#opening my comically empty wallet.....

[mitskicain]

navi | m.list

. ⁺ . ✦ the doghouse — ken sato x reader

© mitskicain all rights reserved. the modification, translation, and plagiarism of my work is strictly prohibited.

synopsis: you head home from last night’s escapade only for him to come knocking on your door..

content warning: innuendos, suggestive, cursing and profanity

word count: 2k

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002: bird in teeth

The aftermath of that night left the both of you, passed out in the tangle of each other’s bodies. It was hard to slip out of his grasp and when you awoke just before sunrise—his grip around your waist still tight even deep in slumber. As you picked up your clothes that were thrown carelessly on the floor, you looked back and smiled at the sleeping figure, face exhausted but basically beaming with that post-sex glow. God if it were real, you would light up like a goddamn generator. Either way, you smiled, silently thanked him for the night, lifted some cash out his wallet and were on your way.

You heard someone say something about how with one night stands, you always leave something behind—an eyelash, a shirt, your dignity at the door. The general idea was that you’d lose something every single time, thus the notion that you shouldn’t engage in these kind of activities, the idea to you always seemed so ridiculous. Sure, maybe you lost a little bit of self-respect every time you did, giving parts of yourself away like that, but you’d always take something in return. Sometimes you’d take something small and insignificant as a memento: a decorative teaspoon, a comic book, a little trinket—sometimes cash, for the cab ride back home, you’d reason (you took the train).

And in the early morning commute back: so many other women and men that shared the same look of exhaustion, sometimes contentment, more often shame—took the 5AM train with you, all doing the walk of shame. You never agreed with that phrase, somehow found it patronizing and demeaning, or maybe you just felt it didn’t apply to you. The ride back was always so refreshing. You felt reborn, energized—like a succubus after claiming a soul. This was your life, and that's how you would spend your nights, so you could spend your mornings like this: skimping through the half-empty streets in last night’s clothes and ruined makeup with a bit more pep in your step. Hell, sometimes you even skipped all the way back.

It was Sunday morning: the bar you worked at closed on Mondays and would only reopen Tuesday night, so you had a whole faux weekend to sleep away. You passed by the church on the way back and lingered slightly, watching the crowds and families clamor out. I wouldn’t be welcome there, you thought to yourself. They wouldn’t want a sinner like me. Somehow it reminded you of your family back home, in their Sunday best, rushing to get from church towards iHop. That was you guys’ tradition. At the sight of the memory, you felt something inside of you twist and churn. You brushed off the feeling and showed it somewhere deep inside of you, where it wouldn’t threaten to resurface, and continued the walk back home.

When you turned the key towards your apartment, your dogs, Lassie and Strauber greeted you by the door, jumping up at you excitedly. You patted them affectionately and opened the backdoor for them to go run around in the tiny balcony yard. You huffed out contently, watching them run circles and chase each other within the space; you grew up with dogs, can’t imagine a life where you didn’t have some sort of trustworthy companion that would stick with you through thick and thin. When you moved from the country to the big city; your dogs, a tiny suitcase, and the beat up truck were all you took. They stuck their heads out the window, panting and eyes wide—looked back at you, excited for the new life that was to come for them.

The ceiling fan spun circles above you, now sprawled out on the couch. Summers in Tokyo were hot, but you also couldn’t exactly afford the electric bill if you blasted the AC on. At least work had good air conditioning. For now, you just had to figure out a way to beat the heat until you could clock in again. You sighed and put your arm over your eyes, blocking out the sun’s glares, and slowly drifted off to sleep—trying to make up for the lack thereof from last night. You dreamt vaguely of the grass behind your grandfather’s farm, long and thick, billowing in the wind. You, Lassie, and Strauber ran up hills and picked fruit from the trees to enjoy. You napped underneath the huge cherry vines with its flowers perfuming the breeze. The countryside was boring, but it was home. Sometimes you wondered if leaving was the right thing to have done.

Your daydreaming was cut short by an abrupt knock on the door. Getting up and still drowsy from sleep, you didn’t think about looking out the peephole before opening the door to tell off whoever decided to come bother you.

“What do you want?” You bark at the figure in front of you. Only when your eyes adjust to the light do you realize who you’re talking to. You step back a little, alarmed to see him again so soon.

“Hi,” Ken smiles sheepishly through the half open door, “can I come in?”

“What the hell,” you say, a feeling of unease coursing through your body, “how did you get here- how.. how did you find out where I lived?”

He holds up your day planner, covered in stickers, sharpie doodles, and jangling keychains—it held your work card and a small sum of cash too. It must’ve slipped out of your pocket and into some crevice somewhere when he tore off your clothes last night. You scowl at the memory, impressed by your bad luck. Sighing, you unlock the chain and let him in. Lassie and Strauber barked from behind the yard’s screen door, and he jumps a little at the noise.

“You’ve got dogs?”

“No, I don’t—you must be imagining things,” you reply, a little annoyed by the question (and his presence). You didn’t like seeing the men you slept with again, they always found ways to make things weird and awkward.

Ken shoots his hands up in surrender, sensing your hostility.

“What do you want?” You ask again, sitting down the couch, opening up your day planner to figure out what other information he could've gotten. Phone number? Email? Bank account?

“I didn’t take your money,” he comments, you shoot him a look. “Unlike someone here.”

“Hey!” You answer defensively, “it was for a cab, alright? I deserve to be able to get back safely.”

“Cab, sureee,” he draws out his words, his voice carrying a playful lilt, “400 bucks for a cab?”

“It’s a long way from your place to mine,” you cross your arms over your chest, “also you ruined my underwear, I was claiming compensation.”

“What? That little thing?” He laughs, throwing his head back and wrapping his arms over his waist. “Honey, it’s not my fault that fragile little string broke—I wouldn’t expect it to hold up.”

You feel the heat creep up to your cheeks at the mention of last night again. You weren’t the same kind of person in the daylight—easily flustered and more bashful. It was like you had two different personalities living in you, constantly wrestling for control. Maybe your ex was right.

You shake your head and snap out of your internal monologue, trying to regain ground in the conversation.

“Don’t call me honey,” you sneer.

He holds up his hands in surrender again. “Sorry ma’am.”

You roll your eyes.

“Look, thank you for coming all the way to give me my day planner back. It was a- uhm, very generous gesture, but if you will, I have other things to tend to.” You escort him out of your living room and into the hall, motioning for him to leave.

Yeah, other things to tend to do. Like sleeping the entire faux weekend away, and blowing the 400 bucks you lifted on some Indian takeout. Mutton curry sounds so good right now.

You push him out the door, and wait for him to leave, but he just stands there, unmoving. Your eyebrows furrow in frustration and you pinch the bridge of your nose. What was wrong with this guy? You swear he was nothing like the person you had met last night.

“Hello? Earth to Ken? Is that it?” You ask, waving a hand in front of his face. He stands, dumbfounded, eyes wide. After a moment, he finally speaks.

“God, you’re gorgeous in the daylight.”

You’re caught by surprise by this statement, because: one, it’s Ken Sato, famous baseball player saying this to you, but also, two, you thought that it was just something he said under the stench of lust last night. Something people say just to get others to sleep with them. Like I love you or you’re so funny or whatever. You feel your cheeks redden again at his words, and he breaks out into a smile at the sight of this.

“There’s my pretty girl,” he says, “where’ve you been all along? I missed you.”

God.

“Stop,” you look away, embarrassed, hand covering the lower half of your face. “I don’t see my one night stands again, it always turns out messy.”

“One night stand?” He says, face twisting into an expression of amusement. “Well, honey, I’m more than just a one night stand.”

You cringe. “Don’t call me honey.”

Another look of surrender.

“I’m just saying,” a cocky smile stretches across his lips, “it doesn’t have to be that way.”

You shake your head, incredulous.

“Yeah, no way,” you reply, closing the door. He lunges forward and curls his fingers by the edge, fighting back.

“One date,” he says, trying to keep the gap open, “one date and if you don’t like me then I’ll back off.”

“I’m not in the mood to get dressed up and go out.” You say, straining with all your might.

“That’s fine! Then I’ll just come over to your place,” he heaves, “I’ll bring food.”

You’re leaning against the entire door frame, feet slipping from the sheer force of him, but it’s no use—he wins, the door stands wide open.

“Please?” He begs. Your head drops at the sight of him, cursing yourself for getting involved with him in the first place. You should have been more careful, should have picked another guy. Someone that was one and done and you could sweep under the carpet—not someone who would show up to your doorstep and beg for a date.

“Fine,” you sigh, feeling as if arguing was useless. “One date, that’s all you get—and then you fuck off.”

“Yes!” He cheers, fist up in the air like a child celebrating a soccer goal. “I’ll see you tonight at 8!”

You slam the door in his face, eager to get him out. Through the wall, you can still hear his excited whoops. You walk over to the yard and let Lassie and Strauber back in, the both of them making a beeline towards the entrance to sniff out the scent of the man that had just left. Once satisfied, they headed over to your figure on the couch, sprawled in the same position that you were before he came, rudely interrupting your nap. You reached down to comb your fingers through Lassie’s soft fur, long locks of reddish hair, smooth as silk. The dogs yawn and let out a little high pitched sigh.

“I know girl,” you coo, patting the two of them, “just bear with me. It’s just for tonight. Just tonight and then the weird man will leave us alone.”

Weird, you thought. Things had such a way of turning around and rearing its ugly head. When was the last time you had a date? Like a proper one that wasn’t just a precursor to sex? You rake through your memories of the previous months and find all the details meshed together, faces and voices of people blurring into one another. You’d lost track of how many people you used, or how long this kind of thing had been going on for. Deep down you knew it was self destructive, but maybe that was also the point.

I should quit, you thought to yourself, throwing your arm over your eyes again, trying to escape into sleep.

But you tell yourself that same lie every time. You always say you’d quit but you never did.

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author’s note: guys I’m so sorry for the delay 😭😭 I’ve just been released from the jaws of hell (uni) and I’ve kind of went ham enjoying my newfound freedom (finally being able to get 8 hours of sleep) also tumblr was being weird like I couldn’t reply to comments or check my messages it sucked bUT ANYWAYS WE’RE BACK SO EXPECT MORE UPDATES SOON 🫵‼️‼️💥💥💥 as always, thank you so much for supporting my work! I hope you guys continue to enjoy what I put out here 🥰🥰👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩

taglist: @luneariaa @moonjellyfishie @sweetcheeksbby @shittingonyourgrave @shauu @witcwitchy @fcklxnaa @despacito-uwu16 @mqshido @miffysoo @ybbayk @hore4ken @mochminnie @femmefqtqle @miratastic @lovingyeet @mythicalmo @yourfellowmarzipan @softdumplingposts

[youronlydarlin]

warning: kinda sad ANGST, Simon losses you :( , ooc kinda?? But he's soft for you only, trust me bro

This was kinda inspired by that one part in the comics where our poor, Si holds his mums skull, n he jus'... Kinda nuzzles into it. I dunno it just bought on some sad feeling, mkay...

Simon who slightly raises the cup of tea he's drinking each time he has one, just to let you know he's relaxing. Or trying his best too, at least. Doesn't know what he'll do if he worried you from beyond the grave. Sometimes he looks at all the belongings you left behind. Saying how they probably miss you, but not nearly as much as he does.

Unlike some, Simon uses your things. He doesn't want the house to go through the pain of loosing you too. So he drinks from your mug, and sits on your chair. Reads your favorite books, but never takes out the book marks in case you want to continue reading them. He also completes your bucket list for you, and even though he's the one doing them he always whispers 'good job, to the wind, hoping they'll carry the messenge to you.

Simon who speaks to your framed pictures. He remembers each, and every memory behind them. "Bet your happy... Now it'll always be my turn to grab the 'bloody groceries.." he jests. He hopes that one made you laugh. Knowing you, you would've. It's a mystery how you always laughed at his lame jokes. Though your laugh's always been better than the awful punchlines.

Simon who passes by that cafe you bugged him to go with you to, and he feels his throat go dry. He never got to take you there because of a sudden call from Price, telling him about an urgent, albeit sudden, mission. He definitely regrets not taking you out on dates more often. There's so many shops opening that he knows you would've loved to see.

Simon who's heart breaks at how quickly the world turns without you. Everything's moving so quickly, leaving him behind like it's already moved on, and he hates it. He hates how there's less clothes to fold now. Food is served, but only for one. The taste of it is flavorless, and dry. It's times like these, that he wishes he should have took the time and learn your recipes.

But what's worse, is that your side of the bed is cold. And it'll remain that way forever. At times he'll reach for you absentmindedly. Nightmares about war traded for dreams about you, but during those dreamless nights where sleep doesn't visit he'll stroke your pillow the same way he'd do to keep your hair out of your face, and pull the covers over the empty space you once occupied. He wonders if it's cold where you are right now. But just know that he's always willing to warm you up if ever you come back.

Simon who...

Stands at the doorway. Bag slinged over his shoulder, full of everything he needs and more for deployment. He knows he can't leave without properly saying goodbye, so he fishes out his wallet, and digs out a picture of you. He holds it up to his face, and it's funny. How you're not even staring at the camera when the photo was taken. No, you were staring at him. This one's always been his favorite. So he clears his throat, and wishes you don't hear the slight shake in his tone.

"..By now you would've told me to be careful.. And I will, by the way. But, m' sorry for all the times I didn't...'

....

" I have to go now. Don't need them gettin' on my ass for 'being late.. so.."

....

"..You just rest now, ok, love? There's nothing else for you to worry about' anymore. I love you, always. Wish me, and the boys luck, yeah?.."

He gives a light kiss to your photo, and it's as if you're with him when he steps outside the door..

a/n: This was a challenge to write, and I don't know what to feel about the results. I'm just polishing my english, I guess. M'not good at writing angst, you can probably tell, also my grammar feels off on this one, again. English isn't my first language, sorry. So please correct me on any mistakes I've made! But putting all that aside, I hope you like this more than I do! And, always remember that you are loved, and cared for! Have an amazing day, my darlings!

Yours, truly,

–dolly

[galos-writing]

hey, y'all, uh sorry for my absence but i was so damn busy with uni im sorry T_T i had completed a request i received a long time ago but i accidentally deleted the message, fortunately i copied n pasted the request above the ff itself, so for whoever asked it to me, im so sorryyy and i hope the ff arrives to you Q-Q enjoyyy

Request: Hi! May I ask for Arthur Fleck x gn (*gender neutral) reader where the reader has green eyes and how would he react? Thank you!

You were standing right in front of a vast apartment block completely dumbfounded, you couldn’t believe such a majestic building could erect in a trashcan of a city like Gotham. Indeed, the poor lifestyle was mirrored by the appearance of what would become your new home: broken windows, a neglected shared yard full of trash bags, roaches and sewer rats, and the paint outside grayed or even consumed in some spots. 

You made a face at the view, but it was all you could afford at the moment: you would have surely moved as soon as you would have found a job with a good salary. However, the luggage you were holding reminded you that you weren’t living somewhere better than this. You could almost dare to say your new home would be a mansion if compared to your parents’ house; even the rudest flatmate would be nicer than the ones who were supposed to love and support you no matter what, but that instead kicked you out, not even letting you collect all of your stuff. ‘Just your clothes’, they said, ‘and then get the fuck out.’. 

Their words were carved in your memory and will probably be forever, you took a deep breath to hold back tears. 

You were so deep in your thoughts that you didn’t hear the taxi driver behind you, until he honked, startling you. You turned to him, he was visibly pissed, angrily smoking his cigarette butt and then throwing it at your feet, not even putting it out. 

“Ya deaf, pal?! I fuckin’ said it’s 50 bucks! Ya gon’ pay me or not?”, he shouted at you, sticking his hand full of rings out towards you, expecting his money on his callous palm. You turned pale at how angry he was and quickly pulled out your wallet to give him his money. 

Your anxiety turned into full panic when you saw your wallet was completely empty. Fuck. You were sure your brat of a little brother stole all your money, oh how you wish you were still at your home to strangle him. 

“So?”, the taxi driver insisted, pressing on the accelerator to increase the price according to the taximeter. His judgmental beady eyes were scanning you while you started emptying your backpack, in a desperate attempt of finding a single cent in the bottom of it. Nothing, just old stuff, some comic book and clothes. You let out a defeated sigh that made him visibly angrier, and your lips quivered as you opened your mouth to speak the only words he was hoping not to hear. 

“I’m sorry, sir, I don’t…”

You got cut by a bony and shaky hand extending next to you, handing some banknotes at the taxi driver, who smirked and snatched them from it.

“H…Here…”, a thin male voice shyly stuttered before the money had been literally ripped off his hand. The driver filled his thumb with his gross saliva to start counting the bills, and when he was over he just left in a hurry, not saying a word. 

You were at a loss for words due to everything that happened so quickly, but you managed to snap out of your trance and looked at the guy who just saved you from an unpleasant situation. 

You were stunned when you saw the appearance of your saviour: a short and slender man who was still standing next to you, his arm was still extended and his eyes were wide open, staring off into space. He seemed to be in his mid-forties but you weren’t sure.

He flinched when you touched his shoulder, and slowly turned his head towards you. His eyes looked so sweet, but they were now so wide, still in shock at what just happened. 

“Hey…”, you softly called him, trying to calm him down by awkwardly stroking his shoulder. “A-Are you okay? I’m so sorry you had to get through this, really… I’m willing to give you back your money, for sure, sir.”, you kept telling him, your tone was soft to sooth him, and you sketched an embarrassed smile when he looked at you. He first babbled some letters, as if he was starting the engine of his brain to reconnect and formulate a correct sentence, but he couldn’t take his eyes off of you. His gaze soon flustered you, making you look away. 

“Well, then… It's been a true pleasure to meet you. Thank you again, sir.”, you politely saluted, grabbing your bags and walking to the entrance of the condo where the landlord was waiting for you. 

As weeks passed by, some threatening letters from your father didn’t manage to break the new cocoon of comfort you built up all for yourself. You were so proud of your job of house decorating that you couldn’t resist but invite some friends over. What an idiot you felt by seeing your fridge was empty, how were you supposed to have guests over with no food in the house? 

You found yourself forced to go emergency grocery shopping the day before their arrival. As you were walking to the grocery store, you had the crippling feeling of being observed, but the thing didn’t scare you too much: lots of people in Gotham were weirdos, or just envious bored fellas who enjoyed watching others to judge them without a reason. When you arrived at the cashier to pay for your stuff, your eyes met a familiar face: the nice nervous man who paid for your taxi! You instinctively smiled and poked his shoulder to catch his attention. When he turned around towards you, his cheeks turned a deep red as you joyfully waved at him. 

“We haven’t talked much since you helped me that day, huh?”, you giggled, holding your bag of groceries as you were walking out of the store, followed by Arthur. He didn’t respond, he was too flustered to speak. You turned to him, tilting your head, your face showed concern. For a moment, you decided to ignore your worry and resumed smiling, extending your hand at him.

“I’m (Y/N), by the way. (Y/N) (L/N). We didn’t manage to introduce each other. It’s a pleasure to know you. We do live in the same condo, right?”, you happily asked, patiently waiting for the man to shake your hand. But he didn’t. 

“I-I’m Arthur, Arthur Fleck… nice to know you too…”, he shyly murmured after a few seconds, trying to avoid eye contact. You worriedly looked at him again.

“Hey… are you okay? Did… did I say something that offended you?”, you asked, trying to approach him, but he stepped back. 

“I have something to confess to you. I, uhm… I followed you… like, stalked you for a while. It’s better you immediately know, I don’t want you to find it out by yourself and get even more scared…”, he admitted, making your face turn pale; that explained your feeling of being observed all the time. 

“... why?”, you just asked, feeling numb. You were confused, that man seemed so kind, silent and polite during condo reunions, you couldn’t believe someone like him could do something like that. But you appreciated his honesty, despite the fact you were definitely creeped out by him. 

“I… just wanted to make sure you were real. And, y’know, not just some… some kind of delusion.”, he bluntly answered, as his face turned even redder. “It’s just that…”, he kept saying, “ … you quite… caught my attention, not gonna lie. You feel like a fresh breeze in this trash-stuffed pit.”. 

His words hit you like a hammer, those were the first kind words someone outside your friends group had told you in weeks. Your eyes filled in tears, but you firstly refused to let them out, giggling. 

“I… I don’t know what to say… Just… Thank you so much, Arthur. I’m glad you’re my neighbor. You’re the kindest man I’ve ever met in a long time.”, you told him, touching his shoulder. Your words made him blush even more, but this time a relaxed and genuinely joyful smile appeared on his thin and scarred lips. 

“Why did you come to live here, though…? You’re so pure and joyful, your kindness doesn’t belong here…”, he asked, blushing a bit. His question upset you more than you wanted to admit.

“... my parents kicked me out because I refused to work for their shitty business. I wanted to escape that narcissistic and toxic environment to start all over again. And for now living here is all I can afford.”, you gloomingly explained. 

He got silent, nodding a bit. His silence made your anxiety grow more than when you announced to your father you had no intention to work for his company. 

Arthur noticed you were observing him, and stopped nodding. “ …what?”, he asked.

“What?? Aren’t you gonna say nothing?!”, you asked back, in full panic.

“What do you expect me to say? (Y/N), if there’s something I learned by living in this world is that insecure people will insult everything outside their range of comprehension. But believe me, it’s not worth your tears until you’re happy. That’s life.”, he just said, taken by a moment of confidence, he felt oddly comfortable by speaking so openly to you, for once he didn’t feel unfitting or out of line, he felt heard and he knew his words could be helpful to someone he cared for that was struggling.

“And, in all honesty, I wouldn’t be taken by surprise by your family situation, yet… by, uh…”, he kept going, struggling a bit to say what he was thinking of, but just by looking at you, he suddenly found the courage. He was feeling good by spilling all that out right now, and wanted that wellness to keep going. 

“Yet by the fact yours are the most beautiful green eyes I’ve ever seen.”, he suddenly blurted out, making you heavily blush. You looked at him, you could see his wave of confidence disappear to make him blush as well, so much he had to pull on the collar of his shirt. 

After some awkward second of silence, you smiled. “Do you mind if we… get back home together?”, you asked. Your proposition took him by surprise this time, making him slowly nod. The two of you walked back to the condo, in complete silence, drowning in fluster, but so happy you had met each other at that moment.

Tags: @darknessisafriend @werewolf-and-go-wild @indieblair @pursuit-of-comedy @ajokeformur-ray @fly-like-a-phoenix @five-miles-over @hebimoonlightwrites @jokerflecker @callmejokerr

[addadmelechtheincubus]

Prologue/2

About 15 Years Ago:

Nobody is gonna take care of my cat.

It's crazy to Teddy that this is what his last thoughts are going to be. That no one will take care of his fat, scarred tabby because there's a crazy man with his hand around his throat, choking him while he inexpertly tries to also stab him to death.

He had never really minded the sex work. It had kept him fed- at least until it hadn’t. Things had been too grim for too long, and by the time he'd picked up the businessman in his fancy car with his fancy suit, he'd been ignoring his internal warning system a little too frequently.

His murderer is monologuing, going on about how he's always wanted to see the light leave someone's eyes, blah blah blah and all Teddy can think about is his cat.

His bloody hands find an empty bottle on the ground and when he smashes it into the guy's face, it just gets his head pounded into the wall with a scream.

And that's when he sees it. The hallucination that is a peacock. But also a horse. And kind of a guy. And as fucked up looking as Teddy feels. There is so much blood and he can't talk can't breathe but he reaches out because he's got nothing left and no one is going to take care of his cat. Help me.

And then he and he were they and they were I and bloody hands stripped the coat and expensive watch and wallet from the desiccated corpse crumbling in the rain.

He wasn't even hungry anymore.

Now:

Cascade City at night has places no one in their right mind would ever go, places where getting mugged was the LEAST of your worries. The trail- the faintest scent of sulfur and blood and cruelty leads him down Weyer to what had been a church.

(You have got to be kidding me. On the nose much?) The thought would be comical if the stakes weren't lives, and he rapped on the heavy wooden door. "Hello? A friend told me this was a safe place to spend the night?"

He waited, bracing when the door opened a crack. The hollow eyed Preacher Man peering back at him. "Go away. There's nothing for you here."

"I disagree." Tsedi said as he kicked the door in, sending the man tumbling backwards in a shower of splinters. The Preacher lay on the floor, twitching slightly, and Tsedi followed the almost imperceptible lines, up up past the rafters into the bell tower. "Come out come out."

In response, a head plopped to the floor beside him. Slowly, Tsedi looked down at the ruined visage. One of the folks from the camp. Up above him, the smell of blood was strong. He looked back up just in time to see a mass of foul-smelling demon crash into him like a moistly-sticky Prius.

{IF YOU CAN'T PROTECT YOUR LIVESTOCK, INCUBUS, MAYBE YOU SHOULDN'T BE A FARMER} it screeched in his face in a rush of breath that smelled like hot garbage.

It was fetid, wet, smothering him like a gross, soggy blanket, but it screamed nonetheless as he drove a burning peacock plume into it. The demon pulled off of him with a grotesque sucking noise as Tsedi conjured a ring of plumes, the eyes burning with unearthly flame. "I hope you found them delicious, because you're never going to enjoy anything again."

~~

Zeke hadn't meant to follow him - but Teddy had always brought them food, always made sure the girls on the corner were safe. He was a good... well. Zeke wasn't sure what Teddy was, but he was glad he was on their side.

He could smell the smoke before he got to the old church, and the orange flames licked at the night sky, smoke billowing up in lurid columns.

Zeke approached, then scrambled backwards as a nearby wall blew out in a shower of masonry and flame. A spider- or at least something resembling one and the size of a car tumbled across the pavement, struggling to stand as bits plopped off, sizzling like tar on the sidewalk.

Out of the flames a figure stepped. "They weren't livestock, you sentient shit. They were people."

One eye saw Teddy the coffee guy, black goop splattering his coat and face, rage in his eyes that burned in contrast with the cold of his voice.

But the other, the one that saw ghosts and demons, saw something else. The centaur was as black as the night sky, an enormous peacock tail shivering behind him, each of the feathers' eyes flickering with flame. His head was a helm in the shape of a horse's head, with eyes glowing incandescently red, an extravagant plume of more feathers atop it. The back hooves glowed red with flame and the front were talons, clicking against the shattered stone as he delicately made his way down. "No one, not even hell, is going to miss you."

Zeke looked away from the screaming, down at his battered little notebook and the drawings within. One page, the creature with it's peacock tail, holding a box of muffins, smiling. "You got a light inside you, man. Like nothing else. Glad you're on our side."

[letterstotheflre]

𝐀𝐋𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐏𝐀𝐘𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 || 𝐄𝐃𝐃𝐈𝐄 𝐌𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐎𝐍

summary: in which you forget your wallet and offer eddie a quid pro quo. oh, look at you using big words! [eddie munson x bimbo!reader]

cw: smut || 18+ only [ft. oral sex (m receiver), cheating, outdoors sex, reader is dumb (obviously, so if that bothers you.. goodbye!]

a/n: i rewrote this entire thing 4 times 😃 i still don’t really like how some parts turned out but let’s pretend it’s because i’ve stared at it for hours on end and not bc it’s actually bad <3

“That’d be 20,” Eddie says, sliding the bag of weed towards you over the wooden table.

You open your bag to look for your wallet only to not find it in its usual spot. You look inside the bigger compartment, ruffling through makeup bags, receipts and strawberry lollipops but come back empty handed. You look back at Eddie, offering him an anxious smile, “Just a sec.”

He nods and rests his forearms on the table, toying with the wristband of his watch while he watches you open all three of your makeup bags, the glass bottles and compact powders clinking against each other. 

His eyebrows raise at your mumbled curse. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. S’just…” you giggle nervously, twirling a strand of hair. “I forgot my wallet. Silly me.”

Eddie grimaces in pity. “Well that’s unfortunate, sweetheart, but you know what they say…” he takes back the plastic bag and dumps it into his toolbox, closing the lid sharply. He smiles sarcastically, “Flattery doesn’t pay the bills.”

Your shoulders drop as he stands up, but before he can put his leather jacket back on your face lights up, resembling a cartoon having an eureka moment. Or so Eddie thinks. “Wait! I could pay you some other way, if you want!”

“Cash only, you know the rules.” Your twinkling laughter lets him know he said something stupid, which coming from you should probably bruise his ego a little. “What?”

“That’s not what I meant, silly,” you chuckle, adjusting your position on the bench and leaning forward conspiratorially, resting your chin on the palm of your hand. Eddie gulps as your eyes drag down his body to his groin then back up to his face. “I meant, I could do you a little favour.”

“A favour,” he repeats blankly. 

“Yeah, like a little– ugh, what’s the word?” You muse, your front teeth trapping your lower lip. Eddie has to admit that the way your brows furrow in concentration is adorable. “Oh, yeah, a little quid pro quo! I suck your cock, you give me the weed for free,” you sing-song, smiling at him. 

Eddie is many things. A freak, a nerd, an academic failure, a drug dealer. He is not dumb, though, even though the vast majority of Hawkins High would like to defer. So it’d be very dumb of him to turn down a blowjob offer from one of the prettiest girls in Hawkins. 

He’s seen you around town before, walking around with your short skirts and dresses and tight shirts, heeled mary janes that probably cost more than anything inside his trailer clicking against the pavement. You were one of the few people in Hawkins that didn’t cast him aside, in fact, you had always been kind to him whenever he got the courage to talk to you. 

Whether it was because you were simply too nice or because the fact that he was Eddie “the Freak” Munson just flew over your pretty little ditzy head, he’d never know. 

So sue him if he had a teeny tiny crush on the local airhead.

Then he remembers the hunk who usually had an arm wrapped around your waist. The meathead that would bump into his shoulder if they crossed paths. The jackass that would make your shoulders drop and a sad look cloud your face when he mocked you as you played around with the figurines on display in the comic shop he frequented. 

His mood sours.

“Don’t you have a boyfriend?” 

“Yeah, but he won’t mind. Half the weed is for him anyways.” You shrug, clearly unbothered. “Besides, it’s not like he hasn’t been sneaking around with like, half of his girl friends behind my back. At least I’m doing this as a favour to him.” 

Eddie’s eyes widen. “Shit, no way.” 

“Yeah, he must think I’m stupid or something. I mean, I’ve already found three different fake nails in his car. Do I look like the type of girl to wear black nail polish?” You tilt your head to the side, your shiny purple nails clicking on the table. Eddie shakes his head with a snort. “Exactly! So, are we gonna do this or not? I have a hair dresser’s appointment in like an hour.”

Eddie shifts in place, kicking some leaves up in the air. As much as this is a dream come true, he doesn’t wanna take advantage of your predicament. Hoping you don’t take it back, he asks, “You sure this is cool?” 

“Yeah, it’ll be fun!”

He wonders if your idea of fun is usually this fucked up but finds himself nodding in approval. “Yeah, sure. Fuck it.”

You clap your hands in excitement and stand up, your skirt flaring as you twirl around to walk to the opposite side of the bench. You stand in front of him, fingers linked together as you bounce on the balls of your feet. “So, like, do you wanna stand or sit down?”

Eddie stares at your glossy mouth as you talk, down to your low cut top that exposes the swells of your chest, and lower to your short skirt that will most likely rise up if the barest hint of a breeze passes you by. 

“I, uh, I think I’ll sit,” he says, lowering himself to the bench. He gulps when he’s face to face with your boobs, your nipples straining against your shirt.

Yeah, he thinks as his cock stirs awake, sitting down was the smartest choice. 

“Wait,” he grabs his jacket and dumps it in front of him. “For– for your knees. So the leaves don’t hurt you,” he explains when he sees the confused look on your face. 

Your heart swells inside your chest. You have to clutch it to make sure it doesn’t burst from the seams. “That’s so sweet!” you cry and give him a quick peck on the cheek before kneeling between his legs. 

You shuffle until you’re in a comfortable position, caressing his thighs gently when you’re done. “It’s super comfy, Eddie. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he exhales, watching in anticipation as you unbuckle his belt and undo his jeans. He helps you out by raising his hips, pulling down his boxers himself just enough to get his cock out. 

Your mouth falls open. “Oh, wow.”

His cock isn’t even fully hard yet but it’s still an impressive sight, barely thicker than it’s longer and decorated with two cute veins on either side that lead to the pink tip. Your favourite colour. 

You reach forward to touch him but he shifts back awkwardly, shoulders drawn up. “Sorry about the mess,” he says, more pink coating his cheeks. If he keeps this up you’re going to fall in love. “I didn’t think I'd be getting blowed during a deal so, uh, y’know… housekeeping missed a week.”

He’s embarrassed, you realise, catching up to the misunderstanding. About his… pubic hair? You laugh internally, how dumb is this boy?

“I don’t care about that, dummy,” you keep stroking his inner thigh, now touching his skin. He’s so warm. 

Your honesty is so clear in your eyes that it helps him relax. Your hand hovers above his mound and only touches him when he nods shakily, petting it softly. Your eyes light up with happiness and god, Eddie loves that shine on you. “I think it’s super hot, actually. Kinda wish my boyfriend kept it like this.”

Eddie sighs as you litter warm kisses around the base. His dick twitches when your nose bumps against it. “He doesn’t?”

He doesn’t know why he asks, but he’s curious. So very curious to know what you see in that asshole, what it is exactly that Eddie’s missing. And maybe, just maybe, he feels a burst of proudness when you shake your head with a sad pout. 

Eddie: 1

Asshole boyfriend: 0

Your kisses move upwards, your lips pressing sweetly all around his cock and your tongue tracing the veins. Eddie is practically vibrating with anticipation, his hands hovering on either side of your head like he doesn’t know if he can touch you. 

“You can touch me, Eddie,” you mumble against his length, the vibrations sending a shiver down Eddie’s spine. “You can do whatever you want. Here–” 

He swallows down the whine of despair that threatens to come out of his throat when you pull away, has to bite his lip to stay quiet when you take off your top and your tits fall out.

You take his hands and press them to your chest. “Feel them,” you guide his fingers so he can squeeze them, letting out a breathy moan in response. Encouraged, Eddie does it again, this time by himself, and sneaks out of your hold to twist your nipples. “S-soft, aren’t they?”

“Fuckin’ perfect,” he corrects. 

You swallow harshly, the praise and Eddie’s eyes glued to your boobs creating a gentle warmth inside you. “I, uh, thought you might’ve wanted something pretty to look at. Trees can get a little boring. A-and you can use them as stress balls, too! Just anything y’want, really…” You shake your scattered head and grip him once more, Eddie cursing from your sudden movement. “I’m gonna suck you now, ‘kay?”

“Whenever you want, sweetheart.”

Something in the tone of his voice makes your thighs clench together. 

You purse your lips and dribble some spit onto the tip, spreading the rivulettes around with firm strokes. Eddie’s breathing hardens, and when you finally wrap the soft cushions of your mouth around the head and suckle on it like the lollipops you’re always munching on, it’s like he’s stopped breathing all together. 

“Shit,” he curses, the feel of your wet tongue swirling around turning his brain into mush. He can’t think straight, not when he looks down and sees you slobbering all over him, slurping loudly as your head bobs up and down enthusiastically.  

“Holy fuck, that feels so good.” You’re fighting back your gag reflex, he can feel it– your throat contracting around him as you try your best to fight off the urge to throw up, desperate to keep him snug inside your mouth. The spasms cause his head to fall back, the grip on your tits tightening until you’re whimpering. 

You’re a sputtering mess when you pull away, spit dripping down your chin and onto your chest, which is panting with the effort to relieve your burning lungs. You keep stroking him, though, your fist gliding with ease thanks to all the drool you left on him. 

“Look what you did to me,” Eddie says, eyes glued to the tip that oozes precum like a leaky faucet. You follow one of the pearly white drops on its path down to his balls and, never having been a wasteful person, lick it up. 

Eddie groans the feeling of your soft tongue kitten licking his heavy balls. “Do that again,” he begs, hands leaving your chest to keep you down where you are, pressing you against his base. You’re overwhelmed with all things Eddie: his scent, his taste, the sounds he makes as you plop both sacks into your mouth and suck them. 

Eddie slumps back against the table, the sharp edge digging itself into his back but he doesn’t care. He’s spewing curses and the sweetest sounds you have ever heard. “Oh god, you feel how full they are? How full of cum they are for you? Never got this fucking needy for anyone, I swear to fucking Ozzy or- shit, I don’t know. Feels like I’m gonna explode.” 

There aren’t many things that make you as wet as having a cock in your mouth and the evidence is clear in your panties, a string of slick stretching when you pull them to the side to play with your clit. You roll Eddie’s balls in your mouth, press two fingers into your dripping hole in search of relief. The reaction is immediate: a cute little mewl ripping from your chest thanks to the knowledge that your fingers are sticky with his cum and your spit.

You press your face further into his groin and sigh in pleasure, eyelashes fluttering as you pump and curl your fingers. With a kiss yo each of his balls, you lave your tongue on the underside of his cock, flicking the tip over his slit so you can embed his salty taste in your mouth.

“Oh shit, are you touching yourself?” His voice gets higher from the surprise and the arousal, something rabid growing in his stomach. He combs back your hair so he can see your eyes. “That’s– that’s so hot. You have no idea how fucking hot it is.”

He can’t look away from you. Wants to burn the image of your mouth stuffed full and your teary eyes and your lips stretched wide as you try to give him your best smile. Your nipples are grazing the rough fabric of his jeans, your tits bouncing up and down as you drool all over him.

He doesn’t think he can last much longer, not when you touch him so good and sound so pretty and he knows he’s the reason you’re so desperately fucking your own fingers. It’s then that the wet heat of your mouth envelops him again, your cheeks hollowing in a suction motion.

All hell breaks loose. 

He thinks he’s burning up, he has to be. His skin is hot and sweaty, his mind delirious and he can’t keep himself from spewing the first thoughts that come to mind. “I bet that little pussy is beautiful. Sweet too. It’s– It’s gotta be, with how fucking pretty you are. How sweet you always are to me. Always so nice to me, laughing at my awful jokes. Even if your idiotic boyfriend is around. Goddamit,” he clutches the bench beneath him, eyes screwed shut. “I’m gonna cum, sweetheart. Where- Where do you want it? In that tight throat, that pretty face? Anywhere, anywhere you want.”

You pull away with a lewd popping sound, Eddie’s eyes rolling back. “My face, please. Want you to make me pretty,” you say breathlessly. 

Your inner walls flutter at the sight of Eddie losing himself in his orgasm. He’s always been pretty but now, with his lips raw bitten, his hair a wild mess from running his hand through it, his face flushed and his shirt sticking to his sweaty chest? He’s beautiful, gorgeous, every synonym in the dictionary. 

You await with an open mouth and the second the first spurts of his cum hit your cheek, you’re cumming yourself, movements stuttering and thighs closing in on your wrist. Some of the spurts enter your mouth directly and you gulp them down without hesitation. Others drip down your forehead and cheekbones before they touch your parted lips, your tongue darting out to collect them. 

“Come here.” He grabs you by the back of your neck and leans forward to kiss, not even caring that you’re covered in him. His nose presses against your cheek as he swallows down your whiny moans, tasting himself on your tongue. 

He’ll blame the mushyness on his post-orgasmic bliss, not worried about anything when you’re switching his deep kisses for sweet little pecks that could make his knees buckle. 

“Oh!” you exclaim when you notice the clump of white on the tip of Eddie’s nose. You swipe it off with your thumb and lick it up, not even worrying about the state of your own. “So, uh, I read that cum is like this super amazing facial… maybe we could do it again sometime?”

Oh, bless your silly little heart.

[lokiarc64]

RWBY: Vibranium Shield AU: Jaune’s Day at Beacon with new gear (Harem)

Jaune after a solo mission of recon mission of just following some White Fang, Ozpin decided he could have a day off and just do him for awhile, Jaune took this opportunity to then decide to put on some fresh smelling clothes after a long shower and decided to have a nice walk around Beacon with his shield on hand or on his back?

He worn a black tank top, some cargo military navy blue jeans and some of his old steel toe cap Dr.Martens, he grabbed his wallet and scroll and headed out for the day.

As Jaune walked out and passed some people, mostly girls and few Guys he was being watched and lusted as the girls saw his muscular arms and hidden abs and pecs while seeing him looking like a Soldier in training, most males got a bit annoyed and jealous of the attention, Sun however just gave him some respect as he was showing off the abs like a pro.

Half way out he was passing the teachers lounge and Glynda even managed to choke on her coffee and blushed hard while thinking she should give him her crop and use it on her.

As he exited the school he then headed to the comic store that was only a few miles away and decided to Jog there for some small exercise.

An hour later as he jogged back with some new comics he was then noticing that Team RWBY, Pyrrha, Coco, Velvet and Glynda where all staring at him and had some lusting looks on their faces.

Jaune: umm?…..you guys ok? And are you ok Ms. Goodwitch?

Jaune: “Lays in bed”

Jaune: That mission took longer than it should’ve.

Jaune: “Yawn”

Jaune: Got make sure to wake up early for class.

Jaune: I… can’t be… late… again.

Jaune: “Shuts eyes”

“Morning”

Jaune: “Opens eyes”

Jaune: “Stretches”

Jaune: “Checks time on scroll”

Jaune: “Closes eyes”

Jaune: “Eyes widen”

Jaune: Crap, I overslept guys we gotta get t-

Jaune: “Looks around room only to find it empty”

Jaune: They probably already left.

Jaune: I gotta hurry.

“Scroll rings”

Jaune: Hm?

Jaune: “Pulls out scroll to find message”

Jaune: Ozpin?

Mr. Arc we appreciate your improvement, you have made incredible progress as a leader and a fighter. Even going as far as to risk your own life to save an ally of another team. Because of you’ve Improved in such short time you are excused from your classes for the day I have already sent a message to your team and peers. We are grateful for your selflessness and courage - Headmaster Ozpin.

Jaune: Huh.

Jaune: Dodged the bullet there.

Jaune: So I have the day to myself.

Jaune: What should I do.

Jaune: “Sniffs shirt”

Jaune: Ugh, well first I gotta take a shower.

“30 Minutes Later”

Jaune: “Looks in closet”

Jaune: Where the heck is my hoodie?

Jaune: “Looks under bed”

Jaune: Where could it be?

“Meanwhile”

Ruby: “Looks under school uniform”

Ruby: Hehehe.

Jaune: “Continues to rummage around closet”

Jaune: “Spots black tank top”

Jaune: Why haven’t I ever worn this?

Jaune: Well no better time than now.

Jaune: “Trips on shield”

Jaune: Ow.

Jaune: “Stares at shield”

Jaune: “Grabs shield & places it on his back”

Jaune: Just in case.

“Hallway”

Jaune: “Walking down hallway”

Students: “Staring”

Female Student: Isn’t that Arc

Female Student: Yeah, when did he become such a hottie.

Female Student: I totally let him take me out.

Male Student: Lucky bastard.

Male Student: He was the weakest student and now he’s a chick magnet.

Male Student: Dudes lucky.

Sun: Yo Jaune.

Sun: Looking good my man.

Jaune: Heh thanks dude.

Glynda: “Sipping coffee”

Glynda: My class begins in a few minutes, I should get going soon.

Glynda: “Sips coffee”

Glynda: “Spots Jaune”

Glynda: “Spits coffee”

Glynda: “Coughing”

Glynda: 😳😳😳

Glynda: M-Mr Arc he is is.

Glynda (Internally): Am I getting fluster over a student?

Glynda: Oh how he would look in a crop like mine.

Glynda: 🤤🤤🤤

“Vale”

Jaune: “Walks in a comic book store”

Jaune: “Looks through comics”

Jaune: Yes the new X-ray and Vav issue.

Jaune: “Sees shield wielding hero”

Jaune: “Smiles”

Jaune: “Takes comic”

Jaune: “Sets comics on counter”

Female Employee: Quite the selection.

Female Employee: “Looks at Jaune”

Female Employee: 😳😳😳

Female Employee: Woah mama.

Jaune: “Pulls out wallet”

Jaune: How much do I owe you?

Female Employee: “Hands comics to Jaune”

Female Employee: There on the house handsome.

Jaune: Really, wow thank you.

Female Employee: Oh a comic lover who’s ripped thats so rare.

“Beacon”

Ruby: Seriously Yang what were you doing with Jaune?

Yang: It was nothing, why do you keep bugging me about it?

Weiss: Because you continuously dodge the question whenever we ask it.

Yang: Look what happened was my business and-

Yang: “Spots Jaune”

Yang: And…

Ruby: Yang?

Weiss: You dolt whats distracting you from our conversation?

Blake: That.

Blake: “Points at Jaune”

Ruby & Weiss: “Turn to see Jaune”

Ruby & Weiss: 😳😳😳

Ruby: Holy-

Weiss: How dare he get so muscular and stop flirting with me.

Blake (Internally): Lucky for the rest of us.

Coco: “Raises her sunglasses”

Velvet: “Stares at Jaune with lust”

Pyrrha: “Covering face”

Glynda: “Covering bloody nose”

Jaune: Is everyone staring at me?

Jaune: Are they okay?

Jaune: “Looks at Glynda who’s nose is bleeding”

Jaune: Is Miss Goodwitch okay?

[copperbadge]

I didn’t take a picture of any of the cleaning I did today, so here, have a picture of the rye loaf I baked while I did it. 

It’d be tough to take photos of what I did anyway; today was the day to clean out the chest of drawers next to my “office” desk and be more intentional about what went where. I emptied the “Trash” drawer, shifted the contents of the “wtf do I do with this” drawer to the “wtf do I do with this” box in the living room, moved all the holiday gifts I bought into the empty bottom drawer so that I can more easily sort through them this weekend, and shifted the contents of my “magic” box, which contains a lot of the spiritual working tools I use, from an open carton under my desk to a closed drawer where the cats can’t chew on the leather scabbard of my nice Finnish fisherman’s knife. 

Some of the contents of the wtf-drawer included a couple of cards that needed to be returned to my wallet, so after cleaning out the drawers I unpacked all my card cases (camera-case wallet with all the vital stuff, hard-sided wallet with the necessary but not as vital stuff, Marvel Comics wallet with the rarely-used stuff) and reorganized, then packed them away along with passport and vaccine card in an empty drawer. 

All of this took me through episode 6 of Radioactive (I had no idea Charles Coughlin was so deep in bed with Huey Long!) as well as the latest Indicator short-form episode about real estate “ibuyers” and the basic logistical problems Zillow dealt with before it got back out of the ibuying game. 

[anakinisvaderisanakin]

Why I Love Rosa’s Scrooge and Goldie Romance the Most

Veering completely out of my lane for this particular blog, but. I’ve always been a huge fan of Don Rosa’s portrayal of Scrooge McDuck and Goldie O’Gilt. I know some wanna deem them “problematic”, and they are indeed less than perfect - which is one of the reasons I am a sucker for their dynamic. They ruined their own chances at a healthy relationship by being too stubborn, too selfish, and too callous with one another. 

Now, with that said, as much as I understand Scrooge’s choice not to open the letter Goldie had sent him - conditioned to expect the worst, and thus willfully choosing to cast aside the note in favour of telling himself Goldie might have loved him. 

We, the audience, know that she does and thus it hurts all the more that he would believe he could never earn her fancy. We understand why he doesn’t read the message, despite the fact that he ought to and it might have made him happier than his eventual fortune ever could.

As much as that hurts; Goldie’s side of things is ever more bitter. 

Imagine pouring your heart out to the man you love, being dead certain he will return if he only gets to read the letter in which your confessions are penned - only for him never to return. Imagine waiting, pining, longing, anticipating. Imagine the days turning to months, to years, to decades. And he never comes. He read the letter, yet he never comes back for you.

So, while Scrooge’s inherent self doubt and low self esteem (his I’m nothing unless I make money and become someone worth admiring mantra) - I believe Goldie took it the hardest. She was the saloon girl, with all the implications behind the profession at the time, and she was turned down by the one man she believed could see past her flaws and what she must have believed had - as a sordid past of sorts - tainted her value as a reputable woman.

Scrooge, who couldn’t care less for Goldie’s social standing or past once he noted what a diligent and hardworking woman she was and what she had sacrificed to get where she was. 

Goldie, who couldn’t care less for Scrooge’s empty wallet and stubborn attitude once getting past his rough exterior to the softer core.

They could have made a great couple, their differences and pigheadedness set aside. Instead, they spent fifty years believing the other didn’t love them back; worn down by unrequited love. That’s why their story is so compelling to me, as it is presented in the comics by Don Rosa. 

Does that mean I don’t like any other Goldie and Scrooge portrayals? Absolutely not, but the tragedy makes the Rosa (and consequently Barks’) iteration my favourite. I like the tragedy, the chaos, the trauma, the deep seated sadness of it all. Is it dysfunctional? Perhaps, but it’s fiction. And I prefer deep, layer characters that are morally gray above strict whites and blacks. 

Also, the drama is on another level - and I find, the older I get, the more I enjoy Rosa’s works (although I did as a teen as well) because of their slightly more mature angle, and the more mature themes. The same reason I enjoy Tintin, I’d recon.

[nsheetee]

My Hoodie

Pairing: Haechan x Reader Genre: lots of fluff!!! Length: 2.2k Details: one slightly suggestive kiss, female reader Summary: Knowing that you like to steal his clothes, Haechan plants little notes for you to discover in his hoodies and sweats. He doesn’t know what to do with himself when you return the favor.

a/n: happy birthday to fullsun!!! thank you for making our days brighter and bringing so much love to everyone around you ♡

☀︎━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ ☀︎

“Donghyuck…” You sing, waltzing into his room. He’s sitting at his desk chair, facing his computer monitor with a pair of headphones on, making you pout at the back of his head for his lack of attention towards you. Dropping your things onto his bed, you sneak up behind him and slide your hands down his shoulder.

“You scared me.” He jumps the second your hands touch him, momentarily taking his focus off of the game before you hear the rising shouts of his team members through his headphones to focus. “I thought you were Johnny.” He settles into your touch after you connect your hands over his chest, not caring that his friends on the other side of the headset could hear him talking.

“.... Does Johnny touch you like this a lot?” You ask, teasing your boyfriend.

“Yeah, you jealous?” He taunts back, making you roll your eyes and set your chin down on top of his head to watch him play. When his player dies and the round ends, Donghyuck sighs in defeat and throws his headset onto the desk.

“I just lost. Come console me.” He dramatically cries, opening his arms and throwing his head back with closed eyes. You giggle as you turn his desk chair and slide onto his lap, getting comfy as he wraps his arms around you. He has a black hoodie on to keep him warm, but gym shorts and white socks on his lower half that makes you snort at his comfy get up. You press a kiss to his lips, and Donghyuck traps you when you try to move away. “Console me harder!”

“Okay, but I want something in return.” You bargain.

“That’s not how this works but okay, continue.” Donghyuck blinks and nods at the same time, his thin-rimmed glasses reflecting off of the light that shines from the corner of the room.

“I want your hoodie.” You tug at the drawstrings of the mentioned article of clothing, curling your lips between your teeth.

“Go pick one out of my closet.” Donghyuck nods over to the other side of the room while squeezing your waist.

“But I want this one.” You tug at the drawstrings harder, now pouting. You’d probably never tell Donghyuck how much you love wearing his clothes. Even after over a year of dating and stealing many of his hoodies, shirts, and sweats, you’d never admit how nice it feels to wear something of his right after he has been wearing it. Even if it may seem gross to some people, you like smelling Donghyuck’s natural scent around you when you’re running late night errands, or eating out, or just being lazy on Sunday mornings.

“Fine, but I think I deserve a big kiss for this.” Donghyuck groans, standing both of you up and taking his hoodie off. His undershirt lifts up slightly and you poke at his exposed belly, making him flinch and hide his tummy while you laugh. He helps you pull the fabric over your head and down your frame, leaning in and pouting his lips comically after your head pops out.

You grant his wish, landing your lips square on his own and surprising him with the amount of fervor you kiss him with. He moans in satisfaction, allowing you to slip your tongue in between his lips just for a moment; your fingers tangle into his hair and tug gently to bring him closer. He’s left wanting more when you pull away with an innocent smile, as if you hadn’t just stuck your tongue into his mouth, and watches you bounce to his bed.

“Brat.” He calls after you, but leaves you alone as you settle down under his covers. The room turns silent once again, only the sounds of Donghyuck’s keyboard tapping and his comments to his team members filling the room.

You’re not a fool; you know that you won’t be able to pull your boyfriend away from his video games until he and his teammates are satisfied for the night. So you get comfy, plug your phone into your charger, and hug Donghyuck’s pillow as you mindlessly surf through whatever social media app you click first.

It’s not until you shift around on the bed that you feel a piece of paper in the pocket of Donghyuck’s hoodie. You’re only trying to pull down the hoodie over your thighs, but the feeling of the paper surprises you. You take it out of the pocket, blinking in surprise when you recognize your name at the top of the paper in Donghyuck’s handwriting.

“Y/N, you’re a little brat for stealing all of my hoodies and leaving me cold all the time… but you’re my little brat.”

You laugh at the message, looking towards Donghyuck’s chair to see if he noticed you giggling to yourself, but he remains entranced by his video game. You neatly fold the message and tuck it into your bag, a dumb smile lingering on your lips as you get comfortable again. Your head feels lighter with happiness and your chest almost hurts from how much your heart is beating. It truly is the littlest things with Donghyuck that make your head swirl out of pure love for him.

☀︎☀︎☀︎

“Rock, paper, scissors. Loser has to make dinner.” Donghyuck mumbles sleepily into your hair, his arms wrapped around your waist and his legs wrapped around your hips telling you that he has no plans of losing this game. Despite it being almost midnight, you and Donghyuck have only just woken up; his rehearsal ran late and he decided to crash at your place. Now, you have a tired and hungry boyfriend clinging to you, and you almost feel bad for playing scissors against his paper.

“You hate me, don’t you?” Donghyuck sniffs, digging his head further into your hair and letting out fake sobs.

“Keep this up and I’ll have to say yes to that.” Your empty threat makes Donghyuck quit his acting and sit up straight, giving you a playful glare before shimmying off the bed and leaving the room. You lay in your position for a while longer, a blissful and unaware smile on your face as you hear your boyfriend move around the kitchen. You decide to go help him before he burns something just to spite you, sitting up and looking around the room for something to wear to keep you warm.

Spotting Donghyuck’s sweats, you dart towards them and wiggle them on, shortening the length of the leg and putting your hands in the pockets to fix them, too. Much to your surprise, you feel a piece of paper in one of the pockets. Taking it out, you turn the folded secret in between your fingers, wondering if this is like the last message Donghyuck left you in his hoodie a few days ago. Curiosity beckons you to unfold the message, and a part of you expects it to be some random drawing Donghyuck made earlier today or maybe a to-do list he forgot to throw away.

However, your name is printed in his handwriting at the top, just like in the last note:

“Y/N, you know it’s weird to wear my pants, right? None of the hyungs’ girlfriends wear theirs! I know that you love my clothes, and I know you won’t ever say it out loud. So, my closet is your closet, babe.”

Despite the playful nature of this note, your heart strings are tugged and pulled by his words. There is something so innocent and all-encompassing about that one phrase: “what’s mine is yours.”

You haven’t said those three words to Donghyuck yet: “I love you.” You’ve been dating for so long and have gone over so many speed bumps in your relationship that you haven’t had the need to say “I love you” to each other, you both just…. know it already. Through actions, through what you do for each other to make your relationship work, through sticking up for one another, you know you love each other. However, now more than ever, you feel like telling Donghyuck you love him. Your actions have spoken for themselves, and now it’s time to make them audible.

You’re sure Donghyuck didn’t mean to get this deep with his note, but his sentiment shows you a part of him that he’ll never vocalize out loud. Donghyuck shows his love by sharing, whether it’s sharing his affection, his touch, his clothes, his food— he shares what’s his with those he loves. To take it a further step and say that what he owns is yours, too, makes you feel all soft and warm for the boy that is surely messing up your kitchen in the other room.

You leave his new note next to the other one you found, sitting them side by side on your desk before heading out and joining your love. You can think about Donghyuck’s unspoken and subconscious love language later. Now, it’s time to savor it in person.

☀︎☀︎☀︎

“Donghyuck-ah! You better get your butt on this dance floor before I drag you over here.” Donghyuck hears Johnny call him from across the room, the rate of dropping his things and taking off his jacket quickens at the threat from the lovable (but not always gentle) giant.

Donghyuck starts taking his phone and wallet out of his pants’ pockets to drop them down onto his backpack. In the midst of all the hurry, he sees a white paper fly out along with his phone and land peacefully on the wood floor. Donghyuck blinks at it, wondering if maybe you hadn’t seen his little note that he left in these pants a few days ago.

He picks up the piece of paper and immediately notices that this is not his own note, the heart drawn on the outside of the folded paper hinting that maybe this is a note from you. Donghyuck unfolds it, forgetting about everything his members are doing behind him, his wonder getting the better of him.

“Donghyuck, I hope you don’t really mind me stealing your clothes, I’ll be doing it for a long time~ Have a good practice, I’ll always be cheering for you.”

Donghyuck needs to go to practice. He needs to focus on the choreography he’s supposed to learn today, but he can only stare at the note silently, his hurry from before no longer present. He feels softer holding the piece of paper in his hands; he wants to fold it back up and keep it with him forever.

He started leaving notes for you in his clothes just to tease you about the fact that he knew you love wearing his things, but now he wonders if his notes had the same effect on you as your note did on him. Donghyuck takes a deep breath, an internal battle for what his next actions should be begins in his head, and then he turns to the rest of the room.

“I’m sorry.” He bows politely, regret in his voice but eagerness on his face. “I have to make a call.” The choreographers and the rest of his members look puzzled, but don’t stop Donghyuck from walking out of the dance studio with his phone. In the hallway, Donghyuck leans the back of his head against the wall and dials up your number on his phone with muscle memory. It only rings once before you answer.

“Donghyuck? Aren’t you supposed to be at practice? What’s wrong?”

“I love you.”

The words pour out of Donghyuck’s lips like he has never uttered a word in his whole life, until now. Saying the words out loud feels like putting in the last puzzle piece. He says the three short words with conviction— with adoration. All of his feelings seem like they’re pouring out of him, as if he had an unstable dam built up around his heart and those three words were the earthquake that shattered its foundation. Donghyuck’s chest tightens, his heart feels like a boa constrictor is squeezing all of the love out of it for you in this one moment.

“I love you, too.” He hears you say and the dumbest smile on his face forms, making him let out an airy laugh.

“I’m sorry I did this over the phone, but I saw your note,” Donghyuck looks down at the words you wrote to him, clutched in between his slender fingers, “I couldn’t stop myself.”

“I know the feeling. Leaving notes in your clothes for me was too cute, you couldn’t be the only one doing it.” Donghyuck loves how warm your voice sounds when you talk to him, he considers skipping practice to go to your place and kiss the life out of you.

“I want to see you. Now.” He says instead, his feet itching to leave the dance studio and run to the nearest bus stop.

“No way, you need to work. You can see me tonight, and then you can tell me those words in person, too.” Donghyuck is impatient, like a child waking up at 5am on Christmas morning knowing they shouldn’t wake up their parents but still wanting their presents. He turns his shoulders, his forehead now leaning against the wall as he hides from the rest of the empty hallway.

“Okay, but you better be ready for the best cuddles of your life.”

“Oh, no. Maybe you should come now, I don’t think I can wait.” You both laugh. Donghyuck feels light-headed with tenderness for you.

“I love you.” He says again, a smile playing on his lips.

“I love you, too. Now, go work hard. I’ll be cheering for you.” The last thing Donghyuck hears is the smile in your voice and the kiss you send him through the phone before the call ends. He has to take a deep breath, not moving from his position against the wall. Donghyuck is not sure how he’ll be able to focus for the next three hours, but he drags his feet back into the room and begins practice with you on his mind and in his heart, and your note folded back up and tucked safely into his pocket.

[asterroidd]

tempt fortune

↬ Pairing: Levi Ackerman x Reader

↬ Word count: 4.5k

↬ Warning/s: swearing, mentions of sex, alcohol, slight NSFW (?)

↬ Synopsis: Too deep in an argument with Hange in attempts to prove you are—in fact—not a virgin, you’ve accidentally lied blurted out that you and Levi are in a relationship.

↬ Notes: Tysm for the request anon! I had way too much fun with this prompt lol.

↬ Minors do not interact. Go away, shoo shoo!

8th prompt:  “I can’t believe you told them you were my fiancé.”

   The night was murky and dark with only the shine of the moon serving as a way to illuminate the streets of the city. Trees stripped bare as a sign of the forthcoming change of seasons, and a milky white fog had encompassed the city’s canals and dark alleyways. The crisp, cold air makes the hair on your skin stood up and shiver despite the layers of clothing you wore.

    Though, that feeling will dissipate away as soon as the bitter taste of alcohol hits your taste buds and enter your system.

    Earlier that day, Hange and Petra had invited you to a night out to the local pub to wash away the fears and tension of being soldiers of the Survey Corps. A guilty pleasure of some sort, just a way to rid the jitters of being eaten by a titan outside the walls. Despite the three of you being veterans, neither of you could ever shake the feeling of death’s cold hands resting on top of your shoulder.

    That said, two of your best friends walked alongside you. Arms hooked with one another for warmth and for comfort. Soon enough, the three of you arrived at the destined place: the pub.

    There are a couple of tables already taken, but the place is not too full. Even with that, the pub is still quite energetic; with men hollering and throwing their heads back as they chat with one another, weak threats that are carelessly thrown around by drunk individuals looking for a mock fight, and of course the iconic clink of glasses against one another as toast.

    “What are we drinking tonight?” Petra asked. She claimed a seat at an empty table, in which you and Hanji followed suit.

    “Whiskey!” Hange announced to which brought a grin on your face.

    "Getting wasted, I see.“ You shrugged your jacket off and placed it neatly by your side. "Isn’t it Petra’s turn to treat us?”

    The female in question instantly whipped her head to face you, a shocked look evident on her face. “I don’t recall making such promises.”

    "You sure did!“ Hanji added. "We made a bet weeks ago. Debating whether or not Erwin grooms his eyebrows every morning.”

    "In which we won, by the way.“ you said with a smug look on your face. "The commander does indeed groom it and even has a special comb for it.”

     “Not fair!” Petra pouted, pushing her bottom lip out and giving Hange the puppy dog eyes in attempts to save her poor wallet. Which was futile, the brunette stuck her tongue out and shook her head. While Petra and Hange continued with their debacle, you took it upon yourself to call the attention of a barmaid. She gave you a beaming smile, her golden locks neatly tied into a bun and crow’s feet visible beneath her eyes. She approached the table wherein the three of you are situated.

   “Two bottles of whiskey and three mugs please,” you spoke, not even bothering to wait for her to speak up. She nodded before strolling towards the counter to prepare your order.

   Petra slumped her weight onto the table as she heaved a sigh in defeat. “Fine. It’s my treat tonight.”

   You and Hange cheered in delight, successfully evading a huge loss of money given that whiskey is quite expensive. The continuous catastrophic storms that beleaguered the farmlands had made an extensive disastrous effect on the supply of barley and wheat. Which, like a domino effect, limits the supply of whiskey within the walls. Increasing the price of the said beverage more than two-fold.

   It was a good thing that you put faith in your instincts and thus won the bet.

   “How’s the research going, Hanji?” Petra changed the topic.

   The brunette let out a drained sigh, “Levi had to kill Hughes.”

   “Hughes?” You piped in. “The eight-meter class aberrant titan we caught last time?”

   Hange nodded, “He was a good man. An honest man.” She spoke of the titan as if it was her long lost husband that died in a war.

   Then, she started blabbering on and on about the experiments she had done to the beast; piercing its eye to count the regeneration time, plucking one of its teeth out to see if it would disintegrate, and many more.

   You would’ve stopped her then and there if it weren’t for the barmaid approaching your table with a tray of glass and two bottles of whiskey. You internally cheered, Hange had told stories about Hughes a couple of times already that you basically had memorized it all.

  The three of you wasted no time in popping one of the bottles and pouring the bitter liquid into the cups.

  "To friendship. And condolences to Petra’s wallet.“ You raised your glass up to which the two mirrored. With one satisfying clink of the glass, you swallowed down its contents in one gulp. Your face contorting in an unattractive expression as the alcohol slid down your throat.

   "I was planning to buy a book that I wanted. But it looks like it would have to wait for the time being,” Petra said, pouring another glass of whiskey.

  "Pshh,“ your brunette friend snorted. "You have Oluo to buy anything you want.”

    Instantly, blood rushed to Petra’s face upon hearing the male’s name.

    You joined in the teasing. “Oh yeah. You two are a thing. Now, aren’t you?” 

   “We’re not!” your friend slammed her fists on the wooden table. “We’re just friends!”

   “Oh really?” Hange swished the whiskey around the glass. “That’s not what I heard the other night.”

   She leaned in close to whisper. “I heard moans coming out of his room.”

   Petra sucked in a breath in shock, her eyes widening in shock and mouth slightly agape. “I- it’s not…it’s–” she said but she was a stuttering mess.

   “Already in that stage, I see.” You playfully nudged her. It was an ongoing comical joke in the base that Oluo and Petra are in a romantic relationship after the male flat out publicly confessed to her one night in the mess hall. The room immediately erupted in a mess as howls and catcalls are heard. Ever since then, both of them are continuously teased.

    “Say, (____)…” Hange trailed off, her fingers curling around the shot glass. Gulping the remaining liquid down her throat before continuing, “Are you a virgin?”

    You let out an inhumane sound in shock. Borderline choking as you tried to swallow down the whiskey caught in your throat. Petra saw your discomfort in which she assisted you by lightly patting you on the back as you coughed air out.

   “What kind of question is that?” you said after your body stopped jerking.

   Hanji gave you a lop-sided smile. “Just that we are nearing our thirties. Who knows when we’ll breathe our final breath? The least we could do is experience getting laid before that happens.”

   “Well, are you a virgin?” You answered with a question.

   Hange rests her chin on top of her open palm. “Nope, though it was a one night stand.”

   You sweat buckets, you never had someone popped your cherry before, let alone a serious relationship that is romantic.

   Are you the only one left that hasn’t got laid?

   But it’s not your fault! You were just too caught up with military services that love never crossed your mind

   Or did it?

   Your mind wanders off to daydream about the small and petty crush you have with a certain captain.

    There is just something so captivating about the way his silver eyes met yours the first time you saw him. How his raven hair looks neat every time and you could only guess how soft it would be to touch. Not to mention his impeccable skill with the 3dmg maneuver gear and its blades.

   Yes, it was none other than Captain Levi himself. But it was all just a petty crush! A small rosebud of admiration that had blossomed as you fought alongside the male and got to know him better each passing day.

    “Well?” Hange snapped you out of your thoughts. “Have you or have you not gotten laid?”

    You cleared your throat, you didn’t want to look foolish in front of your friends. Given that the two of them had their own fair share of experience in the topic. They would tease the hell out of you and soon enough, the whole base would do as well.

   Lieutenant (____), the virgin soldier. You don’t want things to be that way.

    “O-of course I did,” you puffed your chest out more to elicit fake confidence.

   Petra cooed, “Really? With who?”

   You thought of the closest male in your personal bubble. “Levi!”

   To say that the two were shocked was an understatement. They were both flabbergasted. Never in a million years would they expect that you and Levi had a relationship, let alone sexual intercourse. The two, in fact, never saw him and you close enough that would draw out a romantic vibe. So they are completely blown away and confused at the same time.

   “Bullshit,” Hange said. “Shorty is one lonely man that has no love in his system.”

   “I-is too!” you stuttered out, hand flailing around in panic. “In fact, he is my fiancé.”

   Okay, that might be a stretch.

   Petra slammed her hands against the table to which garnered half of the customers’ attention. “Get out! No way!”

   “Yes way!” You countered. So far so good, now all you had to do is convince them that you and Levi are actually a thing. Which was easier said than done since you would need to bribe or annoy the male enough that he would give in to your pleas.

   Though, Hange is still unimpressed as evident with her pouting lips and furrowed eyebrows. “Prove it then, show us that the shorty and you are actually a thing. I would bet half of my salary this month if you could show us that Levi is capable of love.”

   “Bring it on four-eyes!”

   And so begins the downfall of your life.

    Levi had a sick feeling in his gut; a hunch that for the next few hours, he would have a shitty day. However, he couldn’t say for sure what would cause such disturbance to his day. His gut feelings were never wrong, it was an innate sense that he had ever since he lived in the Underground. So he was sure something would happen, he’d have to be more careful.

    That said, he instantly regretted the way he jinxed himself.

   There you are, standing outside of his office at two in the morning. Your fingers fiddled with the hem of your shirt, constantly shifting your weight from one foot to another as you refuse to make eye contact with Levi. Bashful eyes kept staring down at your feet whilst you find the words to make one coherent sentence.

   “I have something important to discuss with you,” you murmured to which Levi quirked a brow. What did you want now that it couldn’t wait until the sun rose up in the sky?

   The male crossed his arms across his chest, leaning his weight on the doorway. “What is it?”

   “Please pretend to be my lover.”

   Levi blinked, his eyes widening and mouth hanging open slightly. Though, he regained back his usual composure in a split second. He narrowed his eyes at you.

   You want him to do what now? Is this some kind of prank or sick joke that you thought of?

   Taking note of his silence, you decided to explain to him your situation that needs his immediate cooperation and attention.

   “You see…” you sucked in a breath. “I kind of lied to Hange and Petra that I got laid and it was you who actually took my virginity. Hange didn’t believe a word that I said and uhh-… Things got out of hand and I told them I was your fiancé.”

   What?

   Levi sighed through his nose, an exasperated expression on his face. “So this is what it’s all about.”

   “Yes. And now I need you to play along and pretend to be my significant other.”

   The male scrunched his face up in disgust, “I can’t believe you told them you were my fiancé.”

   You fought back a sob, “Please. I beg of you, Levi.”

   “No.” Levi shook his head. “No way. Don’t drag me in your own bullshit.”

   The male was about to close his door but you grabbed him by his sleeve. Clutching on it until your knuckles turned white. You couldn’t just let him shut you out without agreeing to play along. You’d do whatever it takes just to get Levi to pretend to be your lover.

  "I’ll buy you the expensive black tea.“

   His ears twitched, now that piqued Levi’s interest. You smirked as he froze, you knew that he has a soft spot for tea. And tasty, expensive ones at that matter.

    Levi chewed on his bottom lip while he pondered over his next words. The male was supposed to be keeping his hands busy by signing and writing the documents that started to pile high up on top of his desk due to Hanji dumping her workload on him. Levi sighed through his nose, fingers massaging his temple. "How long?”

   “What?” You tilted your head to the side.

   “Tch.” Levi clicked his tongue. “How long do I need to pretend to be your lover?”

   Levi swore that the minute he let go of those words, stars danced in your eyes.

  "We just need to convince the others.“

  "And then?” He asked.

  "And then? What. . ?“

  Levi internally groaned and rolled his eyes. Was it really worth the risk?

  "Are you expecting that we keep the act up?”

  Oh, so that is what he meant by it.

  "Well,“ you rubbed your chin with your fingers in deep thought. "We could stop the acting after a few weeks? We’ll just tell them we’re too busy and shit that we couldn’t maintain the relationship anymore.”

  Levi shrugged. “Sounds good enough to me.”

  You squealed in delight as you threw your arms around his neck, showering him with gratitude and compliments.

   Looks like black tea does the trick.

   The sun already rose from its slumber, showering the lands with its soft rays of light. Levi had a scowl ever-present on his face as soon as he stepped out of his office room. He knew that something was wrong. Something out of place as he sensed the change in the atmosphere of the base that would normally be heavy and tense.

  Still, he persisted on shrugging the thought off and continued with his daily morning routine: which is to quickly brew a cup of tea before the mess hall becomes full with people. Levi walked down the halls, a handful of soldiers are already awake and fully clothed with the Survey Corps uniform. They gave him one brief and firm salute as he passed by them. Though, Levi swore that he could hear them whispering amongst themselves.

  When the male arrived at the mess hall, he was surprised to see most of the superiors—along with his squad—are mingling with one another at a table. His mind screamed danger, telling his body to turn around and hide in the comforts of his office. However, Levi wasn’t going to give up his morning cup of tea just because he felt uneasy.

   He slid inside like a shadow, going unnoticed by most of his friends that was too energetic today for his tastes. They were chatting loudly about miniscule things; the weather, training later on the day, gear inspection that needs to be done, and the like.

   Levi wished that he would be overlooked, that their banter would be noisy enough that he could peacefully grab a cup of tea and run back to his office. Though that wishful thinking of his soon come crashing down when Hange’s cheery voice called out to him.

  “Mornin’ shorty! Come sit here beside us! We already have tea brewed for you!”

  Levi internally groaned, gripping the empty cup in his hands tighter. The brunette just had to have an innate sense in locating where Levi is. Reluctantly, he left the porcelain behind and walked towards the table. You were nowhere to be found, which was a huge relief for him since Levi doesn’t want to see your face first thing in the morning.

  “What’s with the shit-eating grin?” he took a seat beside Erwin.

  “(____) told me something important last night,” Hange wiggled her shoulders.

  He narrowed his eyes at her, “What do you mean?”

  Levi heard Erwin laughing beside him, the blond’s shoulders bouncing up and down. He then placed one palm on top of Levi’s shoulder.

  “Congratulations, Levi! Didn’t knew you were engaged.“

  Hold the fuck up. What?

  Then it dawned on him. He remembered you outside his office in the wee hours of the morning, begging him to play along with your petty bullshit just for the sake of preserving your dignity among your peers.

  Levi couldn’t believe that he would start acting right away. He haven’t had a sip of his morning tea. 

  “Yeah,” he said, eyeing the cup of tea that Eld placed in front of him. Levi doubts that any of them could perfectly brew tea that would meet his standards.

  “What?” Oluo joined in the conversation. “So it’s true then?”

  Levi grumbled, taking a sip of the leaf infused hot liquid. He relished the dark and malty taste of it sliding down his esophagus before responding. “Any problem with that?”

  The male shifted in his seat, “N-no, sir… Just that I am shocked.”

  “We all are,” Erwin chuckled. “We never expected it.”

  “You are a man of a few words, after all.” Petra added. “Still, we are happy for you, captain!”

  Levi stayed silent, if he knew that by accepting your bribery would open Pandora’s box of headache and irritation in his life, then he wouldn’t have agreed to it. Still, he was hopeful that only those close to him are informed of the arrangement. That you wouldn’t go so far as to spread the news around the base. 

  Scratch that. Everyone knew that Levi is your fiancé.

  By the time midday rolled around, Levi was the center of attention much to his displeasure. Of all the years he had served in the military, never did he expect that one small arrangement done at two a.m. would have dire consequences.

  All for the black tea. Levi chanted in his mind. Dealing with this bullshit for a box full of expensive black tea.

  Whispers could be heard, though he paid no attention to it, dead set on finding you to ask what in the ever-loving fuck is going through your brain for letting everyone know.

  Ah, speak of the devil. There you are, by the horses’ stables. Your hands reaching up to caress the nose of your horse, a giggle escaping your lips as its tongue darted out to tickle you.

  “(____),” he called out.

  You whipped your head around to the sound. Then your smile grew wider as you saw it was Levi.

  “Hey!” you replied while wiping your wet hand on a towel. “What’s up?”

  The male groaned, you are too casual about it.

  “Care to explain why does everyone in the base knew that we are engaged?” The word rolled off his tongue like venom. “I thought it was only Hanji and Petra?”

  Your smile wavered down, replaced by a bashful one. “Well uhh-…you see. Hanji kind of started the rumors which quickly spread like wildfire.”

  “So it’s not my fault,” you threw your hands up.

  Levi sighed exasperatedly. He should’ve known that the source would be four eyes. The brunette had caused more trouble than Levi could count within his fingers. He recounted countless times where she knocked on death’s door willingly when Hange placed her head inside a titan’s mouth. Who does that?

   A maniac with a death wish, and that is what Hange is.

  “Never mind that,” you trailed off, motioning the male to come closer. He rolled his eyes before obliging. “I have a plan that could finally get Hange off the radar,” you continued.

  “And that would be?”

  You looked side by side, eyes scanning the surroundings in case someone is eavesdropping. Once you considered the coast was clear, you told Levi the plan. “Hanji would be dropping off a stack of paperwork later this evening.”

  Levi doesn’t already like where this is going.

  “We could pretend to have sex in your office, loud enough for her to hear it. That for sure would convince her.”

  You wanted to do what now?

  “Wait, hold on.” Levi shook his head, slowly trying to digest your words. “You want us to have sex?”

  “We’re not really going to do it!” you slapped his shoulder blades. “Just create some noise and thuds here and there to make it seem like we are doing it.”

  The male internally groaned before hesitantly agreeing with your plan. If it means that this stupid fabrication of a relationship would be done, he’d follow suit.

  You could hear the loud pounding of your heart inside your ribcage as you sat on one of the chairs in Levi’s office. Patiently, waiting for the fated moment where Hange would be knocking on the door. Butterflies flew around in your stomach, you couldn’t believe that Levi would actually cooperate with the stupid plan you had just conjured up at a moment’s notice.

  The thought of him moaning and grunting made your core burn with desire. As much as you want to calm yourself, you couldn’t help but stir up images and scenes in your mind as to how Levi would look like while having sex. You don’t know which was a better view: him on top of you or you riding him.

  Heat rushed to your cheeks at the thought. Why does he have to be so goddamn sexy that you couldn’t resist the man?

  “Oi,” Levi called out to you. Though, his eyes never left the paper in his hands as he scanned it. “Quiet down will you? Your foot tapping against the floor irritates me.”

  Oh, it was a mindless action of yours when you get too nervous. By bouncing your legs up and down, it helps you calm down and ignore the growing pit of anxiety in your stomach. Nonetheless, you mumbled a quick apology to the male then resorted to fumbling with the collars of your uniform.

  Soon enough, you heard the soft humming of Hange outside, her footsteps increasing in sound as she draws near the door. You and Levi looked at each other, it was showtime.

  You abruptly stood up, arms flailing around as you glanced between the male and the door. Wait, what do you need to do again? And why is Levi still sitting in his chair and not doing anything?

  “Levaii!” Hange knocked. “I got more paperwork for you!”

  The doorknob rattled, but you instantly had the metal in your grasp in attempts to keep the female out of the room.

  “Huh…?” you could hear Hange utter. “Levi?”

  In a panicked state, your mind blanked out as words fail to escape your lips. You shot a pleading look to Levi, to which he rose a brow.

  Help me you bitch! You mouthed.

  He shot you a confused look. It’s your plan, do it, the male mouthed back.

  You gulped down your saliva, shaky hands gripping the doorknob tighter as the brunette jostle it. Time seemed to stop as you suddenly remember one hole in the plan. One important thing that you have overlooked that could potentially blow your cover.

  You don’t know how to moan.

   A soft whine emanated from your throat. The things you have to do just to preserve your dignity.

   “DON’T COME IN! WE’RE uh-… WE’RE HAVING SEX!” you shouted on top of your lungs, too distressed to rethink your words all over again. But now it was too late.

  “W-what?” Hange’s voice was muffled by the wooden door.

   “Levi. Moan. Now.” You whispered, practically begging the male for his help.

   “Why do I have to moan?” he stood up and made his way around the desk to approach you.

   “JUST-… Just create one sexual sound! A grunt, a moan, a whine! I don’t care. Just make a sound.”

   Levi shot you an irked expression, his nose crinkling up. It’s not that he doesn’t know how to moan (unlike a certain someone), but because he had the initial thought that you would be moaning and Levi would be just hitting the wooden desk over and over again to elicit sex noises. Still, he felt his heart strings being pulled as he looked at your eyes with tears threatening to fall out of them. Your tearducts filled to the brim with the salty liquid. Levi would be a good guy for once, right? 

    He would surely regret his future actions. Big time.

   With a sigh, the male pulled you along with him to the couch. His hands guiding your hips to sit on top of his lap whilst he smashed his lips with yours. Air got caught in your throat as Levi’s hands roamed around—exploring every inch of your body—while his mouth moved in attempts to get yours to move also. You never expected that he would be pressing his lips against yours in a heated dance—a wet one at that matter. Levi’s tongue kept darting and swiping at your bottom lip, which was an oddly delightful sensation that it makes you want to—

  “Hngghh…”

  Moan.

  Your hands curled up, clutching Levi’s shirt and wrinkling it up in the process. Pleasure clouded your mind as hormones took over your system. Testing the waters, you opened your mouth—just a slight—so that his pink muscle could enter your wet cavern. And heavens above, it was such a blissful experience.

  Levi exhaled into the kiss to which the air slightly ticked your cheeks. He used one hand to bring your head closer to his so that he could taste more of you, while the other started peeling the jacket off of you, going just past your shoulder blades. A quiet moan slipped past your lips once again.

  “Okay, I call bullshit. I am entering,” Hange announced, prying open the doors only to gasp loudly upon seeing the scene before her. “OH. YOU WERE SERIOUS?”

  Levi broke away to glare at the brunette, “Tch. Do you mind? Four eyes?”

   You are in such a daze that you find yourself staring at Levi’s lips. In that brief moment, you already missed the feeling of his mouth against yours. 

   The female blinked, too stunned as she stared at the both of you. One powerless lieutenant, with your first few buttons undone and jacket slipping down, sitting on Levi’s lap. Your lower area flush against the male’s ever-growing erection. Not to mention the bewildered expression that you have with a lewd undertone. Hange swore that she saw a string of saliva between yours and Levi’s lips.

   “Ah yes. I’ll just place these here, no biggie. Hehe.” The brunette let out an awkward laugh, placing the stacks of paper in the corner of the room. “Have fun you two!”

  That said, Hange left the room. Her steps were heavy against the cobblestone floor as she rushed away from the vicinity. A grin on her face as she thought of spreading the news that you and Levi are doing at the moment in his room. Not even minding that she lost the bet with you since you had proved to her that indeed the captain is capable of love. A juicy information such as this is worth half of her salary for the month.

   Levi brought your attention to him by kissing you once again. This time, with more force as he pried your mouth open once again with his tongue alone. It was a slippery battle; one-sided, in fact, considering that you weren’t fighting back. You simply let him wrestle with your tongue, yours and his saliva mixing in the process.

  Damn, you really couldn’t hold your moan in this time.

  “Would you look at that?” Levi pulled away. “You know how to moan, after all.”

  You swore, the tips of his lips curled upwards in a small smirk and there was a dark glint in his eyes.

  “Wh-Wha—” you were a loss for words. “What did you—…What was that?”

  “It’s a kiss, dumbass.”

  “That’s not what I meant! Y-your tongue—”

  He rose a brow at you. “What about it?”

  You sealed your mouth shut, heat rushing to your face in embarrassment. “Just… just don’t do that again.”

  Levi kept a firm grip on your waist as you wriggled. “Shut up, you obviously liked it. You even opened your mouth.”

  “Did not!”

  “Then why did you moaned into the kiss?”

  You suck in a breath, cat catching your tongue.

  “Though so…” he murmured, diving into your neck to pepper it with light kisses. Head too filled with pleasure, you gripped his shirt in your closed fists as you let out one shaky breath. It takes all of your nerves just to swallow that one moan threatening to come out.

  “Hng- Levi. You could stop now, Hange saw us already.”

  He hummed, pulling back slightly to gaze into your eyes. There was a hint of lust hidden within his silver orbs. You gulped, finding yourself wrapped around his fingers.

   “Why won’t we make your lie come true?” Levi sunk his teeth in your neck.

   Guess who is getting laid tonight.

[turinn]

hii can i request y from the alphabet prompts for rinne!!

angst <3333 my favourite thing to write I owe u my life. This is both a headcanon and a drabble under the cut because. Well. I love writing angst :3

Y. Yelling at each other

Yelling at Rinne feels like a lost cause before you even start. You try to keep your cool, but he whips you up into a frenzy so quickly that you snap like a rubber band, and the argument only picks up speed. They're less frequent, now, since the one you'd had a week before your first year anniversary. You'd walked out, telling him in a broken voice that you didn't know why you bothered anymore, and it had hit him that losing you would be the worst mistake of his life. He hated himself for realising it so late, but he'd managed to convince you to stay, to convince you of how sincere he was, and he'd been doing a much better job of being the boyfriend you deserve since. But sometimes it all boils over. He's better, but he's still Rinne, and you're still both adults with bills and taxes and responsibilities. Sometimes shit hits the fan and you end up screaming at each other. No couple can avoid it, not really.

"Why can't you just listen to me?" You were trying not to raise your voice, keeping it as level as possible as you glared at him. Rinne was not making the same effort.

"Cause you're bein' a fuckin' dictator." He yelled, shooting a glare straight back. You wanted to scream. You were trying to be responsible, trying to ensure that you had a roof over your heads and food on the table, and he seemed determined to sabotage that recently. Everything he earned had been funneled into what you can only assume was gambling, though he denied it everytime you asked. He insisted that his money was none of your business, but when he didn't even put aside his portion of the rent, it became your business.

"A dictator?" The calm you'd been desperately trying to keep broke, and you heard your volume raise, felt your throat burn slightly at the sudden strain. "I'm sorry, do you not want a place to live? Food to eat? A bed to fucking sleep in? It's alright for you, I guess, you can just rock up to the dorms if we get kicked out, but I don't have anywhere else to go, Rinne! When we agreed to move in together, you said you'd be responsible. And I fucking trusted you! Your money becomes my business when my card gets declined on a carton of damn milk because you didn't put up your half of the rent and I end up skint the day after I get paid!" As if to enunciate your point, you pulled your wallet out of your pocket and threw it on the ground in front of him. A ¥10 coin was all that rolled out of it when it made impact with the floor. The sound of it rolling across the wood filled the room for a second, almost comical in how mundane such a thing was in the middle of your argument.

"Well if ya already paid the rent, why are ya worried about getting evicted?"

"You seriously think that's the fucking point? Did you hit your fucking head or were you just born stupid?" He was standing between you and the door, but you managed to dodge him as you stormed past.

"Wait, where- where are ya goin'?"

"Niki's. You're gonna fucking fix this, and I'm gonna stay with him until you do. I just... I can't even look at you right now, Rinne." The sound of your apartment door slamming echoed for a moment, before an oppressive silence sank over everything. Rinne found himself sitting in the middle of your living room, staring at your empty wallet splayed on the floor. He knew he'd fucked up, a spontaneous decision had rendered him broke and he couldn't go and take it back now. He'd miscalculated how much he had in his account when he'd made the purchase, and he'd fucked you over because of it.

Groaning in anger- at himself, more than at you- he reached into the pocket of his jeans, digging out the box that had inadvertently caused so many issues. He'd wanted it to bring you joy, not anger, or fear, or any of the other painful emotions he'd seen swirling in your eyes just now. Flicking the lid open, he sighed. He'd fix this somehow, he'd prove he could be as responsible as you'd trusted him to be. And then.... He stared at his reflection, a shrunk down version of him that even the diamond embedded into the engagement ring couldn't make look any less depressing. He'd make sure it brought you joy. That's why he'd bought it, after all.

[skellebonez]

Since it's been a while since I prompted you, 38/51 for Traffic Light Trio and Spicynoodleshipping?

It’s also been a while since you... sent this... I am getting through my prompts slowly but surely! Hopefully the wait was worth it, it has been a while since I have written TLT or SpicyNoodles alone so this was really enjoyable! I apparently missed this more than I realized as this is quite long! (There are references to a past fill as well, but this can be read stand alone.)

If you move from that spot, so help me, I will tie you down/Can you two save the kissing for later?

“For the love of- stop trying to get up Noodle-Brain!” Red Son snapped, albeit more with exasperated worry than anger this time. “You’re only going to make it worse!”

“No, really, I’m fine!” Xiaotian insisted, moving to once again attempt to stand.

He was not fine and his face soon came into contact with an impromptu date with Red Son’s open palm, catching him before he landed on the floor instead. Normally Xiaotian would have pulled his face back with a muttered "sorry" or "thanks" or "wow Red that was shockingly nice of you".

Instead he groaned and allowed himself to just kind of... hang there, his weight being held by that palm that probably felt oddly normal temperatured to him at the moment. Understandable given that his face was flushed red and that even to Red's naturally warmer body temperature touch he felt overheated in fever.

This was not quite the sight Red Son had expected to see when he had ventured out into the city on his own, just wanting to have some kind of time away from his work to gather his thoughts about... well, a lot of things. Ever since the entire fiasco with the Lunar New Year festival his mind had been wandering back toward when he worked with Xiaotian and Xiaojiao and things that happened afterwards.

He still had the phone he had accidentally kept from the green dragon and they had talked a few times. More than a few times. ... ok, maybe they had been texting near daily and had calls every other night and maybe he started watching her streams out of curiosity, and maybe he had been added to a group chat with the Noodle Boy and started to text him too, but he didn't really have anyone else to talk to outside of the his parents and Bull Clones! They were still enemies, just friendly ones! Frenemies! And it had been... nice. To talk to someone who seemed interested in what he wanted to say. And maybe understood him a little. Maybe possibly... didn't actually dislike him as much as he had believed initially.

... and maybe Red Son was deluding himself when he said he didn't actually like either of them, but that was neither here nor there! His thoughts were getting away from him!

The point was thus- he'd gone into the city for a break with the intention of heading to his private apartment he had for such occasions, happened upon one Noodle Boy laying face down on the seat of his (otherwise empty and clearly not being used for work that day) delivery vehicle looking absolutely miserable and burning up, and against his better judgment he took him back to said apartment. That was shockingly easy considering Xiaotian was pretty much passed out due to the high fever combined with his moving around and the fact Red Son could lift the vehicle himself if he wanted to (he didn't, he just took the keys with them so no one would make off with it).

And so that was how Red Son found himself in this predicament. In his apartment with the AC on just enough to be slightly uncomfortable, one sick Monkie Kid doing his best to remove himself from his couch with a cold compress on his forehead while insisting he was fine when he clearly was not, debating on whether or not he should have taken this dumbass to the hospital instead. If only because he was being frustrating to keep still.

"You are most clearly not 'fine', now lay back down," Red Son said with a warning growl, pushing his rival (gently, he wouldn't be so callous as to kick someone while they were down like this) back into the mound of pillows he had laid out for him. He never had visitors so he may as well make the best of this and pull out what he had in storage so they could be used for once. "If you move from that spot, so help me, I will tie you down."

"... ok," Xiaotian finally acquiesced, closing his eyes and laying back into the plush around him and looking even worse than he had before he had been trying to convince the other he was fine. (Though had he not looked clearly sick the sight would have been almost cute to-NO! Red was not going to think that.)

Red Son didn't know what precisely was wrong with him, though based on his symptoms and reactions it was likely a basic but now out of control flu (regardless, he knew he himself was in little to no danger of most human illnesses) and helping him recuperate here (because no one except Red Son was allowed to defeat the Monkie Kid, not even an illness!) was looking like a more reasonable idea now. But he couldn't help but wonder how had the other man allowed himself to get this bad. Why had he even gone outside in his state? He wasn't working, his lack of normal uniform or delivery orders was evidence enough of that, so it wasn't as if he had been forced to go out by his boss. Was he just too stubborn? Did he think he would be ok for a few minutes and not realize he was this ill? The delivery boy was of no help in that regard, brushing off every attempt from the fire demon to learn the answers to those questions. He wasn't delirious, he just refused to answer!

So instead of trying to push again Red Son sighed and stood up. When Xiaotian opened his eyes to look at him in curiosity he frowned at the deep dark bags under them (had he ever been sleeping?) and the dull sheen they seemed to have before he held his hand up in a "stop" motion.

"You stay right there. I meant that threat. I am going to be back in 10 minutes. Do not test me..." Red stood, lifting both his arms for a moment before giving the other another glance. "And don't, uh... die, I guess."

And then Red was gone in a wave of his arms and a flash of fire.

~

He landed at the entrance to a nearby convenience store, not somewhere one would normally think he would frequent but convenience was convenience. And they had very good coffee to grab when he ran out in his apartment. Yes, he was a Villain with a capital V and could just torment the staff for free goods... but he knew that if he did that long enough the stores would start causing him trouble or close down and that would negate the convenience.

No, it wasn't because the first cashier that greeted him was willing to pay for his goods believing he had forgotten his wallet and thus felt guilty for his first attempt at doing so. And he would deny that until the day he died.

That wasn't his goal for the day, however. Red Son may not get ill the way humans did, but it felt useful to him to know how how to treat the more common ailments in the event his family may be forced to work with one. So he grabbed a basket and made a quick beeline straight for the nearest aisle with medicine.

In even less than the 10 minutes he cited he had a basket filled with flu medicine, more cold compresses, soup broth, and much more. Yes, all of this was absolutely necessary. He didn't care that much about his nemesis, he just wouldn't let an illness make him weak. Nope. That was the only reason. Nothing else. He totally wasn't caring for someone he considered a friend, he didn't have friends, not even Xiaojiao was a-

"Red?"

Crap.

"What are you doing standing in line at a convenience store?" Xiaojiao asked, and as Red turned back to her he saw that she had... some very similar items in her own basket, plus some comics. At his eyes widened in realization she looked down at his own basket and sighed. "... either this is a very interesting coincidence or Xiaotian did something he shouldn't have."

~

Red entered his apartment through the door, the noise rousing the apparently lightly sleeping man on his couch.

"Red? You're back alrea-!?" Xiaotian snapped his mouth shut as he turned his head and opened his eyes to see the wide smiling face of a, clearly to someone who knew her well, angry Xiaojiao. "... I'm in trouble aren't I?"

"Oh you have no idea," she replied lightly, setting down the snacks and books and other assorted items she had purchased while Red made his way into the kitchen with his purchases. "I told you I would be at your apartment with stuff after I finished covering your shift for you, so would you like to explain why Red Son found you nearly passed out in your tuk-tuk half way to the nearest store?"

Though her words were sharp and snappy, it was clear to the listening Red that they were so in genuine concern for her friend. There was a mutter from Xiaotian and a questioning sound from Xiaojiao before the man cleared his throat and repeated himself.

"You already helped me out... I just wanted to try to get that stuff myself so you wouldn't have to do more. I was feeling pretty ok until I drove for a while..."

Ah. So that explained it. Xiaotian had just been going out for medication himself. Not the best idea with a fever of his magnitude, but understandable if he believed he could handle something that simple. Red had begun to wonder if he had been trying to head to Flower Fruit Mountain with bow evasive he was being, but this was a much less disastrous answer.

"Xiaotian, you're my best friend," he heard Xiaojiao say in a much softer tone, and there was the sound of the shuffling on the couch. "I wanted to help you, it didn't matter to me how much it was. I've helped you get to Flower Fruit Mountain and kick demon ass! A delivery shift or two and a convenience store run is something I'd do in a heartbeat. Now open your mouth, I grabbed a thermometer so we can see how bad off you actually are."

There was an agreeable sound and a chuckle, then silence as Red continued what he had been doing. Taking out a dose of medication and preparing something for Xiaotian to eat. Or, rather, drink along side the tea he was also preparing for himself and Xiaojiao. It was little more than chunks of tofu and soup broth with some mild flavoring, something simple and easy to make and eat while sick and-

Red Son held his face in his hands and groaned softly as he waited for the broth to warm. What was he doing? His greatest enemies were in his living room, one sick with fever, and he was preparing medicine and food for him. Frenemies? Only he could defeat them? Is that really what he was telling himself to justify his actions? That they were friend-enemies and they were his to beat?

That was a bold faced lie and he knew it. Had known it for a while. Maybe since he first called Xiaojiao just to speak with someone who would listen to him. Maybe since he first watched her stream in curiosity. Certainly, though, since he accepted being added to the group text she had named "Traffic Light Trio" (really? What kind of name that that?). He would have never done that had he not considered them his friends, he knew that deep down. He just didn't want to admit it (and he super did not want to admit that he maybe felt his own face warm up when they complimented him or that he had butterflies in his stomach the off times they called him by nicknames).

As he turned off the now lightly boiling broth and set it to the side to cool, Red Son began to admit to himself that maybe he was just as much of a dumbass as the Noodle Boy. It seemed that out of the three of them Xiaojiao had firm hold on the only available brain cells when it came to interpersonal relationships.

But that train of thought was not helpful at the moment, so he pushed it down (deeeeeeep down) as he gathered everything up and made his way to the couch again.

The sight that greeted him gave him pause Xiaojiao sitting on the arm of the couch and running a hairbrush through Xiaotian's tangled hair, Xiaotian looking slightly better thanks to the compress against his forehead and smiling softly against the pillows.

There were those butterflies. Oh. Red Son had it bad.

"So?" He asked, drawing their attention to himself as he sat everything on the nearby table. "How bad is it?"

"Not enough to take him to a doctor yet," Xiaojiao answered with a chuckle as she hopped down. "Though I think what you did before helped with that."

Red flushed a bit himself in response, grumbling under his breathe as he shoved the medicine and a cup of water into Xiaotian's hands. "WELL. Take this and. Maybe it’ll stay that way!" He attempted to sound as snappy as normal but the looks on both his guests faces told him he failed miserably in that regard.

"Thanks, Red," Xiaotian said with an earnest smile, and the butterflies were back and Red Son couldn't help the slight sparking of his hair in response.

"Don't mention it. Ever." He grumbled a bit, taking the cup before sighing and helping Xiaotian sit up straighter. "You shouldn't eat half laying down." He maneuvered the pillows to make a little wall between Xiaotian and a space next to the arm of the couch. A space he quickly occupied himself before handing him the bowl of broth over his shoulder. "So you don't have to move more."

The other two looked at each other with surprise on their faces before Xiaojiao smiled and sat on the other arm as they grew silent. Xiaotian eating, Xiaojiao playing on her phone, and Red... well. He tried to look like he was doing something on "his" phone, the one he took from Xiaojiao and replaced the old case with a showy flame covered one. But in reality he was just sitting there staring into space thinking "holy crap this is happening what have I done what happens next oh crap".

"Hey Red?"

"YES!?" He asked far too loud and quick with a squeak in his voice as his hair flared at Xiaotian's words, clearing his throat before repeating himself in a much more appropriate tone (only to earn a giggle from Xiaojiao).

He felt the other man lean back against him, and before he could even begin to fight his flush on his face he heard him chuckle as well. "I appreciate your help."

"L-like I said... don't mention it..."

Xiaotian chuckled again in reply and sighed, leaning completely against Red Son and as he looked over and down he saw his relaxed face and flushed deeper and... it felt nice.

He wondered why he ever pushed down his feelings before.

Xiaojiao grabbed the dishes with a knowing smirk, heading into the kitchen with a few parting words.

"Can you two save the kissing for later? Maybe when Xiaotian isn't sick?"

Both men flushed as deep as they could and sputtered out denials in response, and if that wasn't an indication that Xiaotian maybe felt similarly to Red as Red did to him...

[sunflowerstache]

Lifespan

A/N: Hello! This is very different from most of my writing, not only because its an OC, but because the storyline is just something out of my comfort zone. But I really hope you enjoy it(: I got the inspiration from a ad I saw on Facebook a long time ago lmao but yeah, come say hi once you’ve read it and tell me what you think! It’s much appreciated! I love you all so very much! Also hugeeeee shoutout to @devil-in-bw-the-sheets​ for spending like six months reading and re-reading this every single time I rewrote it and changed things and encouraging me each time! And @emotionally-imbruised​ for beta reading it for me!💛💛

Word Count: 7.3k

“Doll?”

The fog that seemed to have settled over your mind instantly melted away upon hearing the barista’s voice, her sweet drawl grounding your focus back on her. She was an older woman, probably nearing her sixties based on the collection of grey hairs scattered throughout her small ponytail. But still so incredibly full of life. She had red glasses perched atop her nose - which perfectly completed the red polka dots covering her black dress - a beaded chain dangling from the end to the front of the frame, a pair of silver peace sign studs resided in her ears, and the anatomically correct symbol for caffeine dangled in necklace form on her chest.

“What? I’m sorry.”

“Just asked if you wanted the cream on that.” She smiled, thin lines spreading out and away from the sides of her eyes as her mouth widened. Upon glancing down quickly, you took notice of her clearly hand drawn name tag filled with swirling letters - different then when you stopped by earlier in the week when she had used stickers to spell out “Rita”.

“Oh, um yeah sure. Why not.”

“My husband always says that during weather like this, the calories don’t count. That they disappear with your shivering. Can I just have your name, dear?”

“Georgie. And your husband sounds like a very smart man.”

“Oh, he is.” A dreamy look took over Rita’s features, like just thinking about the man made her heart race. “Been together for forty-two years and he still teaches me new things.”

Your heart ached with each word; the fog slowly started to creep back through your mind while you watched her grin fondly. The hope and excitement for the future that was always so very clear in people’s eyes was what made it so hard not to explain everything you knew, every secret you held. However, as much as you wanted to urge everyone to live the life they’ve always wanted, you knew there was a natural balance to life, and opening your mouth would undoubtedly throw that balance off. So instead, you grinned and nodded your head.

“He sounds wonderful.”

“My best friend. Counting down the minutes until the end of my shift. We’re heading up to see our grandbabies for the week.” It was like she knew exactly what kind of secret you were keeping and made sure to hit you where it hurt each time she opened her mouth. As if her being impossibly sweet didn’t hurt enough.

“That sounds nice.” Digging around in your bag for your wallet made it much easier not to focus on the ticking time bomb in front of you. “How much do I owe you?”

“Oh my! I’m sorry, I know I can’t talk forever if no one stops me.” her laugh was soft, inviting, one you would love to listen to while storytelling. “It’s four pounds.”

“You can keep the change.” You said when handing her some cash, but stopped yourself before you turned to walk away. Even if you weren’t ever going to outright explain anything to anyone, slipping in tiny, reassuring comments made you feel at least a little better before parting ways. “Have an amazing night with your family Rita.”

The coffee shop was relatively empty at the hours you stopped by. Other than the same group of men that were there every morning, chatting over the newspaper and a black coffee and a young nurse who was just getting off of her night shift, only customers on their way to work stopped by. But that was just how you preferred it. It was much easier to avoid running into people when the sun had barely just peeked over the morning horizon. You suppose the city isn’t exactly the best place to reside when you’re on a mission not to get close to anyone, but you’d much preferred the hustle and bustle of the city than the silence of the countryside. At least here you were able to escape your thoughts when they got to be too much, out there you were left to drown in the weights you held.

Rita was right when she said the weather would bring shivering. The moment you stepped through the café doors, all sense of warmth you previously had was sucked out of you, leaving the tips of your fingers tingling against the warm cup. You hadn’t ever really gotten to know the woman behind the counter, a few kind greetings every now and again, but she seemed to be someone who brought a lot of joy to those around her. And she always put extra chocolate curls on your drink. You made a mental note to send some flowers to her family within the coming days.

It was a car horn that initially took your attention off of the pavement, turning to look for who was in such a rush at 5:30am, but the hard torso smacking into her shoulder is what brought your attention back. Followed by the searing heat of your hot chocolate spilling down your front.

“Oh fuck!” you yelled, immediately dropping the paper cup and trying to pull your shirt away from your body to decrease the chance of a burn. There goes your chance to get home and drive right to work without any issue.

“Oh my god! Oh shit!” the man that had ran into you gasped, stopping in his tracks and grabbing onto your elbow to steady your wild movements.

Even though his words were quite loud on the empty street, his voice was still husky, almost like he wasn’t awake yet and still had some left over sleep in his throat. And when you turned to look at who had ruined your shirt, your own voice got stuck in your throat. He was tall, which made sense considering your head had bounced right off of his chest. He was wearing black basketball shorts with tall white socks and a light grey hoodie, which was pulled up to cover the dark grey beanie resting on his head. With one hand he was holding a water bottle with ease, while the other was frantically pulling the airpod from his ear. But apart from his sheer stature, you couldn’t ignore how beautiful this man was. How even the worry lines littering his face were perfectly accenting his features. Or how the green of his eyes seemed to sparkle in the dim light of the Whole Foods you had been stopped in front of.

“I’m so sorry! Shit are you okay?” he quickly asked, shaking his head before you could even respond. “Obviously not, that was probably hot. Oh god I’m so sorry!”

Finally getting your bearings back, you couldn’t help but nod. “Yeah it was pretty hot.”

“Shit, I don’t even know how that happened. I must’ve taken my eyes off the pavement for one second. I’m so sorry.”

“So you’ve said.” You chuckled, bending down to pick up your now empty cup at your feet and tossing it in the bin by your side. “Don’t worry about it. Really it’s fine.”

“It’s not, I’ve ruined your shirt.” If the disappointment in his voice wasn’t evident enough, the small pout on his lips definitely was. He looked absolutely distraught at the sight of what he’d done. “Let me at least get you a new drink. It’s the least I could do.”

“Oh, um, that’s alright.” You’d always known it was rude to speak to someone and not give them eye contact, it was something your father had drilled into you as a child, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Looking someone in the eyes meant seeing above their head, and that was an area you actively tried to avoid looking. But there was something about him that drew you in, and you couldn’t help glancing up at him quickly again. “I actually have to be getting to work. Thanks though.”

“Are you sure? I feel terrible.”

“Positive. Have a good morning.” Your touch was soft on his arm as you made your way past him, leaving the mystery man standing on the pavement staring as you walked towards your flat.

You didn’t mean to be so short with him, but it’s just how you’d grown accustomed to living life. It was the easiest way you found not to get close to many people, which meant less hurt in the end. And you’d been around enough hurt in your short twenty three years. It may be a lonely life, but you were happy with your cat, comically named Lucifer, and living a simple life. Sure, there were times you wished you could live the carefree life everyone around you got to experience, your only issues being stresses of work or relationship drama, but that wasn’t who you were. After living the life you did, there’d be no way you could live a normal life.

“Don’t give me that look, Luci.” you grumbled when walking through your front door, your cat perched on the dining table just watching as you moved through the living room, ripping your destroyed shirt from your body. “This wasn’t my fault.”

You’re sure that you looked like a crazy person if anyone was watching on, talking to your cat while walking around your flat in nothing but a pair of black slacks and a bra. But you didn’t care, because this was your normal. You ranted to her after a long day at work or a particularly draining day, and she always sat and listened. Mostly because she was a cat.

“He just ran right into me, like he literally couldn’t see me. How odd, right?” you stopped briefly while searching your closet for a new shirt. “God Luci, he was cute though. So cute. And tall.”

Just because you secluded yourself in the world didn’t mean you didn’t enjoy taking a peak at what it had to offer. It was the forming relationships that put you off, not because there was a level of uncertainty - nothing was uncertain to you - but because you always knew the timeline of said relationships. It was always the same. So why put yourself through it? But also, why not? What if that was just what you needed to make such a painful existence a little more bearable?

“I didn’t even get his name. Maybe I’ll see him around the cafe sometime.” you hummed, throwing the new peach colored blouse over your head and peeking your face out of the hole. “No. No Georgie, don’t go there. Who are we kidding, it’s not like anything could ever happen anyway.”

Lucifer meows loudly at your comment., making you turn around to glare at her. Obviously she didn’t know what was actually going on, but it was nice to entertain the idea of someone listening to your problems and helping you talk them out. You were a secluded young woman, not crazy.

“What? Like I’m wrong? It’s not something I’d be able to keep from a boyfriend forever. And It’s not like I’d be able to just flat out tell them.”

She meowed again, jumping off the table and prancing her way to your feet, rubbing her side against your ankles.

“What would I even say? Hey, I was born with this thing where I can see a floating clock above everyone’s head that literally counts down to the day you die? Yeah because that won’t get me sent to the looney bin.”

From the start of time, there has always been a beginning and an end to everything. No matter if it was an Oscar award winning film, delicate relationships, or even life itself, it all ended. People come, and they go, but the world continues on; taking care of those who stay to see another day. And on a daily basis, the idea of the end rarely floats through anyone’s mind. Except for you.

For you, it was impossible not to think about when it was quite literally staring you in the face. For as long as you could remember, you walked through life with a different outlook on the end than most other people.It wasn’t because you had some near death experience, but due to a gift. Or at least what some people in the world would consider a gift, because in no way would you call being able to see the exact day someone is going to die, a gift.

It was something that over the years you had grown to ignore, trying not to look too far away from people’s eyes and never thinking too hard about the ticking numbers.They weren’t obnoxious or flashy signs hanging above everyone’s heads - like you had seen some films try and depict - but instead, just a simple, faint, white clock just above the tops of everyone’s head, showing each individual’s lifespan. No matter how many hours you sat down and tried to rationalize why you were able to see this, there was never any answer. No one else in your family carried the burden, and because of that, you never mentioned it to anyone in fear of sounding crazy. But you knew you weren’t crazy, not when you prayed night after night for those numbers to disappear or for someone’s clock to be wrong, only to be let down.

You knew you weren’t crazy when you finally saw your favorite florist Don after he spent some time away, and his clock suddenly read 3 years, 20 days, 6 hours, 42 minutes, and 6 seconds instead of the 27 years you had grown used to seeing on him every day before he left. It didn’t take long for you to find out he was diagnosed with stage 4 lung cancer and treatments had stopped working.

You knew you weren’t crazy when you got to watch Kim’s clock - the very sweet receptionist at your job - begin to slow down the more she adjusted to a healthy lifestyle of eating right and taking care of her body. What was once a ticking time of a measly 21 years adjusted what would be a long and fulfilled 59 years more.

And you knew you weren’t crazy when at only seventeen years old, you watched as your best friend’s clock suddenly dwindled down to zero’s across the board like a slot machine while laying on the bathroom floor of a house party. The drugs in her system being too much for her young body to handle and completely consuming the 72 years she once had left.

You weren’t crazy, you just carried a burden no one should ever have. And because of it, you made sure not to get close to anyone in fear of watching yet another clock strike zero.

So you moved on with your life, forgetting all about the tall man who had spilled your drink and run into your mind, making you think things you hadn’t in so long, and instead, focused solely on getting through your days at work and getting back home. It was an easy routine, one you hadn’t strayed from much since moving to the city six years ago; wake up, feed Luci, get coffee, go to work, go home, shower, watch tv, go to bed. And as happy as you were that life wasn’t so painful these days, boring would be the only word good enough to describe your life.

Until your neighbors moved in.

You were standing in the kitchen, lifting the collar up to your mouth to try and quickly lick the hot sauce off the old, ratty Elton John Tour shirt you were wearing before it left a stain, wearing nothing else but some shorts, a nice pair of cheetah print slippers to cover your chilly toes, and one of the two hundred paper face masks you’d ordered off of Amazon in an attempt to clear your skin, when the loud bang on your front door startled you. Not only did your family not live in town, but your neighbors knew that you weren’t a people person. Ever since you made that very clear to them upon moving in, they hadn’t tried to contact you, so you just assumed whoever it was had gotten the wrong flat number.

But the knocking persisted.

Lucifer’s head had picked up from her lap upon hearing the first knock, now watching as you made our way closer to the front door. “What do I do?” but the only response you received was her head tilting to the right, like she was saying ‘Really? Answer it you idiot.’

You wanted to be angry, you really did, because you were nearly ready to be completely settled in for the night after a terribly long day and you just wanted to watch some bad tv with Luci, but the moment you twisted the door knob and peered into the hallway, any anger you had felt, completely washed away.

“Hey! Sorry, my mates and I-” he abruptly stopped mid sentence once his eyes landed on you, like his train of thought literally face planted into a brick wall. A look of realization flashed across his face quickly, and in a matter of milliseconds, what was once stress turned into a look of excitement. “Hey! It’s you!” he smiled.

“It’s me.” something about him made it very difficult for you not to mirror his smile, but that desire was overpowered by the confusion coursing through your mind.

“I didn’t think I’d ever see you again! I still feel terrible about what happened, are you sure you were alright? You didn’t burn yourself, did you?” The man was incredible at changing his emotions at the drop of a dime, for now his eyes were laced with concern where excitement had just lived. “Or I guess I should say I didn’t burn you, did I?”

He was much more put together this time, the workout attire you had last seen him in was traded in for a pair of light red slacks that looked to be a crushed velvet material paired with a plain white t-shirt and a pair of black vans. He looked like any university boy you’d see walking the streets, but at the same time, like nothing you had ever seen before. Something about him standing in your doorway brought you a sense of calm, like just his presence was enough to wash away the stresses of your day.

“I mean I can’t say that it felt particularly good, but I didn’t get burned, no.”

“Oh good. That’s good.” he nodded, and you made the mistake of following his hand with your eyes as he lifted it up to his curls to fix the glasses perched on his head. You didn’t want to know, didn’t want to see what kind of fate the universe had in store for him because the peace he had brought to you in the few moments he’d been standing there felt better than anything had in the past few years. But you were never that lucky.

Your eyes quickly casted back down, looking back at the white of his shirt while you cleared your throat. “Did you need something….” you dragged out the end of the word to indicate that you didn’t know what to call him since he hadn’t bothered to mention his name.

“Oh, right. ‘M Harry.”

“Georgie.

“Hello Georgie.” if possible, the grin on his face doubled in size, causing two dimples to appear at the corners and the air in your chest to feel as though it was tightening.

The two of you stood in your doorway without saying anything for another moment before you spoke up; “So did you need something or…”

“Fuck, yeah.” his voice was breathy when he responded, standing up straighter, “My mates and I just saw you come home and we’re in desperate need of a needle and thread. You’ve got one?”

It only took a second for him to realize his words and that surprised look from when you first opened the door was back. His eyes widened and his hands raised in front of him as a way to stop you before you could respond.

“Not in a creepy way! We weren’t like watching you or summat, swear! My mates Niall and Louis just moved in across the hall.” using his thumb he pointed to the open door across the hall where you could see two other guys watching yours and Harry’s interaction. Upon realizing they were spotted, they raised their hands in a small wave. “We heard you come in. Not that we were actively listening! Just - ‘m sorry. I swear we aren’t creeps.”

“Good. Thought I’d have to sic my monster of a dog on you.” you replied, turning to dig through the small table in what could barely be considered an entryway. The table had started out as a place to keep your keys and mail, but like most did, quickly turned into a junk drawer. An abyss to put any and everything only to never see it again.

Harry’s eyes frantically looked behind you like some crazy monster was about to lunge at him for bothering you at night, even going as far as taking a small step back when the door opened a bit wider while you were looking for the tool. You laughed when glancing up quickly at the movement. It was obvious he was panicking at the new information of potentially getting mauled by a massive dog while simply asking for thread. So you put him out of his misery.

“There’s no dog. I’m just joking…”

As if on cue, Lucifer waltzed up to see what was going on at the front door, her small body weaving between your legs to get a nice scratch while checking out the never before seen man. “Oh! A cat! I love cats!”

“Yeah she’s pretty great.” you nodded, closing the drawer and holding your hand out to Harry. “Here you go. Um, not sure what colour you need so you can just take the whole bag.”

“You’re a lifesaver, thank you! Niall has a date in ten minutes and he’s split his only good pair of trousers.” he turned his head to look over his shoulder at the boys inside the other flat, trying to seem like they weren’t listening to the conversation, but very obviously doing just that. “Have to sew him in like ‘m some sort of tailor.” he chuckled, turning back to face you.

“Sounds like an exciting night.”

“Oh riveting. I would ask if you’d like to join but you look very busy-” the corners of his lips were trying hard not to curl upwards with the light sarcasm, wobbling a bit as he continued speaking, “-so I wouldn’t want to interrupt anymore than I already have. I’m sure I’ll see you again, I practically live with these two idiots.”

“‘M sure I will.” Luci hadn’t left your side since joining you at the door, instead, she began meowing quite loudly, so you bent down to scoop her into your arms.

You liked Harry, not only because he was a very obviously a good looking man, but because he seemed to pick up on your social cues fairly quickly. He didn’t linger and try to get as much out of you as possible or make the fact that you clearly didn’t have much interest in talking uncomfortable. And it was the first time in a long time that you felt content being around someone. Not fearing what the future brought.

Harry halted his movements halfway between flats and spun back around quickly. He didn’t say anything at first, just watched you press kisses to Lucifer’s head while standing in the doorway. Something you gathered from the very brief times you’d shared an encounter was that Harry was not very good at hiding his emotions. It was almost like he had no control of his mouth, because you could see him try to stop the smile from spreading, but it was no use. The dimples popped out in full force.

“I still owe you for that coffee.”

“Oh, um not a coffee.”  you tried not to be loud enough for him to hear, noting that the fact that it wasn’t a coffee was not really that important, but he heard you anyway.

“Pardon?”

“Just um, it wasn’t a coffee. More of a hot chocolate drinker actually.”

He didn’t respond right away, instead just continued watching you with fond eyes and a now very prominent smile. You felt as though he could sense how out of touch with relationships you had begun to get over the years. What other explanation could he have for being so soft with someone he had just met and barely even known

“Right, well keep your schedule open so I can take you out for that replacement cocoa.”

Your door swiftly closed the second he turned back around, not leaving any extra seconds for him to turn around and look at you again. And the second she heard the click of the lock, Luci leaped out of your arms and made her way over to the sofa, meowing her entire journey.

“Yes that was him.” another meow. “I told you he was cute, and I also told you nothing would be happening there.”

Harry wasn’t lying when he said you’d be seeing him again. It seemed as though every day when you got back to your flat, he was there. Sometimes on his way out, other times just standing outside the door waiting for the other boys. And despite how at peace being around Harry had made you feel that day he came knocking at your door, you never put in much more effort than a “hello” here and there. He and the others had tried quite a few times to get you to join them on their night out, but each time you came up with a different excuse. Even if they were comforting, what was the point in forming that friendship when you knew you’d just isolate yourself again eventually. You had made it this long without getting too close to anyone else, and you weren’t going to start just because two attractive lads moved in across the hall who happened to have a very fit, very inviting, friend.

It wasn’t until nearly a month later that you actually had a full conversation with Harry again.

Typically you tried not to go to the coffee shop by your flat any later than lunchtime because it just got too busy. There were too many people for you to fully avoid them all and seeing too many clocks dampened your mood significantly. But you had already had a shitty morning and needed something to give you a boost.

The place had felt very melancholy since Rita’s unfortunate passing last month, she’d passed peacefully in her sleep while spending time with her family. You’d sent the family flowers as remembered, and also made sure to drop a few bills in the jar on the counter each time you’d been in the shop. Other employees were setting up a fund for Rita’s family since she was such a loved member of the community just with the joy she brought from behind the counter.

“Just a large hot chocolate for me, please.”

“For here or take away?”

“Take away please.”

“Actually she’ll have that for here, please.” a familiar voice behind you spoke up as you were digging through your bag for your wallet. You could see him out of the corner of your eye move from his spot behind you, to gradually standing next to you, looking directly at the barista behind the counter.

“Um..” you felt bad for the young kid, he couldn’t be any older than eighteen and all he wanted to do was get to work and get out. But here you were making his day more stressful than it needed to be. “So… for here then?”

“Harry I -”

“Come on Georgie. Please.” never in your life had you seen a grown man bat his eyelashes, but here he was, trying to lure you in with his breathtaking green eyes.

“Fine.” your voice came out soft and you rolled your eyes, but on the inside you felt giddy, like what you remember life to feel like before you started isolating yourself. “Um, sorry. I’ll have it for here I suppose.”

“Do you want the cream?”

“Sure. Thank you.”

“Anything else?”

“Yes, I’ll have a -” Harry’s profile was something you could get lost in. How the tip of his nose seemed to bounce with every word he said, how it looked as if his lips were made to form the words falling from between them, or how no matter how many times he tried to get it to stay back, one of his curls would continue to break loose from the rest and fall past his forehead. From what little you’ve seen of it, Harry had a great sense of fashion. Comfortable. A brown teddy bear jumper was covering his upper body, sleeves long enough to gather just past his hands and torso short enough that you could see his white shirt peeking out from underneath, ripped black jeans, a pair of black chelsea boots, and  those same tortoise shell glasses perched on his nose completed his look.  

“Ready?”

“Huh?”

“You ready? ‘ve got a table back by the door.”

The two of you made your move to walk back towards the front of the shop, but you halted in your tracks when you saw that yes, he in fact did have a table waiting for him, but it was also being inhabited by the two boys you had seen behind him when he came to ask for thread. Neal and Liam? And a girl was sitting between the two as they chatted amongst themselves.

“Harry I don’t -”

“Come on, I promise we don’t bite.” Apparently you still didn’t look convinced because he leaned down to be at your eye level and stuck his lip out in a pout. “One drink. Please? I owe you remember?”

“Yes and you’ve already bought me a new one, thank you by the way, so you don’t owe me anything else.”

“I know.” the apples of his cheeks began getting pinker the longer he stared at you, “But I’d very much like to spend some time with you.”

Just like he did when he knocked on your door, his eyes widened and immediately seemed to want to backtrack what he had said. “Wait no, not in that way. In like a ‘hey I think you’re cute -’ no fuck that’s not -”

“Harry.”

“Yes?”

“One drink.”

The relief was instant on his features, his shoulders sagging and eyebrows un-furrowing at your words. “Good. Afraid my mates were going to start thinking I made you up.”

“I live across the hall, they’ve seen me.”

“Well yeah, but I talk about you so much they thi- I - fuck.”

You couldn’t help the laugh that fell from between your lips. You may not have had many friendships or relationships of any kind, but you did know excessive rattling wasn't generally how people spoke to one another.  “You babble a lot.”

“Only when ‘m nervous.”

“Why are you nervous?”

Harry wasted no time in his response, taking a quick glance over to you. “Because I finally get to spend time with the pretty girl across the hall.”

The heat rushing to your cheeks had become something of a common occurrence when speaking with Harry. It wasn’t obvious if he knew what he was doing or not, but you couldn’t imagine someone like Harry not knowing how to flirt. Thankfully, however, someone from the table spoke up before you could dwell on his comment longer than necessary.

“Finally!” the man sitting at the end of the booth spoke. He was dressed very similar to Harry in color - a tan quilted shirt was hidden beneath a cream colored teddy bear jacket, and pleated brown trousers. The light facial hair stubbled along his cheeks made him look slightly older than Harry, but his complete baby face counteracted that.

Harry looked at you briefly, raising his eyebrows with a ‘what did I tell you?’ kind of look as he bent down to slide into the booth next to the other man. His style was much different than the other two, more streetwear. He was wearing black trackies and an old gray band tee under a denim jacket, baseball hat and the very apparent smell of cigarettes finishing off the outfit. Another difference with him was that he had a girl with him. What you assumed to be his girlfriend by the way her head was resting on his shoulder and his hand fell on her knee. She was beautiful, long brown hair fell loose around her shoulders, only kept back by the fragile looking sunnies that rested at the top of her head. She was wearing a simple white top and a pair of white,black, and brown plaid trousers, both of which were overshadowed by the beautiful black Balenciaga jacket hanging off of her shoulders.

“Was starting to think you’d been lying about actually knowing her, Haz.” the one closest to Harry spoke, earning a light slap to his chest from the girl on his shoulder.

Harry disregarded all of their antics and turned to pat the seat next to him, indicating he wanted you to sit down, and he gave you a reassuring nod when you nibbled your lower lip between your teeth.

It was subtle acts like Harry letting you sit on the outside of the booth so you could make a quick getaway if needed that reminded you how easily he seemed to pick up on your social cues - even if you didn’t realize you did them. It made your chest tickle that even just from the two substantial conversations you’d had with him, Harry picked up on things you did.

“Piss off.” Harry chuckled, reminding you a lot of friendships you’d seen on tv where they all take the piss but it was easy to see that they all cared for one another. It was something you’d always been envious of while watching the world from the sidelines. “Georgie, this is Niall, Louis, and Louis’ girlfriend Eleanor. Everyone, this is Georgie.”

You were met with a chorus of hellos and you would’ve loved to just jump right into their conversation about the best places to get guacamole, just so that they knew you weren’t intentionally being rude to them. But not only were you not good at this conversation thing, but you also were still on edge about forming any sort of connection with these people. Apparently you should get used to Harry and his all knowing mind, because before you could excuse yourself from the awkwardness, he spoke up.

“So, how long have you lived in the building?”

Unprepared for the question, you froze for a second. “Oh, um going on six years now.”

“Impossible! What are you, like twenty? No way you’ve lived there that long!” Eleanor asked, her head no longer on Louis’ shoulder, instead she was sitting upright and looking directly at you. Of course, over the span of the years, you had gotten quite good at looking at people without really paying any attention to what was only visible to you above their heads, but it still made you uneasy. The best solution was just not to look at them at all. But these people, people who had no idea who you were a mere ten minutes ago yet were now welcoming you into their lives, made you want to work on avoiding the numbers. Because this was the most alive you’d felt in years.

“‘M twenty three. Be twenty four next Friday.”

“No shit! Alright well I’m coming over so you can teach me your skincare routine because you look flawless.” she gleamed, leaning forward on the table to jot down her phone number on one of the many spare napkins littering the tabletop.

“As much as I love a good skincare routine, let’s not skip over the more important part of that sentence. Your birthday is next week?” Harry asked, gently shoving his shoulder against yours and offering a kind smile when you glanced up at him.

“Oh, it’s not a big deal. I haven’t really celebrated my birthday since I turned like eleven.” your parents used to throw you a party every year while growing up, a lavish over the top kind of party where all of your classmates were invited and family you had never even heard of pinched your cheeks. But as time went on and you didn’t give up your ‘ridiculous fantasy’ as your mother so kindly put it, they began to stop throwing the party. Now, you were lucky if they sent you a card on the day. Plus, celebrating your birthday alone is kind of a downer.

“You haven’t celebrated your birthday in over a decade?” Niall’s mouth hung open like that was the craziest thing he’d ever heard.

“Nope.”

“Well that just won’t do.” you may not know very much about the people seated around you, but the smirk on Louis’ face told you everything you needed to know. “We’re having a party.”

“Um, thank you. Really. But parties aren’t really my thing. Plus I’m working that day so…”

“Oh, where do you work?” Harry asked, thoroughly interested in where you spend most of your days.

“Good Samaritan.”

“The nursing home down on Adams?”

“That’s the one. I’m a caregiver.” when you first applied for the position, you thought you were crazy. For someone who doesn’t want to get close to anyone in fear of their untimely demise, you definitely went for a job exactly the opposite. But that was the appeal to you. Sure, it was terribly sad to see one of your patients pass, but in the time leading up to it, you knew exactly who needed a little extra love. It was nice to be able to remind their loved ones to visit while making routine phone calls, and to do things to make them smile in what only you knew were their last days. It was the only time you thought what you were born with was some kind of gift. The tiniest most unwelcomed gift.

“That’s wonderful.” Harry’s voice was gently next to you, like he was hanging on to every short word that you said.

“Well, we’ll just have a party once you’re done with work.” Louis shrugged, but held his hands up when you opened your mouth to remind him you didn’t want anything. “Not a party, a friendly get together with friendly neighbors and alcohol.”

That day in the cafe was the beginning to a new start for you.

Obviously Lucifer had to hear about everything that happened that afternoon, but she was there to experience it first hand when Eleanor came knocking on your door the following day. She got to watch as you bent over in genuine laughter at your shared banter. She watched from the kitchen counter as Harry came by with food one night, saying he just happened to order extra lo mein and heard you come home. And as the two of you sat in the living room watching Big Brother, talking about everything from your favorite color to why he majored in physical therapy in university. Luci got to watch you break out of the shell you’d worked so hard on forming around you, and even though you knew she couldn’t understand what was happening, you liked to think her frequent meows were those of encouragement.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” The yells came from all corners of the room when you walked into Louis’s flat the following Friday, making your eyes widen and shoulders straighten. As much progress as you’d been making in your life, with branching out and slowly losing your fear of connection, it would take more than a week to crack down those barriers you’d built so high for so long.

“Thank you.” you laughed, putting down the bottle of wine you’d brought just in time for everyone to start surrounding you in hugs.

“Happy Birthday, love.” Harry’s voice was soothing in your ear, like a sense of relief in the overstimulation the other three had given you. You didn’t regret their company like you would have only a month ago, instead you welcomed the foriegn feelings. But it was still nice to have a moment of calm to fully process everything.

“Thank you Harry.”

“I hope it’s not too much. I told them to cool it on the balloons and confetti - especially since we all know I’ll be the one to pick it up in the morning.” he laughed, offering you a glass of wine that everyone else seemed to already be enjoying.

“No, no, it’s great. A nice segway from doing nothing every year.”

“Still can’t believe you haven’t celebrated your birthday in so long! That’s a day that should be celebrated by everyone!”that same look you’d grown to quite enjoy flashed over his features, his momentary distress as he realized he said something he wasn’t planning on sharing. But the look disappeared when he saw your knowing smile. “Don’t start.”

As promised, there was no party, per say. Everyone was just scattered around Louis’ living room telling stories about absolutely nothing that had everyone in stitches. It was the kind of party you’d always been envious of, one where mates could hang out and lose themselves in the company of each other. It was the first time you didn’t have a single thought about impending doom for more than an hour, a feit you would be sure not to forget.

Niall was laid out on the floor under the windows, a half empty bottle of rum in his hand and the other rested on his stomach, occasionally itching an invisible nuisance. Louis was seated in the arm chair directly across from Niall, a very buzzed Eleanor draped across his lap and the more the night went on, the less chances you had of seeing their faces separated. And Harry was seated next to you on the sofa, his arm hung on the back of the cushion in such a way that everyone so often you would feel the very tips of his fingers skim the exposed skin on your shoulder.

You wished you could freeze this moment in time, because a photograph or video would never do it justice. It was almost as if you were watching the night play out in front of you like a movie, not really in your body but watching from afar. Watching as the girl who hid herself from the world began to hatch, slowly cracking the hard exterior surrounding her. And you would do anything to bottle the feeling of pride that swelled in your chest knowing you had achieved that.

“Literally right in the face mate. No joke.” Niall cackled, his laugh a contrast in that moment; escaping his mouth loudly but carrying throughout the room softly. Taking off like a leaf blowing through the fall breeze.

“Georgie.” your name slipped from between Harry’s lips beautifully, like he was created for the sole purpose of saying your name over and over again; forever. “Alright?”

And sitting in the living room of Louis’ flat, listening to your friends’ wine induced giggles, looking at the most captivating pair of green eyes and curly hair that only whatever magical being that was above could’ve created, you were alright. You were so alright that the minuscule ticks of the clocks of your new and only friends, ticks you tried so hard to avoid paying attention to, almost seemed to disappear completely. Almost.

71 years, 2 months, 10 days, 3 hours, 16 minutes, 55 seconds. 68 years, 11 months, 3 days, 19 hours, 43 minutes, 2 seconds. 68 years, 7 months, 21 days, 1 hour, 58 minutes, 33 seconds. 62 years, 8 months, 9 days, 11 hours, 12 minutes, 2 seconds. 2 years, 1 month, 30 days, 23 hours, 34 minutes, 56 seconds.

[annabethy]

under the mistletoe, watching the fire glow: day 2

Day 02/25 Days of Christmas: Character A’s best friend rigs the Secret Santa because they know Character A has a crush on Character B,, percabeth

Percy is so distracted that he almost doesn’t catch someone whispering his name across the room. When he realizes that it’s Leo calling his name, he wishes he hadn’t noticed because he knows that whatever is about to come out of that kid’s mouth is not going to be good.

“What?” Percy hisses when Leo doesn’t stop the rather obvious hissing.

Leo stands up from the table along the wall so that he can make his way across the dorm’s common room and plop down directly next to Percy. “So.”

When he says nothing else, Percy prompts, “So…?”

“You’re in love with Annabeth, yeah?”

“I’m sorry — what?”

“You, like, want to marry her.”

Percy swallows, eyes darting towards the girl that was only sitting a few feet away. “I don’t.”

“Yeah, okay big boy. Suuure you don’t want to marry her.”

“Maybe shut up, yeah?”

Leo gives his signature impish grin. “I’m just speaking the truth.”

“Yeah, well, your truth sucks.”

Percy wishes he could say that Leo was lying through his teeth like he usually does, but this one’s the painful reality. He was in love with his best friend, and Leo was shouting it out to the world, and also to Annabeth who was practically right next to him. For once, he’s glad that she can’t ever listen to people talking while she’s studying.

“Here’s the thing.” Leo pats Percy’s hand like he was consoling a child. “Secret Santa.”

“What about it?”

“You’re going to get Annabeth.”

The way that Leo whispers it is only mildly comical. It sounds more like he’s praying than telling, in Percy’s opinion. “What, are you manifesting it or something?”

“No. I’m rigging Secret Santa.”

“What!? No!”

“You want to date her, don’t you?” When Percy opens his mouth to disagree, Leo continues, “The answer is yes, you do. And to be honest, I’m sick of watching you two flounder around each other, so this is more for my benefit than yours.”

“You’re an ass.”

“You won’t be saying that when you get married, buddy.”

Percy gives him a scathing look as he pointedly turns his head away from Leo. Leo mutters something under his breath that Percy does not bother to decipher because it would probably make Percy want to stab someone in the name of Christmas spirit. He’s already mortified enough that everyone seems to know about his infatuation with his best friend, probably including Annabeth too, so he does not need Leo to rub it in even more.

“Percy,” Leo grunts as his fingers wrap around Percy’s neck and pull in an attempt to get Percy to face him again. He ends up choking for air as Leo cuts off his trachea, and Leo clambers to grab a fistful of hair instead. Percy lets out a strangled shriek as he is pulled off the couch sharply by his head.

“Stop it!”

“Listen to me,” Leo says, peering over the edge at where Percy is now laying on the floor, rubbing the back of his head. Percy ends up staying on the floor so that he’s out of Leo’s reach. “When we get together for Secret Santa, you’re going to pick first. Pick the one that has green marker on the outside.”

“And break the rules of the game?”

“It’s still a secret to her. Do it.”

Percy doesn’t plan on doing it. The few hours waiting for the rest of their friends to meet up are spent with him going back and forth in his own mind as to why he should definitely not pick her name. It defeats the whole purpose of the game, but at the same time, she won’t know that he purposely picked her. But on the other hand, if he somehow manages to win her over with whatever gift he picks out, he’ll have to admit it at some point. With his luck, they’d be married about to have a baby when he’s like oh yeah, by the way, I purposely got you because I’m a cheater, and she’ll be so offended, all oh yeah, by the way, I’m also a cheater and it’s not your baby, and his heart will shatter into a million pieces.

So perhaps he’s being a little dramatic, but he likes to think his concerns are at least somewhat legitimate. Like, maybe 43 percent valid.

In the end though, Percy catches sight of that green mark on a slip of paper, and his hand grabs it with a mind of its own. As he uncurls the paper, he traces over her writing with his finger. He swears he could pick her writing out of a line up, with the unique curves of her penmanship.

Percy pretends not to notice Leo’s mocking grin from across the circle, instead turning his attention towards Annabeth, watching her pick out his name.

For the next few days, Percy doesn’t think he’s ever been more stressed. It’s as though Percy doesn’t even know Annabeth anymore because he’s suddenly at a blank for anything that she likes. He can’t even remember her favorite color or lifelong dreams because he’s just that nervous. He’s beginning to wish that he hadn’t picked that green slip, but it was too late to go back now. He had no choice but to make an embarrassment of himself when he shows up with something awful, or nothing at all.

It comes unexpectedly when he finds the present. It’s a simple ring with a silver band and an emerald sitting in the center, and it practically has her name written on it. He imagines what it would look like sitting on her finger, the green gem gleaming in the sunlight, reminiscent of his eyes.

It’s not until after he makes the purchase that it dawns on him how much of a boyfriend thing it is to buy someone a ring. And, of course, Annabeth would say something about it being an engagement ring because that’s just what she does, and he would die on the spot. He loves her so much, but she doesn’t know that, and a ring would no doubt reveal at least some of what he was feeling if she somehow didn’t already know.

He dreads the day of Secret Santa.

All too soon, he is sitting in a circle with his friends, everyone holding a present in their hands. When it comes time to exchange the gifts, Percy hesitantly hands his to Annabeth. He can sense the shock on her face, and a warm sense fills him as he also senses the underlying excitement in her face.

“You got me something expensive, right?” she asks playfully.

“You wish,” is what he replies, but his painfully empty wallet disagrees.

Annabeth smiles at him, a cute dimple appearing on her cheek, as she pulls the tissue paper out of the present bag. She makes an offhanded comment about the Rudolph gift bag before she pulls out everything at once. He hadn’t wanted to just get her one thing, so he stuffed it with a few of her favorite snacks. Leo had called him a simp when he found out.

“Hurry up,” he chides. “Get off my ass, Percy,” she says, but she picks up the small box he knows contains the ring. The rest of the room seems to drown out as she flicks open the top. He catches sight of the ring in the box, and now he really wants to pass out, or throw up, or both.

Annabeth’s face is unreadable as she thumbs the gem. Then, her face breaks into a soft grin and he feels marginally better. “A ring?”

“I saw it and thought of you. I didn’t even realize what I was doing until it was paid for.” He bites his lip. “I can return it if you don’t want it. I know it might seem weird, but I just really wanted—“

Annabeth uses her socked foot to nudge his knee and get him to stop talking. “I really love it, Percy.”

“You do?”

“Of course I do,” she says, rolling her eyes. She slides it onto her left ring finger, holding it up for her own inspection. “It’s like an engagement ring!”

Percy cracks a grin. “I knew you’d say that.”

“It’s not a bad thing,” she adds. “I’d love being engaged to you. You’d be the world’s best husband.”

Percy’s heart nearly stops.

“God, I love you,” she groans, crawling over the floor so that she can collapse in his lap like a wet noodle. It’s not unusual for them. They’ve always been the two to cuddle platonically during a movie, or just take a nap together, but nothing more. Right now though, Percy feels like this is a lot more than usual as he wraps his arms around her in a hug.

Annabeth lifts herself back up, and he nearly whines at the loss of contact. That is quickly taken off his mind though as she turns around with a present in hand.

“Your turn,” she says, and Percy’s jaw drops open.

“You got me!” he exclaims excitedly, reaching for the present.

“I know,” she says teasingly. “I nearly gagged when I picked your name.”

“Nice to see that you care.”

She patters her feet against the floor excitedly. “Open it!”

And he does. The bag is slightly bigger than hers was, so he struggles a bit to get the item out. When he does though, he feels like crying. He’s met with a thin silver frame, but inside of it is what really gets him. It’s a painting of the two of them — a picture he thought he lost a long time ago. Her arms are thrown over his shoulders from behind as she gives him a kiss on the cheek, and Percy is staring directly into the camera, the biggest smile on his face. He remembers taking that years ago on a stranger’s polaroid. He carried it around forever, everywhere he went, until it just seemed to disappear one day. He was so distraught because it was the only copy, but he’s forgotten about it until now, and—

Percy’s eyes begin to brim with tears. “Where did you get this?”

“I took a picture of it,” she says gently. “There was someone on etsy that was painting pictures, and so I thought you’d like to have this one.”

“God.” Percy’s eyes trace over the image, trying to burn the picture into his mind, every single curve and color. “This is perfect. Thank you.”

“It’s no ring, but…”

“Annabeth,” Percy says, stopping her. “I love it.”

“And I love you.”

Something burns in Percy’s stomach. There’s something in the way that she’s looking at him that makes his breath stutter. It’s too soft and she’s too close to him. He wants so badly to pull her in close, to hug her and kiss her because she’s wearing his ring and a sweater she stole from his closet and she’s his best friend that he’s in love with.

Percy’s face is suddenly in front of Annabeth’s, and he can feel her breaths hitting his face. He doesn’t know if people are watching, but he can’t be bothered enough to check.

“Thank you,” Percy whispers. “It means a lot.”

“I’m sure it did.”

There’s a comfortable pause where Percy just looks at her, counts her eyelashes, appreciates the perfect curve of her nose before she says, “Are you going to kiss me or just stare?”

Percy smiles and takes that as an invitation. He wraps his fingers around the curve of her back, pulling her onto his lap and bringing her lips to his. It feels like he’s kissing his best friend, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. It’s not a perfect kiss because she’s tangled awkwardly in his limbs, both of them sprawled on the floor, and there are people screaming around them, but it’s still everything he’s ever thought it would be.

When he finally pulls away, she’s looking at him with something akin to love. He smiles, and so does he, and Leo makes a snarky comment, and he never wants to leave this moment.

“So,” she says, breathless and happy, “I have something to tell you.”

“You love me?”

“That, and I may have purposely picked your name.”

Percy throw his head back and laughs, and he thinks that he’s met his soulmate.

[ill-skillsgard]

His Mistress - Series Finale

Warning: 18+ smut, mentions of cheating, coarse language, mature themes.

Author’s Note: I am terrible at ending stories because I never want them to end. The ending I initially wrote wasn’t good enough, so I started again until I felt it was right. I’ll keep it brief, but I want to thank all the readers who fueled this crazy fire and inspired me to flesh out a dark love story that I’m proud to say I wrote. I’ll miss Mr. Deaver and all the smutty, angsty, drama of his life with his mistress. Thanks for tolerating the never-ending POV shifts and filling my inbox with love and support for the story and for me. You guys are the BEST. I’m forever grateful!

I hope you enjoy the 9K series finale. It’s been a slice!

Henry X Mistress Masterpost [x]

Henry's company held an office party to bid farewell the building that had brought them growth and success over the last few years. Once again expanding, the company added a brand new customer-relations department, a slew of employees fresh out of university and interns to fill in the gaps. The celebration took place on the evening of their last workday and boasted live entertainment and enough luxurious fare for each employee and their loved ones. They rented a bouncy castle and ball pit for the kids and set up an open bar next to two seminar tables' worth of catering.

It wasn't only a farewell party for the company, but the first time Henry showed off his girlfriend in front of his colleagues and employees. Word of Henry's divorce had already made its rounds, his colleagues begging for gory details after the documents were signed and filed. Rumours fluttered in and out of ears and mouths, but never while Henry was in the room—Henry had cheated on his wife with a coworker, Henry screwed the cleaning lady and his wife caught him in the act, Henry picked up a venereal disease, and poor Mary. The speculation rose tensions, but like all rumours, faded into irrelevancy once news of the company move surfaced. People forgot all about Henry's ugly divorce for the next round of gossip. Word of his mistress died down. 

Although the tension had mostly evaporated, she felt eyes crawling on her when she showed up on Henry's arm. Of course, everyone recognized her—she was the secretary for a time, the only line to get an opening with Mr. Deaver. She had spent months parked next to his office, taking his appointments, booking his days, answering his phone. They remembered, and they leaned into the nearest ear to whisper, "I knew it all along."

If Henry noticed the curiosity, he chose to ignore it, but she couldn't. She felt every woman in the place wringing her silently, scrutinizing her moves, her hand in Henry's. People who knew Mary tended to side with the older woman, and the nattering reinstated in hushed exchanges. She was alone at the party save for Henry, but he could only guard her for so long before his colleagues whisked him into conversations littered with business jargon that lost her attention.

Still, she clung to his hand, and once in a while, Henry would break from stock discussions to turn in for a kiss. He surrounded her ears with his fingers, tilting her face up so he need not crouch just to show some affection. When he buried her mouth with his, she savoured the taste of wine, the power in becoming the first lady, the stares from Henry's subordinates.

Henry pulled back an inch, staring drunkenly, though he'd only had one glass of pinot noir, and nipped her bottom lip. "Having a good time, sweetheart?"

"Sure. I love catching all the cattiest office workers glaring."

Henry smirked as though he too tasted a dollop of satisfaction from the envy. "You know what I say to that?"

"What?"

"Fuck them," Henry whispered.

She feigned a gasp, swatted his shoulder, and he pulled her even closer. "Gosh, you look beautiful. I want to undress you later and do all the things they're thinking about me doing to you."

"My, my, Henry. You better take it easy on the vino."

"I'm not tipsy. I'm excited."

She checked his pockets for bulges, hoping Henry's intentions weren't to propose in front of all these near-strangers. The lines of his suit were smooth, and when she hugged him, she only felt his cellphone, wallet and keys, no ring box. She sighed with relief and sweltered under another one of his long kisses. He moaned against her, stroked her neck and back until she interrupted him to say, "Jesus, Henry. What's with the PDA?"

"I'm sorry. I just don't care anymore. Let 'em look."

"Easy, tiger. You're the star of the show. People want to talk to you without lipstick all over your face."

"Mm, I'd fuck you right now if I could," said Henry.

She squeezed his shoulders, holding him off for a moment before he swooped in for another peck. "Okay, okay, I'm done. For now."

"Don't make me spank you when we get home," she warned, mouth curved in jest.

"I'll behave," he assured.

With children running about, the catering service making rounds in the nearly empty office space, more employees and their significant others piling in by the minute, it was easy to get lost in the bustle. Henry's colleagues whisked him away into a conversation she had no business understanding, leaving her stranded, drink in hand, smoothing out the wrinkles in her blouse to distract herself from her friendless reality. None of Henry's employees came to talk to her. She stood alone, a flag on a pole reminding everyone that Henry had upgraded in every way. Some people went by, nodding respectfully, while others bypassed her like a piece of furniture.

Just when she felt the pressure behind her eyes saying she was tired, Frank stepped out of the elevator with his wife and two boys. The children bolted for the bounce house, leaving their bickering parents in their dust. Frank travelled through the crowd rolling his eyes and sneering at his wife, who looked upset about something, but retracted her frown as soon as a colleague's wife greeted her. The loud businessman honed in on Henry, and she watched her helpless boyfriend go limp when the man slung his meaty arm around his shoulders, thumping his back with a ham hock fist.

She mused over Henry's embarrassment as Frank launched into a story designed specifically to draw attention to him in the worst way. Frank's baritone floated above the music, and soon, others gathered to listen to the man tell the story of how Henry got too wasted on sake on a business trip to Japan because he didn't want to seem rude to the host and didn't know how to decline.

"This fuckin' guy—pardon my French—is rolling on the floor in his hotel room, has ten minutes to get dressed and downstairs for the conference, but can't even hold his head up straight. How many did you have, Henry, seven? Eight?"

Henry blanched, shaking his head. "Eight, yeah, I think that's about right."

"You've never seen a guy so drunk in your life! He did the conference, slurring the entire time, stumbling over his shoes, but the folks loved it! Didn't they, Deaver? You really got their attention when you started hiccoughing between every word."

"Different times. We were younger. We were boys."

"Ah, yeah. Young and dumb. Now, look at you! Much older now and just as dumb, eh?"

The gaggle surrounding Henry burst into laughter and carried on as Frank surrendered his grip. She tried to picture Henry staggering, too drunk to string together a sentence, but couldn't imagine him as anything less than poised. The image reminded her of the conversation she had with Mary in the parking garage. Before the divorce had been finalized, Mary told her Henry had done questionable things abroad with his colleagues. Frank's story, although comical and meant as a harmless jab, filled her with suspicion.

Henry had denied the accusation that he cheated before that night he invited her up to his hotel room. With desperation on his face, he vowed on his love for her that he was never unfaithful, barring their affair. She believed him, with reluctance, and stowed it away in her mind with the rest of Mary's dubious claims. Now that stories of shenanigans and unprofessional conduct were in circulation, she tried not to let her suspicions gain traction.

The night played on, and as more of the families left to put their hyper children to bed, the heads of business brought out the top-shelf Scotch and sat around picking at sandwich trays and hors d'oeuvres. Frank caught Henry's assistant-turned-girlfriend in his cross-hairs and approached her with a drink in hand. Red-faced and loud as ever, Frank asked her why she wasn't enjoying herself.

She cleared her throat and offered her best smile. "I am having fun. I just don't have a rich enough history with the company to offer any entertaining stories."

"Oh, come now. You were Henry's assistant for months! You don't have anything to share about banging the boss?"

Frank's announcement only fell on her ears, but it was enough to make her blush and want to escape. He apologized and sidled up to her, clinking his whiskey tumbler with her wine glass.

"Gotta get you a refill, Whaddaya say, toots?"

"I'm fine for now," she said. "I offered to drive home."

"That's right. You two live together now in that little condo."

She blinked, unsure of how anyone might think of the condo as little, then realized she was standing among wealthy men whose homes spanned acres, who owned Summer cottages bigger than the average townhouse.

"I gotta say, Deaver's got that colour back in his face since he started on with you, doll. What do I gotta do to get me a woman like that? He's a whole new man. Is that all it takes is a nice, young honey to roll back the decades? I bet the old bastard gets it up just fine. Just fine."

"Thank you, Frank. I'll try to sift through that to find a compliment," she scoffed and sipped her wine.

"Aw, I mean it with love, darlin', you know that. Ol' Franky just talks, right? I don't mean any harm. Maybe I come from a place of envy, who knows? Not every day a dry old fella gets his hands on something pretty as you. I can see you're good for him. He sure smiles a helluva lot more! Christ, can't chisel the grin off that face. Loopy as a damn circus clown since you came around."

"Really?" She tittered.

"I'm serious. Shit, when Henry was with Mary, you couldn't pay the guy to crack a joke. Now, he's nothing like the shlub I met all those years ago."

She ran her finger along the glass rim as Frank droned on, her eyes on Henry across the room. He had been having a good time, his cheeks aglow with cheeriness. She'd never seen Henry interact with his coworkers for more than a quick trip in and out of the conference room to deliver him a printout or progress report. Tonight, Henry hadn't complained about people talking his ear off. Even after Frank's unflattering account of one of his rare blunders, he hadn't whined or wished they could sneak out unseen. Henry was at ease.

"He's planning on proposing to me soon," she said.

Frank cocked his head and rose his glass. "Here's to hoping he makes the right decision, and quick, before you realize you can do better!"

She clinked glasses with Frank once more, and while he drained his whiskey, she set her glass down on a table nearby.

"I was wondering what his coworkers might say about him remarrying."

"Anything to get him away from that soul-sucking ice queen of an ex-wife."

"Frank? Can I ask you something and get a sincere answer?"

Frank read her serious tone, shifted his brows and angled in, unaware of his alcohol-laden breath fanning over her face. "Anything, love. Franky tells no lies. That's what they say. With me, it's pure honesty."

"I heard a rumour about Henry in Thailand. Somebody said he cheated on Mary. Do you know anything about this? I'd like to know what I'm getting myself into, being young and all. I don't want to end up wasting my best years with a man who might cheat on me down the road."

Frank scoffed, slapped his leg and howled. She waited for him to wipe an invisible tear from his eye, hoping nobody asked what was so funny.

"Oh, doll. You can't believe all the rumours you hear in this place. Thailand... Shit, that was so long ago. I can hardly remember what happened. It's true, we did some partying, but when in Rome, right?"

She grimaced as Frank went on, "Ol' Deaver never left his hotel room on that trip. Me 'n a couple of our work buddies cruised around, got ourselves into a little trouble, but not Henry. He spent the whole week hunched over his laptop, putting last minute touches on some PowerPoint crap—never was good with computers, myself. And don't get me wrong, there were offers made during dinners—generous offers. You know the type. They like to show their hospitality. But Henry was the professional. We call him Dad since he's always keeping us in line. Even us old guys, eh? No, no... Company is rock solid 'cause of him. We told Deaver a million times to drop the ball 'n chain, but the kid stuck it out, he really did."

"Am I stupid to marry him?"

"Doll, I think if you want someone to treat you right, it's my man, Henry Deaver. The Kid can't contain himself. And who could? He's a lucky man, really fortunate to have a dish like you."

"Oh, stop," she gestured at the opposite corner of the cleared out office space where the wives gathered. "You know, if I marry Henry, I'll have to join the wives' club and stand over there with Phyllis and Dorothy."

Frank beamed at her. She decided not to loathe the man for his praise, both for her and Henry. He was a bumbling idiot at times and unfiltered, but she had seen much worse. Before the corporate job with all the nice clothes and gadgets she used to pine for while browsing fashion websites, she worked her food service job. With every type of asshole and gentleman coming through the hotel bar, Frank was the loudmouth who'd changed her mind on Henry Deaver.

"You're a different kind, ain'tcha? I bet Deaver has his hands full with you."

Warm, wine-drunk confidence slid off her tongue, "Oh, I keep him busy."

"I'll kill him if he doesn't marry you, kid."

"I'm sure you will."

"That's Frank's Guarantee."

She tipped glasses with him once more and excused herself to use the washroom. The night was drawing to a close, and she enjoyed the quiet of the bathroom and its 3 stalls. Many times she had retreated to the washroom to text Henry while he was in his office. She couldn't risk getting caught exchanging dirty messages with the boss, so when she wanted to make him blush, she snuck off to the lady's room. Many nude photoshoots happened in the safety of the last stall on the right, and all of them fed to Henry's phone at inopportune times—mostly during meetings or video calls with clients across the world. Now, she laid her head against the cool metal and thought of marrying Henry. 

Back then, falling in love with him was forbidden, tingly, like a shot of alcohol at an inappropriate hour that she hoped nobody could smell on her breath. Now, it was pure. There were no more walls, no need to hide in the stall to talk to him. Henry was hers, and everyone knew it.

Henry waited for her by a stack of chairs. Behind him, the catering company was clearing away serving trays, stacking cups and folding tablecloths. The band had long since packed up, and anyone with children had taken them downstairs to the shuttles the company had arranged to drive them home.

"Hey," she greeted him.

"Hey, indeed. How're you doing? I thought I saw you getting along with Frank." Henry chuckled. "What was up with that? I thought you hated him."

"I don't hate him. Maybe I wasn't keen on him hitting on me back at the hotel, but I think he's smartened up. As uncouth as he may be... He has your back and cares about the company."

"He's the drunk uncle of the business."

"You'll have to teach him some manners, though. One day, you'll have a female big-wig to schmooze, and she might not take kindly to pet names."

Henry's eyes bugged as he nodded. "Frank doesn't get to talk to the women in the industry, and don't worry, I'll whip him into shape."

"Hm, is that why they call you the company dad?" She asked, tracing one finger down Henry's lapel. "You just keep everyone in line, don't you? Lay down the law. Tell all those silly men how to act."

Henry shivered as her hand travelled lower, coasted over the front of his pants while nobody was looking. He puffed his chest, a crafty look taking over his visage. He snatched her wandering hand and stepped closer, eclipsing her as he slouched over to whisper in her ear.

"Yeah, I'm the Daddy around here."

"Is Daddy ready to head home soon?" 

"Let's say our goodbyes, then we'll get out of here. Come on." 

Henry gave her directions that took them in the opposite direction of home. When she questioned him, he patted her thigh, assuring there was a surprise waiting at the end of the line. She tried to pry it from him while they cruised the highway in the dark. The radio played low while Henry tried changing the subject. 

"Where am I going?" She asked. 

Henry pointed ahead. "Get off at the next exit." 

The roads narrowed, and the street lamps spread farther apart outside of the city. She slowed the car, flipped on the high beams and guided Henry's BMW over gravel hills. There were houses along the quiet strip of country line, but they were hidden behind spruce and maple trees.

"Henry, we're so far from home. I'm tired. Please tell me what we're doing." 

He pointed at a driveway tucked behind a line of birch and a dented metal mailbox standing crookedly on the side of the road. "Down there. It's close now, don't worry." 

They curved through a loose gathering of evergreens and pulled up to a sprawling ranch house with a double garage and topiaries along the sides. The place was dark, but a motion light illuminated the paved driveway as she pulled up and parked. Henry pulled a set of keys from his pocket and exited the vehicle. He waited for her to catch up, breath turning to vapour in the crisp night air.

"Care to explain what we're doing at some random house?" She asked.

Henry took her hand and guided her toward the front door. In the dark, she sailed by the realtor's sign and stepped onto the first stone slab leading to the front door. She watched Henry fiddle with a key, shove it into the lock and turn the handle. The door opened with a whoosh, the scent of fresh paint and lacquered wood spilling out of the massive wooden door. Henry hit a switch, and fractals of light exploded from a chandelier on high in the foyer.

"Check this out. It's so open in the center, you could drive a truck through to the backyard. And the kitchen! Oh, you gotta see the kitchen. It's lovely," Henry said as he grabbed her hand and led her through the house. "All stainless steel and marble. The island is bigger than our bed! And come this way, down here."

They journeyed down an echoing hall, footsteps casting off the hardwood floors and glass light fixtures. Henry threw open a door and ushered her inside a furnished bedroom. A sleigh bed domineered the far end of the room, all dark wood, plush duvet and pillows.

"I know you're not keen on beige, which is fine. We'll paint it. But, look at this bed! And this window overlooks the backyard—Well, I wouldn't say 'yard.' It's more of a...field. Look, look, look!"

"Henry, what is this?" She asked, peering out the window at the blackness beyond the dim orange halo of the bedroom light.

When she turned back around, Henry placed his hands on her hips, excitement simmering. He smiled, wry and lustful, and bent down to kiss her.

"Isn't it obvious? This is our house."

"What are you saying?" She gasped. "You bought this place?" 

"Mhm. I've had my eye on it for a long time."

"And just how long exactly were you planning on keeping this a secret?"

"Only until I bought it."

"Henry!"

He jingled the keys in his pocket. "Well, you can't just walk into a place that's not yours."

Suddenly, she realized Henry had put this in motion weeks before, masked it under the search for a new office building. Realtors had rung Henry's phone off the hook, and she had answered them all, oblivious to his underlying motive. When it clicked, she dropped her jaw and swatted him playfully.

"I can't believe you. Right under my nose!"

"It was good timing."

"But...why? What's wrong with the condo?"

Henry guided her to the room's centre beneath the carnival glass light fixture that had to go, along with the drab paint job. "Nothing is wrong with the condo. It's just not ours. There are too many memories preventing me from letting go of the past. I want to let it all go, but I can't when I look around and remember where I was just a year and a half ago. It served me well as a place to escape, but now, I don't need to hide. I want new memories. I want to walk outside with my coffee and see you in the backyard, doing whatever you want—gardening, reading, lounging. I want to pull up after a long day at work, see this place, and know that you're inside, all of our things, our memories, our smells."

"And what if I hate it?" She asked, stifling a giggle.

"Then I'll sell it, and we'll find a new place."

"I don't hate it, Henry, but...This was such a risk."

"It paid off. I knew you'd like it. It's the perfect combination of vintage and modern. The structure is old and strong, but the renovations give it that modern class. It's like that chalet we stayed at in Sweden. Remember?"

"Of course, I remember. We didn't leave bed for two days."

Henry smiled fondly at the memory and stroked her hair back, smiling with her in his arms. She laid her cheek on his chest and breathed in a contented sigh.

"There are two offices, one for me and one for you. Two other bedrooms. One for guests and one for a kid."

She looked up at him, and all the playfulness fled from his eyes. He kissed her to avoid the inevitable questions. When will we see a doctor? What is the plan if we can't conceive? They didn't need answers, only trust that whatever battles stretched on, they would meet them hand-in-hand.

"I can't wait," she whispered. "I love you. And I love this house."

"There's one more thing," Henry cleared his throat and stepped away from her. "It's kind of important."

"What is it?"

"I'm old, babe."

"Henry, you're not that old."

"I'm an old man. I'm head of a multi-national company, y'know. I wear suits and talk to people who hemorrhage money day in and day out. I like to style myself as a professional."

She cocked her head, wondering where Henry was going with his monologue.

"It's awkward when people ask me about you, and I have to refer to you as my girlfriend. Guys like me aren't supposed to have girlfriends. It just sounds creepy. Plus, you're so much more to me than that. You're not my girlfriend; you're the love of my life. My soulmate. My queen. I want you to be my partner."

"Henry—"

He cut her off and fetched something from the table next to the bed. When he rejoined her in the middle of the room, he bent at the knee and presented her with the ring box she had already seen, yet she fluttered as though it was the first time.

"Baby... I could have flown you to a tropical island or put this in a glass of champagne. I could have done this in front of everyone at the party tonight, but all of that seemed silly. Don't get me wrong, I still want to take you to every corner of the world and give you all the nicest things, but I wanted to propose to you in our house, just you and me. So... Will you quit being my girlfriend and become my wife instead?"

Henry separated her ring finger from the rest and slid the band down to the knuckle as she blotted her sobs with the other hand, nodding and fighting joyful tears.

"You think you're so clever, don't you?" She asked as he rose to his feet and clamped her in a bone-cracking hug.

"I know I'm clever! You thought I would propose to you in front of all those people? No way."

"You hate being the center of attention."

"That's right. And although I want to shout it from the rooftops, I thought you'd prefer me asking you to marry me someplace quiet."

She gazed at the stone glittering on her finger, and a fresh wash of tears wet her cheeks. "I'm marrying you... You're going to be my husband."

"If you don't mind, I'd like to skip fiance altogether and get right to the wife thing."

"You're my husband."

"You're my wife!"

"We're getting married!"

"That's right," Henry beamed. "And we move in next month."

Breathless, she ripped her eyes off the ring and looked up at the man who gave it to her. She threw her arms around his neck, pressed her face into the column of his throat and breathed in the scent of old hotels, of pastry and coffee and drying ink on newspaper. She had a vision of him seated at a table across the room, smiling in her direction, tapping his silver pen on the spine of his planner. Two eyes, one green and one brown, drinking her in like fine wine, full of secrets and passion, indulgence and guilt. Her good Christian boy who was anything but pure or chaste.

"I'll worship you until I die, you know that, right?"

"Henry, I can't. You're making me cry. There's probably mascara all over my face!"

"I don't care," he pressed the words to her temple, swaying in languid step. "You'll never be rid of me. Think about that."

"I believe you, Henry."

His eyes flooded and no amount of squeezing suffocated the tears. The streams met the cuff of his suit jacket. He questioned why he still wore the suit and slipped out of it as her hand tugged his tie. Leash in hand, she pulled his face to her level and touched the tears coasting his cheeks, brushed her thumb over the scar two inches from the lips she kissed.

"Are you sure you want to marry me?"

"Shut up."

"I'm serious."

"And I'm telling you to shut up, Henry. Don't ask those kinds of questions."

"I just can't believe you're mine."

"That's right. So stop wondering if I'll change my mind. I've had many opportunities to reconsider. I stuck it out through times I should have walked out, and now we're standing in this gigantic house, and there's a ring on my finger... And you still think I'll back out?"

"I hope not. You're everything I've wanted my whole life. I have it all. Now I can spend the rest of it happy."

"I love you," she whispered against his bottom lip.

Henry crouched, circled her hips with his arms and carried her to the bed, murmuring, "I love you, too, baby. So much."

"Are we gonna fuck right here?"

"Right here, right now," said Henry, perching her on the bed so he could work open the buttons of his dress shirt. She lifted her legs, slipped off her heels, then wrestled her blouse off. The struggle to undress ended with their tops off, Henry standing with his knees pressed into the plush mattress, between her legs. He ran his hands up and down her thighs, nylon sighing between skin as he stroked.

"I didn't think I'd make it out of the office without fucking you. Gosh, you looked so good in that outfit. All those guys were looking at you... Especially when you dropped your phone and bent over to pick it up. That fabric stretching over your ass. You should've seen 'em staring."

"You think they're jealous of you?" She asked as Henry bunched her skirt around her hips, revealing satin and lace panties pasted to her crotch with arousal. His palm traversed her thigh, paused at the edge of the panties. He sent out two fingers to stroke the stitching along her groin, satin running like water across the tips. Henry wanted to take his time, but she was restless. He subdued her with a kiss.

"Don't get ahead of yourself. I'm in control tonight, and I want to feel and lick and taste every inch of your body before I even get my pants off, understand?"

She returned his sly look and rolled onto her stomach, parting her legs so he could admire the shiny material ruched between her cheeks.

"To answer your question... Yes. Of course, they're jealous."

"Oh, yeah? How do you know?"

Henry snickered, like a bully cornering his prey. "Those old bastards can't keep their mouths shut. Even when you were my employee, they'd hound me for details... Ask if you were single, if I was tapping you, if I'd thought about it. I'm not one to boast, but they all knew. Henry Deaver doesn't kiss and tell, but then you'd come in and smile at me like just an hour before I was balls-deep in your pussy... Like my cum was still dripping down your thigh. They knew. We weren't as covert as we thought."

"It's that naughty little smile of yours that gives it away. You flashed me that same smile a few times at the hotel, and I just thought maybe you didn't realize how seductive you looked. But you know, don't you? You know what you do to me. How hard you can make me with just one look."

Henry lifted her leg over his shoulder and kissed her ankle as he squeezed the sole of her foot, admiring the coloured polish on her toenails peeking out of the semi-opaque stockings.

"I do enjoy getting you worked up, sir."

"Let's not tonight. I'm supposed to make love to you, not treat you like my office pet. I'm marrying you, for fuck's sake."

"Then make love to your future wife. That doesn't mean I can't be your slut anymore."

"Oh, my God," Henry growled.

"Look at what I'm wearing for you. I know how much you love the way my pussy looks wearing this fabric. Thigh-high stockings aren't practical, but I figured you might fuck me in your office one last time, and I wanted to torment you."

"Not so predictable now, huh?"

She simpered and ran her toe in a line down his chest and didn't stop until she grazed his belt buckle. "Yeah, and you've been thinking about filling me up all night."

Henry grasped her ankles and pulled her to the edge of the bed to meet his groin. He gathered her up in his arms, pressing his entire weight on her frame as he kissed her desperately. When her legs grew weak, he clamped them around his hips and undulated. Hardness strained against her crotch, pulsing from the heat between her legs.

"You're right. I've been aching to fuck you. How long has it been? Gosh, this week has been so busy, I've hardly had any time alone with you. And you've been occupied with your new job. It's been a while since I've come."

She made a coo of sympathy. "Aw, my poor baby. You're probably so sensitive."

"I want you to do something for me," Henry muttered, adjusting his crotch, then giving up and undoing his belt and pants altogether. "I'd love it if you sucked my cock."

"Oh, Mr. Deaver asking for a blowjob? A rare sound to my ears."

He shook his head, grabbed her hand and pulled her off the bed to kneel on the floor. With feet spread wide, his fingers tangled in her hair, Henry waited for her to make the first move. His view of her from on high was angelic. In the prismatic light, her eyes twinkled, and he thought of whiskey in a glass, poured by a dangerous woman he'd grown to admire. She always wore a smile, but for the right person, that smile turned luscious and dim. Her eyes would relax on him, soothe him, delight if he made small conversation instead of only demands.

Henry did not demand, but as her smiling lips tightened around the midway-point of his cock and sank, he couldn't help aiding the way to her throat with one firm thrust. "Oh... Oh, Jesus fucking Christ," he droned.

"You can use my mouth, sir."

"Just suck that dick like a good girl. Do your magic on me, baby."

With free reign, she slathered his shaft with her tongue, side-to-side, up and down. She met his eyes and smiled, the tip nestled between her puckered lips. Her grasp on the base sent waves of hot blood pumping through the veins, filling him out entirely.

"I can't wait to feel this big cock pumping my pussy full of cum."

"Oh, I know, baby. We'll get there. For now, I need your mouth. All over me, please. Balls too. Come on... Eat that cock, you hungry little slut."

She chased Henry up on the bed where she could kneel between his legs in comfort. Henry enjoyed the position, too—back against a mound of pillows, his long legs spread to the lower corners of the bed, her crumpled form nestled between his thighs while her lips and tongue worked in a circuit on his length. He leaned his head back, arms thrown over the pillows. In this position, Henry bucked his hips a few times to touch his tip to her tonsils. Each time she brought up a wave of saliva that coated him and made it easier for her to slide down.

"What about that ass, big boy?" She asked after popping up from a harsh series of head-bobbing. "I know how much you love it when I play with that pretty hole of yours."

Henry sucked air in through his teeth, chin dimpling and lashes fluttering. "Mmph, not tonight. I want that pussy. Yeah, I wanna taste you."

They flipped positions. Henry pulled her onto her back away and snatched one of the pillows to wedge under her tailbone. With both hands, he hooked the back of her knees and spread her thighs wide, elevating her pelvis until his breath stroked the front of her panties. Henry nipped the fabric, pulled it into a tent and let it snap back against her lips. He nuzzled it, faint stubble scratching the delicate fabric. She let out a gentle sigh, a whimper of lust. Henry kissed the satin once, twice harder, then a third time like he'd met her mouth in a fevered touch.

She watched his long fingers sneak the fabric away, how he made shapes with his mouth like he wanted to say something but lost his voice. Henry bit his lip, kissed where he knew her clit was hiding, then prodded her folds with a long lick. He repeated the motion on the right side, along her labia, and again on he left side.

For a while, he would only meet the crest of her entrance with light kisses and whispered promises.

"Do you like it when I tease your pussy? Giving you just enough to make you wet, but not as much as you need?"

"Henry, please," she begged.

"Please, what?"

"Please give me more!"

"More of this?" Henry asked, ghosting his breath over her clit.

"No more teasing."

"You sure?"

She clutched some of his hair and pouted. He chuckled, laid his cheek on her thigh and brought his hand up between her legs. "What if I'm not done teasing? What if I want to torment you a little longer?"

He spread open her lips, applying pressure on both sides. She could almost grind against his fingers if he didn't have her at his mercy, arched over a pillow, thighs splayed wide and vulnerable. Henry tapped her clit with three fingers, stippling with gooseflesh from the wet noises the pads made on her vulva. "Oh, I love that sound," he sang. "You're so wet for me."

"Please, sir. I need your mouth."

"Is that right? Well, you've been so good and helpful. I'm sure I can give you what you want... but you have to promise me something."

"Yes, yes, I will. Anything."

"Promise you'll tell me before you come?"

"Uh-huh. I promise."

"Okay, I trust you. Don't get too close. I have other plans for your pussy."

She groaned out loud, relieved when he finally licked her clit. His tongue was a warm blanket, weighted and placed perfectly on top. He undulated the muscle, coaxing out the sensitive parts for adoration. That's how she described his attention in her mind. When Henry ate her out, it was like he'd infiltrated her head and knew the precise amount of pressure, the proper motions, when to flicker his tongue and when to envelope her clit between his lips. He kissed, sucked, lapped and moaned like a symphony, only opening his eyes once in a while to catch her staring in awe between her legs.

"Mm, baby," Henry moaned against her slit. "I can feel you getting close already. Don't go over the edge."

"I'm sorry, you just look so good eating my pussy."

Henry pulled off her, smirking, letting her glimpse his full lips shining in their glory. She couldn't stop herself from lunging for him. The taste of her own fluid on his mouth set off a carnal urge to feel his cock too. She told him to fuck her hard, to spank her ass and make her squeal like a knifed animal. She wanted that deepness, the full stretch as his thighs bounced her up and down. They laid on their sides, and Henry entered her from behind, arm hooking her leg up so he could gaze over at her exposed breasts, her glistening clit forgotten for a moment too long. In his clutches, she was helpless, and Henry used his advantage to squeeze and rub her until more of her liquid soaked between their groins.

"Can you come like this?" Henry puffed next to her ear. "If I rub your clit like that and keep fucking you, can you come?"

"Yes," she peeped. "Yes, keep going."

"Yeah? Gonna come like a good girl all over this dick?"

Again, she nodded, biting down on her lip in concentration.

"'Cause I'm gonna shoot so much fucking cum inside you, but only after you get all tight around me."

She begged him not to stop, to never stop being hers. Henry rushed his movements until she bucked once, legs fighting to fold inward.

"Is that it? That spot right there?" Henry asked. "Keep rubbing you just like this?"

He didn't need an answer; it was written all over her flushed face, denting her lip where her teeth bore down. Henry exerted every inch of stamina he had in his body until her muscles seized hard enough to snap. Mewling as she came, Henry didn't stop pestering her clit with his fingertips or pull out after he emptied as deep inside as he could fit. He gathered her up in his arms, locking fingers and lips, breathing each other's air. Pieces of his hair clung to his sweat-dampened forehead while he pulsed and shivered.

"I need you to get your panties on right away. We can't leave a mess behind."

"Are you serious?"

Henry nodded his head, unperturbed by the alarm in her tone. "Well, it's not our stuff. It's staging furniture. I just convinced the realtor to let me surprise you tonight. She probably didn't think I'd be fucking you in any of the bedrooms."

"Henry! I'm not sure where you slung my underwear."

He pushed into her one last time and grunted. "Aw, honey, mm. That's where my cum belongs."

"You're such a bad man," she giggled.

"I know I'm dirty."

"Come on, husband. Help me find my clothes. We should get back before we both fall asleep and someone finds us like this."

They gathered themselves, sighing and stretching the tension from their muscles as they dressed and took one more look around the property. She saw the house in a warm light now, as a place they could fill with memories, starting in the master bedroom where Henry proposed. He held her hand as they drove to the condo and flung themselves into bed, drained from the night's givings but wrapped in each other's arms.

 The next morning, she woke to the smell of pancakes cooking on a griddle. Henry was up, two coffees deep, and buzzing from cupboard to cabinet, humming under his breath. He lit up when he caught her motion in the corner of his eye and went in for a long hug.

"Good morning, wife."

"Morning, husband," she replied, cheeks and chest prickling.

"Pancake buffet?" Henry gestured at the kitchen island.

"It's not even Christmas!"

Henry scoffed. "Who needs a special occasion to have a pancake buffet?

"I suppose I can't complain," she said.

She sat at the island, studying the foreign object around her ring finger every once in a while. When she made a fist or spread her hand, the rock sparkled and delighted her eyes. Henry caught her staring at the ring and smiling as he launched into the day's trajectory, his plan falling on deafened ears.

"Hello?" Henry waved the spatula. "Are you home?"

She sat up straight and folded her hands. "Yes. Sorry. I was distracted."

"I was saying I have to go into the office today, but only for an hour or two. Are you okay with hanging around here by yourself while I take the car? Can you believe the Beamer is still in the shop? They say take the damn thing into the dealership, we'll fix it up for free, but we'll keep it for half the week."

"Oh, well, I was supposed to pick up groceries, but I can wait."

Henry's eyebrows popped up. "Oh, no. No, no, honey. That's all right. I'll find another way there."

"Why don't I drive you to the office? Unless...You're not actually going to the office?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Henry asked.

"I don't know...You could be exacting another one of your famous covert plans and covering it up by saying you're going to the office. How do I know?'

Henry tipped his head back and laughed as he tended the food sizzling on the stovetop. "Oh, sweetheart. No. I promise, no more tricks for a while."

"Sure," she said with a sly edge on her tongue.

"You can drop me off and take the car. It's nothing secretive, I swear."

Henry piled the last pancakes onto a plate, turned off the griddle and wiped the counter clear of flour and coconut flakes. They put together an extravagant array of dressed-up breakfast food, dousing their plates in maple syrup, chocolate chips and heart-shaped strawberries as they talked and sipped coffee. Henry sat across the island holding his hand out for her to touch every once in a while. He didn't need her to hold his hand, though, subconsciously, he always reached out for her in case she wanted to feel his skin.

The morning melted seamlessly into early afternoon, and the couple ventured from the condo after a quick round of energizing couch sex. Henry thumbed the ring on her finger as they walked onto the main floor from the elevator.

"Mr. Deaver and Madame, good morning!" Johnny, the concierge, greeted them.

Henry held up their conjoined hands. "It's Mr. and Mrs. Deaver from now on, Johnny."

The tall man behind the desk made a small gasp and bowed. "Apologies, Mr. and Mrs... Might I say congratulations to the happy couple?"

"You're the first to hear, officially," Henry said.

Johnny touched his enormous hand to his chest. "What an honour, sir. This position never loses its magic."

Henry twisted his mouth. "I have some other news, Johnny. My wife and I will be moving soon. We won't be seeing you every morning."

"Ah, that's all right, Mr. Deaver. Moving up and up, I hope?"

"Yes. It's a ranch house in the country. No neighbours."

"Beautiful. Well, I wish you both the very best and look forward to helping you out until moving day comes."

"Thanks, Johnny," she said with a smile.

Johnny rose his finger as they meant to leave. "One more thing. A package arrived for you, Mr. Deaver."

The concierge ducked under the desk with a set of keys and opened the security box dedicated to the Deaver property. He pulled out a bulging manila envelope and turned it over with a dutiful grin. When her eyes glanced at the writing on the front, a knot formed in her throat. Henry's name adorned the front in practiced, sweeping hand. Henry. Not Henry Deaver or Mr. Deaver. Just his name written in black ink with flourishes on the capital H and a hand-drawn filigree beneath. She watched his shoulders stiffen as he nodded to Johnny.

"Thank you, Johnny. We'll see you later."

She followed Henry to the parking garage, staring at the envelope in his hands. Henry looked ahead, his bright demeanour trampled upon by the object he carried. When they got into the vehicle, they looked at each other, then down at the package.

"What is that?" She asked.

"I think it's from Mary. That's her handwriting."

She swallowed the knot in her throat, but it had doubled in size and refused to budge. "What now? She's not supposed to bother us anymore."

"I know," Henry breathed. "I can't... You open it."

She tore into the envelope and pulled out a letter accompanied by a DVD in a flat jewel case and photocopies of ruled paper scrawled with notes. Henry nodded at the letter, signalling her to read it aloud.

"Dear Henry... I know there's little chance of getting a private audience with you now that we're legally separated, and the company is in the process of moving. You probably have your hands full and do not wish to hear from me either way. I understand your need to stay away, hence the letter and no phone call. What needs to be said cannot be summed up in a brief call, so I will try to keep this to a few pages.

I wanted to start off by apologizing. It's too late for apologies, and you must think I'm off my rocker to have even considered coming to you with this. Still, I'm not looking for acceptance, sympathy or anything but the need to fill you in on the blank spaces that must have driven you crazy over the last couple of years. The way I scorned you was wrong. A wife should respect her husband in all forms, and answer to him when he calls. I ignored you and purposely drove a wedge between us in order to distance myself from you and our collective failure.

By now, I'm sure your new girlfriend told you what I told her. It should come as no surprise that when I say "failure," I mean our inability to have a child.

When I received the news, and you were nowhere to be found, I felt the clutches of the Devil himself reaching for me. God does not make mistakes, which is how I know we were being punished for our sins, and since the results indicated you were the weaker factor, I can only assume the punishment was meant for you, and by extension, me. I know you have berated me in the past for my strong beliefs, but I cannot compromise my relationship with God for anyone's comfort. I know in my heart, his word is law, and if we couldn't produce a child, lying together would be straying down the path of temptation.

There were things you wanted me to do that I could not, in good conscience, provide for you—sex acts no married couple should have an interest in performing. If I'd have known of your devious tastes early on in our relationship, perhaps I wouldn't have married you. You resisted His word and acted on selfish impulse, spoke of wicked things with your colleagues, and Lord knows what other things I didn't catch wind of. I had to escape your sin yet remain your wife through the bad and the worse, as I pledged before God until death.

I do not judge you, as you are no longer my husband, and I know God will assess your choices in his divine eye. I don't have to worry about the unclean thoughts that live inside of you—they have no power over me; they aren't a reflection of my heavenly worth. If anything, I hope you are happy and have all the freedom one who strays from God can expect to have in this world. I pray for your soul each night and hope you do not meet the eternal fires.

I should have told you, but I was stricken with unbearable grief. I hated you. I fell out of love. I can't describe how, but I felt if I touched you, knowing what I knew then, God would punish me. Please understand everything I did, I did in the name of the Lord and with concern for my immortal soul. Call me selfish. I was and am, to this day, a selfish woman. But you were good to me, up until a certain point.

I cannot forgive your infidelity and can only pray you to seek repentance for your sin, though I will admit I did not care to make it right at the time. My silence was meant as punishment, but only God can dole penance, and in shutting you out, I acted in his name when I shouldn't have. I will spend the rest of my days begging His forgiveness and praying for you, Henry.

This package includes the evidence I've compiled of your cheating. You should know now I no longer seek vengeance. I simply want to scrub my life of all traces of you, and figured you might want to gaze upon your transgressions. Or throw them out. It's up to you now. Sincerely, Mary."

Henry was quiet for several minutes as he digested the contents of the letter. She found a pamphlet for the Evangelist Church of God among the pages and scowled.

"Wow, religion really makes people say some crazy stuff," she muttered, hoping to get a sound out of her fiance. Henry pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. He motioned for the letter and gave it a half-hearted scan before crumpling it in his fist.

"Fuck that woman. Fuck that life."

"Sounds like a story."

He puffed, scoffed, burned a hole into the letter written in Mary's graceful hand.

"But you don't have to tell me."

"She's right," Henry said. "I was different back then."

"I know you were."

"How come you've never asked?"

His question nipped the skin on the back of her arms. "The same reason I don't ask other people about their religion. That's their business. You were raised a certain way, but you changed. I know you were put in a cage, Henry. You made a mistake, but it's not the eternal damnation Mary says. Your marriage was practically over. Unless... You cheated before us?"

Henry whipped a look at her, gaping and wordless. She shrugged as a platitude and coughed over a laugh. "Well? How can I not suspect? Mary says you cheated, Frank says you didn't, but I don't trust either of them as far as I can throw them, Henry!"

"Look, I know!" Henry barked, and she pressed her back to the door. "You've gotta believe me, sweetheart. I'm trying to prove to you every day that I'm not this monster she wants me to be!"

"What's on these discs? They don't have labels. Am I going to watch this and find out something you don't want me to?"

His jaw set like he was about to explode. Air escaped his nostrils, and he glared forth at the wet cement wall beyond the hood of her car. Above, the building's pressure crushed out all sound, and Henry became aware of his breath, the tension in his windpipe.

"No. I don't know. I have no idea what's on those DVDs. If she got her private investigator to film me, it's probably just you and I making out in the car. What would be incriminating about that?"

"Did you lie to me that night in Paris?"

A dissonant, heavy silence fell over the man in the driver's seat. His skin turned sallow, and her eyes eclipsed to see the sickly guilt on his face.

"That night, you told me you left her. You said you asked for the divorce, and she just gave up. Was that a lie? Did you say that just to get me to go?"

Condemned by another bout of silence, Henry hid the colour of his ears behind hunched shoulders. "Baby, I was in love. I am in love with you. It's only ever been you! I needed you with me so bad. She knew we were done. She knew it. Divorce was not a foreign word."

"Just tell me straight. Did you put it in stone that night? When you flew me ten hours to Paris to be with you?"

"No. I didn't. I went home, said goodbye to her, she gave me the cold shoulder, I cursed, and she got angry with me. I told her I was finished, and then I left. Maybe I didn't flat out say I want a divorce, but it was implied."

"I'm curious to see what's on these discs," she said.

"Sweetheart, I will watch them with you, totally confident there's no evidence of me with any other woman."

"Good," she nodded. "Because you're mine. Maybe I'm the bad one for not caring. If you're bad, I'm worse. I don't give a fuck about you cheating on her, and this is the first time I've ever admitted it out loud. You're mine, Henry. You belong to me. She knew what she had and uses faith as an excuse for hiding a horrible secret from you!"

"Good Lord, I don't want to cry about this again," said Henry.

"Fuck it, Henry, just like you said. Fuck her and fuck the life you had. Your ass is mine now," she stuck her ring finger in the air. "Like, forever."

Henry pouted and melted into her lap. She quickly ran her hands through his hair as he moaned against her knee. "But what about our family?"

"We'll figure it out, babe. I promise. Until then, just keep shooting loads inside of me, and we'll see what happens."

He burst with laughter and lifted his rosy face to kiss her. "That's such a you thing to say in a time of crisis."

"I told you last night and back at the hotel... I'm with you. I'll back you in everything you do and make sure not a day goes by you wish you were somewhere else."

"I have absolutely no doubt of that, sweetheart. Goddamn it, I love you... Wifey," he giggled.

"But how hot would it be to have sex while watching DVDs of us hooking up in the Beamer and touching on patios and shit?"

"So hot. I've been thinking about it, and I've concluded it is very fucking hot."

"All right, hubby. Let's put this shit behind us forever and get busy getting married and having babies. We have places to go!"

"Yeah," Henry grabbed her hand and nodded. "Let's get the fuck out of here."

[theinkedfoxsl]

Birthday - Alee

It was becoming an issue. 

A year into their relationship and Vesper didn’t know his birthdate. Asking at this point felt odd, the fox sorcerer never volunteering the information willingly. There was no record of it online on any of his social media accounts, either. And desperate times, called for desperate measures. At least that’s what Vesper told themself as they rifled through the man’s bag.

He pulled the fox print wallet from the bag, looking around the darkened kitchen before doing their best to quietly unzip it. Okay, now xe just needed to find the man’s ID. “Who needs this many cards..?” Vesper muttered to himself as xe squinted in the dark to try and find Alee’s passport. Vesper was thoroughly confused upon pulling out the green and white Ontario health card, well aware their boyfriend had forged a health plan ID card somewhere.

It took a quick moment, but they located the birthdate on the card. September 1st.. His birthday was only two days away? And he hadn’t said anything? And why didn’t he say anything last year either..? They furrowed their brows as they stared at the old health card, thumb brushing over the date. At least last year, Vesper supposed they understood, given.. Xe slid the card back into the wallet.

“What are you doing?” 

Xe nearly jumped, tail bristling and ears perking up as xe looked up, glowing reddish eyes meeting xem in the darkness. They were so screwed. “I need to borrow twenty dollars. I forgot my wallet at the bar.” Xe pulled the money out from the wallet, zipping it back up immediately afterwards. The kitchen flooded with light, Alee standing in the doorway squinting without his glasses.

Alee shook his head, messy hair falling into his face as he headed to the fridge. “Go for it. But I think your wallet is on the coffee table.” He pulled open the fridge, grabbing one of the bottles of iced coffee from inside. Vesper froze, tail stilling almost comically. Alee leaned against the counter, popping open the lid of the bottle as he stared expectantly at Vesper.

“Uhm.” Shit. How could xe forget every lie possible at this moment? Alee brought the bottle to his lips, dull eyes trained on his partner. Vesper didn’t like to admit it, but xe was starting to struggle when it came to lying to Alee. It wasn’t easy. Not only could the man read xem like a book, it just didn’t feel right. But.. If they wanted their plan to work..

“Okay you’re right, I just don’t have the twenty right now. Can I?” 

Alee shrugged, lowering the glass bottle some. “I don’t care, I’m just giving you a hard time, starlight.” Vesper lowered his wallet back into the bag, pocketing the twenty dollar bill he essentially just stole. Alee downed the rest of his coffee and turned towards the sink to clean out the bottle. “Wanna watch a movie?” He inquired, turning the sink off.

And with that, Vesper considered the evening a success.

Until he couldn’t even find Alee on September 1st. 

“Hey, it’s Vesper again. You don’t usually not call me back, everything okay? I’m at the Fate’s Thread if you want to stop by.” Xe hung up xyr phone, pocketing it back into the front pocket of his waist apron. They quickly left the employee’s room, heading back out behind the bar to resume their duties. 

Miya brought her tray back to the bar counter, setting it down and unloading the empty glasses. “Did he answer?” When Vesper shook their head the woman frowned at xem. “That’s strange. He always calls. Did he have a big tournament?” She asked as xe loaded the drinks for her tables outside onto the tray.

“No, nothing he told me about.” Vesper set the last drink down on the tray then grabbed the dirty glasses to clean them. “I’m sure he’ll call or show. If you see him..” Miya picked up the tray of drinks, with a nod. “Thanks, Miya.” She flashed xem a sympathetic smile before leaving the bar counter to go deliver the requested drinks.

Vesper wasn’t entirely sure how much time had gone by, the hours melding into one another. They were only supposed to work a couple of hours, but opted to take the full shift instead when Alee didn’t call xem back. They leaned against the wall of the employee’s room, looking at xyr phone. Nothing, still. Xe opened Alee’s contact, looking at the several texts xe’d sent. They’d been read…

They sighed, pocketing the phone again. He was probably fine, Vesper reasoned, but it did little to quell their worry. The sorcerer ran a hand through their hair, redoing the ponytail in an attempt to calm themself before leaving the room again. They let the door swing shut behind them but stopped in their tracks upon seeing the bar.

“Alee..” 

The man in question twitched even though they’d barely whispered his name. Vesper easily maneuvered behind the counter, stopping directly in front of their boyfriend. “Did you sleep on a bench again?” Xe questioned upon seeing his relatively disheveled appearance. It’d been a while since the man just disappeared to sleep outside, but Vesper couldn’t think of another plausible explanation.

Alee rolled his eyes though, sliding a card across the counter. The birthday card xe’d left him the night prior. “I don’t celebrate my birthday. You can have this back.” Ah. He was more than just mad. Vesper slipped the card into their apron, hiding it out of sight. Miya seemed relatively surprised when she popped up beside them, clearly having missed Alee entering.

“Hey, fox, happy bir-”

“Don’t.” Alee cut her off, eyes narrowing at Vesper who looked away in turn. Miya raised an eyebrow at the bartender, but they just took the glasses off of her tray. “Next time you think prying into my personal life is a good idea, try asking.” Alee hissed, voice low and venomous. Miya grimaced, turning on her heel and walking away to clean a table instead. This wasn’t for her.

“I didn’t know-”

“Clearly.” His tone didn’t lighten whatsoever. Vesper set the glasses where they went under the bar, throwing the towel onto xyr shoulder. Xe wasn’t sure what to say, Alee hadn’t gotten this angry at them in almost a year. “I need the keys to my apartment, I forgot them when I left.” He held out a gloved hand and Vesper reached for their keyring in their back pocket. 

The keys were undone and dropped into his hand. Alee then slid off of the barstool, pocketing the keys as he did so. “I’m sorry.” Vesper apologised sincerely,  mismatched eyes trained on the man. “Be safe. Love you.” But Alee didn’t bother responding, giving an annoyed half wave before turning and leaving.

Vesper sighed, sinking some to rest their head on the bartop. What a mess.. This wasn’t how xe planned this day going. “There there, he probably doesn’t totally hate you.” Miya patted xyr head before slipping behind the bar to dispose of the garbage she’d collected. Vesper merely groaned, sinking further. 

“He took my set of his house keys..”

“Oh.. He might totally hate you.”

Xe groaned again.