starting to wear out, and the joints of my bones are beginning to ache. Lack of nourishment, I guess. But I don’t let it stop me, and neither does Paps. We are still getting up at the crack of dawn every single morning to look for roaming wildlife to catch. Thankfully we were able to get our hands on six chickens, a rooster, a goat, and the neighbor’s old Blue Heeler, Hank. Hank sits by my Gran’s side day in and day out… I think he remembers that she used to throw him scraps out into the front yard.

The strangest thing happened to me yesterday, and I feel embarrassed to even admit it in this stupid journal.

For the first time in months, I got the overwhelming urge to want to fuck.

I wish I could write that in invisible ink like we used to do in text messages, yikes. But, I guess I have to realize that I am still a living, breathing woman who still goes through her monthly cycles, and still possesses the urges associated with it all. God, I fucking laughed out loud at myself. I haven’t seen another man close to my own age since we left Nashville and I saw a group of young people throwing a cinder block through the front glass of a coffee shop. For fucks sake I’m so embarrassed.

But I actually even dreamed about it last night. Real, true, romping sex in some strange place… it was so real that I woke up in a cold sweat with my heartbeat between my legs. Shit. I don’t even know who it was with, but that part didn’t matter. I used to love those pointless, carnal dreams that made you blush in your sleep. But damn, now? That’s as close as I’m probably ever gonna get.

I had to spend the rest of the day fighting the flashbacks while spending time with my literal grandparents. Ignoring the fact that I used to daydream about it, then make a phone call to whoever, and make it happen. It used to be so easy. Shit, I miss random hookups. Fucking hell.

Now I’m spending my days collecting freshly laid eggs before a pack of wild dogs come and kill my chickens. Goddamnit.

ANYWAYS.

Tomorrow is my 33rd birthday. And I don’t even care. It feels silly to even think that even though the world is pushing me off the literal land I stand on, I still have to age. I still have to deal with being a human. And mourn the loss of my family. What the fuck. Just lost the last of my immediate kin, I’m digging up last season’s potatoes from the ground and nursing my sweet Gran as she lies in her bed in pain, and I’m having sex dreams. Really, really fucking good sex dreams. If I could roll my eyes with paper and pencil, I’d be doing it right now. The human experience is so fuc

My thought process is stopped when I hear the sound of something I haven’t heard in literal days. Weeks? I don’t know… But I hear it, the faint sound of a tune and a melody coming through an old, staticy speaker. I close my pencil into my journal and stand, realizing I’d been sitting outside for a while now as the stars had become bright and the moon sat high in the sky.

My brow furrows as I listen harder. It’s Billie Holiday. I push the front door open and enter the warm house, firstly noticing the crackling fire that Paps had kept burning all day. I then saw him standing in the dimly lit corner, fiddling around with his old vinyl records and adjusting the volume of the music. The wall behind him is stuffed full of records, floor to ceiling and two shelves wide… all full of the music he filled mine and James’ lives with since the time we could walk. He’d been collecting his entire life. Truly, I owe my love of music to him.

“Paps…” I say softly as I enter the living room.

“Hey youngin’, sorry if I disturbed ya…” he said, puffing some pipe tobacco smoke up into the air. I used to tell him he needed to quit, but now… what’s the use?

“You didn’t, Paps.”

“I sorta… forgot that music exists,” he chuckled, opening the cover of a Bill Monroe album and inspecting the inside.

I place my hand on his back, giving him a few pats as I lay my head against his shoulder, watching the record spin on his antique hand-crank phonograph. “I kinda did too, actually,” I reply, admitting it to myself. “What made you pick Lady Day?”

He shrugs. “Not sure. Always loved her voice, hated it when she passed. She left one hell of a legacy, though, huh? Your Gran sure loved her, that’s for sure,” he mumbles on, looking back to the daybed we had set up for Gran in the living room so she could be closer to the heat of the fireplace.

“Love her, Don. Not loved. I ain’t dead yet,” we both hear Gran stir from under her blankets. The both of us erupted in a fit of laughter at her unbridled and filterless sense of humor.

“Hell’s fire, Jane. Didn’t think you’d be able to hear us,” my Paps laughs as he places the cover back down on the table and goes to join her at her side. I follow behind. “Did we wake you?”

“You did, but that’s okay. No better way to be woken up from a dreamless sleep than by some pretty music,” she says, propping herself up on her pillows. She still has so much strength, and though she’s weakening by the day, I’m still astounded by her ability to get up and even walk herself to the restroom. “And!” she boasts with her crooked finger in the air. “No way I wanted to miss my favorite granddaughter’s birthday when the clock strikes twelve,” she adds with a reassuring nod.

“Gran, you don’t need to stay up this late! It’s almost midnight now, go back to sleep,” I push her, not wanting to miss one second of any rest she can get, while also wishing that she and Paps could sit up and reminisce with me until the sun comes up. I’d give anything to have just one more hour with my parents and James.

“Oh, child, I’m fine!” she pushes my hands away, pulling herself back up. “You’ve gained another year. This day and age, that means something, you know?” Her voice is weak, but she still sounds like herself, her southern drawl coming out to play as she tries to fluff the pillows behind her.

I nod in understanding. “If you say you want to stay up, we’ll stay up!”

There really isn’t such a thing as a true bedtime, anymore. I’m up at strange hours of the night, take many naps throughout the day… time doesn’t matter, aside from the rooster reminding us of when the sun is about to come up every morning.

But we still set the clock, and we’ll change the batteries. The Grandfather clock against the back wall reminds us of each hour, every day. And how lucky we still are to have each and every one, no matter how long they drag us on.

Gran taps her fingers along to ‘Love Me or Leave Me’ as Paps sings quietly along, and I place a few new logs onto the fire to keep it burning. The smell of this house has always stuck out to me– matured wood, the scent of the barn wafting through the cracked windows, the Murphy’s Oil Soap that Paps was always obsessed with cleaning the floors with… it’s all still stuck here, unmoving in time. Just like the photos on the walls, the dinnerware filling the shelves, and the wall that’s covered in pencil markings and dates, marking mine, James’, and my father’s height growth over the years.

It’s all still here, exactly where they left it. Exactly where they carved things into the load-bearing beam that runs the span of the house. The wearing in the wood of the floor where Gran stood for fifty some odd years in front of the stove cooking meals. The screen door that hangs haphazardly on the front door, the screen ripped and aging as it served its purpose keeping the flies out of the house for however many summers.

A time capsule. And by god, were the three of us overjoyed when we pulled up and found it not sitting at the bottom of a sinkhole.

“Have you got any Sinatra?” my Gran asks, pulling me from my deep-thought trance as the Billie record spins now, without any sound.

“Of course, sweetheart,” Paps agrees as he stands to replace the record, knowing that he’d give my Gran anything she could ever ask for, just like he always had.

He makes his way back over to his setup and finds exactly what he’s looking for, switching the vinyl out and putting the needle back down. Gran tilts her head back onto her pillows as she hears Frank’s voice come over the crackly violin sounds.

“Ol’ Blue Eyes,” she mutters before sitting back up and grabbing at my hands. “You know, Y/N, I didn’t always love music, it was your grandfather’s doin’ that got me to fall in love with it.” Much like he did for me, actually. “Of course I’d go to the dances at the school and I knew a few songs here and there, but it was when I met him that I truly found my love and appreciation for it.”

“He’s had that effect on us both, then, hasn’t he!” I jest, smiling and squeezing at her frail hands. We both glance at him still standing by his collection, eyeing the spines of the covers and pulling them out to look over. I truly did owe a lot to him, he taught me more about artists than I could have ever taught myself. Older ones, especially. He knew the stories that were never recorded in interviews and tabloids. He knew, because he kept them all in the back of his mind as if they were his own family stories.

“That man got me to follow the Dead around for nearly six months before I told him he’d better get me back to Tennessee so I could have me a garden,” she went on, making my face warm with a grin. I’d heard the story a hundred times before, but I’d sit and listen to it a hundred times more, if time would let me.

“Oh, shoot, Jane. We had a good time,” Paps interrupted, scowling at her as he puffed his pipe.

“Didn’t say we didn’t, Don!” she pokes back, and I can tell they’re about to get into one of their little playful spats. “Your grandfather and I tried LSD for the very first time while we sat in a drum circle after a Dead show in Kansas City,” she said, her eyes wide as she still held my hands.

Now that, they’ve never shared before.

“Gran!” I exclaim, truly surprised.

“Now Jane!” Paps barks from his place.

“What?!” she replies, shrugging her bony shoulders. “It was a damned good time and I can honestly say I came back a changed woman. Nothing wrong with that, now is there? I’ve lived one hell of a life…” she trails off, earning a scoff from Paps as he waves her off. “There should be nothing stopping you from still living your life, Y/N. Do you hear me? The Earth might swallow us up, but that doesn’t mean you can’t keep running, keep on living, you understand, child?” she asks, moving her cold hands to cup my cheeks.

“‘Course I do, Gran. I promise,” I relent, and I envy her ability to speak to me with this regard, knowing that the end of her life is near.

“Good,” she pats the side of my face. “Don, how about a little acoustic for a dying old woman?”

Paps drops his shoulders. “Now Jane, do ya have to keep talkin’ that mess, or am I gonna have to make you?” he teases.

I laugh and stand to go into the kitchen as Paps makes his way over to the corner, plucking his old acoustic from its place. I re-wet Gran’s cloth in the icy water, wringing out the dripping water and returning to place it back over her chest.

Paps sits beside us on the daybed, the smoke rising from his pipe as he plucks at his strings, his feeble but strong hands re-tuning them to where it sounds best. My grandfather is, and was, a very handsome man. Strong and built like an ox. I can see why Gran followed him around chasing after the Dead for six months.

Finally he strums a perfect chord, raising his eyebrows at Gran as she smiles back at him. “Guess it’s a good thing I never got my hands on an electric, hm?” he says as he bites the end of his pipe.

Neither Paps or I have shown any signs of the rash, at all. No where. And neither of us could fathom why.

The two of us sit and listen to Paps play a plethora of familiar tunes, his fingers still agile enough to float over the strings and play little snippets of all of Gran’s favorites. I can feel Gran’s body relax as she listens to him, her mind probably floating through a million memories of watching him play over the years. He hums along a little as his eyes close on their own, listening to himself play. I swear I could sit here for days.

After a few minutes, his fingers contort and play a little more harshly, strumming out a tune that hits a nerve buried so deep within me, I almost cry right there on the spot. His very own rendition of one of my favorite songs in the world, You’re the One.

“Paps…” I murmur, almost whining.

“Hush, child, let me see if I can still pull through these chords,” he shushes me. And he does. I want to scorn him for bringing up the music that was made by my favorite band in the entire world. But then again, in later months, Greta had become one of his favorite bands, too.

“Babe, ain’t no denyin’, that I got you in my head…” he sings to Gran, making her cover her face with her hands. He plays through about half of the song before he stumbles over a note or two, and decides his hands have gotten too tired.

“How dare you, Paps. You know that struck a nerve…” I say, scowling at him.

“Oh, quiet, now. You used to walk around the house singing their songs for days on end. Watch those silly videos of them, hell. How many shows did you go to?” he asks, truly schooling me on my own obsession with that band.

“Twenty-three,” I mutter under my breath.

“How many?”

“Twenty-three! Okay?” I play along with him, the both of us knowing that he attended the last five of them with me.

We’d traveled over to Kentucky for his first time seeing them live after I’d shown him a few of their songs. He was hooked after his first play of From the Fires, ripping the album cover from my hands to read along with the lyrics. After that we moved on to Anthem of the Peaceful Army, Garden’s Gate and so on, each play enrapturing my grandfather even more than the last.

“These kids have some damned promise, that’s for sure. This is a sound I haven’t heard in ages… and their talent? Boy…” he’d said. I still remember the day I surprised him with tickets to his first show, watching him fall in just as much love with them as I was. Swaying along to their classics, singing along with the lyrics he’d learned to love. He learned their names, he learned their personalities a little. He even met a few of the friends I’d made along the way, flirting with them as we’d all stand in line before a show.

It was Paps and Gran’s travels with the Grateful Dead that inspired me to follow Greta Van Fleet around on their tours. Not for six months straight, as I had to hold down my job, but nonetheless. Twenty-three shows I went to over the course of nine years. Strange Horizons all the way up to their last tour before the world shut down. I had tickets and plans to meet up with my group of friends for a show after Greta had gotten back from Greece, but, of course that never happened.

Paps grew to love them just as much as I loved them. Love them. For so many years, they were my escape. My solid rock to land on as the headaches of daily life surrounded me. I made lifelong friends through them. Traveled to other countries to see them, with my friends by my side. I watched them grow into men, as I had grown into a woman right alongside them. Watched them evolve, grow, and retreat into silence before exploding back onto the scene with something brand new and fresh, roping me right back into their world. Obsessing over every little detail they fed us. Digging deeply into the meanings of songs, and discussing all the lore with my cohorts on social media. I can account many of my life’s milestones to at least one song of theirs.

Now, when I find the world more quiet than it ever has been in my lifetime, I find myself reminiscing on those times, some of the best times of my life with that band, and my friends that felt more like family. I catch myself humming their songs, just trying to keep myself centered and rooted to the earth as it literally is falling apart beneath my feet. Greta was always my solid foundation, and even during the End of Days, they hold true to that assignment.

The grandfather clock finally decides to strike midnight, signaling my 33rd birthday.

“I’m sorry we can’t celebrate like we normally would, sweetheart,” Paps says as he continues lightly strumming.

“It’s okay, Paps. Just having the two of you still here with me is celebration, enough.” And I truly mean that. I watch as Gran’s sullen eyes fill with tears as she watches the two of us, and I know I’d give anything to keep the two of them alive as long as I possibly could. But her rash is worsening by the day, and Paps and I can tell that though she puts on a tough exterior, she’s suffering inside.

Gran had fallen back asleep peacefully to the sound of Paps’ acoustic, and we covered her up and threw another few logs onto the fire to last us a few more hours, at least. Paps kisses my forehead after he places his guitar back on its stand in the corner, wishing me a happy birthday as we both retreat to our beds.

+++

The next morning, I wake to myself shivering; Paps and I both must have slept through the night without waking up to tend to the fire. I stretch my muscles and rub my eyes, but I’m instantly startled by the sound of someone coughing. I throw on my robe and slippers and rush to the living room, finding Gran sitting up in her bed, coughing terribly. Paps and I are by her side in seconds, asking her what she might need to get through the fit, but she just shakes her head.

Her skin is cold and gray, and it looks as though her muscles are shaking uncontrollably. She’s almost completely covered in the rash, now.

“Do you want to get in the tub, Jane? Do you need to get in the water?” Paps begs of her, kneeling by the bedside.

She shakes her head more. “No,” she chokes out. Her throat sounds scratchy and dry and we offer her water, but that, too, she rejects. Finally her coughing subsides and she relaxes back, and Paps and I share a knowing look. A look that we’ve both shared three times, when everyone else finally succumbed to the rash.

This is so fucking unfair. Why don’t I have the rash?! Why can’t I take this pain away from her? Why am I not suffering, too?!

“I’m ok Don. I’m ok,” she mutters, her voice barely her own.

We both sit there with her for hours, until the sun is noting midday. We hold her hands, caress her face, talk to her, tell her stories… anything to get her to pass with as much comfort as we can. She coughs, still, but each time she begs us to carry on with talking to her. I watch as my grandfather finally sheds a tear, wiping it free from his face as he sniffles through it.

“Don’t you dare cry for me, Don,” Gran says. “We’ve had a beautiful life together. Beautiful… family,” she struggles to breathe. My chest feels heavy, too, with the overwhelming amount of sorrow it’s holding. I want to throw my fist into the wall, curse everything that has ever lived. I feel a rage building up in my stomach, one that is beginning to burn with so much fury that when it finally awakens, I’m not sure I’ll be able to contain it.

“I love you, I love you both…”

And with one small exhale, she ceases to breathe any more.

We both allow ourselves time to weep at her bedside for a minute or two before I finally stand and open the windows, uncaring of how it will chill the house. I wanted to let her soul be free.

+++

It took me about three hours to dig my grandmother’s grave, as the ground was hard from the cold and one shovel can only dig so fast. Hank the heeler was by my side the whole time, sitting and watching guard as I threw the shovels of dirt into a neat pile. I insisted Paps let me do it alone, and he spend a little bit of time with her to say his goodbyes.

It was cathartic, really, putting my body through physical grunt work as I let the tears fall freely. I wept for her, for the rest of my family, for the heartbreak of my grandfather. But mostly, I cried for myself. I shouldn’t have, it felt selfish to, but I had hardly allowed myself any time to feel sorry for me. Fuck, a person can only take so much. My heart was already broken into a thousand pieces, but the numbness of the past few months had shielded my ability to listen to myself. My body somehow must have felt the need to get it out, so that I could put a brave face on for Paps. He’d need me to. So, as a rare bit of bright sunlight came down and scorched my arms, breaking through the freezing cold wind, I allowed myself to cry again.

It’s almost sunset, now, and Paps had wrapped Gran up in a few white sheets, topped with a pretty lace tablecloth that she had woven many years ago. It used to cover the dining room table, but it did seem fitting for it to be with her, now.

I give Paps a sweet smile as I make my way into their bedroom, sitting on her old chest as I open the top drawer of her armoire. There, arranged still so neatly, was all of her expensive jewelry that she hardly ever wore. Gold bracelets, diamond rings, emerald-encrusted pieces… all if it is so precious, so valuable, and so completely worthless.

I take a second to collect it all up and slip it into a canvas drawstring bag, making sure first to keep just one piece out for myself. She’d have wanted me to, I’m positive of it.

A sterling silver ring topped with the prettiest piece of deep blue turquoise. Her grandmother had given it to her many years ago, and she only ever wore it to special occasions, but it fits perfectly on my middle finger. And if I wanted something to remember my grandmother by, it would most definitely be this.

I go back into the living room and gently grab my grandmother’s cold, bruised hands, replacing each piece of precious jewelry onto her fingers and wrists wherever I can fit them, stacking them one on top of the other.

“Should we add her books, Paps?” I manage to ask.

He shakes his head solemnly. “No, might be best to keep things like that above ground…”

Paps and I make our way out to the barn as dusk falls, and I light the few candles he has placed around on the shelves and tables. It’s dilapidated but in a good way; the walls and ceiling showing wear of many, many years of hard work. I watch as Paps grabs up one of the candles and walks to a swing door I’d never really noticed before, using some force to pull it open and propping it with a cut of a two-by-four. My eyes take a second to adjust to the darkness as he walks further inside the room, illuminating the space. There in the center of the small room is a pine box casket.

“Paps, what in the world? When did you…?” I breathe, walking closer to it. I notice that it has my grandmother’s name carved right in the top, the letters painted in black.

“About fifteen years ago, I’d say. Jane and I always said we wanted to be buried right here on the farm, when our times came. Guess we never told you kids about that. Your parents knew, a’course, but we never dreamed they’d go before us…”

Paps pulls his blue handkerchief from his back pocket and wipes his nose, his eyes still dripping with remnant tears.

“It looks really good, Paps. You did a great job,” I commend him, but he pays no mind. Instead he blows across it, relieving some of the old sawdust from its home on the lid. He pulls the top open and inspects it again, pulling a few pieces of straw from the inside.

“Help me get it over to the site?” he asks, and I realize I’d never even asked him where he wanted me to dig the grave. I just picked the prettiest place that I could. Something tells me he would have picked the same place, too. “Under the willow?” he asks.

Great minds.

“Under the willow.”

We lower the casket onto the wheelbarrow and roll it across the back yard and along the fenceline, right beside the weeping willow tree. It was Gran’s favorite place to come and lie in the grass with a book. Hank walks alongside us, his snout on guard for any wild packs that may be a threat to us.

Together, we lower the pine box into the hole I’d dug, making sure it was level at the bottom. “Want me to go get her?” I ask.

“I’ll get her,” he responds as he takes off back toward the house. The wind is whipping my hair across my face, now, as the stars are beginning to show themselves, and I can’t stop myself from crying again. This shouldn’t be happening. I shouldn’t be standing beside a grave I just dug, with a casket my grandfather built, watching his back walk across the tall grass to retrieve the body of the love of his life. This shouldn’t. Fucking. Be. Happening.

In the moonlight, I finally see the figure of him coming back through the shadows with her in his arms. I silently thank the heavens above that he is a strong man, still yet, with more brute strength than any man his age should have. Just like James.

I help him lower her inside, but not before the both of us place kisses on either of her cheeks. I work to cover her back up with dirt as he stands behind, Hank begging his hand for a pet.

“You wanna say a few words?” I ask him as I throw the last shovelful of dirt on top, wiping a hand across my cold-sweat forehead.

He takes a quick, chopped breath. “Sixty-two years wasn’t nearly enough with you, sweetheart. Won’t ever be enough. Thank you for every single laugh, every single tear, every single argument and happy moment. Thank you for our beautiful children, and grandchildren, and thank you for filling my heart with more joy than any man should have the privilege of havin’. You sure made my life worth livin’. Give ‘em hell up there in heaven, Janie. I know ya will. I love ya to the moon.” He sniffles again as he gives in to Hank’s requests, finally leaning down and wrapping a strong arm around the dog. I sidestep and wrap my arm around him, too, and we stand there in the wind until we can’t stand any more.

JAKE

“RRRUHHHHH!” I growl loudly as I wake up from unconsciousness in a full-on panic. My eyes are shifty and dry as I work to sit myself up quickly, my hands still bound at my back. The tape is gone from my mouth now, though.

It’s dark, and it's cold, but I’m indoors. I just can’t fucking see a god damned thing.

“Hey! Help!! Can anyone hear me?!” I yell, my voice echoing hard off the walls that surround me. My voice feels dry and knotted in my throat as I try to swallow what little moisture I have in my mouth. When I get no response, I crack my neck sideways as pain sets in over my body, and not just from my arms being bound. I feel as though my legs have been hit with something hard, and my back feels like it’s bruised and sore. What the fuck? What the fuck!

“Heyyyyy! Somebody come and fucking talk to me! What do you want?!” I yell again, my heart rate flying as reality sets in that I’ve been kidnapped from the cabin. Alone.

The last thing I remember is being alone in the back of that truck, rolling around as whoever was driving had little care for it’s cargo in the back. Maybe that’s why I feel bruised and beaten. Or maybe it’s not.

Yes, alone. In the truck… six intruders… weapons… it’s all coming back now, in little spurts of memory. Where is everyone else? Where is my family? When was I brought in here? I feel bile rising in my throat as I feel a panic attack setting in, and I grind my hands against one another so as to try and free them from their ties. But it’s no use, of course. It only digs them into my skin more.

I sit in silence listening to only the sounds of my uneven breathing, trying to calm myself and make a plan of action. No time to fall into fear, Jake.

I maneuver my body around to get to the walls, standing on my sore legs to turn and let my hands run along them. There’s nothing there– no windows, no chairs or furniture. Just a box. I diligently run my hands along every one. Four walls. With nothing. Nothing but–

A door.

I turn my body to try and find a doorknob or whatever to open it, and when my hand finally grasps the spherical knob, I realize that the mother fucker is locked. Of course. I turn and slam my shoulder into it a few times to see if I can pry it, but it’s no use. “Hey! You son of a bitch! Let me out of here!” I yell again, getting mad, now.

“Quiet, Jacob,” a voice I do not recognize suddenly fills the room. My stomach drops.

I open my mouth to reply, but nothing really comes to mind. The voice is male, but distorted. Quiet? QUIET?

“Who the fuck are you? Open this door and come and talk to me!” I yell again, my body suddenly feeling like my blood is going to pulse from every orifice of my body.

There is a long pause.

“I said quiet, Jacob,” it repeats.

I grit my teeth. This voice is really pissing me off.

“I’ll be quiet when you come in here and fucking show your face!” I yell even louder this time.

There is another long pause, and finally, I hear the metallic screeching of the heavy door opening. I waste no time in trying to push through it, relying on only my hearing to know what is going on, just as I had back at the cabin. Everything is so fucking dark.

But I get nowhere. I’m stopped by my body running into two stern and sturdy men again, pushing back further into the echoey room. I nearly lose my footing, but I press forward again, determined to get through that fucking door. But they stop me again, thrashing my body back so hard I hit one of the walls. It nearly knocks the breath from me, but I catch it. “Who are you? What do you want? I want to see my fam–”

“It’d really do you good to stay fucking quiet, like we told you to.” Suddenly I feel a gloved hand cupping across my mouth, stopping me from speaking. The man’s face is close to mine, whispering in my ear as he pins me back against the wall with his other arm. “Do you understand? Can you keep your voice down?” It asks, a little more lax.

After a few seconds, I nod, but my mind doesn’t have the time to process another plan. Maybe if I cooperate, they’ll let me the fuck go. His hand slowly falls from my mouth, and I stay quiet, nothing filling the room now but my haggard and nervous breathing, again. “Who are you,” I whisper, my tone demanding.

I notice that the second man must be standing behind the one still holding me to the wall, hearing him huff a laugh under his breath. How can they fucking see me?

“Let’s just say that if you play your cards right, we’ll be your new best friends,” the man says as he releases my chest, allowing me to breathe. I hear the tear of velcro twice, realizing he must be taking his gloves off.

“I don’t need any more fucking friends. I have plenty back at home,” I bark, still gritting my teeth as I stay at a quieter level.

They laugh again. “Home? You mean the cabin you were holed up in? Barely surviving?” the man behind the first asks sarcastically.

“Home is where my family is, actually,” I bite.

“Aww, isn’t that cute,” they laugh at me again as I hear that they’re both standing, now. I should try and run again, right? But it might get me knocked unconscious again. Maybe not. Not yet.

“Little Jake Kiszka, maybe you really do have the heart of gold everyone says you have,” the first one says. “Maybe being rich and famous didn’t get to you, after all.”

“What the fuck are you talking about? Who are you? How do you know my name?” I ask.

They both scoff again. “You’re fairly fucking famous, my guy. Lots of people know your name,” the second one blurts. My guy? Who–

“Well it’s pretty convenient that I don’t know yours, seeing as how you have me fucking tied up in a pitch black room. Can we cut the shit? Or am I gonna have to try and run again?” I ask, completely over this game. Suddenly, I don’t feel very threatened.

“You won’t get very far if you do, Jake,” the first one whispers, and I hear his boots step closer to me again, and his breath hot on my face. “Listen to me, and listen closely, okay? Are you listening?”

“Yeah, fuck, I’m listening,” I say.

“We told you to stay quiet for a reason. You’ve been captured by an outfit that’s been around for a long, long time. But you weren’t caught for just any reason,” he goes on, barely audible.

“What does that mean? What reason?” I ask.

“They’ve got reason to believe that you know.”

“Know what?” I ask, confused.

“Why the fucking world ended. Or actually, how. Your brothers, you all wrote about this, didn’t you? In your music?” he goes on, and if I wasn’t confused before, I sure as shit am now.

“What?!” I squeal, almost laughing. “You’ve got to be kidding me…”

“Hmm-mm. They aren’t kidding. Does it feel like they’re kidding right now? No.”

“Why do you keep saying they? You are the one that’s got me locked up, right now,” I retort.

“Because we’re pretending,” suddenly the other one is in my ear. “They think we work for them. The brunt work. The dirty jobs…. Like kidnapping you,” he says.

“Listen Jake,” the other interrupts. “We know you, we know who you are. We were… we were fans of your band, back then. But these people, the ones who hired us, they trust us. And they have worse plans for you than holding you in a dark metal box with your hands tied…”

“Why me? Why did they take me?” I ask.

“Your music, your songs… you fucking predicted more about all this than you think you did,” the other explains.

Josh’s dreams.

“We didn’t predict shit, we were just writing fucking songs, we didn’t–”

“All of it is real, Jake,” the first whispers, his lips brushing my hair. “The stories you told, the worlds you built… all of it exists, and has existed for a long time.”

“I don’t get it,” I say, blinking my eyes in the darkness.

“The lyrics you wrote about, the Garden you all dreamt up… It exists. In a complete other realm.”

I damn near laugh in their faces. “You’ve got to be kidding me, right? This is a joke?”

They stay quiet for a beat. “No jokes here, Jake. Just know that more is happening than you could ever even fathom. It’s not just the end of the world here. It’s the end of the world there, too. Well, it’s about to be, if the battle is lost,” the second says.

“You’re both insane, and I’m in on some kind of prank. This is all a joke!” I argue. “We didn’t create that world...”

“No, you didn’t. But you knew about it. You wrote songs about it, didn’t you? You told tales of a Battle, wrote songs about war and peace, lyrics about the water rising, and the air so thin…”

My head is spinning. I’m getting a headache. And I could really use a fucking cigarette.

“Yeah, global fucking warming, who didn’t know about that?” I defend.

They both laugh under their breath. “Let’s just say you guys literally wrote the time and space of another world as if you’d read their history books. And, lived there alongside them.”

There’s no fucking way. This is absolutely ridiculous.

“What do you mean if the battle is lost?” I ask, the question coming from my mere curiosity.

The second crouches down in front of me again, from what I can tell. “Our world here has already begun to end, right? Technology itself is murdering us by the boatloads. The thing we created. It’s omnipresence became too much for earth to handle, started to suck away at her resources and poison her. Poison her natural way of ebb and flow. So she said fuck you humans, I don’t need you. You shall all suffer my wrath, and I’ll use the poison that you created to kill you,” his voice had gotten a little dramatic, as if he was reading a romantic tragedy.

“Okay Shakespeare, we get it,” the first says, and I can’t help but laugh a little. “Here’s the thing… the other realm is suffering, too. What happens on earth is mirrored in that realm, but the mirror isn’t a clear reflection. It’s more of a…”

“Cloudy and messy shadow of what happens in our realm,” the other says.

“Yeah, actually,” the first agrees. “It happens here, it happens there, just not the exact same way. So their world is suffering, too. But they’re going to try and stop it.”

“How are they going to do that?” I ask.

“...Have you not figured that out yet, man? Don’t you think that uh— capturing a few guys who have predicted it all to a tee so far and using them for information on what’s to come next wouldn’t be a nice and easy route for them?”

“You’re shitting me, right?” I say blankly. “You kidnapped me because they think I know what’s going to happen next after the world ends?”

“Mm, kind of. You’ve gotten it all right, so far.”

No, Josh has. Apparently.

“That and… a pretty good other reason,” the first mumbles.

“What other reason?”

“You don’t have any signs of the rash yet, do you?” the second inquires, throwing me off. How would he know that?

“No… but what’s that have to do with all of this?” I say, my mind spinning.

“You’re an immune. Just like us,” the second says with a bit of pride in his voice.

“An immune? How the fuck do we know that we just haven’t gotten it yet?” I press.

“You’ve seen how fast that shit kills people,” the first scoffs. “Don’t you think you would have at least shown a little bit of a sign of it, by now?”

He’s right. It’s been months since the first sign of the rash, killed more people than I’d like to discuss. And quickly, too. But my whole family… none of us have shown signs…how are we all so lucky?

“Maybe the earth decided that she’d keep a few of us, the ones who aren’t fucking assholes,” the second barks, earning what sounds like a slap to the chest from the first.

“I don’t think that’s how it worked, idiot,” he says. “Anyways, we’ve already spent too much time in here with you, Jake. But listen. Remember we’re all pretending. They’re going to push you, they’re going to make us push you. But we want you to know we’re on your team, even if we act like we’re not. They’re out collecting immunes as we speak, trying to put everyone into some type of commune to protect the longevity of mankind. But you’re special, because they think you know. They’re special because they’re immune. You following me?”

“When they kidnap more immunes they’ll group me with them, but treat me differently because they think I can help them, got it,” I say, catching on fairly easily, for some reason.

“Bingo,” the second clicks his tongue.

“Do the people who hired you live in the other realm, too? Like, why do they care?” I ask, feeling like I just read the plot of a fantasy novel.

“Think of it like a family intertwined between both worlds. They’re able to bounce back and forth, but they all take up space in both places. One realm can’t live without the other. That’s why they’re trying to stop the end of their world there, so they have somewhere to be if our’s ceases to exist,” the first explains.

“That’s fucking confusing,” I whisper. “If ours ceases to exist, one can’t exist without the other. Isn’t Earth already too far gone?”

“Maybe her inhabitants are almost wiped, but as a planet, she’s still got a long way to go before rejoining the cosmos. If the other realm is saved, it could power Earth enough to stop her eradication. Plus we have immunes. Earth won’t completely die, she’s just trying to do a hard restart, if that makes sense,” the second one adds. “She’s sick, and she’s trying to make herself healthy again.”

I let out a huff as I try and wrap my head around the dystopian film I’m apparently a part of now. Half of me thinks these guys are lying to me. Playing games to distract me. But then again, why would they be wasting their time?

“Play dumb, Jake. Pretend you don’t know a goddamn thing. Especially when they start to question you about what you guys wrote in this last album,” the first says, standing to his feet and putting his gloves back on, from what I can tell. “This isn’t gonna last forever, we’re going to put a stop to this.”

“You are? How?” I ask, pulling hard on the ties around my wrists.

“We are. With your help,” the second whispers. “There’s a whole group of us who plan on breaking free of this shit, we’ve just got to trust each other that we can run. Gather up the other immunes once they’re captured and create our own destinies.”

“But, if we don’t go along with them, won’t Earth completely shit out on us? If their realm dies too?” I ask.

“Catching on quickly, Jake. I’m impressed,” the first whispers. “If we recreate our own line of mankind from the immunes, everything will be okay. We just want to do it out from underneath the thumb of these selfish motherfuckers. We can do it on our own.”

The two of them turn on their heels and start to walk toward the door again, leaving me sitting in the floor. “Hey, where is my family?” I ask.

“They were assigned elsewhere. Separated all of you, we don’t know where they ended up. Sorry, man,” the second says. And within seconds they’re both gone, and I’m alone, yet again.

Y/N

I trudge back inside the house now under the cover of darkness, after having spent a few minutes outside trying to breathe and calm myself. Paps has lit a few candles inside, and I can see the warm glow of them through the windows making the house look like a jack-o-lantern. I smile a little at the thought. As I push the door open and lock it behind me, I turn and notice he’s stood by the kitchen table, a few more candles lit across it. There in front of him are two bowls of potato soup.

“Paps, this is so nice of you,” I mumble as I hang my afghan on the back of a chair. “I thought you said you weren’t up for eating tonight?”

“Your Gran would have been ticked if she knew we were too upset to feed ourselves, you know that’s a fact,” he says, pulling my chair out for me. I take a seat and I can smell the herbs he’s put into the soup.

“You’re right…” I agree. “She wouldn’t have been happy with us at all.”

“Plus, figure you could pretend one of these candles is on a birthday cake, and blow it out. Since we didn’t get to celebrate you the right way,” he adds as he takes his own seat.

“I think I could do that,” I say, picking up my spoon to dig in. “Thank you Paps, you’re really too good to me.”

“We’re all we’ve got, sweetheart.”

As we eat, I watch as Paps’ hands seem weaker now, and how they shake a little as he brings his spoon to his mouth. He’s done an excellent job on the soup, but we both know we’re choking it down, both of our stomachs too wrought with nerves and heartbreak to enjoy it like we should.

As we clean our bowls, he pushes one of the candles toward me, holding his hand out to motion for me to blow. The candle is old and burned through almost all the wax, but it still smells of pumpkin and apple pie. “Don’t forget to make a wish, sweetheart. And make it a good one,” he says, giving me a sweet wink from behind his glasses.

I take a deep breath and wrack my brain, feeling like making a wish right now is selfish. Normally, I’d wish for a happy next year, health and fortune for my family, or even for the next man that walks into my life to be the right one.

But all of that feels stupid now, pointless to request of the universe.

Next year isn’t even promised.

Over half of my family is gone.

And no man is destined to walk into my life to better it in the least, let alone offer me kinship of any kind.

So instead I wish for Paps to stay as healthy as possible for as long as possible, and that the universe bestows good things upon us both. Because like he said, we’re all we’ve got.

+++

After I’ve cleaned the dishes and tidied the kitchen, I’m stopped in my tracks from the same sound I heard coming through the walls last night– the sound of quiet, staticy music.

I find Paps with his record player again, cranking the handle on the side as the sound begins to spill from the horn. For a second, I’m happy that he’d kept this old thing, knowing that without it, we wouldn’t be able to hear music at all, probably ever again.

I step up beside him and watch it spin, listening to “Lovin’ You More Every Day” by Etta James drift into the air. I know that Gran loved this one, too. It was one of the songs they danced to at their wedding.

So I take his hand in mine, pulling him to stand with me on the old oriental rug in the middle of the room. I begin to sway around as he gently places his hand on my back, swaying right along with me. We’re dancing a little too slowly for the speed of the song, but neither of us care. We’re just enjoying our time, wishing that Gran was here to clap for us after the song ends. But as it comes to a close, we’re met again with static, waiting silently for the first note of the next song.

“You’re a bit too big now to stand on my feet,” he says through a stiff smile.

“Maybe so,” I giggle. “But it was your training that got rid of my two left feet…gave me a sense of some rhythm…” I grin.

He smiles again as he sniffles through some more tears. “I’m sorry I won’t be there to dance with you at your own wedding, sweetheart,” he mumbles as he pulls me close, and my heart shatters into a million pieces.

“Now Paps, don’t talk like that…” I argue. “Lord knows I’m not gonna find a man who can dance better than you, anyway.”

I hear a chuckle run through his chest. “May be, sweetheart. May be.”

We sway along to a few more songs before we’re both yawning. “Believe I’m gonna hit the hay,” he says solemnly, patting me on the head a few times before making his way to throw a few more logs onto the fire.

“Me too, I’ll see you in the morning?” I ask, realizing that this will be the first night in over sixty years that he is going to sleep knowing he won’t wake up to the love of his life.

“When the rooster crows, my sweet. Love you.”

“I love you, Paps,” I say as we part ways, drifting off to our respective rooms.

I’m thankful the weather isn’t too horrendous tonight as I snuggle into my bed, pulling the covers onto my chest. I relax, but leave my candle lit, staring up at the ceiling and recounting the day. The look on Gran’s face as she finally met peace, no longer feeling the wrenching burn of the rash that had enveloped her body. Poor Paps. I can’t even imagine what he’s feeling, right now.

I grab my journal back up and flip to the page I’d left off on, realizing I’d stopped in the middle of a thought. Instead of finishing it, I start a new one.

I write about Gran’s passing, how and where we buried her, how I adorned her hands and wrists with all her old jewelry, and how Paps had made me a special birthday supper. I try to be as detailed as possible, leaving nothing out as I let my hand flow from print to cursive. My eyes begin to get heavy as the candle light flickers, and I realize just how exhausted I am. How mentally and physically drained I’ve become, simply from trying my best to stay alive.

My eyes close a little, drifting down onto my forearm that’s covered in tattoos. My dad hated them, but Paps and Gran always told me they were an expression of my life at the time, like a roadmap of all of the things I loved, when I loved them. Keepsakes I’ll never part with. I always thought it strange, that coming from grandparents from an era of humans who normally found tattoos distasteful, but.

But they were right. I have over twenty tattoos, but my forearm is dedicated to the band that I knew and loved so much, and who brought me some of the happiest times of my life.

The first one sits right in the crook of my elbow, a simple sun and crescent moon that I got right after I fell in love with From the Fires. Then words, right below that, reading ‘In an age of darkness, light appears’ in small font, wrapping all the way around my arm. Under that, a swirling symbol that resembles a radar, 13 lines that make an almost complete circle to commemorate the song that reminds me to step back into the natural world. Beneath that, a sword and an arrow, parallel with one another. And lastly, a symbol that truly represented their fifth album, lines shaped into what looks like a bird in flight.

I never got to get a tattoo from this last album. And honestly, the darkness of the theme of it made choosing what I would have gotten a little difficult, anyway.

I run my hand over the dark black ink and my mind begins to sleepily drift. I wonder what my friends are doing right now…are they alive? Are they sad, too? Are they still clinging to the good times we shared to keep their minds from falling into the deep depths of solitude?

My fingers stop over the Age of Machine tattoo, the little ridges of the skinny lines still rigid on my skin. I think about how much this tattoo reminded me to unplug and drown myself in nature every chance I got. How that song truly motivated me to do the exact opposite of letting myself be pulled into the false world of social media, and spend my time in my garden, or swept up in a book. Strange, now… thinking about how it made me feel when I listened. Haunted, dizzy, and uneasy. Scared, almost, but cautious. Ominous and anxious, but in the most peaceful way. Now I’m glad of the inspiration it gave me. Maybe that’s why I haven’t gotten the rash. It’s almost like that song was warning us of what was to come…

What are the men who wrote this music doing right now? Are they okay, too? My heart wrenches in a different way than it has, yet. Yearning to know of the state of people I had never met, yet worried about the wellbeing of for so many years of my life. “Silly,” I whisper to myself. But, it’s not silly. It’s just the heart they helped me find within myself to care about other people so deeply.

I close my pencil into my book again as I blow out my candle, thinking of all the nights I went to sleep excited to wake up before the sun and double check the luggage I’d packed, grabbing a quick coffee before I hit the road to travel to god knows where to see my friends and my favorite band again. Carefree, and careless. Living my life the way I wanted to, choosing the road ahead to achieve that happiness I’d always chased when it came to hearing their music live. Life unchained, the way Gran lived hers.

+++

Just as my body is relaxing into a well-deserved sleep, I’m awoken by a loud rumble, a deafening sound so deep that I feel it in my bones. I shoot up in bed, realizing that the bed below me is shaking, vibrating. I pull the covers back quickly, rushing down the hall to find Paps already coming toward me with his candle in hand.

“What’s going on?!” I yell above the loud rumbles.

“I don’t know! I don’t know!” he yells back, and we both make our way to the large picture window in the living room. The moonlight illuminates the hillside of the farm, revealing a giant faultline that reaches from one side of the field all the way to the next.

“Shit,” Paps mutters as I feel panic setting into my gut. “Faultline.”

“What’s that mean?! Paps, what is it?” I ask in succession, watching as the crack as wide as a river is eating up the ground.

“Probably another sink hole. Or one is going to happen nearby, I’d say,” he barks as he turns and rushes back to his room. “We’ve got to go. We’ve got to run,” he hollers.

What?! Run?? We can’t run!

“Paps, but the house! We’re alread–”

“Get your backpack. Get dressed, hurry! We’ve got to get away from it!” he commands, his voice booming. The house begins shaking again as I run to my room, throwing on my pants, jacket, and boots, and tossing my heavy emergency backpack over my shoulders. I make sure to secure my toboggan onto my head before stuffing my journal into the free pocket of my backpack, rushing back out into the living room to find Paps ready and waiting.

I hear plates and dishes falling from the shelves of the kitchen, and books falling off the shelves of the living room. It’s just like an earthquake, except I had watched a crevice form in the ground, right before my eyes. My hands are shaking, and I am already broken out in a cold, panicked sweat. We rush to the truck, throwing our things into the bed as we climb inside.

“Hank! Where’s Hank?!” I yell, looking around for him.

“Leave him, we’ve got to go,” Paps says as he turns the key in the ignition, hearing the engine purr to life for just a second, before shutting right back off. He tries again, pumping the fuel pedal to get the block to heat and the glow plugs to light. “Fuck, fuck!! Come on, baby! Don’t do this!” he yells, trying to coax the machine. But it’s to no avail. The battery has died.

We open the doors and clamber to grab our bags again, realizing that on foot is our only means of escaping the growing faultline. We take off rushing down the dirt road, still hearing the deep rumble of the ground separating behind us. I wish I could describe the sound, a noise unlike anything I’ve ever heard before. The cracking and snapping of deep roots, the crashing of trees, a low bellowing sound so deep that it sounds like it came from hell, itself. Unreal. And utterly fucking terrifying.

My legs carry me, and luckily so do Paps’, straight down the long driveway and back onto the main road. I hear the wood of the house start to creak, and more wooden-sounding bangs. Fuck. Please, not the house…

“Should we go to the woods?” I pant, knowing that Paps is just as out of breath as I am.

“No, to the knoll,” he points, panting too as he motions toward the top of a high hill. When we finally make it there, we stop, taking a breather as now it feels as though we’re far enough from the field to get a better view of everything that lies beneath. And there, right in the center of the field is another sinkhole, giant and deep and dark with half the farm swallowed up in it.

Luckily, the house is untouched.

“How on God’s green Earth…” Paps breathes as he lets his hands fall to his knees, trying to catch his breath as the two of us look down on the scene in front of us. Like it was straight from a horror film.

“Had to of been Gran. She wouldn’t let the devil himself take her home, if it was the last thing she did,” I say, earning a breathy laugh from Paps.

“You’re goddamn right, sweetheart. You’re goddamn right,” he says, finally catching his breath. “We need to run, we’re pretty close to this thing, still.” We take off again, rushing back down the road as we still hear the ground shaking below us. We hear trees falling in the distance, and we begin running again. I’m truly thankful for Paps’ stamina and heart right now, his legs getting him to safety even at his age.

“Keep going, Paps, not much further,” I encourage him, just in case he needs it. “We’re okay, we’re okay…”

Suddenly, I see a set of headlights in the distance, barreling down the road towards us in a cloud of dust. When it finally approaches, I flag it down until it stops beside us. An old man is sitting in the driver’s seat, his face just as panicked as ours. “Hop in! Hop in!” he says, and we listen. Paps and I rush to the passenger side and slide into the cab, the man already hitting the gas before Paps can even shut the door all the way.

“You’ve got to turn around!” I say, “There are sinkholes this way!”

He turns the wheel harshly, and I’m glad he listens to me. We rush back the opposite way, zooming down the road so fast I can hardly fathom what’s happening. Pure panic.

“We’re alright, Paps, we made it out,” I try and calm him, reaching for my canteen of fresh water and offering it to him as he catches his breath.

Suddenly we’re being thrust forward as the man steps on the brake, and I’m close to cursing him before I notice he’s stopped before another faultline in the road. “My god…” the man says, opening his truck door and climbing out.

“No, no… what are you doing?!” I yell, wondering why in the hell this man is getting out of our escape vehicle and walking towards the crack in the ground. I watch as he steps closer to it, inching his steps as he peers down over the edge. “Is he insane?! Are you insane? Please, come back!!” I scream, but he doesn’t listen. The ground shakes again, throwing the man off balance as it makes him stumble, swallowing him right up into it.

“Oh my god!!” I yell as Paps lets out a guttural scream. My hand covers my mouth as I yell in disbelief, watching as the man is there one second, and gone the next.

“Drive, Y/N, drive!” Paps urges me, pushing my arms to scoot to the driver’s seat. I throw the truck in reverse, pulling the door closed as I rush to get us away from it all, pushing the pedal to the floor as my eyes scan for more faultlines. It feels as though we’re surrounded by them. My heart is pounding, now, as my body does the necessary work on auto pilot.

“Keep going! Keep going!” Paps says as we get closer to town, and away from the vibrating ground. After a few minutes of shaking panic, it feels like the buzzing of the ground has subsided, and I can finally take a deep breath. A shaky one, but a breath nonetheless.

As I finally allow my eyes to adjust and my hands to stretch, I’m finally feeling in control of my body again. Okay, okay, I’ve got this. Just keep driving. “Paps, you okay?”

“I’m okay sweetheart, you okay?”

“I’m good, I’m good,” I breathe, taking another deep breath in to calm my shaking body. “God, why the fuck did he do that?”

“Couldn’t tell ya, dumb and curious, I guess,” he says, taking another drink from the canteen before offering it to me. “Head toward the city, we’ll need to find a place to hunker down, tonight.”

And though my heart is still pounding as his words hit me, I take the right turn off the state route to head to the interstate, both of us in high hopes that the city will offer us more than it did when we left it. But honestly, I’m losing faith.

I’d been driving for nearly twenty minutes on the empty road before I take a cutoff exit, determined to cut our drive time down and conserve fuel. The exit leads to a sideroad that is heavily wooded, but I know it will get us to the city more quickly. As the headlights shine down the two-lane road, I notice some kind of dark, shadowed figures standing down in the distance. I blink a few times, trying to see what is there.

“Is that deer?” I ask Paps.

“Can’t tell, it’s too dark,” he says, so I slow my pace. My headlights do little to light them up, but the closer we get, the more human they look. Tall, dark… just standing there?

And they aren’t moving. I bring the truck to a stop, my headlights almost no help at all as the figures begin to close in on us, instead of moving out of the road.

“The hell is this, what’s happening?” Paps yells as the figures have us completely blocked from continuing down the road, now. My panic returns. I hear Paps cock his shotgun. “Drive, drive!!!”

My foot smashes the pedal to the floor, but the truck doesn’t move. The tires screech as I continue pushing it, willing the truck to keep going. But it won’t. It’s like I’m running it into a brick wall. “What’s happening!! Why won’t it go?!” I scream, my hands gripping the wheel as the truck begins to fishtail from the force of the tires on the ground. The lights from the truck are completely gone, now. We’re in total darkness. “Paps!”

“I’m here, I’m here, honey!” and I feel him grab my hand. Suddenly the truck doors slam open, and my body is being grabbed and pulled from the seat. I thrash and kick at whatever has grabbed me, but nothing works. It’s too strong. I feel a painful hit to my head, and my ears scream as I start to lose consciousness. I feel a dark cover be put over my head and secured, completely blocking my vision altogether. “Paps!!!!” I try and yell, but I’m slipping quickly into unconsciousness as my voice is barely a squeal. My hands are being tied in front of me, and all I feel is cold.

+++

I wake up in a cold sweat, my hands still bound as I sit with my back against a metal wall. My breathing is ragged as I try and take in my surroundings, and I realize I still have the covering over my head. I wince in pain from the impact of whatever hit my head earlier. I hear others beside me, many crying, panicked voices whimpering in the same room. I try and make a sound, but my voice is hoarse from screaming. I try and speak, but there is tape over my mouth. What is happening, where is Paps?!

My heart is pounding in my chest as I try to raise my bound hands and remove the covering, but it’s secured tightly. I’m in pitch black darkness, and I can’t see a fucking thing. I try to stand, but my muscles are weak and sore, and I can hardly will them to move, let alone stand. It’s unclear how long I was knocked out, and how long I have been sitting in this cold, metal room, but it feels like only a few minutes have passed. I feel tears begin running down my face, I feel so helpless, so exhausted. So blind.

Suddenly I hear a loud noise, like a heavy metal door being thrust open. I see a light through the covering over my face, and I try and yell again. But nothing comes out. Just like in those nightmares where you are unable to make a sound. I hear footsteps come into the room, heavy boots pounding against the concrete floor. My covering is forcefully removed, and it takes a second for my eyes to adjust to the bright light.

Finally, I’m able to see eight or ten others with me, all of us sitting with our hands bound, lined up against the walls of this room. Some beside me, some directly across from me. I watch as two tall, masked men work their way around the room, removing each and every face covering. A woman, a man, a teenaged boy, an elderly lady… and then, Paps. I make excited eye contact with him as I feel a squeal leave my taped lips. He’s safe. He’s here.

I watch as the rest of the covers are removed one by one, the person seated directly across from me being saved for last. They leave him sitting for a few seconds as they exchange what looks to be laughs with one another before one of them gently kicks his legs a little before undoing his head covering.

The man’s face is beaten and bruised, his brown hair tangled and long and falling in front of his face as he winces in pain. They throw his face covering back down to the floor beside him, laughing again as they turn and leave the room without a word, locking the door behind them.

I peer to the hair-covered face again to get a better look, and I swear if my mouth wasn’t taped shut, I would have screamed out in disbelief.

That’s Jake fucking Kiszka.

He feels my eyes on him as he finally looks up to me, noticing my awkward stare. Neither of us can speak. I feel myself smiling under the tape, what are the fucking odds? What is happening?! Where the fuck are we?

His eyes grow wide as he realizes I know him, and he stares back at me in utter confusion. Do I tell him I recognize him? Shit, he can probably tell I do, by now. For some odd reason unbeknownst to me, I maneuver my tied hands to slowly pull up the sleeve of my shirt, showing him the splattering of tattoos that line my forearm. I know you. I watch his eyes see them as I straighten my arm out, willing him to see them, recognize them.

I watch his chest rise and fall as he begins shaking his head slowly side to side, his breathing picking up significantly as he looks at me with red, swollen eyes.

No? Is he telling me no?

Just as I hear the sound of the heavy footsteps coming back down the hall, I watch as Jake slowly lifts his bound hands to his face, his pointer finger sticking up in front of his taped mouth.

My stomach falls as I realize he’s serious. Not only is he telling me no, he’s telling me to stay quiet.

Tags: @gretavangroupie @britney-gvf @sacredstarcatcher @wetkleenex-gvf @farfromthehomelands @takenbythemadness @writingcold @builtbybrokenbells @ohgodthefeeling-gvf @fleet-of-fiction @milkgemini @gvfpal @ageofcj@dancingcarbon @highway-tuna @stardustjake @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface @gvfmarge @gracev0609 @myleftsock @literal-dead-leaf @peaceloveunitygvf @ageofbajabule @slut4lando @jordie-gvf @sadiechar @tinydancer40 @rosabellagvf @capnjaket @lyndz2names @thetroublegetssoloud71 @gretavanomens @spark-my-nature @josh-iamyour-mama @anythingforjtk @alwaysonthemend @danieljlmwagner @klarxtr @fortunatelytinybasement @demonrat444 @gretavansara @watchingover-hypegirl @hippievanfleet @digitalnomadz @raviolilegs @lipstickitty @hippievanfleet @klarxtr @strange-whorizons @do-it-jakey-baby @myownparadise96 @gvf-luna @starshine-wagner @cassiesgreta @joopsandjangs @whimsiliz @kiszkas-canvas @whimsiliz @joopsandjangs @broken0mens @scoreofinfantryvines @whereiskeara @do-it-jakey-baby @miravanfleet @heckingfrick@kiszka-canvas @whimsiliz @joopsandjangs @broken0mens @scoreofinfantryvines @whereiskeara @do-it-jakey-baby @miravanfleet @heckingfrick @jenniferkiszka @jjwasneverhere @gvfmarge @pineapple-photographer @vanfleeter

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brf-rumortrackinganon · 1 year ago

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Timeline, Part 1 - An Update

I forgot the Daily Mail takedowns. Doh! (I kept that list separately and just totally forgot about it.) Tumblr is being weird when I try to update the other post so I'm putting the Daily Mail stuff here and I'll also add them to the main post.

First, some links that validate events on the main post:

Harry dating Sarah Macklin

Piers and Meghan have drinks

Doria papped after the relationship is outed

Meghan merches a H&M necklace and Harry is actually photographed (by Splash, of all people) outside Meghan's Toronto home immediately after his Caribbean tour ends.

Harry wants a bigger apartment and has his eyes set on the Gloucesters's home.

Meghan drops Reitmans

Harry talks about receiving therapy and help for his grief with Diana's death

4/30/2016: Kate revealed as the Vogue 100 (June 2016) cover star and story.

5/8/2016 - 5/14/2016: Harry is in Florida for the Orlando Invictus Games.

5/10/2016: Piers Morgan writes a "Good King Henry" article claiming Harry would be a better King than William.

6/12/2016: Daily Mail publishes a story about The Queen's tiara collection. (iykyk...)

6/28/2016: Harry appears with Coldplay at a Kensington Palace concert. This concert is often cited as proof that Harry is in London at the time they claim they were set up.

July 2016: (dates unknown)

Thomas Markle Jr. claims that Harry met Thomas during July 2016.

The Daily Mail claims Harry took Meghan to L.A. for a weekend of partying that sealed the deal and became officially boyfriend-girlfriend.

Meghan travels to Spain with Misha Nonoo. I think Markus Anderson is there too (there's a photo of a guy who looks like him with Meghan and Misha) but I can't tell.

9/8/2016: Harry is voted world's most hottest royal.

10/27/2016 - 11/4/2016: Harry is claimed to be in Toronto and a new version of how they met - in this version, they met at a charity event and Harry kept texting Meghan until she agreed to a date.

11/1/2016: Samatha Markle speaks out for the first time and a story about Meghan's fashion is published.

11/3/2016: Misha Nonoo revealed as the mutual friend that set Harry and Meghan up. Daily Mail publishes a "No one wants to marry Harry and he's desperate for love but Meghan isn't The One" editorial.

11/4/2016: Meghan pap walks and merches a hotel. Daily Mail publishes about Meghan's ancestry and that Meghan looks like Pippa.

11/5/2016: Meghan leaks that she wants to spend Christmas with Harry in the UK. Daily Mail publishes a "Diana wouldn't like Meghan" editorial.

11/6/2019: "Meghan, this is not how royals behave" editorlal published and Meghan leaks that she's very close with Princess Eugenie.

11/12/2016: "Harry, this is not how royals behave, stop calling us racists" editorial published.

11/14/2016: "Remember when Meghan had to choose between Prince William or Prince Harry" throwback article by the Daily Mail

11/15/2016: Meghan leaks that she will give up everything for Harry and the royal family.

11/16/2016: Meghan leaks that she wants private security from Harry and the royals.

11/19/2016: "Meghan the Kate lookalike" article published

11/21/2016: The royals don't like that stories and gossip about Meghan is taking over Harry's Caribbean tour and their work.

11/22/2016: Meghan's comment that she wants to "smash glass ceilings, don't wear glass slippers" is published. The subtext is that she won't be a cooperative associate of the royal family.

11/23/2016: An article about Harry making a tribute to Meghan while on the Caribbean tour is published. This is the very first "sweet nod" PR piece, though the phrase isn't actually used in the article.

11/25/2016: Daily Mail reports that William is not happy with Harry's love shield statement. This only fuels the rumors.

11/27/2016: Meghan and Priyanka's friendship is revealed.

12/9/2016: Yoga pap walk to merch Harry's bracelet

12/10/2016: Harry is hunting in Bavaria with friends and Meghan goes shopping in Toronto while the rest of the Suits cast attends Patrick Adams's wedding in California. Meghan claims she knew her attendance at the wedding would bring out the paparazzi and after discussing it with Patrick, decided to stay home to give them privacy. Rumors begin of a falling out between Meghan and the Suits cast over her behavior (e.g., entitlement and demands for special treatment) since dating Harry. Rumors that Meghan had an affair with one of her Suits castmates also resurface.

12/17/2016: The Markles sell photos of Meghan's childhood.

12/20/2016: Daily Mail writes about Meghan's topless photos and one of the first Kate hitjobs is published, an article that says Meghan has a better fashion style than Kate and that Kate should take inspiration from her.

12/21/2016: Daily Mail writes about Meghan's racy Suits scenes and an article claiming Meghan has been harassed and attacked by her half-sister is published, beginning Meghan's victim narrative. The Samantha article leads to speculation that Meghan dragged these issues up and into the public to bury her topless photos and sexy scenes. Later, it is also speculated that "Everyone Loves Classy" is meant to repair Meghan's reputation to make her royal appropriate.

12/27/2016: Yoga pap walk with Doria.

12/30/2016: A "Meghan is just like Diana" article is published, talking about Meghan's humanitarian work in and interest in Africa.

1/1/2017: The Daily Mail publishes more of Meghan's racy photos.

1/4/2017: Tom Markle Jr. confirms that Harry has met Thomas Markle "about six months ago" and that Thomas has known about the relationship since the very beginning.

1/6/2017: Another Kate hit job is published, stating that the Duchess will have to deal with being compared to Meghan, whose philanthropy is far more successful.

1/7/2017: Meghan leaks that she will be attending Skippy's wedding with Harry.

1/10/2017: The Daily Mail publishes photographs and stories about Meghan's first wedding to Trevor.

1/11/2017: Meghan spreads engagement rumors to E News! It's later confirmed that E News is one of Meghan's go-tos to leak info about the royals and her relationship so there's a solid confidence that she's trying to push Harry's hand.

1/14/2017: Meghan leaks to the Daily Mail that Harry plans to take her skiing in Verbier and her brother, Tom Markle Jr., has been arrested.

1/17/2017 - 1/18/2017: More information and details about Tom Jr.'s arrest are published.

1/20/2017: Kensington Palace announces that William and Kate are moving back to London in the fall when William's contract with EAAA ends in the summer.

1/22/2017: Meghan is papped at the airport in Mumbai, preparing to go home after 5 days in India for World Vision. There is some speculation that Meghan was a last-minute addition to the India program to get some good PR following her brother's drama but it's quickly debunked when a) veteran blogs point out that Meghan's strategy to bury bad news/criticism is a pap walk or a royal connection, not going off the radar and b) her November interview with Vancouver Star plugging the India trip is rediscovered.

1/27/2017: Meghan spreads rumors that they're really engaged now and Harry proposed over a glass of champagne.

1/28/2017: Kensington Palace announces that William and Harry have commissioned a statue of Diana for the KP gardens.

1/31/2017: Meghan tips off the Daily Mail about an article she wrote for The Tig about her dream bachelorette party. Rumors begin that this is Meghan announcing her availability to sponsors for merching opportunities in the UK when she marries Harry.

2/22/2017: A Cambridge hit job is published, pointing out that they don't hold hands and aren't affectionate in public.

2/25/2017: Meghan tries to convince us that she's firmly established in the UK with a group of society girls who've become close friends.

2/26/2017: Toronto pap walk to merch an elephant bracelet

2/28/2017: The Daily Mail publishes that Meghan has never met a freebie she didn't turn down.

3/5/2017: Meghan merches Cartier.

3/12/2017: Meghan leaks that Pippa doesn't want her at the wedding and has banned her with a "no ring, no bring" rule.

3/13/2017: The Daily Mail publishes a story and photographs of Meghan's very special episode of 90210. It's later that that Meghan leaked about William's dad dancing in Switzerland to bury this but more likely, it's Meghan's leaks that she will meet The Queen soon that are meant to bury the 90210 work.

3/20/2017: "Meghan is still the same girl I've always known, this fame isn't changing her" editorial by Lindsey Roth is published. This is in response to quiet-but-growing-louder speculation that Meghan has a new sense of entitlement, attitude, and rudeness.

4/3/2017: It's announced that Samantha Markle plans to write a book about Meghan. (Meghan gives her first brief against her sister the next day, on 4/4, largely in response to this news.)

4/8/2017: Meghan claps back against Pippa's "no ring, no bring" rule via an editorial.

4/9/2017: Meghan leaks that she loves Africa and Harry is taking her to visit again in October when Suits wraps.

4/20/2017: Meghan commissions a "Meghan is just like Kate" piece in the Daily Mail.

4/28/2017: Middleton hit job, accusing them of spending more time with the Cambridge children than their royal relatives. (Honestly, this reads more like a Charles hit job than Meghan's but it's part of a larger trend of Meghan sourcing stories that attack Kate.)

As always, corrections, additions, updates, and links are welcome!

Hopefully Tumblr stops acting up and I can incorporate these into the main post.

#brf #theories #rumors #timing #pr shenanigans

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its-time-to-write · 1 year ago

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ch. 4 - hustling for the good life

table of contents Oh hey it’s Jamie’s side of things

also. I don’t proofread. yes I’m sorry, no I won’t change my ways.

takes one to know one

Here’s the thing. While you’ve been hopping around London, doing interviews and press and meeting all sorts of talented musicians, Jamie’s been doing his own work. Namely, badgering Keeley about his chances with you.

“She’s really pretty,” he confessed in the car on the way home from Isaac and Stella’s. “She’s like, fucking I don’t know, ethereal or some shit.” Keeley’s basically passed out, which is why Jamie is talking so freely. He knows she won’t remember shit.

“Learned that word the other day,” he continues, “It’s like something you see can can’t totally understand. Or like, out of your league. Anyway, that’s her. Think she was all freaked out, though. Maybe too many people. Weird, innit, international star like her anxious in a crowd of people. But I really liked talking to her. Fuck, Keeley, she’s smart. You can tell in her lyrics.”

Keeley responds with a snore.

Jamie chuckles. “Yeah, alright, we’re almost to Roy’s. Don’t breathe a word of this to anyone, yeah? Like I said, not like she’d go with someone like me anyway.”

—

Jamie severely underestimated Keeley’s ability to retain juicy gossip. Yeah she was sloshed, so much so that Roy had to carry her inside and onto the bed, but that didn’t stop her from sending Jamie a text the next morning that said, ?????? and a gif of your face.

Jamie replied in kind. ??????

U fucking kno what im asking, Keeley replied. U like her.

Jamie responds, that aint a question, keels

Fine, Keeley writes, here’s one

What the fuck did you mean, ‘someone like me????’

Jamie grimaces and puts his phone down. He’ll respond to that later but now, he has to go running around the field and puke his guts out because Roy’s a fucking sadist.

—

Jamie’s been a fan of your music since, like, your first single. He’s not even sure how he first heard it but he did, and then he’d listen to it when no one could catch him.

Then you started gaining popularity, and it was more acceptable for him to listen to your soft yet upbeat songs. He came home one weekend to find his mum playing Blue Glass on a speaker in the kitchen, and they sat down at the counter and listened to the entire album, not speaking the whole time while Simon puttered around cooking dinner.

He’s followed your career through the trade from Manchester to Richmond, then back to Man City and then Richmond again.

And yeah, he’s had a little bit of a crush.

But god, there’s no fucking way he has a shot in hell. Sure, he’s the Premier League’s top player, but you? You’re on another level.

Paps don’t even bother trying to slander you anymore because they’ll never find a speck of dirt on you. There are always pictures of you volunteering, or visiting kids in hospitals, or petting dogs or some shit. Stuff that’s usually staged, but with you it isn’t.

You’ve never had a scandal hit the papers, always been spotted out with a famous model/actor/singer boyfriend who has never once been seen cheating on you. Jamie wonders if anyone could even consider cheating on someone with as much talent and kindness as you seem to possess.

Anyway, you’d never go for someone with his relatively checkered past. All you have to do is google “Jamie Tartt,” and there he is, making out with models, headlining cheating scandals, and having sex in fucking jacuzzis.

Yeah, you’d never go for it.

But as he’s at training, running drills and practicing goals, he keeps thinking about the way you looked with your feet in the pool, hair blowing softly in the breeze.

He decides to have a serious chat with Keeley.

—

He turns up to Keeley’s house and fucking Roy’s there, except this time it’s not really a surprise. Roy opens the door, scoffs, then walks away.

“Prick’s here,” he calls to Keeley somewhere in the house, except it’s not as angry as it used to be. Jamie can almost trick himself into thinking it’s affectionate.

“Hello to you too, grandad,” he says to Roy’s back. Roy grunts and heads to the kitchen, presumably to finish making dinner.

Keeley bounds down the stairs and wraps Jamie in a hug. “Glad you’re here, babe. Now we can have a good chat.”

She leads him to the couch and hands him a fluffy pink pillow, one that Jamie remembers throwing across the room more than once. Fuck, there’s another reminder why he shouldn’t even be thinking of seeing you again. He couldn’t properly emote when he was with Keeley, so how’s he supposed to navigate a serious relationship?

“Oi, stop overthinking,” Keeley says, snapping her fingers in front of his face.

“Weren’t overthinking,” Jamie replies automatically. “And since when are you a mindreader?”

Keeley grins at that. “I’m not. Your face was just all twisty and shit, which means you’re actually using your brain for once. So come on, out with it.”

Jamie’s not entirely sure where to begin, but he opens his mouth and everything sort of comes spilling out. How he talked to you for ten seconds and is pretty sure he’ll never actually love again. And he’s convinced himself that he might have a shot but then he’s reminded of all his shitty choices and thinks he’ll never measure up but god fucking damnit, he wants something real and yeah, you’re another celebrity, but there’s something about your eyes or maybe it’s the way you move your hands, but he knows for sure that if you were just a regular girl he saw on the street, he’d feel the exact same way.

Except neither of you are like, actually regular people, but for different reasons. And his fucking shitbag of a father is always looming in the back of his mind, especially since playing Man City the other week, and he won’t let his dad try to have any sort of hold over you because that would be shitty. So anyway, he’s pretty sure that’s everything and he’s probably going to die alone.

Keeley says, “Whoa,” with big eyes once he’s finished, and for a moment Jamie thinks she’s going to call a mental institute, but then she cocks her head and says, “Jamie, you do know that nothing’s actually happened, right? Like, you haven’t even asked her out?” and Jamie realizes that he’s been knee deep in his mind for a fucking long time.

“I mean, Roy’s no saint,” she continues while Roy shouts, “Oi!” from the kitchen, “and we still got together.”

Jamie just looks at her.

“Alright, bad example,” she says. “But hey, you’ll never know if you don’t try. I mean come on, you’re Jamie fucking Tartt! You’re like, the best footballer in all of England! And you’re right fit,” she says just loud enough for Roy to hear.

“I can’t cook for shit,” Jamie says miserably, and Roy barks out a short laugh while Keeley pats Jamie’s arm.

“You’re way too far in your fucking head, babe,” she says sympathetically. “Take it one day at a time, yeah? You don’t even know if you’ll see her again.”

table of contents

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt #ted lasso

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orqheuss · 2 years ago

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I carry your heart with me (I carry it in my heart) PART 1

(Ominis/Sebastian/GN!Reader FLUFF)

Parts: 1 2 3

Summary:

After everything the three of you have been through together, there's only one grand journey left: marriage, and the sweet hereafter that comes with it.

***

The finale of my series "Life is not a paragraph, and death, I think, is no parenthesis" Can be read as a stand alone fic! Title from the E.E. Cummings poem "i carry your heart with me (i carry it in]"

The scent of sweet maple syrup and savory bacon stirred you from your slumber, bringing a smile to your face as you greeted the new day. You could feel the soft kiss of the morning sun flutter across your closed eyelids, and you stretched your limbs upwards like a flower blooming in spring. Throwing your arms downwards, your palms landing on each side of you with a soft ‘pap,’ you slid along the silk sheets as you searched for one or both of your partners— your Slytherin boys were both absent from the bed. A small, grumpy frown began to tweak at the corners of your mouth until you heard Ominis’ angelic giggles come from downstairs, a mischievous tint to his voice, followed by a boisterous, indignant shout from Sebastian. Even with the size of the house you’d inherited, you could still pinpoint their voices in any crowded room, no matter the volume or the magnitude of the space. You smiled again, your lips turning upwards and warding away any semblance of sadness that briefly crept into your heart as you sighed contently. The band on your left ring finger dazzled in the sunrise, sending tiny rainbows along the creamy yellow walls all around.

Other than having them beside you, arms crossed over your torso and faces pressed into your skin as they groggily entered the world of consciousness, there was no other way that you would want to wake up. They were your world— your little slice of heaven, your Versailles. You would know them in any timeline— in life, in death, in sleep, at the end of the world, and even in the sweet hereafter.

Padding towards the large windowsill in your master bedroom, the glass stretching from floor to ceiling with a grand arch decorating along the top, you stop to run your hands along the fine dress robes hung on the coat rack. Three sets of wedding clothes swayed in the fresh breeze, each regal and beautiful in their own way. What could only be described as pure, childlike giddiness filled your body as you realized what day it was. In just under ten hours, you’d be married to your two loves— your soulmates.

Drawing the shimmering chiffon curtains, you gazed out at the beautiful countryside that stretched through your estate. Fresh dew coated the soft grass, wetting the hooves of the speckled deer that grazed in the field just over the hill, snacking on wild hydrangeas and buttercups, and teaching their newborn fowls how to prance. From the trees came the gentle cry of morning doves, fluffing their feathers as they wake to the sunrise and singing their sweet birdsong for their friends. The sky painted everything a fiery rose, shades of pinks and purples, blues and oranges streaking across the horizon and glowing through the bewitching sanctuary you called home. It was like something directly out of one of the fairytales you had read as a child. Just under the window, their trouser legs rolled up to keep them dry and their messy bedheads cascading over their faces, your closest friends raised the tent you would be using for the ceremony. You couldn’t help but cast your eyes over the beauty before you, both of nature and of a familiar, domestic love— your eyes softening and absolute adoration swirling in your chest.

The house, or mansion really, was left for Ominis when he was of age by his dear aunt Noctua. His wretched family had hidden the details from him for the longest time, stowing it away in their family vault at Gringotts where they thought he would never find it. You remembered the day he left for the wizard bank, keen on clearing out every last knut he was owed before he cut them off forever. You had expected to see at least a few bags of galleons weighing down his hands and pockets as he apparated into your shared living room later that day, but what you didn’t expect was that and a rolled up scroll clenched in his fist, tears streaking down his cheeks as a shaky smile stretched his lips. He took you by the shoulders and dropped the bit of parchment into your waiting hands, letting himself be enveloped by his brunette partner as you read over the words on the page before dissolving into sobs yourself. The three of you had a home, a place outside of the never ending sounds of London, and a place where you all could grow old together in the comfort of each other’s arms. Maybe a few little ones could even be in your future, their tiny legs running up and down the long halls and twirling around in the private ballroom. Dreams flashed behind your eyelids like a moving picture; little boys and girls with ashy blond hair and coffee toned eyes, their curls unruly atop their heads and birthmarks scattered along their skin like tiny constellations. Maybe they’d have your nose, or your temperament, or maybe even your magic— only time would tell. A calming warmth filled your chest, contentedness enveloping your entire body and sending a pleasant hum through your mind, stretching from your ears to the tips of your fingers and singing with magic. Your wistful sigh filled the air around you as you smiled down at your friends again.

Maybe one day— that’s what the three of you decided long ago. One day soon, you hoped, but simply one day was as good as any. You had more than enough love in your heart for a few more souls.

A knock broke you from your thoughts of the future, the smell of breakfast stronger in your nose and the sound of your darling fiance’s whispers filling your ears. You smiled as the door opened, letting your body fall gently against the glass of the bay window as you took in the sight before you. Sebastian poked his head in first, his eyes jumping over to the bed looking for you before his eyebrows tweaked briefly in confusion. He craned his neck slightly, and the most glorious smile broke across his face when he saw you standing there in the morning sun. You looked divine — the orange rays caught your hair just right and made the strands look like pure heavenly fire. A look of what could only be described as instinctual, encompassing love poured into his eyes, and yours glowed in tandem.

The brunette jostled slightly, his face turning into a slight frown of annoyance at the impatience of his second partner.

A huff came from behind him. “Honestly Sebastian, can you move, please? This tray is heavy.” Ominis shouldered his way into the room, lightly shoving his freckled love out of the way as he carried in a small feast of delicious looking food. “I’m sure they look ravishing as always, but good lord, have some decorum.”

The taller boy stumbled into the room, catching himself against the door frame and sending a scathing look at the blond as he crossed the room and placed the meal on the coffee table across from the bed where there was a little seating area. You giggled lightly at their antics, smiling behind the hand covering your mouth. Sebastian turned his gaze back to yours and leveled you with an equally tiffed look, but even still his amber eyes held a softness at the sound of your laugh. Ominis unsheathed his wand from his pocket, quickly scanning the familiar room for your aura. He could feel how happy you truly were through his wand, hear the soft thrum of your heartbeat as you took in the two loves of your life. An equally lovestruck smile graced his face as he felt you by the window, basking in the warmth of a new day and the joy of what was to come in mere hours. He quickly crossed the room, taking you into his arms and twirling you away from the perfect view. More laughter spilled from your smiling lips, filling the room with a rapturous mirth and mingling with the song of his. You briefly caught sight of Sebastian still leaning against the door jam between turns around the room, the softest look you had ever seen from him coloring his features— like you both put the stars in his sky, like you turned his world and kept his heart beating. Your whole soul leaped with happiness.

Ominis pulled you against his chest, the backs of your knees brushing against your unmade marriage bed as he rested his forehead against yours, steadying you from the blinding dizziness that turned your world.

He murmured softly to you, his breath brushing against the apples of your cheeks. “Good morning, little dove.”

You lightly kissed him in return, taking him further into your arms and letting him envelop you in his contentedness. You closed your eyes and drank him in— everything about him called to you like a lighthouse in a torrential storm. He was everything. They both were your everything— your life and your death. They were the moon that ebbed your tides, the sun that warmed your skin, the stars that caught your wishes and dreams, the earth that held you steady and safe. You wouldn’t wish for anyone else to spend your life with.

You could hear Sebastian’s soft steps as he crept closer to the both of you, a smirk dancing at his mouth. “As lovely as this is, I got up very early this morning to cook for the both of you and I would like to go back to sleep.”

He stepped into your space, wrapping his arms around your forms and pressing delicate kisses to the tops of your heads. You moved to leave the tangle of their limbs, eager to eat the hypnotizingly good smelling breakfast that called to you on a primal level, but the brunette seemed to have other plans. He tightened his hug, laughing at your noises of shock as he hoisted you both into the air and unceremoniously dropped you atop the soft bed sheets. He all but shoved his way onto the bed, wiggling around like a worm in the dirt, squeezing you in the middle of him and Ominis and wrapping his arms around your waist like they belonged there.

You giggled against the blond’s shoulder, your breath warming his skin through the fabric of his nightshirt. “Sebastian—”

A hum broke off your train of thought, the brunette hugging you tighter to his chest and shoving his face into the crook of your neck; you could feel his toothy grin against your pulse. “Nope, you both are staying right here with me— no arguing on my wedding day.”

“Our wedding day,” Ominis drawled from your other side, but relenting nonetheless, crossing his arms with Sebastian’s and threading their fingers together on your hip bone. You couldn’t hold back the giggles that spilled from you.

“You both are ridiculous.”

Ominis smiled softly, resting his chin on the top of your head. “Oh most definitely, but you love us.”

You sighed contently, your heart nearly bursting from your chest with how much you loved them. “Yes, I suppose I do.”

There, tucked in their arms in your king size bed, a sweet birdsong flowing through the window and a cool breeze brushing against your skin, was exactly where you wanted to be for the rest of your life.

This— This was bliss.

Of course, peace could never last long with your friends around. You and your partners were startled from the sweet call of sleep by a loud bang— your bedroom door ostentatiously swung open and smacked against the wall just beyond. Anne Sallow strutted into the room, her eyes covered and a mischievous smile stretching from ear to ear.

“Everybody put your trousers back on, I’m here for the ones that aren't my brother!”

Sebastian groaned into your neck, lamenting on the small iota of tranquility he was able to snag before the hustle and bustle of the day reached him. Ominis did the same into your hair, his arms tightening around your waist as he pulled you impossibly closer. They both spoke at the same time, an equal amount of whining lacing their tones.

“Bugger off, Anne. I just laid down—”

“I thought you considered me a brother as well? Quite offensive if you ask me—”

The brunette girl rolled her eyes, peeking out through her fingers and taking in the sight before her. Deciding it was safe and everyone was in proper levels of dress, she dropped her hand and leaned heavily against the door frame, crossing her arms across her chest and looking at the three poor souls she called her family wiggle around helplessly on their bed. You could hear the eye roll in her voice.

“Yes, Ominis, you’re my brother too. I’m here to collect those that don’t share a face with me.”

The blond sighed heavily, giving up on his comfort and rolling away from your tangled crossing of arms and legs. Sebastian bemoaned a high pitch whine into the silken sheets when you did the same, letting all of his body weight flop dramatically atop the blankets and pillows.

Ominis embraced the standing Sallow twin, rocking her gently back and forth before placing a soft kiss on her temple. “Now that’s more like it, my dear.”

You greeted Anne similarly, hugging her with all of your strength and laughing lightly as she scolded you for dragging the boys back into bed with you. You shook your head at her, gesturing towards her sulking brother who had decided to sit up finally, a pout stretching the corners of his mouth and his shoulders slumped over his lap.

“Don’t blame me, you’re demon spawn of a brother all but tackled us when he got back to the room.”

Sebastian gawked at you, looking highly offended at your verbiage before turning his face back to the bedspread and muttering to himself. You distinctly caught the tail end of what he was saying, something along the lines of “—didn’t hear you complaining.”

Anne held you at arms length, shaking her head and rolling her eyes again at her stubborn mule of a sibling. She took one of your hands into hers, grabbing Ominis’ with the other and began to pull you out of the room with her, calling over her shoulder at the still very much pouting freckled man.

“I’m taking your spouses with me, Sebastian! Garreth and Imelda will be up momentarily to help you get ready.”

You could hear your future husband's complaints from down the hallway. “Why them!? It’ll be a miracle if my dress robes aren’t covered with assorted potion ingredients or torn to shreds by that feisty devil woman and her ginger puppy.”

You snorted, letting Anne drag you the rest of the way down the grand staircase and into the foyer where the rest of your friends were waiting. The Sallow girl spun Ominis towards the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw of your group, smiling at his laugh when Poppy and Amit caught him before he could fall, before shoving you into Natty’s arms.

She stood before you all, hands on hips and a grin on her face. The girl clapped her hands together resolutely, speaking to her audience like she was delivering a grand speech to the Minister of Magic himself.

“Alright, let's get you both ready to walk down the aisle, shall we?”

And with that, you both were whisked away in different directions and towards your future.

***

like what you read? here's more!

#tina speaks #hogwarts legacy #hl #ominis gaunt x mc #ominis gaunt x reader #ao3 #ao3 fic #ao3 writer #ominis gaunt x you #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x you #sebastian sallow x ominis gaunt x mc #ominis x sebastian #sebastian sallow x ominis gaunt x reader #sebastian sallow x ominis gaunt x you #fluff #masterlist

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