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isolemnlyswearpevensie · 4 years ago

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Nothing Changed But Everything’s Different | Sirius Black x Reader

Warning: slowburn angst, mentions of slight violence, alcohol, no happy ending

Time/Era: Marauder Era, Ages 18-21

Word Count: 10.1k

Summary: Sirius found someone who made him believe in love at first sight.

Request: Okay! :) Well in that case can I have an ANGST Sirius x Reader? Where they’ve been together for a few years (it’s post-hogwarts only a couple years) but the relationship is starting to sour and crumble. Sirius being Sirius is flirting with other girls and just neglecting y/n. They argue a lot and everyone can see that it’s deteriorating. It gets to a point where he just flat doesn’t acknowledge her even though they live together, long and ANGSTY pls 🥺 :) U decide the ending! :) Ty, much love!

A/N: I worked really, really hard on this so I hope you enjoy :) Let me know what you think :)

part 2 | masterlist | marauders era playlist | read on ao3

“She’s absolutely gorgeous, Prongs!” A young Sirius Black twirled around the dorm room and fell onto his bed with a dreamy sigh. “She’s witty and smart mouthed, but she’s so sweet and nice at the same time. She listens to the Weird Sisters and Queen and she’s a total badass.”

“Y/N L/N?” James scoffs, bending over a sketch he was working on. It appeared to be an intricate building of some sort, complete with four stories and geometric windows.

“Yes, Y/N L/N! I think it’s love at first sight, Prongsy. I’m going to marry that girl one day.” Sirius laid one of his ankles against the post of his bed. The leather of his boot made a loud squeaking noise, and James cringed.

“Have you ever even talked to Y/N L/N?” James smiled smugly and smudged ink across the side of his hand.

“Have you ever had an actual conversation with Lily Evans?” Sirius countered, making James sputter. James looked diagonally towards Sirius and moved his head so their corresponding bedposts weren’t in the way.

“I have! This morning, for example! We talked about the morning toast for a full 3 minutes!” His glasses began to fog as his cheeks warm. Sirius laughed heartily and threw the pillow that was under his head square at James’ face. With a deep ‘oof,’ James looks back towards Sirius, glasses now crooked. “Fine, don’t believe me! You’re just angry Evans is finally starting to fall for my charm.”

“Ah yes, my bad. I forgot sweat and body odor was irresistible to girls.”

“Lily isn’t a girl.” James reached his slender fingers to level his glasses. “She’s a woman.”

Sirius was sent into hysterics; chest heaving, loud laughter, tearful, hysterics. James rolled his eyes and threw the pillow back at Sirius. But, in all of its glory, the cushion hit Sirius’ bedpost and sent feathers flying through the air. Sirius busts out in even more laughter, falling to the floor with a big, dramatic thud.

“What’s going on here?” Remus asks, entering the room and setting his bag onto his bed. “Why is Pads on the floor?”

“JP assaulted me!”

“I DID NOT YOU THREW FIRST!!!”

Remus chuckled under his breath and unbuckled his bag to retrieve his homework. “And what exactly caused this alleged assault? Did Sirius call you Prancer again?”

A bark sounding laugh came from Sirius and James scowled.

“No, we were just talking about his newfound obsession with Y/N L/N and he took an unwarranted dig at mine and Lily’s relationship.”

Remus snorted and set his work on his desk. “What relationship?” Sirius let out another “HA” and pulled himself back onto his mattress. “And isn’t Y/N L/N the one who called your hair greasy, Pads?”

“Well, yes, but I like a woman with a bit of attitude,” Sirius sighed dreamily. His left pointer finger, ring and all, came to twirl a chunk of his hair. “I think I want an autumn wedding.”

“You’re not getting married to her, mate. You don’t even know her.” James came to Remus’ bed and started poking around his bag. “Are you putting on the scar ointment Pomfrey gave you still, Moons? Hey! Stop picking at that one, you’re going to make it worse!” He slapped Remus’ hand away from his face and Remus rolled his eyes.

“Who are you? My mother?”

“I am too going to marry her, James! Just watch me!”

Peter opened the door solemnly, a grumpy look plastered on his face. James turns nervously towards him before slapping him on the back.

“What happened, Pete? I thought you were supposed to be on a date?”

“I was, but she stood me up. Again.” Peter responds, making a beeline for the window seat. Conveniently, it was located next to his bed, so he haphazardly tossed his school bag onto the mattress. He grabs hold of one of the pillows before hugging it to his chest and burying his head into it. Sirius and James share a look before Sirius speaks up.

“Awh, you’ll get ‘em next time. Don’t worry too much about it. It’s her loss, really.”

“No, it was my loss. It was Abagail Cavin, mate. It was definitely my loss.” Peter’s voice was muffled as he muttered into the soft fabric.

“Who’s Abagail Cavin?” Sirius asks, looking towards Remus for an answer. He shrugs.

“I think that’s the ginger girl who always hangs around Y/N L/N? A year or two below us,” James thought aloud. “She’s friends with Lily too, I’ve seen them studying together.”

Remus snorts. “Of course you have.”

“I don’t know if I’m sad or angry.” The mousy boy admits, throwing the pillow in his lap at the wall. It hit one of Sirius’ Queen posters, making the frame fall to the floor with a loud crash. James is quick to swoop in and redirect Peter’s attention in fear of him escalating.

“Hey, hey, hey. It’s okay, there’s no need to get mad at Abagail. Um, how about we go get some sweets from the kitchens, yeah? Maybe that’ll make you feel better.”

Peter tightened his jaw, staring at the now shattered frame on the ground. After a moment of silence from all the boys, Peter nodded and the pair exited the room.

“Y/N L/N,” Sirius spoke in his signature flirty voice. He tried to match her walking pace, but she seemed to be in a rush.

“Sirius Black, what can I do for you?” Y/N answered, her school uniform skirt swaying as she walked. She was on her way to meet Abagail in the library so the two could study together, and she was already 5 minutes late.

“I was wondering if you would -excuse me, sorry- if you would like to go to the next Quidditch match with me?” Y/N seemed to swerve in and out of the crowded hallway like a car in heavy traffic. “Supposed to be a good game, you know.”

“Me? Go with you? While you cheer your little boyfriend on? Thanks for offering, but I have to decline.”

“Come on, you always go anyway! It could be fun!” Sirius finally matched Y/N’s fast gait. “And maybe we could grab some hot butterbeer or cider after.”

Y/N sighed, suddenly stopping at the entrance of the library. She faced Sirius boldly and grabbed his upper arms with her hands.

“Listen, it’s really flattering that you want me to go with you, and I have to admit, you’re super cute. But, you don’t exactly have the best track record with girls and I don’t want to be just a checkmark on your list of girls to shag.”

While any person would be wounded by Y/N’s blunt assumptions, Sirius grins. “That’s where you’re wrong, love. I don’t really have a track record with girls, unless you count the week I dated Marlene McKinnon the October of our 2nd year. It’s our 7th year and I’ve had one kind-of girlfriend.”

Sirius watched as Y/N’s facial expression changed. Taking this as an invitation to keep going, he rubs his hands together and continues. “And if you’re talking about shagging, I’ve shagged maybe three girls who were not on some kind of to-fuck list, thank you very much.” Sirius suddenly leans in so he could whisper. “I’m just flirty. And based on the look on your face, the flirting is working.”

“Y/N!” Abagail’s voice made Y/N drop her hands and Sirius smirk. “What are you doing?”

“Oh, we’re just chit chatting,” Sirius answers for Y/N. “But, I do have a question for you, Ab.”

Abagail’s face scrunched in response. “Don’t call me that. What’s your question?”

“Why’d you stand up my mate Peter?” Sirius now stood with his feet shoulders width apart, arms crossed over his chest and his hair pulled to one side. Y/N couldn’t help but admire how well Sirius’ uniform pants fit.

“What do you mean, stand him up? We talked about hanging out, but we never made actual plans. Honestly, I don’t really think I want to make any official plans. Some of the things he says are kinda scary.” Y/N looks sympathetically towards her friend.

“I told you to just ignore him, babes.”

“I know, I know. I really think he’s a nice guy deep down though.”

Sirius looked puzzled, “What harmless, little Peter Pettigrew says scares you?”

Abagail nods frantically, “He came and sat with Lily and me when we were studying in the library last week. He went on a rant about how he can’t wait to become an Auror just to see,” The girl lifted her fingers to so air quotes. “How far he can take it.”

“That doesn’t sound like Peter at all,” Sirius’ eyebrows knit in confusion.

“Well, it was. And Y/N and I have a lot of studying to do. So, if you’ll excuse us.” Abagail gently tugged at Y/N’s arm.

“Wait! So, is it a date, Y/N?” Sirius called after the girls. Y/N turned over her shoulder and beamed.

“Common room before the match. I don’t like to be kept waiting, Black!”

“You don’t like to be kept waiting… but you think it’s perfectly okay to leave me all alone in the common room? That’s not very kind, Y/N.” Sirius watched Y/N descend the stairs to the girls dormitory. He was wearing his Gryffindor sweater and ripped black jeans, his hair tied messily in a bun. A long, striped scarf dangled lazily on his shoulders and draped down his frame to his mid thigh.

“I said before the match and if I’m not mistaken, it’s before the match.” Y/N tossed her hair over her shoulder. “Are those for me?”

Sirius quickly stood, holding out a beautiful bouquet of sunflowers. “Heh, yeah. I thought it was fitting because it’s the middle of October and we’re going to a Quidditch match. The leaves are orange and there’s so many colors and the sunflowers have the same kind of color pallet-”

“Sirius, they’re lovely. Thank you.” Y/N cut off the blabbering boy. She took the flowers happily and observed their pretty petals. Sirius was right; the rich golden color matched the fallen leaves that littered the Hogwarts grounds. Y/N held up a waiting finger to Sirius so she could go leave her flowers in her dorm.

“It’s pretty cold out, love, do you want to grab a jacket?” Sirius said when she returned.

“It’s all in the name of fashion, my dear,” Y/N pulls a piece of hair behind her ear and nods towards the portrait hole. “Shall we?”

Y/N sat in the crowd with her legs crossed; her shoulders were slumped forwards and her hands stayed sandwiched in between her thighs. Gryffindor was absolutely destroying Ravenclaw with the impressive score of 80-10.

“The snitch is right by Potter’s head!” Y/N screeched, bumping Sirius’ shoulder with her own.

“Where?! I don’t see it!”

“To the right! Meadowes needs to catch it before Lockhart sees it!” Y/N shivers in spite of herself, bringing her hands to her mouth in order to warm them. Sirius snickers and loops his scarf around her shoulders.

“Hopefully that doesn’t ruin your outfit, love.” Sirius winks and turns back to the game.

The scarf was soft and toasty, and smelt exactly like Sirius. The satisfying mix of leather, butterbeer, pine and smoke engulfed her senses and made her dizzy. Y/N wrapped it around her arms and snuggled deeper into the soft knit.

“Meadowes spots the snitch!” Remus announces over the intercom. The entire statum seemed to erupt into chaos; cheers and boos echoing off of every surface within 500 feet.

Y/N had always had a soft spot for Remus; they weren’t friends, but something about him was so warm and inviting. He in no way seemed like the type to announce a Quidditch match, but it appears that when you’re friends with James Potter long enough, anything could happen.

Dorcas zooms past the Gryffindor student section in her pursuit for the snitch. The entire group, Lily and Marlene especially, scream out loud words of encouragement. Y/N could have sworn she could see a faint smile appear across Dorcas’ features.

“Potter scores! 10 points to Gryffindor! 90-10! Ravenclaw could still win if Lockhart catches the snitch!”

“Come on, come on,” Sirius mumbles under his breath. No matter how much he liked to deny it, Sirius got really into Quidditch. He couldn’t play for shit, but he knew the mechanics of the game like the back of his hand.

“Meadowes catches the snitch! Gryffindor wins!!” The entire crowd goes ballistic. Kids hug, and some kiss, before storming the field to congratulate their team. James stays on his broom, doing small loops in the air in the hopes of impressing a certain redhead.

Sirius wraps his strong arms around his date, pulling her to her feet and lifting her into the air. “We won, Y/N! We won!!”

Y/N snakes her arms around Sirius in return, a similar happiness bubbling in her chest.

“What’d ya say about grabbing some hot cider from the kitchens to celebrate?” Sirius questions, noticing they’re the last students at their seats.

Y/N nods, a soft smile gracing her face. “Yes, please. I’m fucking freezing.”

“It would be easier if you just levitated the boxes in, love.” Y/N watched as Sirius struggled to carry boxes into the living room of their new flat. She giggled, admiring her boyfriend’s flexed biceps and strong hands. The prominent veins in his hands and forearms were bulging, making the manual labor a show for his very happy girlfriend.

“I feel like that’s bad luck,” Sirius explained, placing the cardboard onto the floor. “I want to do this right. If I don’t we could be cursed.”

“Whatever you say, babe. But, just so you know, that box goes into the kitchen.” With a flirty wink and smile, Y/N walked into their bedroom to unpack some of their boxes.

Their new flat wasn’t overly exciting; it was a one bedroom, one bath flat above a small bakery in the center of London. It was a tiny space, as you’d expect two barely-twenty-year-olds to own, but it would soon be their home. Y/N was just excited the flat had a kitchenette and a small living space.

The best part, in Y/N’s opinion at least, was the fact that the smell of freshly baked bread filled their flat at the beginning of each day. The elderly bakery owners, Jullian and Caspar, had given the young couple a good price on the flat. According to them, they were waiting for the perfect couple to rent from them. What that meant, Y/N didn’t know, but it made her feel special all the same.

Y/N looked out of their window to the hustle and bustle on the sidewalk below. The shop was a small, hole in the wall bakery called Dream Puffs, that was oddly popular for its location. And Y/N was quick to understand why. Almost everything they made, especially the sour dough bread and cream puffs, were to die for. Jillian had presented Sirius and her a large loaf of the bread and a dozen cream puffs as a welcome present, most of which had been eaten already. Y/N wished she had known of Dream Puffs and the wonderful owners before, but she supposed she still had a lot to discover in London.

The one downside was the only way to get into their apartment was by going through the bakery. It’s not the worst thing in the world, but when you’re in a rush or having a bad day, having to face random people isn’t the most ideal situation. Jullian and Caspar were nice enough to close the bakery early for the couple’s move in.

“I thought you were supposed to be unpacking?” Sirius poked his head into their bedroom with sweat dripping down his brow.

“Oh right, sorry,” Y/N lazily flicked her wand and their clothing sprang to life.

“Bad luck, Y/N!” He entered the room and wrapped his arms around her waist from behind, laid his chin on her shoulder and looked out the window. The busy streets and buildings were muted by the glass, which made Y/N feel as if they were watching ants in an ant farm.

“I doubt we’ll get bad luck from levitating a few shirts, darling,” Y/N brought one of his hands to her mouth, gently kissing his knuckles before returning it to her waist. “I can’t believe this place is ours,”

“Well, technically it’s Jillian’s and Caspars, but yes.” Sirius chuckles directly into Y/N’s ear and kisses her shoulder. “I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.”

“Are you asking me to marry you?”

“Yes and no. Not now, obviously, but eventually. We’re going to be together forever anyway, so why should we rush?”

Y/N sighed happily, feeling very loved.

“Do you think Abagail will ever talk to me again?” Peter asked, laying his head against the armrest of the couch. “I heard she's working at the book shop in Diagon Alley.”

Y/N snorted, laying her head on her boyfriend’s shoulder and enjoying the sound of the record playing in the corner of the room. Sirius and Y/N were hosting a dinner party for their friends in celebration of James getting accepted into the Auror academy. The nine of them -Sirius, Y/N, James, Lily, Peter, Remus, Marlene, Dorcas, and Mary- were all piled in Sirius and Y/N’s small living room, tipsy and full of warm food.

“That happened almost two years ago, Pete. Let it go,” Y/N hummed, Sirius’ gentle hand rubbing her back and lulling her to sleep. She could feel the vibrations of Sirius’ laughter through his leather jacket.

“Yeah, so? I’m not allowed to like someone that long?” Peter’s voice was harsher than he anticipated, making Sirius send a glare his way.

“She means stop moping around and pining after a girl who doesn’t want you. There’s a world of opportunity and thousands of girls just waiting to date you if you open your eyes to it.” Sirius’ tone was barely lighter than Peter’s.

“Well I don’t want thousands of girls, Padfoot. I want Abagail. Not everyone can hit it on their first try.”

“Hit it on their first try?” Y/N was now wide awake. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“I mean,” Peter sat up, looking Y/N straight in the eyes. “You fucked Sirius on the first date.”

“Woah, woah, woah, alright that’s enough. Wormy, Pads, Y/N, let’s all just take a deep breath and calm down for a moment.” James was quick on his feet to defuse the potentially harmful situation. He knew how Peter could get, and he didn’t want to see it escalate to that point.

“Did you just slut shame me for having sex with my own boyfriend? Do you even have the authority to do that, Mr. Unused-Condom?” Y/N was now standing with James, starting to walk towards Peter. Peter stumbled to his feet and stared into Y/N’s eyes.

“He wasn’t your boyfriend then, Miss Drop-My-Panties-for-a-Knut.”

Sirius was quick to act, anger boiling inside of him. His knuckles balled into a fist and he threw a nasty punch square into Peter’s jaw. “No one insults my girl, Peter. I thought you knew better than that.” Sirius’ voice was like nothing Y/N had ever heard; it was cold and icy, yet fiery hot and full of hell-bending anger.

Peter looked up and slugged Sirius right in the nose, making it gush blood. Remus grabs Sirius’ arms and binds them behind his back, trusting James to do the same to Peter.

Y/N shrieked, having never seen Sirius or Peter get physical with anyone, let alone each other. Marlene grabbed her arm and pulled her away from the boys.

“What have we talked about, you two?” James demanded, the vein on his neck bulging.

“I’m not going to sit around and let him harass my girlfriend, JP! He’s a fucking asshole and he knows it!” Sirius struggled against his binds, but Remus was much stronger than him.

“I’m not the one dating a slut!”

“Get the fuck out of my flat!” Sirius screams making the room shake. Peter wiggles from James’ grip and grabs his wand before disapperating out of the room.

Remus releases Sirius and he stomps out of the flat and down the stairs, most likely to go smoke a cigarette. James quickly follows after a glance towards Lily.

“What did James mean when he said ‘what have we talked about,’ Remus?” Y/N asks, her soft voice a stark contrast from Sirius’ shouting. Remus runs a big hand down his face and plops onto the couch.

“I wasn’t supposed to let you girls know,” He scoffs, shaking his head. “Sirius and Peter have been at each other’s throats for the past few years. Recently, it started getting physical. James always tries to defuse the situation, but it doesn’t work a ton.” Remus meets Y/N’s gaze and smiles sadly. “That boy would do absolutely anything for you, I hope you know that.”

Sirius laid in bed with his arms wound tightly around Y/N’s waist. It was near 5 am and the light was just barely peeking through the window of their bedroom. The morning bread must have just been put in the oven, as the smell of fresh bread was slowly starting to overtake the flat. A long sliver of silver light slashed against the wall before fading delicately into the white paint. Sirius sighed contently and looked down at his girl.

Her eyes were closed and her mouth was slightly agape; Sirius observed how Y/N’s eyes moved under her eyelids while wondering what she was dreaming about. He hoped she dreamt of him, as his dreams were constantly riddled with her. Every aspect of her danced around his dreams: her lovely smile, her laugh, her scent, her gait, and everything that made Y/N Y/N. Sirius’ own lips parted a miniscule amount as he brought the back of his fingers to brush her cheek. He couldn’t help but notice how soft her skin was under his touch. She was so peaceful in this moment, and if she was to be disturbed, the world would crack.

But all good things come to an end, and Y/N opened her eyes. Her features were riddled with the grogginess of sleep as she batted her eyes to focus her vision.

“Darling? Is everything alright?” Her voice was honey in his ears.

“Perfect, my love. Go back to sleep.”

“What time is it?” Y/N began to wiggle from his strong grip, but Sirius tightened his hold on her waist.

The man shot a spare glance at the old coo-coo clock that hung in the corner. “Quarter to five”

“Then may I ask why you’re awake?”

Sirius sighed, pressing an opened mouth kiss on her forehead. “Couldn’t sleep, the nightmares are still awry.”

“What was it this time? Your mom?” Y/N was now wide awake and propped up onto her elbow.

“No, the last Order mission, actually,” Sirius gently brushed a clump of hair out of her eyes. “But it’s okay, I’m alright. I have you here with me.”

Y/N’s eyebrows scrunched and her mouth pierced. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No, my darling. I just want to lay here with my beautiful girl in my arms.”

“I’ve never been to this bar before,” Y/N giggles as Sirius opens the door to the small building. The outside’s appearance was rather unappealing; cracked, exposed brick that has moss growing out of it, a leaky gutter system, a splintering wooden door and a faded open sign. Y/N looked up towards the LED sign that spelled out the bar’s name. Silver Sickle Bar and Eatery illuminated in the wet pavement, but multiple letters were unlit, making it read Silver Ickle and Eat.

“Me either, one of my clients works here and said she’d give me free drinks.” Sirius winked before following Y/N inside.

The place was small and drafty, but oddly cozy. It had the same exposed brick as the outside, but this time, they were bright red and covered in picture frames. A few wooden tables were scattered across the floor opposite the bar, and various older men sat with beers in their hands.

“Oh, Sirius! My love, you came!” A very angelic girl from behind bar squeals, quickly exciting the bar and throwing her arms around Sirius. Her hurried speed made Y/N step away from the pair to avoid getting caught in the crossfire. Sirius chuckles heartily, wrapping his arms around her small frame, seeming to forget Y/N was there.

“Vanessa! Nice to see you again,” He exhaled. A sinking feeling settled in the bottom of Y/N’s stomach. “How is your tattoo healing?”

Vanessa pulls her shirt down to show Sirius the skin in between her breasts. On her skin sat a magical tattoo of a Hongorian Horntail dragon, which looked towards Sirius and blew a big breath of fire his way. The art was gorgeous, very obviously Sirius’ work, which only made Y/N’s stomach sink further into her feet. The red, lacy, v neck bra Vanessa was wearing brought out the ink in the tattoo perfectly, and the shape of the cut displayed not only her breasts, but the dragon beautifully.

Y/N knew that many of Sirius’ clients were girls; she wasn’t stupid. He was a newly licensed tattoo artist at the biggest magical tattoo parlor in all of London. Not to mention, Sirius was an incredibly talented artist, which meant his appointment list was extremely difficult to get on. The charming attitude and good looks only added to the appeal of his artistry.

“Who’s this?” Vanessa turned her gaze from Sirius’ to look directly at Y/N. Her long, black hair fell over her shoulder like a waterfall and her porcelain skin glowed under the dim lighting.

“Oh! Right,” Sirius stuttered, shooting a grin in Y/N’s direction. “This is my gorgeous girlfriend, Y/N. Y/N this is Vanessa, I did her dragon tattoo last week.”

Y/N forced herself to send a polite smile towards the girl who was just all over her boyfriend. Vanessa sent an equally fake smile and began to walk back to the bar.

“And what can I get started for you, handsome?” She giggled, standing in front of the large wall of liquor. Y/N felt as if she was back at Hogwarts with all the girls throwing themselves at Sirius.

“Old fashioned,” Sirius responded, taking place on one of the wooden stools. “And for the lady, tequila on the rocks with lime.”

Vanessa sends Y/N an icy look before giggling sweetly. “Coming right up.”

Y/N sends a worried glance towards Sirius, but he just responds by squeezing her thigh and kissing her temple.

“So, do you have any tattoos? Since you’re so good at your job, I would assume you do, yes?” Vanessa asks, pouring Sirius’s drink and sliding it towards him.

“Quite a few,” He catches the glass before it flies off the bar. “Most of them are covered by my shirt though.”

It was true, Sirius’ torso and shoulders were littered with tattoos: A large lion across his right shoulder onto his bicep, stag antlers across his shoulder blades, a moon on the lower left side of his stomach, rat paw marks under the moon, and constellations riddling his collarbones.

The bartender tilts her head to the side cheekily. “Can I see them?”

Sirius chuckles in a very happy, flattered way. “I don’t think that’s quite necessary here,”

“But I can already see this one…” Vanessa reached her arm across the bar and traced the bottom of the lion’s mane with her long, slender fingers. The tattoo seemed to move with her movements. “Can’t I see the rest?”

Y/N coughs, slapping her hand against the bar. The vibration of Y/N’s sudden movement caused Sirius’ drink to wobble inside the glass. “I think I ordered a tequila not a random chick flirting with my boyfriend.”

“Of course, how foolish of me.” Vanessa sent a scowl Y/N’s way and turned her back to fetch the bottle of alcohol. Sirius matched Vanessa’s expression.

Once the flirt finished making Y/N’s drink, she slid it over to her. Y/N took a sip, only to find it was awfully made and very watered down.

“Sirius, babe, I have a headache, can we go home?”

“You didn’t have a headache a minute ago?” Sirius raises an eyebrow.

“I know, I just feel a migraine coming on. I really need to take my migraine potion before it gets bad. Please?”

Sirius sighs and nods, throwing an arm around her shoulders and kissing her temple. “Of course, babygirl.”

The pair stand from their stools but Vanessa stops them. “That’ll be 2 galleons for the tequila.”

“You said you’d give me free drinks?” Sirius placed a comforting hand on Y/N’s lower back, rubbing small circles over her shirt.

“Yeah, for you. The tequila wasn’t for you.”

“Yeah, fine, whatever.” Sirius reached into his pocket and pulled out two galleons, slamming them onto the bar.

“Can I bet on seeing you again?” A loud giggle comes from her mouth as the couple exited the building. “Maybe you can show me your tattoos.”

“I don’t know, Lily! She was all over him and he didn’t stop it.” Y/N bit into an apple and traced the Potters’ tablecloth. It was a month after Sirius and Y/N had visited The Silver Sickle, and Y/N couldn’t keep her anxieties to herself.

“Have you tried talking to him about it?” Lily responded, kneading a big glob of pie crust at the counter. Potter Cottage was much larger than Sirius and Y/N’s flat above Dream Puffs. Earlier that month, Lily had announced she was pregnant, so James decided it was time to upgrade from their small flat to a house fit to raise a family.

“Yes, but each time I try to bring her up he gets defensive and assures me that it was nothing, that he was trying to get free drinks.”

Lily stared down at her dough intensely before grabbing her rolling pin. “Well, I wouldn’t let him get away with it. Maybe try to ask him again tonight? Just sit down and have a real, hearts on the table conversation about your feelings and whatnot. It’s important to do that.”

“Yeah, that’s the thing. He’s been staying at work late this entire week. Apparently, one of his clients is getting a full back tattoo and it’s taking multiple sessions to finish. This is his biggest job to date, I don’t want to ruin it for him.”

“How late is late?” The mom-to-be laid the pie crust into her pan and began to trim the excess off of the edges.

“Nine, sometimes ten. He comes home exhausted.”

“Hm, okay. I’d still try to speak with him if you can. How’s your work going? St. Mungos treating you well?”

“Oh, yeah, definitely. My supervisor said that I’m one of the best beginning level healers he’s seen since Pomfrey worked in my ward,” Y/N took another bite of her apple. “I might get transferred to the branch in France for a week coming up, though. There was a big gas explosion and they have over 200 burn victims. My supervisor said it would be a good experience for me.”

“Oh, I read about that in The Prophet! Those poor people,” Lily filled the crust with apple pie filling. “I’m sure they need all the help they can get.”

“Oh, I know. I haven’t learned much about burn solvents yet, so it’ll be interesting to learn on the job.”

“Are you going this week? What a shame, it’s your birthday on Saturday.”

“Oh, no, the earliest I would be leaving is a fortnight from now. I’m kind of a last resort since I don’t have much experience or training yet.” Y/N stood and threw her apple core into the bin. “How’s JP doing at the Academy? He’s in his second year by now, right?”

“Oh, he’s doing lovely. The Order is grateful for his efforts and have been sending him on more missions than before.” Lily sighs. “It’s rather nerve wracking, isn't it? You’re lucky Sirius doesn’t get called on many.”

Y/N laughed a bit uncomfortably. “Yeah, I suppose they prefer actual Aurors to go on the calls. But when he does go, those are the worst nights. I can’t imagine having to go through that on a daily basis.”

“It’s really hard,” Lily’s voice cracks and she begins to cry. “I’m sorry, it’s the hormones.”

“Don’t apologize, Lils. I know how scary it can be. At least he's with Wormtail most of the time, yeah? They’re at the academy together and all.”

Lily takes a deep breath to control her crying. “Yes, I suppose you’re right. Thank god for Wormy.”

“Hello there, pretty lady. I heard there’s a 21st birthday party to be thrown?” James said happily as Y/N opened the door of the flat. Lily and Remus tailed him ever so slightly, all three wearing large grins and holding brightly wrapped packages.

“Birthday party? You guys don’t-”

James waved his hand dismissively. “We’re already here, so you’re kind of stuck with us. Peter should be here eventually.” The three push their way into the living room.

“The nice elderly woman downstairs asked me to bring you this,” Remus held out a cupcake with bright red frosting. Y/N took it happily and walked to the kitchen to set it on the counter.

“Thank you, Moony. But, really, you guys didn’t have to. Sirius isn’t even here.” Y/N felt self conscious around her friends. She was wearing an old tee shirt from her early teens, a beloved Scooby-Doo tee with a rip in the left armpit, and black yoga pants. It was safe to say Y/N was more than ready to spend her birthday alone.

“What do you mean, not here?” Remus was standing in the corner of the living room, flipping through Sirius and Y/N’s record collection. They had so many at this point that the couple was unsure which record belonged to who.

“I don’t know, he left early this morning saying he got called into work. Something about an angry customer.” Y/N felt small under the group’s gaze. “I wasn’t really paying attention, I was half asleep.”

Y/N watched as Lily and James shared a look. “I didn’t think the shop was open on Saturdays, but I guess they are.” Y/N’s shoulders lowered visibly, making Lily backtrack. “It’s the pregnancy brain, Y/N. I’ve been mixing things up for the past week and a half.”

“Right, right. Of course. Um, how’s that going, by the way?” She crossed her arms across her stomach uncomfortably.

“Oh, it’s going wonderful! We actually have something to give you, if that’s okay.”

“Wait!” James cut in. “We should wait for Wormy to get here!”

Lily hit his chest with the back of her hand. “Oh, come off it. You know how late he is to everything! Let’s do it now.” The couple led Y/N to the couch and sat on either side of her, both wearing matching shit-eating grins. Remus remained leaning against the wall, ready to flip the record when the time came. James placed a medium-sized purple box on her lap.

Y/N carefully undid the wrapping paper, prompting James to let out a loud groan.

“Any day now, woman!”

Y/N giggled. “Hey! It’s my birthday! Be nice to me!”

“I am being nice to you, Y/N! I gave you a present, didn’t I?”

Y/N bumped her shoulder with his and reached into the box. Her fingertips met with the soft fabric of a tee shirt. Upon pulling the garment out completely, she observed that the words World’s Best Godmother was printed across the front. Immediately, Y/N dropped the shirt and covered her mouth with her hand.

“Is that a yes?” Lily asked, her eyes tearing again.

“Yes! Oh my god!” Y/N’s own tears trailed down her cheeks as she hugged both tightly. “Me? Godmother?”

“I can’t think of anyone more worthy,” Remus remarked as he watched the heartwarming scene unfold in front of him. Y/N was so overwhelmed with joy that she had almost forgotten that Sirius was absent. Almost.

The party went along swimmingly from there on out; Peter had arrived shortly after Y/N unboxed Remus’ gift, a new cauldron and potion ingredients, and another gift from the Potters, a pair of gorgeous black combat boots. The mousey-boy shuffled over to Y/N and handed her a small gift bag.

“Oh? Thanks, Pete.” Y/N awkwardly pulled out the contents of the bag. “Oh, good, a gift card to Silver Sickle Bar and Eatery.” She tried to sound thankful towards the man in front of her, but the disdain was still evident in her voice.

“Sirius said it was his favorite bar, so I thought you’d like it. Maybe we can grab some lunch there, obviously my treat,” He lazily gestures to the card in her hand. “We haven’t really hung out for a while. I figured it would be nice. If you don’t like it I can get you something diff-”

Y/N cut him off with a hug, “Thank you, Peter, this was really thoughtful. Would next week work?”

“Wednesday?” He wraps his arms around Y/N’s frame for a moment before letting go.

“Wednesday works perfectly.”

The four continued to hang out well into the night; laughing, chatting, drinking, listening to music, and playing board games. As the party dragged on, Y/N couldn’t help but grow worried about Sirius’ whereabouts. Her worries were harshly pushed aside, though, when Lily suggested they play poker.

“Ugh, I fold.” Peter slams his cards down onto the coffee table and laid back onto the carpet in defeat. Y/N smirked at Remus, her only opponent, and gestured for him to show her his cards.

“Straight, beat that,” Remus says confidently. James and Peter “oooh” childishly and looked towards Y/N. It was very apparent that all of them, besides Lily, were very buzzed.

Y/N smirked and shook her head, “You play a hard bargain, Lupin. So good that I applaud you. But,” Y/N laid her hand on the table: four of a kind. “You’re just not good enough.”

The room laughs as Y/N pulls the large pile of galleons, sickles, knuts and Lily’s wedding ring towards her. Y/N slips it onto her own ring finger and holds her hand as if to admire it.

“Oh, Lily, dear, don’t you just adore my new ring? Look at how it glistens in the light!”

The redhead rolls her eyes and snatches it off of Y/N’s finger. “I’ll just be taking that,” She puts it back on.

“It will forever be known to be my legal property, Evans. Don’t forget it!”

“Does that mean I’m married to both of you now?” James smiles a dopey grin and looks back and forth between the two women. Y/N pretends to gag.

“On second thought, I surrender my rights to your ring.”

The group continued their laughter until the front door of the flat swung open. A very drunk Sirius Black stumbled in the door, dumbfounded as to why all of his friends were in his house.

“Why are you guys here?” Sirius slurred, pulling up the shoulder of his leather jacket. He bumped the record player in the process, making Go Your Own Way by Fleetwood Mac skip.

“It’s Y/N’s birthday, Sirius,” Remus responded, his soft voice contrasting to his previously upbeat tone. Sirius slouched against the wall and slid down it until he hit the floor.

“Y/N’s birthday...Y/N’s birthday...Oh! Y/N’s birthday! Was that today?”

James was quick to jump into action. Propelling himself off of the couch, he took Sirius into his arms and brought him to a standing position. Sirius, of course, whined the entire way up, claiming that the floor wanted him to sit there. James responded with a small hum before peeling Sirius’ jacket off of his body and throwing it onto the kitchen counter. As Y/N watched, she couldn’t help but notice a bright pink smear on Sirius’ neck.

“Yes, it’s today, you big goof. Where have you been?”

Sirius went into a big flurry of words as James brought him towards the bedroom. Y/N thought she heard ‘And you should have seen her!’ amidst all the jumbled words, but she pied that off as her anxious imagination running awry. Lily’s hand found her back and she rubbed soothing circles on Y/N’s shoulder blades.

“He forgot,” Y/N said to no one in particular. “I can’t believe he actually forgot.”

“I’m sure he didn’t forget,” Lily soothed Y/N, rubbing circles into her shoulder blades. “He probably got carried away at happy hour, you know how he gets.”

“Happy hour on Y/N’s birthday though?” Peter shook his head. Something about his tone didn’t sit well with Y/N. Lily shot a glare his way.

The party did not last much longer; Remus said he had an interview with Dumbledore about a TA position at Hogwarts, Lily was tired, and Peter said that he was going on a mission tomorrow and needed rest. Y/N bid her friends farewell with large hugs and thank you’s.

It’s safe to say that Y/N slept on the couch that night.

Y/N awoke to sunlight in her eyes and a crick in her neck. The living room window wasn’t guarded with curtains, so even at the early hour of 4:30 AM, the room was illuminated with soft oranges, reds, and pinks. Y/N sat up and reached her hands above her head to stretch her back. She looks towards the bedroom door, listening for the soft snores of her boyfriend. Her neck screamed in agony, but she still stood and padded over to open the door.

Y/N twisted the doorknob with care, trying to be as silent as humanly possible. She needed to see Sirius, not have a conversation with him. Alas, in all his glory, Sirius lied on his stomach with his mouth hung open and drool oozing onto the pillow. The girl admired how he looked as he slept; the sharp jaw, the perfect skin, the messy hair, the peaceful look gracing his features. He still wore his skinny jeans from the day previous, but at some point during the night, he discarded his white dress shirt. Y/N’s gaze darted around the floor until it landed on the crumpled fabric.

Y/N glanced back at Sirius, admiring the artwork that filled his back. She remembered the day he got it; James cried when he first saw the gorgeous antlers. The low light highlighted the dark brown ink and seemed to make his skin appear airbrushed. Y/N smiled in spite of herself.

Closing the door softly, Y/N walks into their small kitchen to prepare some tea in order to calm her nerves. The apartment was rather messy from the ‘party’ and Y/N had to dig through endless dirty dishes to find a mug clean enough to use. Y/N finally found one, a lavender mug that Marlene had given her for her 17th birthday, and set it on the counter while she filled the kettle.

The kitchen wasn’t as dirty as Y/N previously thought. Sure, the sink was overflowing with dishes, but the kitchen itself was rather clean. And besides Sirius’ leather jacket, the counter was clear. The floor, though, was slightly sticky. Y/N sighs and flicks her wand; almost silently, the dishes start cleaning themselves.

Y/N reaches for Sirius’ jacket, only to have a squishy substance fall onto her feet. She jumps back in surprise and disgust of the weird texture. But, the real panic sets in when she notices a big red spot on not only the floor but the leather jacket. Upon further investigation, Y/N realizes it’s the frosting from the cupcake Remus had given her. Sirius was very protective of this jacket and if he saw this, Y/N would be a dead man. So, she did the only reasonable thing she could think of: scrub the material with a wet paper towel.

Thankfully, the frosting came off easily and didn’t stain the material. The only real obstacle was the sweet scent of the frosting lingering on the garment. Sirius had an insane sense of smell, so if he picked up even the slightest trail of sugar, Y/N would be busted. She delicately lifted the material to her nose.

The musky scent of Sirius filled her nose as normal; leather, smoke, cologne, and spearmint. Y/N grinned at the familiar scent until she noticed a strong rose perfume almost ingrained into the leather. Y/N’s perfume smelled of vanilla.

Y/N held her breath as she opened the door of the Silver Sickle, she was in no mood to see Vanessa again. All the same, Y/N put effort into her appearance just in case. She let out her breath when she noticed an old man behind the bar and Peter sitting in the corner.

“Hey,” Y/N said breathlessly as she pulled out one of the wooden chairs and sat down. She’d be lying if she said she didn’t feel a little nervous meeting Peter alone; the two seemed to rekindle their friendship after he and Sirius fought. He promised that he was just drunk and not thinking, and Y/N not wanting to cause childish conflict within their friend group, had accepted his apology.

“Hey!” He squeaked. “I didn’t know if you wanted to day drink or not, so I just ordered you a water to start off with.”

Y/N laughed awkwardly. “Thanks, Wormy.” She took a long sip from her straw, trying to slow her nervous heart. “So, uh, how’s the academy? James said you are taking more and more missions with the order.”

Peter nodded enthusiastically. “Oh, it’s great! Being an Auror is really fun, you really get to show people who’s boss, ya know?”

“Um, I guess?”

“I think they’re gonna kick me out, though. I haven’t done the best job at catching who I’m pursuing.” Peter raises his eyebrows and cocks his head to the side.

“Oh? Why not?” Y/N glanced over the menu, only half listening to what her companion was saying.

“I just like to play with them a ‘lil, like a cat and mouse. Except this time, I’m not the mouse.”

Y/N looks at a delicious looking chicken sandwich on the menu and hums in response.

“So, how are you and Sirius doing? It seemed pretty rough last week.” Peter takes a chunk of ice from his drink and starts chewing it. “If you want to talk about it, I guess.”

This brings Y/N out of her sandwich-filled thoughts. “I don’t know, to be quite honest. We haven’t spoken much and I barely see him. He leaves early in the morning...comes home late at night…” Peter nods as if he was a therapist listening to a client. “I don’t want to assume the worst but he’s making it rather difficult.”

“I wasn’t going to tell you this, because it isn’t really my business, but…” He comps down on the ice cube. “I was coming home from a mission a few nights ago and I saw him with a girl. I’m not quite sure what they were doing but it sure as hell didn’t look platonic.”

Y/N felt her entire world shatter into her lap. “What?”

“Yeah, I don’t know. She was really short with long black hair and a skimpy cocktail dress. They were walking into that club off of Coventry Street. I almost beat the fuck out of him right then and there, but there were bouncers.”

Y/N bit her trembling lip and folded her hands in her lap. Rifling through her purse, she slammed the gift card down and stood.

“Thanks for the lunch date, Peter, but I don’t feel well. I’ll talk to you later, yeah?”

“Was it something I said?!” Peter yelled at Y/N’s retreating back as she left the bar.

“Are you going somewhere?” Sirius asked, gesturing to Y/N’s packed suitcases by the door.

“Yup, I’m going to France for a week to aid burn victims,” Y/N finished brushing her teeth before packing her toothbrush. “Didn’t think you’d care.”

“Well, I do. You could have told me.” He leaned up against the wall and crossed his arms.

“I would have if I actually saw you.” Y/N wasn’t in the mood to argue; she had about an hour before she had to leave, and she planned on using that time to relax with a cup of herbal tea.

“What’s that supposed to mean? You see me plenty.”

“Yeah, when you’re sleeping or showering. There’s not exactly time to chat when you leave early in the morning and come home well past midnight.” Y/N walked into the kitchen and cut a slice of bread. “Oh, by the way, Caspar brought up some sourdough, if you actually want any.”

“Don’t change the subject like you always do, Y/N. I work hard to support us, you know that.”

“I work hard too. And I get home before 11 every night. I’m not exactly sure how being a healer gets you home earlier than a tattoo artist, but whatever.” Y/N buttered her now toasted sourdough.

“Sometimes a piece takes a long time, that’s not my fault! I’ve been getting big jobs recently! You should be happy for me!”

Y/N let out a harsh laugh as she poured water into the kettle. “Do you really think I’m that fucking stupid, Sirius? Really?”

“What do you mean? I think you’re rather smart.” Sirius followed Y/N into the kitchen and was leaning against the counter.

“Yeah? Then why have you been lying to me for the past, I don’t know, two months?”

“You can’t keep accusing me of things, Y/N. It’s not fucking fair!” Sirius stared holes into Y/N’s back. “For fucks sake! Look at me when I talk to you!”

Y/N whipped around, her hair fanning around her face as she spun. “You know what’s not fucking fair? Letting a girl feel you upright in front of me. Lying about going into work. Forgetting my birthday and coming home from who knows where drunk as fuck with lipstick smeared all over your neck. Coming home drenched in another girl’s perfume. Taking your fucking side chick to a strip bar while I’m sat at home wondering if you’re fucking dead because we’re in the middle of a fucking war! You don’t know the first thing about fucking unfair!”

“You’re not going to France, Y/N.” His jaw was clenched and his eyes held nothing but fire. The tone of his voice was like nothing she had ever heard before, at least not directed at her. He usually reserved it for people who yelled nasty things at her from the street, or when someone bad mouthed James. It felt foreign to hear him use it with her. Maybe she didn’t know him as well as she thought she did. “You’re not fucking going, and that’s final.”

“What are you? My fucking mother? I’m going because I’m actually doing something good for the world, unlike your cheating ass.” Y/N pushed her way past her boyfriend and towards her luggage.

“Don’t walk away from me!” Sirius followed her strides. He stopped and took a deep breath before continuing. “Y/N, darling, we need to talk about this-” His tone was notably softer than before as if he was trying to glue together shards of glass.

“Talk about what, Sirius?! How you cheated on me and won’t even deny it? How you betrayed me in the worst way fucking possible? I’m not going to let you manipulate me into putting my career on the line to work out some issue you caused.”

“What, so now I’m not important? You’re a fucking hypocrite!”

“And how exactly am I a hypocrite, Sirius? You treat me like shit and whine that I’m done putting up with it? Gonna go cry to James about how you are so upset I wouldn’t hear you out after you cheat on me? Well, go the fuck ahead because James actually has a healthy relationship with a baby on the way. He won’t sympathize with you.” Y/N grabbed the handle of her suitcase and lifted her wand. “I’ll be back in a week and once we’ve had some time to cool off, we’ll talk about this like adults. I’ll see you soon.”

Just as Y/N apperated out of the room, the kettle whistled and Sirius noticed Y/N left her half-eaten toast on the counter.

It was near two in the morning when Y/N returned home from France the following week. The home was cold, dark, and vacant, and the entire appearance of the small flat had changed. In a week, Sirius had managed to completely trash the house. Even the smell of freshly baked goods was replaced with the sour smell of firewhisky and sex.

Y/N ventured into the kitchen first, where she observed the large stack of dishes in the sink. Everything from to-go packages to their fine china (normal glass plates from the thrift) were stacked as high as the eye can see. Some were starting to mold and produce the most horrid smell. The stove housed the kettle where Y/N had left it, but this time it was cold and empty. Another pot that contained crusty spaghetti sat next to the kettle, and Y/N cringed at the thought of scrapping it out. She moved to the counter where her toast, now stale, sat. Y/N picked it up between two fingers and threw it into the bin.

She carried on into the living room next. The couch cushions were tossed about the room and the small fur throw was draped across the back of the couch. The record player in the corner still held the Fleetwood Mac record Moony had chosen on her birthday as if it were a time capsule; Y/N couldn't help but reminisce about how happy she was with her friends that evening. Maybe that proved that she could be happy without Sirius in her life, or maybe it served as a constant reminder that he was woven into every aspect of it.

Again, the room was covered with food wrappers and alcohol bottles. Y/N feared the liquid that remained in the bottles would leak and stain the carpet, so before moving on to the bedroom, she set each one upright.

The bedroom was what Y/N feared the most; without her presence in the home, Sirius could have been intimate with an infinite amount of girls in her own bed. She shivered at the thought but pushed on and reached towards the icy doorknob.

The room was the cleanest out of the entire flat, just various clothes scattered around the floor and a messy bed. Y/N wanted nothing more but to curl up under her warm covers and press her face into the chest of the man she loved most, but that was an impossible task. He didn’t love her anymore and that was something she had to deal with, she just wished she had savored the last time he held her.

As Y/N explored further into the room, her feet found an article of clothing that neither Sirius nor Y/N owned. Bending at the hips to pick it up, Y/N held a red, lacy v neck bra in between her fingertips. Y/N fingered the material with teary eyes. Another step forward and her feet came into contact with the matching bottoms. Y/N laid the set out neatly on the bed and wallowed; it must have looked stunning on her.

Y/N walked to the desk, where an ink well was left open and a half-written letter laid face up on the surface. She capped the ink with a wet chuckle.

“You need to cap your ink, Sirius. If you don’t it’ll dry out. I won’t be there forever to do it for you.” Y/N said aloud, wiping her running nose. She picked up the letter against her better judgment and began to read.

Prongs,

I know you’re mad at me, but please just hear me out. Vanessa is gorgeous, mate. She’s sweet and nice, but at the same time she's so witty and smart-mouthed. She even listens to Queen and the Weird Sisters!

She made me believe in love at first sight, JP.

I’m going to marry her one day, mark my words!

The ink began to run as Y/N read and cried, making small blotches of black contrast against the stark white paper. Y/N placed it onto the table and gripped the edge to steady herself. Never in her 21 years on earth had she ever felt such pain, such sorrow. Her pains were usually cushioned by Sirius’ arms and sweet slurred language in the middle of the night, or by her friends’ loud cackles. But this time, this time was different; she was alone, completely and utterly alone.

Y/N looked to the wall in order to ground herself; a small sliver of silver moonlight slashed against the wall, illuminating the otherwise dark room. Y/N traced the line with her eyes until she landed on the wooden coo-coo clock.

The clock was one of Sirius’ most prized possessions; it was a gift from his Uncle Alphard that he received when he ran away from the Black family. Alphard was one of the few Sirius still kept in contact with, and he was a big role model to Sirius when he grew up. Debatably, Alphard was the one who taught Sirius how to be a man.

The present seemed lame on the surface, but that clock was one of Sirius’ favorite things when he was a child. Sirius had told stories of the long afternoons he would spend in front of the clock, waiting for the small, yellow bird to pop out of the top while Walburga and Orion fought in the background. Y/N respected Alphard with all of her being, but she wanted nothing more than to smash that godforsaken clock. She wanted to destroy everything that made Sirius happy, she wanted him to be under the same pain he was putting her through.

Y/N knew what she had to do at that very moment: she had to get out of London and move far, far away. So far away that no one would ever find her. So, she grabbed the extra suitcases in the flat and began to pack her things.

Starting at the record corner, she picked every single one of her belongings and shoved them into her suitcase. Y/N had to shrink a few of her belongings, such as the couch, in order to fit, but in a little less than an hour, every hint of Y/N was packed away in three large suitcases.

Y/N gave one last look at the apartment before apparating to Paris, where she knew she could start a better, more meaningful life. Maybe, she could even find a fresh bakery to supply her with warm loaves of sourdough bread.

When Sirius returned to the flat the following morning, the only remaining aspects of Y/N were a striped scarf and two galleons folded neatly on the bed next to Vanessa’s lingerie.

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minaofmayhem · 4 years ago

Text

IMAGINE #38 - Never tear us apart

Here’s the penultimate request with our favorite bad guy, Randall ❤️ Sorry for the delay but I always want my writings to be as I imagined them so sometimes it takes me time to put in words what I have in my mind 😀 Thanks a lot anon for giving me this idea, I hope you all will like this piece ! Enjoy ! ❤️

Summary : You are his queen, his reason to live, his everything. But this is what could happen if someone dares to look at you or even touches you. He’s going to pay the highest price.

Pairing : Randall Flagg x Reader

Warnings : violence, mention of blood.

Tag list : @katerka88 ; @bonnieelizabethparker ; @ateliefloresdaprimavera ; @anangelwhodidntfall ; @fawnbrrry ; @flowers-in-your-hayr ; @grandpa-sweaters ; @bailaycantaconmingo

Day 165.

165 days since the great pandemic broke out on the planet and killed a good part of the humanity. 165 days since the world is now a vast desert where the few survivors are trying to survive despite the chaos. A few have formed a community around Mother Abagail in Boulder - Colorado. A centenarian old woman that some consider as the new Messiah. For the others, a new form of society has been created in Las Vegas under the orders of the most machiavellian couple in human history : Mr. and Mrs. Flagg, the new royal couple of Vegas. Thanks to you, the "rejects" of the old world have found a place in a city where the watchwords are sex, alcohol, debauchery, partying and above all, freedom.

You and Flagg are two identical creatures with infinite magical powers. You are capable of the best but mostly of the worst. You rule from the Penthouse of the hotel that has been your residence since your arrival on earth. You are both admired and feared because no one knows what you are really capable of. Nobody tries to verify it but without knowing it, they will soon witness it...

Tonight you and Randall decided to spend a pleasant evening together in your suite. Randall had planned to make a brief appearance in the evening to satisfy your subjects but no more. They were partying every nights and are waiting for him like if he was God himself. Well, he is, in a sens. But not tonight, he had other plans. He wants to spend time with his beautiful queen, the one he loves the most. And just so, you are sitting on the big couch, your legs resting on his lap while his head is burying in your neck to cover it with soft kisses. Every time his lips settle, he offers you the most beautiful of compliments. Things that really turn you on. His beard is scratching your skin, which is nice. The flaps of your dress reveals your bare skin that Randall's hands keep caressing endlessly. With your head tilted back, your lips open to let out a moan of contentment and delight. You love feeling his soft lips on you and his rough hands caressing every inch of your body. This is a pure pleasure...

His hand were about to move higher, to your hip, when the main door suddenly opens. Floyd enters, accompanied by his eccentric girlfriend and an unknown man who was carrying a body on his back, wrapped in a large plastic bag. Randall grunts ; he hated being disturbed even more in these situations. He had told Floyd that he didn’t want to be disturbed under any circumstances. He hoped it was at least worth it. Floyd steps forward, bowing respectfully to you.

"Mr. and Mrs. Flagg"

"Floyd...my trusty right hand man...Didn't I specify that I did not want to be disturbed in any way tonight?", Randall states in a sharp voice as he rises from the chair after you removed your legs in a graceful motion.

As you pull back the edges of your dress, you notice the envious look on the stranger's face as he follow your every move. When you stand up, you could see and feel his gaze trying to guess the body that is hidden under your beautiful white dress. Randall notices immediately. He never miss anything. For a moment, a flash of anger stealthily cross his pupils. He couldn't stand the look of other men on you. He was about to react - you could already feel his rage bubbling up inside him - but stops when he feels your hands around his fore arm. He only had to catch your gaze to understand what you have in mind. You wanted something else, something more...evil. A smirk stretches across his lips and he takes your hand in his to place a kiss on it. He totally understands what you have in mind. Floyd and his cronies watch the scene, completely lost.

"So Floyd?", Flagg asks again in an impatient voice as turning his head to face him again. Floyd pulls himself together and gives a cut to the stranger placed beside him.

"Yeah sir...Well Bobby Terry has found the old spy sent by those jerks from Boulder. You were right, she was hiding in a motel out in the desert." Randall smiles at the guest and invites him, with a wave of his hand, to lay the body on the large table.

"Let's take a look"

He opens the plastic cover and bends down to breathe the body. Floyd and his girlfriend look away in disgust. Still standing by the chair, you watch the scene, amused by Randall's behavior. He is about to start something and you can’t wait to watch the show.

"That's definitely her but...there's a problem" Floyd bites his lip and looks down. Bobby Terry just looks at Randall, displeased.

"What problem? There's no problem. That's what you wanted, right ?”.

Floyd and his girlfriend stand to the side, uncomfortable. It was the first time they saw someone dare to contradict the grandmaster. Randall doesn’t take his eyes off Terry, swallowing his anger. He has to stick to the plan you both agreed upon.

"Floyd...Didn't I say I wanted to see the old owl alive ?". Floyd confirmes, confessing his apologies.

"See, it's not complicated", Randall's voice is almost mocking, as if he is scolding a child for being stupid.

"I don't care about your bullshit and fucking excuses. I brought the body back so I deserve my reward"

Randall looks at you out of the corner of his eye and catches the very sharp shake of the head you gave him, like a signal. A triumphant but discreet smile stretches across your face. Randall understands exactly what you want most right now. You knew that Bobby Terry had screwed up and that Randall was going to make him pay, one way or another. But why not make him pay for his attitude towards you at the same time? You could count on your husband's ferocity and tenacity. He would avenge you. You find it so exciting and rewarding to watch him play cat and mouse with his prey that it turns you on again. And that unfortunate Bobby Terry who didn't realize what he was doing. Pitiful humans.

"No problem my friend. Floyd, remind me what the promised reward was?"

"500.000 dollars Mr. Flagg."

"Five hundred thousand dollars. Fair enough" Randall steps forward to come face to face with Terry. "How about we change the deal?".

Bobby Terry raises an eyebrow, curious to see why he would suddenly agree to change the reward. This encourages Randall to step closer to whisper to him, "I noticed the look you had earlier. I can think you feel something for her. She's beautiful, isn't she?". Randall gestures in your direction and Bobby Terry leans over to look at you again from every angle, looking you up and down as if you were a commodity.

"Not bad indeed" he confirmes, running his tongue over his lips in a vulgar manner.

"And again my friend...", continues Randall, in a suggestive voice "You haven't seen everything yet...How about...a night with her instead of the money ?".

Bobby Terry's eyes begin to glow like those of a child who is promised the biggest present for his birthday. It must be say that he had not the chance to be with such a beautiful creature for decades now. Behind them, Floyd and his girlfriend feel embarrassed and uncomfortable. They had figured out the trap, but Terry seemed so engrossed in the enticing proposition that he had forgotten about being careful.

"Deal" he declares, presenting his hand to Randall who shakes it briskly, a big, hypocritical smile on his lips. Randall takes a step back and extends his hand in your direction to signal you to join them.

"Come here my beauty" Once your hand is in your husband's, he gives it to Bobby Terry, without skimping on the showmanship. "Take good care of him my love. He deserves all your attention for risking his life for me".

Bobby Terry smiles proudly, taking your hand. Randall then hands him the key to one of the hotel suites, which he magically made appear.

"Come with me. I've earned my little reward", Terry says as he pull you a bit sharply towards the exit, without a word. You follow him, already gloating as you think about what would be next.

Once inside the elevator, the doors close themselves and Bobby Terry can't resist on putting his hands on you any longer. No sooner does he take a step in your direction than your crystalline and machiavellian laughter is heard in the cabin. The lights go out and come on quickly, like in a party in a nightclub, but it is more a horror show that is playing in front of him. He sees your face, your demonic smile and your long hair on your face until you disappear completely. Then Randall suddenly appears instead of you, posts against the door, in a casual manner. His smirk does not bode well and when he hears Randall saying “Boo” he realized, for the first time tonight, that he has made a big mistake.

It takes one minute for the elevator to go down all floors. That's enough to destroy a man. After Randall arrived in the cabine, you found yourself on the first floor, ready to revel in the scene that was about to play out before your eyes. In an instant, Bobby Terry's body flies against the walls with a thud, blood spurting everywhere as Randall slams him against the glass windows with all his might. Behind you, you can hear the frightened and disgusted cries of the crowd watching the scene, despite themselves. Smiling triumphantly, you watch the elevator arrive at your level and the doors open up. Shouts of amazement rise again. Some even began to vomit at the carnage. Randall picks himself up from what was left of Bobby Terry's body, his face and clothes cover with blood. Staggering slightly, as if he is drunk, he stands up and looks out at the waiting, frightened crowd. Without a word, he steps forward and puts his hand behind your head for a languidly and bloody kiss.

"Here’s what you wanted, my love" he says, handing you Bobby Terry's heart. Proudly, you caressed your husband's bloody face as you kissed him lovingly, not caring about the blood covering now your face and beautiful white dress.

"Show them" you whisper against his lips. Randall smiles and steps back to face the crowd, raising his arm to show them Bobby Terry's still dripping heart.

"My friends...This is the fate that awaits whoever dares to disrespect the most beautiful of queens. Try to touch her or even look at her and I will kill you. I will destroy you. I will tear you apart and feed on your flesh. I will hunt you down wherever you are to eliminate you from this earth. Watchout...I can be everywhere".

His voice was still echoing in the great hall when he finished his speech. His eyes looks out over the crowd, catching the frightened looks. You can feel their fear and feed on it. Randall turns and finally throws the heart next to the remains of Bobby Terry. He then holds his arm out to you, you put your left arm through it and together you moves in the opposite direction before disappearing completely. Not before Randall declares to Floyd.

"Floyd...clean up this mess, will you?".

#alexander skarsgård #Alexander Skarsgard #Alex Skarsgard #alexander skarsgard imagine #alexander Skarsgard x reader #randall flagg #randall flagg x reader #randall flagg imagine #imagine38

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speechlessxx · 4 years ago

Text

Bring Him Light - v (King!Steven x Reader)

Chapter Summary: Two months after the reader’s marriage to King Steven, she learns what appears to be the truth hidden in the dungeon.

Warnings: description of wounds, anxiety, no Steve in this chapter, talks of infertility

Word Count: 2.5k

<-Last Part -=+=- Next Part ->

Weeks after your marriage and the coronation that took place soon after, the crown still sat heavy at the top of your head. The weight would nearly be unbearable if it weren’t for your husband who ruled by your side. The smiles on your faces were never forced and life began to settle into an easy, steady pace. However, as the people grew accustomed to calling you their queen, they increasingly became impatient and displeased when two months has passed, and you still weren’t with child. The Rogers’ line would stop and end with Steven if he were to die without an heir.

You worried about your competency. Among the many duties of the queen, providing heirs was at the top of that list and you were still unsuccessful. However, King Steven sought to be your rock in this troubling time with your wavering confidence, assuring you that you both had a lifetime of providing heirs and to not rush it.

Even with the king’s constant assurance and kind words, you still felt like a failure.

The children of the orphanage cheered as soon as you walked through the building’s threshold. The little ones ran up to you and clung at your legs, nearly knocking you over if it weren’t for Natasha’s quick hands that shot out and steadied you. You laughed as you decided to crouch down to be eye-level with the children and opened your arms out to let them hug you. It was Sister Mary, the woman in charge of the orphanage, who disbanded the children and told the little ones to leave you be. The little ones dispersed – some going in the back gardens to play in the fountain your husband donated years ago, others playing in the courtyard, while some played inside.

One of the little girls, Abagail, took your hand and eagerly led you to her toys. You didn’t miss the way that Sister Mary eyed your midsection to peak if you would be showing any signs of a pregnancy. You saw her face fall with disappointment she realized you still had the same body as you did during the coronation.

“Everyone really wants you to have a baby,” Abagail whispered to you. You smiled at her and nodded. “Sister Mary keeps talking about how you disappoint the king because you aren’t pregnant.”

Your smile fell slightly as you listened to the little girl. She was young – you remembered Sister Mary telling you she was six on your first visit. She didn’t really know boundaries yet. “Really?” You asked.

“Yes… she says how the king’s wives are cursed with infertility and how the king grows angry and eventually kills – “

“Abagail!” Sister Mary called the little girl’s attention. The woman comes over and ushers the little girl away but the girl stood her ground. “I’m sorry, your grace. The little ones have such vivid imaginations.”

“I, too, have vivid imaginations.” You stood and shook your head. “Abby meant no harm, did you?” She shook her head with a pout as Sister Mary tells her to play with the children outside. As soon as Abagail was out of earshot, you took a step towards Sister Mary and gave her a smile. “Children are innocent. They only repeat what they hear. I only hope that you teach the children the truth. Because what she was about to say is defamatory towards the king. And I wonder how the king would tolerate such slander.”

“Of course, your grace.” She bowed her head, but her words weren’t true. She was only saying them out of duty – not respect. You were about to retaliate when Wanda called your attention.

“Your majesty,” Wanda spoke up. Your two ladies noticing the tension between you and the nun. “We should journey back to the castle. The king must be eagerly awaiting your arrival.”

“Yes.” You nodded. You glanced at Sister Mary once more and gave her another smile before making your way to the carriage.

“I only hope for your sake, your grace, that it is only rumors.” You stopped in your tracks and swallowed. You frowned as you told Natasha and Wanda that you’d meet them outside. The two ladies hesitantly walked out. You turned and glared at the nun.

“Pardon?”

“The king is cruel,” her voice was hushed but her face feigned respect and politeness. Her smile was teasing as if she knew something you didn’t. “Or at least that’s what the rumors say.” She stared at you with cold eyes and no fear. She wasn’t afraid that she was speaking out against the king in front of her queen. She believed she told the truth.

“Watch your tongue.” You snapped. A few of the children’s heads popped up at your tone. You took a deep breath to compose yourself. You didn’t want to make a scene, but the crone overstepped. “You are speaking of my husband, your king… Watch. Your. Tongue, Sister Mary.”

Sister Mary reached out suddenly and seized your wrists as she examined the now faded cuts. “I see these every time you come… I can’t help but wonder where they came from.”

“They’re not from the king. Not that it’s your business.” You muttered, snatching your hands away. “Steven is a good man and has proven to be a great king. How dare you speak of him – “

“Are you saying that to convince me or yourself? I’ve lived long under King Steven’s rule, girl. I’ve been here since Margaret and since Sharon. I’ve seen the haunted looks on their faces. I wonder how long it will be until the king breaks you down, too. And here they call the Thanos the Mad King when Brooken has harbored one for years.”

You were speechless and shaking with rage. You bit on your tongue, hard – so hard that you tasted the metallic taste of your own blood – before you turned away and rushed out. Natasha and Wanda were already in the carriage when Ser Pietro helped you in.

“What happened?” Natasha asked.

You were silent as you wiped your hands on your skirts. The carriage jostled a bit as the horses began to move. Natasha and Wanda glanced over at each other after several minutes of silence. Your irritation and anger evident in the lines of your frown as you drifted off into your mind.

The king had been nothing but kind to you in your time together. Each and every day as you both grew closer to one another, he had proven the rumors wrong. You believed he was misrepresented in York – that the servants created an image of a monster to justify the war between the North. Steven had shown you no cruelty – aside from the prisoners in the dungeon. But they were traitors who conspired against their king. Even your father would’ve shown them no mercy. It was what a king had to do… right?

“(Y/N)…” Your head snapped up and met Wanda’s concerned stare. She reached out and grabbed your hand, which you hadn’t realized had been rubbing the skin of your wrist raw. “You’ll reinjure your wrist. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing…” you muttered.

“The old crone is well, old. Don’t take her words to heart.” Natasha encouraged. “The king has been nothing but a delight has he not?”

“He has, indeed.” You nodded.

“And again, your father wouldn’t have married you off to a cruel monster.” Wanda piped up. She gave your hand a tight squeeze and offered you a smile. “Sister Mary’s like everyone else… They just can’t wait until your belly swells with a child. Brooken has waited long enough.”

“I’m not quite sure if I’m … able.” You confessed. Wanda and Natasha scoffed in response. The two girls babbled on about it being too soon to tell. “It’s been two months since the marriage. Steven and I have shared our bed for two months now and I’m still not pregnant. I’m afraid I’m a disappointment to all.”

“Don’t say that.” Natasha waved her hand. “Two months is too soon to tell, (Y/N). Besides, you heard what the doctors, the midwives, the maesters say. There’s certain periods throughout the month that make chances of conception optimal. Just because you two go at it nightly,” you flushed at her words as you stuttered a rebuttal. She held her hand up to silence you. “We’ve heard it all. Big castle, thick walls. But we’ve heard.”

“Nat – “you groaned. Your hands covered your face, bashfully.

You three laughed at your embarrassment. Natasha giggled and leaned over to grab your hand. “You needn’t worry… It’ll happen in time.”

“I hope you’re right.”

»————-　⚜　————-««

As soon as your ladies and you arrived to the castle, you were immediately greeted by Lord Rumlow and Pierce.

“I trust the visit to the orphanage went well?” Lord Pierce asked you as he bowed.

“It was lovely as it always is.” You grinned at the two lords. You wondered why they were awaiting for your arrival – or why they were speaking to you at all. Lord Pierce didn’t like you, or at least you believed he didn’t because of how he wasn’t as welcoming as Lord Barnes or Lord Wilson. Lord Rumlow simply always gave you a bad feeling just by standing beneath his stare. You knew of Steven’s distaste for the two men – especially Brock, who was next in line due to being Steven’s next blood relative. “What have I done to have you two bless me with your presence?”

Alexander’s eyes narrowed slightly at your words. They were teasing and sarcastic. He definitely saw your father in you. “We have urgent matters to discuss with the queen.” He glanced over at Natasha and Wanda who were watching the two men warily with curious frowns. “Alone, of course. It’s a matter of the council.”

“Shouldn’t my husband be in charge of this then?” You asked.

Lord Rumlow shook his head. “The new Brooken Queen must know of this matter as well. The king is very much versed.”

“Very well.” You nodded. “You may go.” You told your ladies. You exchanged confused glances before turning to the men. “Lead the way, gentlemen.”

“Of course.” Alexander nodded. He glanced over at Brock who offered you his arm and you hesitantly took it.

The walk was awkward to say the least. The two men weren’t the most ideal conversationalist and the curious stares of the servants as you passed by them did not help. Were you being led into a trap?

“Does my cousin treat you right?” Lord Rumlow asked suddenly as they turned into a familiar corridor. Your brows shot up when you realized they were leading you towards the dungeon.

“Yes, of course. King Steven has been nothing but a blessing in these past two months.” You said, honestly. You had no reason to doubt it, either.

“And the marriage… consummated?” Lord Pierce asked.

“Yes.” You answered. The two men glanced at one another as they slowly descended the steps that led to the dungeon. “Where are we going?”

“We’re acquainting you with what Steven really is…” Lord Pierce answered ominously. Your frown deepened as you tried to pull your arm away from Brock’s, but the Lord tightened his grip on you.

“Unhand me.” You ordered.

“I can’t, (Y/N).” He muttered as he pulled you along.

The men pulled you into the hall. The barred prisons with badly shaped men welcomed you. The stench assaulted your nostrils and nearly made you vomit. You passed by a man, huddled in the corner. He was asleep – or at least you hoped he was – and his mouth was wide open allowing his drool to escape. He had no teeth and his gums were bloody.

You gasped, taking a step back. You felt someone grab at your skirts. You let out a shriek as another man, so skinny you saw his ribs, grabbed at the bottom of your dress through the bars. His fingernails had been ripped off, bits of his skin seemed to have been flayed.

“What is this?” You snapped.

“Sharon?” One of the prisoners asked, his voice quaking. The vocal chords dry. You frowned, feeling your heart drop.

“These are the men that the king has imprisoned.” Pierce explained. “Good men, for the most part.”

“Steven wouldn’t have imprisoned these men for being good. There must’ve been a reason.” You argued. “Steven’s a good king.”

“Look at these men and tell me what good man would torture men to this degree?” Lord Pierce inquired. You shook your head.

“Steven said these men are traitors. He wants a bright future for Brooken and he imprisoned traitors who conspire against him. He only tortures because he… he’s looking for those who are plotting against the king.” Your voice broke as you began to shake. Tears threaten to spill but you held them in. You didn’t want to cry in front of these men – you didn’t want to look weak. You pried your hand from Brock’s grip and stumbled backwards.

“These men’s only crime was that the queen favored them.” Brock explained, grimly. “Sharon was a jewel … Young, tall, beautiful. Men grew fascinated with her and wanted the queen’s favor over the king’s. In a jealous rage, the king imprisoned those who preferred his wife.”

“No – “

“Sharon?” Another voice called. Drier than the other man.

“These men are haunted from what they’ve witnessed. Do you know what happened to Queen Sharon?” Brock asked. “Or Queen Margaret?”

“They died tragic deaths but not at the king’s hands!” You snapped. The two men stood silently as they shook their heads. They stared at you with pity as you peered through the prison. You’ve been to York’s prisons once – maybe twice – and they weren’t in this condition. The men weren’t starved, tortured. They were fed properly until their trials. “Why are you doing this?”

“You must know the monster that sits on the throne next to you.” Pierce said. “Do you know what happened to the two queens before you?”

“No.” You gave in to what they wanted. If they wanted to explain, so be it. “No, I do not.” Why was everyone tearing down the happiness you were building now after two months? Why wouldn’t anyone tell you before?

“Queen Margaret and the king fought relentlessly for months. He needs heirs. She didn’t want to bear a child. They fought and fought. Until one day, the king finally had enough of her. He stabbed her through the heart in the throne room. No one saw except for the council. No one knew how to react. No one wanted to act out against the king. So, we watched her bleed out on the floor as she stared at the man she loved, who took away her life.

Queen Sharon was defiant. She refused to sleep in the same bed chamber as the king. He needed an heir. She steadily turned him away. These men,” Pierce gestured to the prisoners, “all wanted favor with the queen. Steven thought she was attempting to start a coup against him. When it was proven she was not, it made him believe that these men were her lovers. So, in an act of cruelty, the king beheaded her in front of them.” He pointed to where you were standing – in the center of the room where all could see you. “Right where you’re standing.”

“That’s the man you married, Queen (Y/N).” Brock said. “That’s the true King Steven.”

Your eyes watered, but still, you refused to cry. “I’d like to leave now.”

“We will accompany you, then.” Lord Rumlow nodded. He offered his arm again but you refused. You turned around, ignoring the pleas and the begs from the prisoners and walked up the stairs in silence.

You winced as the bright sunlight welcomed you, contrasting with the darkness of the dungeon. You turned to the two men and bowed your head as they bowed to you. “Thank you for this ... er... eyeopening excursion, my lords.” You felt your voice crack at the end but you remained calm. “It’s been a pleasure.”

“Likewise, your grace.” Pierce nodded before you walked off.

Unbeknownst to you, King Steven was peering around the corner and his fists were shaking with rage.

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #steve rogers imagine #king!steve rogers #king!steve rogers x reader #king!steve rogers imagine #chris evans imagine #chris evans x reader #chris evans #captain america x reader #captain america #brock rumlow #brock rumlow x reader #bring him light

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siempre-pedro · 4 years ago

Text

My Kid Punched His Kid |7 PREVIEW| Single Dad!Teacher!Ben Hardy x Single Mom!Reader

Summary: A playground fight between two 8-year-olds bring together 2 lonely single parents.

In This Chapter Preview : The author shows proof of life of herself.

Word Count: 600

A/N: HELLO IM ALIVE. I’m so sorry but I am still writing, please don’t give up on me! PLEASE COMMENT, I LOVE THE FEEDBACK!

TAGLIST IS OPEN

The seasons were changing like Ben and Y/N's relationship. The colder weather brought on warm dates cuddled under blankets, drive-in movies with the kids, and designating Fridays to dinner at Ben's house. Their bar nights were merged together, Alan enjoyed seeing the former squabbling parents laugh and talking civilly.

"So Amanda said she was going to be one of the Sanderson Sisters for the Halloween party! Do you know who she chose?" Abagail complains as she buttons her power blue coat.

"Who?" Y/N asks, trying to sound amused by the 8-year-old breaking news.

"She chose Mary!"

"No!"

"Yes!" Abby growls, slamming the car door shut.

"She knew I wanted to be her, Mom."

"Well how about we come up with a Dani costume... you get to wear lipstick," Y/N offers, opening up the door to the front of the school. The brunette child scrunches her nose, lipstick did sound fun.

"Fine," she agrees, walking into the warm building. Y/N smiled brightly and tucked her hands into the pockets of her long brown coat.

"Good morning Abby! Y/N, keeping warm out there?" Alice greets, pushing up her glasses. Abby leans against the tall desk and grabs a piece of Halloween candy from the lime green bowl on Alice's desk. "Trying to," the woman chuckles. "Mr. Jones is on playground duty again," she smirks.

Abby nods excitedly and starts to walk off excitedly down the hall towards her classroom. Y/N looks at Alice and picks out a pen to sign her daughter in. That's when the old woman looked at the mother with a gleam in her eye. "You know, I have to tell you Y/N. We're all very proud of James' progress." "You are?" "Oh yes!" she confirms, her voice rising in pride "He's only had 3 detentions this month. We are so happy Ben has someone like you as his girlfriend."

Girlfriend. Her heart fluttered at the term, now that she thought about it, they had never put a label on their relationship. Did he consider her his girlfriend? She was mostly sure, but then again she'd never said 'boyfriend' out loud before.

"I'm proud of him too, I'm going to see Abby off before I go." Alice waved her off with a knowing smile before returning to her work.

Walking back out into the crisp morning air, Y/N tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and approached the blond teacher "Go on, go play," he groans, shooing a bunch of kids playing ring around the rosie in a circle around him.

"Your fan club is dwindling," she jokes, observing the moms in their Lulu Lemon activewear, identical Starbucks cups of Pumpkin Spice Lattes, staring hopelessly at Ben. He shakes his head dismissively and steps closer to her.

"Who needs them when I have you?" he smirks, his brows wiggling.

Y/N rolls her eyes "Oh my God, Ben," she groans at the cheesy line. Ben laughs along with her, his lips curling up into a gorgeous smile. Her face ducks into the collar of her coat, hiding the blush she knows he'll playfully make fun of later.

"Are you sure you want to watch Abby after school? She's going on about some Halloween drama."

Ben chuckles "Ah yes, it's the hottest topic around the classroom. I can take her, Y/N. Go to work and the best spaghetti will be on the table when you get back. "

"But you're sure?" Y/N sighs.

"I have to stop by the farmers market on the way home, Abby will like it. Stop worrying." He leans forward and kisses her cheek, they swore they could hear the splash of a Pumpkin Spice Latte hitting the floor.

Link to masterlist/playlist (totally recommend reading with the playlist on)

taglist: if you have been crossed out Tumblr will not let me tag you! Im so sorry

@florenceivy//@everybodyplaythegame//@jalcolmjeed//@itstonimydudes// @sunshine112// @virtualsheepeat//@ixchel-9275// @onceuponadetectivedemigod // @roger-the-killer-queen // @hemmofluke // @cosmicsskies // @itstonimydudes // @poteda // @valeriecarolinaw // @atzinxanath // @magicwithaknife // @sweetthangbaby // @yxseminx // @horror-w3irdo // @lelifesaver // @dreamer821 // @financialinstability // @angiiee25 // @nopeko // @monochromedeacon // @theflybi // @glitterdreamsz // @dtftheavengers // @discodeakyy // @roger-taylors-drumsticks // @mrsmazzello // @sweetjellytine // @miss2001babe // @bellas2silly // @spreadymercury // @ramibaby // @killahqueennn // @sherlocked-to-the-tardis // @letmelivetaylor // @rogertaylorscigarettes // @maddistudiess // @aedeluca // @this-cute-shit-xo // @hardzzellos // @cyndagoaway // @agirlwithpointlessideas // @johnricharddeaconn

#ben hardy #ben hardy imagine #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy x you #ben hardy fic #borhap #bohemian rhapsody

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tf-guru · 4 years ago

Text

Hungry like a pig

Abigail Huntress was the queen of Las Villiam High, although some others may call her "queen bitch" all the teachers loved her and most people sucked up to her. She was a 5'8" brunette with a slim figure.

Abigail was doing some shopping downtown with her best "friend" Lizzy, a soft spoken and more kind teenager. Abigail searched for people like Lizzy, people she could manipulate and push over easily. The girls gossiped (when in reality it was mostly Abigail saying rude things while Lizzy just nodded and said yeah.) and approached a tall woman with striking red hair starting to unload crates labeled with "Transfun: change your lifestyle" onto the sidewalk. Currently it would be hard to get past into the store with the crates in the way.

The woman was accompanied by a few teenaged boys who eyed the girls Sheepishly. The woman was telling orders to her staff when she heard Abigail say

"Did you see Heather Smith at lunch today scarfing down an entire pizza? As if that pig needed any more food."

The pair reached the stand and the Woman said

"Sorry Girls for the sidewalk blockage you may need to go around."

Lizzy tried to politely tell the woman ok but Abigail said first

"Y'know you don't have to be a waste of space! You could just unload out of the way but nooooo!" She paused and then said to Lizzy

"Let's go Liz." The pair walked around the truck and its crew and continued to talk with Abigail continuing her verbal assault of her peer

"So that pig Heather-"

"You better watch your words young lady or you may just end up in a sty yourself." It was the woman making a cutting remark. Abigail paused for a moment and then continued into the store.

Later in the evening

The two girls had bought some clothes and were trying them on at Lizzys house, well Abigail was modeling clothes while Lizzy just watched and gave light compliments. After about half an hour Abigail started to feel a strange ache in her stomach almost like she hadn't ate anything all day. She stood up, gathered her clothes and told Lizzy she'd see her tomorrow. As she drove home the cramp continued and Abigail said to herself

"Ooooow. I'm gonna need a snack when I get home." She drove in silence, unaware of the changes that were taking place inside. Getting home, she walked inside thankful her parents were still at work.

"Holy crap how am I so hungry?" She said to no one as she opened the pantry and retrieved a box of snack cakes (something she normal wouldn't eat due to how fattening they were) and sat down on the couch with one.

Flipping on a comedy she ate her snack cake. Without even realizing she grabbed another, and another. Soon she had finished the entire box. Looking down at the many wrappers littering the couch she said

"Damn-Im-Im still hungry. I shouldn't be eating this much but I just... can't... help it." She got up and grabbed a bag of chips. Quickly eating that she got more and more snacks before finally stopping herself.

"I-Im gonna go take a shower."

Undressing herself Abigail sees four marks that line her stomach. She touches them and feels how they don't feel like any bug bite shes had before, they feel kinda sensitive.

"That's so fucking strange." She thinks getting into the shower. As the water hits her she doesn't realize that her normally thin frame is gaining a few pounds of fat. She also doesn't see the thin white hair growing on her arms. The changes progress with the small bumps swelling and pulling forward to form four tiny mounds on her chest.

Abigail gets out of the shower and looks in the mirror.

"WHAT THE GRNNT!" The normally 125 pound girl is now bordering on 150. Ignoring the pig noise that came from her mouth Abigail raised her new fat rolls that are still slowly expanding.

"How did I gain so much weight this quickly? And what the hell is on my chest?" Suddenly two large floppy shapes poked out from Abigails hair. Her ears had elongated and moved upwards. As soon as she saw them Abigail thought

"That fat, the-the things on my chest, the ears! I'm-turning into a-turning into a-" she couldn't bring herself to even think the word. After touching her ears for a second Abigail came to a conclusion

"It was that worker lady! She must have something to do with this!" Abigail quickly put on some pants and went for a shirt when a loud "Rip" sound came from her pants. Looking back Abigail forced her tight pants off and tried to find some clothes that fit her.

About ten minutes later Abigail finally found some stretchy clothes that didn't automatically rip when put on. Her ten mounds were obvious even through her shirt.

After she got in the car she looked in her mirror seeing that her nose has been flattened out into a pig like shape. She drove fast not even bothering to fully stop her car in front of the shop.

"Luckily the grnnt truck is still here."

Abigail wrapped a scarf around her face and basically ran towards the red haired woman.

"Well well well. Look who finally decided to show up." The woman said as she led Abigail into the alley next to the store.

"I'm so so sorry ma'am I was having a grnnt bad day and I just was annoinkyed by the-" Abigail started to babble before being cut off by the woman.

"Silence!" She continued "Get on your knees pig."

Abigails cheeks went red as she said

"What are you talking about? Just turn me ba-"

The woman made a motion with her hand and Abigail gained fifty more pounds instantly. Her mouth started to extend outwards into a pig's snout when Abigail dropped to her knees and sobbed

"Please! What can I do? Just don't turn me into a dirty pig!"

The woman paced as Abigail felt a feeling near her backside. A coiled tail was pushing out from her shirt.

"I'm grnnt changing quickly here!" Abigail said. The woman put her hand on her chin says

"Well... I guess if you were to go and apologize to... what was her name? Oh yes Heather Smith. If you were to go and apologize to her for the things you said you will become human again."

"Grrnt! Heather's house? She lives in the country!" Abigail said thinking about how long it would take to drive out there.

"Well the dear, you better hurry if you don't want to turn into a fat sow!"

Abagial rushed to her car looking like an anthro pig.

Driving down the road Abagial looked at her right hand. Her nails had darkened. Then, her hand started to feel numb.

"Ah fuck! Feels like my fingers are being forced together!"

Her right hand was forced into the traditional star trek salute. As she watched the fingers were encased in hard keratin.

"I grnnt have to get to Heather!"

It was getting a little bit harder to drive with her right hand only sporting three digits but she finally pulled into Heather's driveway at 9:23.

Feeling her feet go numb Abagial tried to stand up but falls to the ground. She looks at her feet, or now her trotters. She tries to get stand up and walk to the door but was overtaken by the changes.

"I- grnnt have- to oink. I rnnt... OINK!" Abagial stood on all fours, completely a pig. Walking out from the side of the house was the Transfun woman. She walked to Abagail who was now sniffing at the door and put a hand on the sow.

"Well, you got so close but. Well... I guess we should get going." She snaps and two men come in and grab Abagial.

Two weeks later

"Oh great. Slop again. At least I'm getting used to it... could be worst." Abagial thought her trotters sinking into the soft mud of the sty. Abagail dug into her trough, starting to accept her fate.

#pigtf #punishment #Motel Change

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everlarkficquestions · 5 years ago

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Masterlist: Based On Fairytales / Folktales

This masterlist features fics based on or inspired by fairytales and folktales. Many are originally from the THG Fairytales Challenge which happened in May 2013, but there have been some additions to this list since then.

Please make sure to read the tags and summary before diving into the fic. Some stories may feature subject matter which is not to everyone’s tastes. In addition some of these fics may be incomplete and not updated in a while read at your own risk.

As with all masterlists, if you know of a fic that is not on this list, please let us know (by sending a message to our ask box) and we will add it. Please also let us know if you spot any inaccuracies. Thank you!

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Fairytales / Folktales

A Dense Mask by DispatchesfromDistrict7 (Cap O’Rushes)

A Fish’s Tale by loupee (Lutey and the Mermaid)

A Girl Worth Fighting For by praetorian productions (Mulan)

A Many-Petaled Rose by Mejhiren (Snow White and Rose Red)

As Not The Awaken Ghosts by SavvyLark *

Bearskin and Gold by Mejhiren (Goldilocks and the Three Bears)

Breadcrumbs by Mejhiren (Hansel and Gretel)

Brown-Eyed Janna by keeptheearthbelow (Tam Lin and Janet of Carterhaugh)

Careful What You Wish For... by ETNRL4L (The Crane Wife)

Cinder by RunOn (Cinderella)

Hagoromo (Hang Up Your Cloak of Gold) by Suzume T

Made of Stars by sponsormusings (Aladdin)

Miles Cross by Mejhiren (Tam Lin)

One Strike to Ignite Hope by ETNRL4L (The Little Match Girl)

Primrose and Cinnamon by askboo (The Swineherd)

Prince Peeta and the Mockingjay-Maid, or The Prince Who Loved Birds by Mejhiren (The Nightingale)

RED by 78bathsheba (Little Red Riding Hood)

Rumplesnow by Chelzie (Rumplestiltskin)

Sea Child by Mejhiren (The Little Mermaid)

Second Start To The Right - Mega-Aulover (Peter Pan) *

Seven Years, Seven Pines by deathmallow (Bearskin)

Shining, Shimmering, Splendid by titania522 (Aladdin) *

Sleeping Beauty by EmmaoftheValley (Sleeping Beauty)

Spellbound by Court81981 (Cinderella)

Stone Soup by streetlightlove

The Baker’s Noble Son by Izzy Samson (Various Grimm’s Fairytales)

The Beauty Within by PeetasandHerondales (Beauty and the Beast)

The Flower Trying to Bloom in Snow by sabaceanbabe (The Mermaid Wife) (Odesta)

The Jabberjay and the Mockingbird by Norbertsmom (Sleeping Beauty)*

The Mockingjay and The Lion by Mega-Aulover (The Lion and the Lark)

The Mockingjay and The Mutt by Abagail Snow (Beauty and the Beast)

The Nightingtale and the Dying Man by merciki (The Nightingale)

The Prince and The Pearl by sothere (The Princess and the Pea)

The Shimmering Glass by sponsormusings (The Snow Queen)

The Six Swans - SeeMaree *

The witch and the songbird by loupee (Rapunzel)

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Fics with Fairy Tale Elements / AU Fairytale/ Fairy Tale Style

Fae - HGRomance

Milk-Daughter by Mejhiren

The Mockingjay Tale and Other Stories by ClarkeWayne

The Twelve Months: A Midwinter's Tale by ghtlovesthg

The Weed by keeptheearthbelow

Trapped in Eden by witchpocket

When the Moon Fell in Love with the Sun by Mejhiren

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Some Deleted Fics in this category

A Different Dance by salanderjade (deleted)

Ignite the Stars by salanderjade (deleted)

Katniss and the Invisible Boy by trippy41 (deleted)

The Little Match Boy by fnur (deleted)

Up in the gallery by Naqia (Deleted)

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Created: 7/21/19

* Follower Additions: 7/21/19

#+#mod post #masterlist #based on fairytales / folktales

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into-control · 5 years ago

Note

Abagail is one of the most valid Allies to ever live! She just followed Bethereinfive, Kate Kennedy, who has a podcast that talks about Pop Culture & also Gaylor/Kaylor & Taylor's PR because she noticed their was something gay afoot around Taylor! This is hilarious! Especially because Kate is like "Taylor keeps telling people she's not straight" & "Dress is about Karlie" & "Wear you like a necklace is a gay thing to say" & also "I think Reputation is about Karlie"... Abagail, Valid Hetero Queen!

abigail deserves as big of a break as karlie and taylor do when this is all done honest to god

#ask #anon

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innerpostmentality · 6 years ago

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The Road to Gretna Green Part Nine - Chamomile Tea

All rights and many thanks are accorded to Pixelberry Studios.

This takes place immediately after Part 8. Seriously, it will be very confusing if you haven’t read the other parts. Please see my Masterlist if you wish to catch up on the series. Rating: M Warnings: long post Word count: around 4900 and a bit Tagging: @darley1101 @hopefulmoonobject @blackcatkita @speedyoperarascalparty @hellospunkiebrewster @tornbetween2loves @gardeningourmet @melodyofgraves @thequeenofcronuts @symonde

Her aged ears heard the bellowing in the entry even up in her small study where she was enjoying the first cup of morning tea and reading the paper. She smiled at the increasing commotion in the lower area of the townhouse and mentally counted to five before calling for her maid to enter the moment right before she knocked.

It always flustered Abagail how her ladyship knew she was there before she knocked but this morning’s turmoil had her heart nearly palpitating. She came in and bobbed a curtsy to the Dowager Countess even as she threw her hands up, “Oh my Lady! The Duke is in such a state he is! Mister Woods can hardly appease him. He asked him nicely to sit in the parlor and he would get you; but His Grace is having none of that. I came to get you before the Duke comes storming up here. Poor Mister Woods is put himself on the stairs and won’t budge; but the Duke is threatening ta fire us all if we don’t bring you and Lady Edgewater right down this instant.”

Dominique took a slow sip of her breakfast tea while she watched her maid gesticulate frantically toward the door while she recounted what was going on down there. “So Duke Richards is upset?” She asked quite levelly as she carefully dabbed her mouth with an embroidered tea napkin. “Oh aye, my Lady. He’s fair on his way to apoplexy.” Abagail cocked her head at her mistress, puzzled by her casual tone and complete lack of concern for the angry peer rampaging in the entryway. Dominique smiled at that thought. “Well if you would be so good as to tell Mister Woods that you have informed me that his Grace is here and I will join him in the parlor shortly. And have Cook send his grace some Chamomile tea.” “Oh my Lady his Grace doesn’t like Chamomile tea. He told us that specific when he was first here.” “Truly?” She lifted her brow as she considered which tea cake to sample next. “It is so good for the disposition. Quite calming you know.” She dabbed a bit of strawberry butter on the selected delicacy before nibbling the corner. “Now AbagaiI I would be remiss as a hostess to not give him that which he so clearly needs. Do tell Cook that I wish it to be particularly strong for him.” She took another settled sip of her tea as she continued unhurriedly with her breakfast.

Abagail curtsied and left quietly, puzzled but much calmed by her Lady’s stoic casualness in regard to the raving Duke.

Dominique waited until it quieted down below stairs before she descended. Mister Woods was standing before the closed parlor door. He bowed to her as she approached. “My Lady, Duke Karlington awaits you in the parlor.” “Thank you Mister Woods. Has the Duke been served his tea?” “I believe so my Lady.” To his credit his mirth only showed if you looked closely in his eyes. She gave him a bright smile, “Very good.” She stood before the door and nodded for him to open it for her. Duke Richards was sitting in one of the arm chairs facing the window with his fingers steepled looking thoughtful. She paused a moment curtseying to him briefly, “Good Morning, your Grace. I see that you have been served. What brings you to us this morning?” She saw his jaw clench and his eyes narrow but there was little evidence of his earlier outburst. He didn’t stand to greet her but looked up from his chair with a forced smile and a cruel gleam in his eye. “So Dominique I saw this morning that you have decided to move.” “What ever do you mean, your Grace? I’ve no idea where you heard such a report.” She went to the tea cart and lifted the tea pot, “Might I refresh your cup?” He scowled at her, “I’ve quite enough of that.” “Ah.” She poured herself a cup of the strong brew and went to sit in the chair next to the fire. “Do enlighten me on your purpose this morning, your Grace.” His eyes flashed for just a moment. “You know quiet well. It’s in the papers that you have withdrawn your support of my marriage to Miss Edgewater and now favor Sinclaire. I never imagined you to be such a fool. So be it. But you know I have cause. You promised her to me at my ball before the Bishop and all the ton. I have spoken to the Queen and she favors the match. But so be it. Tis little matter. I will sue for breach of promise and Sinclaire is welcome to the chit. Mayhap he will even let you have a room at Ledford when the courts grant me Edgewater.” She smiled into her cup as she demurely sat and sipped her tea. Finally she set her cup down gently and looked at him with her grin mastered. “Is that why you came here this morning, to threaten me?” She lifted a brow. “Tis no threat. It’s what is going to happen. I’ll have Edgewater. And who knows, possibly after your foolish, Natural granddaughter learns what a malformed brute Sinclaire is she might come to me as his first wife did.” At that Dominique stood and called out. “Mister Woods!” Mister Woods who had been standing beside the open parlor door stepped into the room. “You called for me my Lady?” She locked gazes with the Duke, “Oh Aye. His Grace needs escort from the property now! His business is concluded.” The Duke stood and stepped toward her, towering over her. “You wouldn’t dare. I’m cousin to the King.” “You sir, are a pompous donkey bottom. I have records of every transaction between us and there is no betrothal settlement. And you know why there is no betrothal settlement? Because you refused to make terms in good faith for the support and comfort of my beloved granddaughter Lady Edgewater. It is my prerogative… nay, my duty as her only living relative to ensure her livelihood. None of your proposals were even half measures to what is her right. So you have no settlement to present to the court. And I have tolerated enough of your disrespect for this house, my servants, my granddaughter and myself. So go. Go cry to whom ever you wish. But I will have none of it. Leave as a man on your own or I will have you removed as the spoiled infant you are!” Mister Woods nearly choked from containing himself as he watched the diminutive Dowager Countess serve the Duke of Karlington as severe a dressing down as he had ever witnessed. The Duke was scarlet with rage and shoved past her as he stormed out of the parlor toward the door. “You will regret this!” he bellowed as he slammed the outer door in his departure. ----------------- ------------------ ----------------- ----------------- ------------------

Limbs intertwined, the silk of his curls in her fingers, his face nuzzled against her breasts, his strong arms holding her possessively close, the soft sigh of his sleepy relaxed breathing against her. Rose woke to the deep silent darkness right before the dawn with the contentment of knowing she was exactly where she wanted to be. She kissed the top of his head smiling in the chill of the room. It was but a moment before they would need to be packed and off to another day of constant jostling as the coach rumbled northward. But this moment she would savor so close to her love the heat of his body warming her. Her hand drifted down the muscled plane of his back soothing him. “I love you, Ernest.” He sighed stretching against her his morning arousal sliding tantalizing down her leg. She knew the moment he awakened. He straightened pulling his face from her bosom, kissing her forehead before carefully disentangling their limbs and rolling from the bed. She heard him using the chamber pot, stirring the fire to life, the shuffling in his grooming box, pouring water into the basin. She opened her eyes and saw him washing his face, scrubbing his teeth. He went to the chair by the fire and was struggling with his stockings. His shoulder still stiff in the morning. She murmured, “You are so handsome, my Love.” His eyes flew to hers and even in the dim fire light she could see the blush rise in his cheeks. “I thought to let you sleep this morn. Rest Love.” “Mmmm… perhaps I am still asleep. A beautiful dream it is. My beloved, handsome as the gods of tales, Apollo himself it must be for you are my sun. But a moment ago I lay in your arms in our private bower our hearts beating as one.” As though he were on a string he was drawn to her. Stockings forgotten, his focus on her face he leaned to sip the nectar of a kiss from her lips. He drew a shuddering breath breaking the kiss before it deepened. Pressing his forehead to hers. His hands cradling her face. She felt his hands trembling against her cheeks. “I love you my Rose.” He kissed her, a brief peck before stepping away. “Will you help me? Dressing still aggravates this shoulder I fear.”

She followed him from the bed. Stretching before bending to assist him dressing. They had found a routine together that complimented their preparations for travel and so were soon dressed and packed.

The common room was bustling with traders and travelers breaking their fast before setting out on their day. Ernest settled her at a table then went to the innkeeper and inquired after Mister McManus.

She saw the innkeep nod and point outside. Then Ernest spoke to him some more and handed him money before going outside. Her heart tightened as she watched him walk out into the pre-dawn darkness. She had to master herself to keep from going after him. But as much as he was vexed by his slight and temporary infirmity she knew it would not serve them for her to publicly treat him as an invalid. And she certainly never wanted him to view her as his mother. So she sat observing the various occupants of the common room. Ripon being a trading town had many she marked as merchants, one or two seemed more as travelers, and several more she thought locals as they greeted each other with warm smiles, handshakes, and pats on the shoulder as old friends with a set routine. In short order Ernest reappeared with three other men who he led upstairs.

The young lad from the night before brought plates of bubble and squeak with toast and a thick cut slice of ham which he set before her pulling his forelock before scurrying back only to return with a pot of tea and two cups. Ernest came back down with the men bearing their trunks. She couldn’t keep the concern from her face as she saw him helping with the trunks. Though she did note that he was using his left arm rather than his injured one.

She tasted her breakfast and found it very pleasant and satisfying then poured herself some tea to sip waiting for him. Ernest returned with one of the men and the innkeeper handed the man two baskets. One she guessed for the coachmen and the other for them. Then he came to join her smiling as he took his seat across from her. She poured him tea and returned his smile. “We must compliment the inn keeper. Truly the food here is most excellent.” Ernest sampled his plate nodding. “Almost as excellent as the company. But that is incomparable.” His eyes met hers filled with appreciation. She blushed at his compliment and his smile grew wider. “And what occupies your thoughts to have you blush so easily this morn? Her brow arched and one side of her mouth drew up as the emerald of her gaze sparkled with mischief. “Oh, I was thinking of Apollo and his mighty soldier.” He snorted and feared ham might fly from his nose. He would have been done had he been drinking the tea at that moment. He shook his head and coughed his voice was soft when he mastered himself enough to speak. “My Lady your beauty is only exceeded by your wit. I count myself beyond fortunate that you have chosen me.” He was chuckling softly. “I should know better than to tease you in public. You never disappoint.”

When they were finished with their breakfast he offered her his arm and led her to the innkeeper. “Mister Roy, my Lady wife insists that we commend you on the excellent repasts we have enjoyed while we stayed with you.”

The large jovial man nodded in respect, “Ach, thank yer ladyship. Tis a foine thang ta be appreciated. Joy ta you an your good man here.”

Rose blushed and thanked him before Ernest led her to the waiting coach.

Their travel was beset by rain in the early morning but the afternoon turned fair and the company was joyful. They took turns singing various ditties blushing and laughing as the songs often had more innuendo than they realized when they started. They stopped for lunch and to change horses at Middleton Tyas a small village with a lovely inn called the Bay Horse. Late afternoon had them entering the Eden river valley which Rose thought was aptly named for its abundant pastoral beauty nestled between the peaks on one side and the lake district on the other. They had only a couple more hours of travel to see them into Appleby. Ernest told her that Mister McManus was going to Dumfries but was happy to drop them in Gretna Green. That pleased him as they wouldn’t need to find another coach in Appleby which was a good thing. Small towns could sometimes lack rental equipage. His keen hope was that they would get to the Royal Oak in Appleby and find adequate accommodation for them all. They were in luck. Ernest got Mister McManus and his men rooms on the lower floor and retained a couple of rooms above stairs that were next to each other if not directly connected for him and Rose.

When he came to get her from the coach after their trunks were settled to take her to her room she stopped him. “Ernest, I.. I would like to go to the church.” She nodded at the crenellated bell tower over the knave of St Bartholomew’s church. She was fidgeting, “It is the last eve of my maidenhood. And I think it is a time for confession in preparation.” He looked at her and nodded. “If you wish I can see if we might get a carriage to take us. It would be full dark before we got back if we walk.”

There wasn’t a carriage; but the innkeeper offered his horse to them and so they rode together to the ancient church. Rose thought it was actually rather fearsome. The exterior was festooned in ancient carvings of angels, dragons, gargoyles, and grotesques all looking forebodingly down on you as you approached. It was also beautiful with it’s many stained glass windows. If the outside was intimidating the inside was warm and welcoming. Ornately carved dark wood pews and banisters complimented the beauty of the stained glass windows and freshly painted walls. They were greeted shortly after they entered by an older priest who presented himself as Father Bailey. He listened to them and agreed to hear their confessions.

Rose went first sitting for a long moment in the quiet of the confessional before she began, “Forgive me father for I have sinned. It has been three weeks since my last confession. I have been angry, very angry with my Grandmother. She publicly announced my betrothal to a man without my consent or counsel after I had accepted the marriage proposal of my beloved. I know she did not know what she did. But I am having such a difficult time forgiving her. I also am very angry with that man. He knew that I bore him no affection and yet would press his attentions upon me and manipulated my Grandmother to consent to his suit. To honor my vow to my beloved I have left my home so that we may be properly married. I know this worries my friends and my Grandmother.”

She closed her eyes pausing and Father Bailey had to strain to hear as she continued. “I, I lust greatly for my fiancé. We, we have not joined. But it is because of his goodness not mine. I so wish to be worthy of him. To be a good wife to him. There is another I bear anger for. I learned that my parents were wed by a bishop and then because my father’s father did not approve of their marriage that same bishop took payment and annulled their marriage. My mother already carried me and his action made me a natural child and left my mother and my father parted and heart broken.

I do not accept that it is in the providence of man to put aside that which is sworn before God in his holy church. I am sorry. But his previous actions coupled with his conversation I overheard with my stepmother where she asked him to deny my father’s will declaring me his heir in return for donations to the church has shaken my faith in the church. Not in God. But in the men who are supposed to be carrying out His will. I do not think coin changes the will of God.

I mean no offense to you Father Bailey. I know there are true men of God. But I know now not all are so.”

“You must let go of your anger Child. Especially the anger you hold for your grandmother. You say yourself that she did not know what she did. And as your grandmother it is her duty to look after your well being. Have faith that she will be enlightened by the Lord. As for others who may have sinned against you and fed your anger. Leave the burden of judgement to the Lord. It is not our providence who cannot have the knowledge of a man’s heart in the moment to judge. In penance you must pray each day for each of those who you bear anger toward for each day you bear them ill will. The sooner you can find forgiveness in your heart the sooner your penance will be done. It is the will of God that men and women should desire each the other. And he ordained the sacrament of marriage to elevate the union of two people above that of the beasts in the field. Your fiancé is most noble and right to await the sacrament of marriage before joining with you. Respect his directive on this and do not be as Eve tempting him from virtue. Be rather as Sarah in her faith, keep your faith and remember Love, Honor, and Obedience are the most perfect virtues a woman can give her husband. Remember this and banish your impure thoughts.” With that he prayed with her asking for absolution from her sins and the Lords blessing to keep her from temptation and harm.

Rose went back out to kneel at the pew and pray for her Grandmother, the Duke, and Bishop Monroe and try to find forgiveness for them as she was instructed. Ernest looked at her head bowed in her sweet innocence and was overwhelmed with the need to protect her and the feeling soul deep that he was looking at his very best part.

He went into the confessional then, bowing his head and trying to master his voice. “Forgive… forgive me Father for I have sinned. I do not remember the last time I confessed. I think after my Father died. It has been some time. I know I should have gone after my wife died. She died in childbirth with another man’s child. And I was angry and hurt. Angry with them. Angry with myself that I did not realize before committing myself to her that I did not love her. And she did not love me. I know that now. My father was ill and wished the marriage and heirs. Her father… Her father wanted a match that would secure money for their holdings and gave her no quarter for refusal. I was too concerned with fulfilling my father’s wishes that I did not see until it was too late the folly we were committing. The man, the same man who dishonored my first wife has manipulated my fiancee’s grandmother into publicly endorsing a betrothal between the two of them. This was after my Lady had of her free will pledged her troth to me. This man has abused her, left bruises upon her arm forcing her to stand by him and pretend she favored him. I have sworn he will never touch her again. No man will ever hurt her or I will do violence upon them.” Ernest was silent a long moment before he continued. “I am afraid father. I know she is pure and I fear my passion for her is such that I will injure her. She says that she was made for me. But she is pure and does not know, cannot understand the pain our joining may inflict on her. And, Father, I, I fear that I may be unable, unable to give her children. I would not condemn her to a childless marriage. She told me it was heaven’s providence not ours. But my first wife never caught from me though I tried.” He trailed off embarrassed by his confession not even sure why he would tell all that he had to this stranger. It seemed to take a long time before the elderly soft voice came to him. “My son anger harms no one so much as the one who holds it. It is like a slow poison. You must learn to lay it down. Forgive those who trespass against you. It is natural and right for you to be protective of all those you love. But you must also have faith that the Lord’s justice will be met in time. Your Lady is wise in her faith. Listen to her in this matter and trust in the Lord. For your penance you must pray for those you hold anger toward. And pray the Lord to guide you to forgiveness for those who would harm you and your loved ones. And find your way to confession before the next new moon. They prayed together then asking for absolution and blessings for Ernest. He went out and slid in next to Rose bowing his head and taking her hand in his as he prayed for blessings for them both in the days to come.

A few minutes later she squeezed his hand and they went out into the twilight. The chill of evening was beginning to settle and she wished for her shawl she had left in her trunk. The gentle chestnut mare raised her head greeting them and Rose scratched her ears before mounting. She gave Ernest the left stirrup and he swung up easily behind her wrapping his arms around her pulling her close to warm her before they set off back to the Royal Oak.

He led her into the common room and they enjoyed a lovely dinner of rabbit stew with potatoes and leeks. Ernest held her hand beneath the table as they ate in silence each thinking about the advice of the priest and the next day. When they had finished Ernest offered her his arm and escorted her up to her room giving her the key after he opened the door.

He blushed as she gasped and looked at him in bemusement. There were two extra trunks in her room. “Ernest?”

His voice was very soft as he slowly met her eyes. “I may have arranged for a few things. It was not right that the most beautiful lady in all of England be wed in garments that she was forced to travel the length of the country in.”

Her green eyes were steady on his as she spoke ever so softly. “I need to kiss you now. I shall do it in the hallway if you do not come here and close the door.” He stepped into her room closing the door and putting his back against it not meeting her eyes. She stepped up to him and looked up with a gentle smile. “I love you Mister Sinclaire. Thank you for, for everything. For being the extraordinary, wonderful man you are. Thank you for loving me. For asking me to marry you. For the care you take of me every moment of every day. I really, really want to kiss you Ernest.”

His eyes met hers then as he leaned down and kissed her. Kissed her with exquisite sweetness. Kissed her until he thought his passion might explode from naught but the coaxing of her tongue against his. Kissed her until he realized they were both moaning, their desire loud enough to be heard in the hallway. His hands were shaking as he held her gently but firmly away from him. Looking up at the ceiling away from her passion filled eyes. Praying for divine assistance to resist for one more evening, one more day the mandate of heaven to make her his forever more. At last he found his voice. “Rose. My love. I need to retire.”

She threw her arms around him laying her head on his chest where she could hear his heart hammering. “The priest told me to obey you. He also said to love and honor you.” She sighed and stepped back.

His fingers were trembling as he stroked her cheek looking in her eyes. “We will be leaving very early in the morning, before dawn.” He pulled her to him kissing her deeply. Breaking apart only to kiss her forehead. “Rest Rose. I love you.” He practically ran from her room then. She pressed her forehead to the door and whimpered, “I love you always”. She sighed then turned to look at her room.

There was a bucket of steaming water beside the pitcher and basin on the wash stand, that brought a big grin at his thoughtfulness. She looked in the new trunks delighted with the pristine camisoles, stockings, stays, and day dresses. Then there was the camisole that had her gasping. Sewn from the finest silk the top was Venetian lace fit for a queen, a present for her from Ernest for their wedding night. Beneath that she found a gown of deep blue satin with fine embroidery and a spencer covered with gold lace. She carefully selected a cheery pale yellow day dress and a clean camisole, stockings, and stays for the morning. Stripping and packing all her worn clothes in her old trunk. She brushed her hair out carefully setting the pins aside and getting a piece of the soap from her grooming box she undertook washing her hair. She was used to having Briar’s assistance with the task and found it somewhat daunting with her long curly tresses and limited water. But care and determination got it done eventually to her satisfaction. She rubbed as much of the water from her hair as she could and then wrapped it in a fresh drying sheet before she finally slipped into her bed. She thought she would not be able to sleep but the days of travel had taken their toll and with the happy thought that the next day would see them wed sleep claimed her. ------------- Fleeing her room Ernest went downstairs to the common room in search of a brandy. The innkeeper chuckled and shook his head. “We’ve wine. But none of that Frenchy stuff. Now if ye need a drink I’ve got some fine Oban Scotch.” Ernest grinned and bought himself a bottle then returned to his room. He prepared himself for bed and poured himself a good measure of the scotch. Making a face as the fiery liquid slid down his throat and warmed him from the stomach out. He snuffed out the candle on the bedside table and slid beneath the covers acutely missing the comfort of her beside him. He closed his eyes and prayed that he might be worthy of her. He thanked the heavens for bringing her to him. He prayed that she would always love him. That he would be able to return the joy she brought him. Eventually he pulled the second pillow on the bed to him closing his eyes and wrapping his arms around it murmuring promises of love to her he fell asleep. It seemed but moments later his door was being knocked on, Mister McManus was in the common room waiting to get started. He knocked on the wall between their rooms calling to Rose. A few moments later she answered him her voice husky with sleep. “Ernest?” “Love, could you come assist me when you are able?”

“A moment.”

She took care of her morning needs as quickly as she could. Feeling completely blissful to be in pristine fresh clothing. She packed everything with deft efficiency making sure all was secure before she went to his room. She had pinned up her hair and put on her travel bonnet so that she was ready to leave save the tightening of her stays.

She knocked and he bid her enter. His breath caught at her beauty dressed in the pale yellow day dress with her little straw bonnet. “My Lady could I persuade you to shave me this morning and help me into my vest and coat?”

She grinned, “You know my price.” She lifted a brow.

He grinned and opened his arms to her. “Aye. With such prices I may have you shave my head, and my chest, and my legs.”

She giggled and kissed him. “I love you, Ernest Sinclaire.”

He stroked her smile “And I you. Now let us hurry. We have important business this day.”

--------------------to be continued --------------------------

#desire and decorum #choices fan fiction #ernest x mc #ernest sinclaire #the road to gretna green

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lisetteaman · 5 years ago

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Sonder

Monday, December 17, 2001

A woman is in labor. She is young and heavily influenced by her parents’ unfolding resentment over her stupidly throwing her life away for a boy and becoming pregnant. He stands guard in the waiting room while his parents stare apathetically at the pages of a Time magazine that is ruminating on the Twin Towers. They sit, indifferent towards the current situation of their son having knocked up a teenager. Her parents barge into the waiting room and start an intense discourse in which each parent is screaming at the other, but no one is listening. Each forcefully playing his own disconnected word as if in a game of Scrabble, borrowing bits of the others’ anecdotes, while trying to see who can increase his score. Amongst all the squabbling, the young woman gives birth to a son, Jack.

Across the hall is a second woman in labor of identical age but antithetical descent. Her parents were extremely loving and unconditionally forgiving, but now deceased, while his are globe trotters who never stopped to watch him grow up. With neither involvement nor surveillance of an upper-hand, they wander into a territory much too young for a couple to embark upon and wind up with a kid, whom they name Olive.

Monday, December 17, 2018 Jack

5:30am His alarm goes off, and he hops into the shower. It’s the only part of his morning routine that he actually enjoys. He takes his showers in complete darkness, the lights off to further exemplify how much his heart craves to slip into the morning air with the steam and melt into the black sky just behind his skylight above his shower head. He looks up and sees the vapor condense to the cold glass of the window-pane. He draws a dick in the fog and goes back to playing with himself. Don’t be fooled: he’s a good kid, even with an immature and slightly inappropriate brain. Don’t blame him; blame his biological sex organ. There’s a pounding in his head. Nope, it’s his father on the other side of the door hammering him to hurry up. Time is always official business in his household. His parents are strict and conservative, of the affluent, conceited type. Jack has no say in this life. It was as though his parents put him in a box once he was born and slapped a label on it, saying: “elite, sophisticated aristocrat” and put no room for failure in with him. They had to. They needed to organize their life somehow, as their parents were hounding them to get their shit together if they wanted some semblance of a successful life. But proof be known, Jack’s parents are now exactly what they wanted to be: rich and famous. It is only fitting that they teach Jack the exact same way to live—with your head up your ass and your ego two sizes too big.

It’s about the hundredth time his father has started this conversation with him. It’s always about the law firm, and how Jack needs to keep his grades above everyone else’s in the class if he wants to get into Yale, like his father, and become the next business partner in the firm. “The board only wants to see Ivy League graduates, Jack…” Jack tunes him out and starts drifting into thoughts that are too conceptual for an early morning without coffee, but that’s how Jack likes it. He likes his brain and all the corners it takes him to. It just never seems tangible enough for Jack to get out of this barricaded city and plan the contours of his life—to go explore the world’s abyss for all it offers in releasing the fantasies that remain dormant inside his head. He’s a hopeless romantic. He has never loved anyone, but his heart, as fragile and malformed as it is, is too gentle and graceful to share with others. He protects it and its sentimental value.

6:45am Although Jack is mostly undisturbed by his parents’ lineage of condescension and economical influence, he does assume the role of a private school boy with wispy, blonde hair and a sophisticated veneer. His driver, Stewart, is parked outside to take Jack to Bradley Preparatory Academy. The limo turns and drives past the Lexington Avenue street subway. Jack turns his head and stares out the window at all the passersby in the subway street car, and thinks of how they all ride around town with their newspapers and their sweaty palms stuck to the subway car poles and their gum shoved under the seats, living in such frustration and haste. He turns his attention back and buries his head in his book, The Catcher in the Rye.

Olive

6:53am She sits smushed between two obese men in overly large, black wool coats, who are clearly failing in their attempt to hide their stress-induced eating habits. She looks at the kid sitting across from her take his gum out and stick it under the seat. She’s sweating and reaches her palm out for the pole to get up and stand somewhere else—not worth the body odor and loss in blood circulation. She hates this route. The Lexington Avenue stop, with all the men who aren’t wealthy enough to drive to work, but just arrogant enough to make her upper lip curl as they eye her up and down before disembarking the subway car. Most people take quick glances at Olive but are too skeptical to trust in how stunningly beautiful she naturally is. She dyes her curly, long hair pink and wears an excessive amount of black eyeliner. She has a septum nose ring in the shape of a butterfly and a pretty bold tattoo of the letter A on the side of her neck below her ear—her mother’s first initial, but some look at it and think of The Scarlet Letter. She’s on her way to work. Her parents passed away last year, and now she lives with her aunt in a tiny apartment in Queens. Her aunt made her a promise that she didn’t have to go to school this year as long as she got a job. So naturally, Olive picked a coffee shop in Midtown. “It’s where all the assholes are, Aunt Grace. The meatheads, the hoodlums, the tourists—they all congregate at my coffee shop.” Aunt Grace is not the biggest fan of having her 17-year-old niece travel right into the raucous of Time Square. She sees through Olive’s chill veneer—her hurt and big brain masked behind makeup and a stellar performance of “I don’t give a shit.” Olive is quintessentially brilliant. She was tested at a young age for an IQ score and found out she was in the top 2 percent of the world at her age. She refuses to get tested again, not for fear that she will have fallen behind, but for just the opposite—for fear that her score will be even more impressive and “they” will sit her in a think tank or ship her off to do long division somewhere until all of her brain cells die. She has read just about everything that has a spine or a library code, and yet, she is rarely amused by any of it. If Olive had it her way, she’d be a starving artist—hitchhiking her way to some rural landscape, finding earthly materials to paint with, and blogging her experiences with people from different cultures around the world.

3:45pm Olive usually walks down to Central Park when she gets off of work. Sometimes she runs, but it’s a cold day out and kind of gloomy. She loves these days—the days when the people seem to be more capricious than normal and she can find a nook somewhere she can sit and watch the melancholy mood dissipate into the grey air. It always seems quieter on these days, more people with their headphones in and their caps on, blinding their focus from the inherit craziness singing in the background. She remembers it’s her birthday. It’s been a whole year since her parents died. She dials her mom’s phone number and listens for the voicemail message: “Hi, you’ve reached Abagail, sorry I can’t come to the phone right now, probably doing something fantastical with Olive right now. I’ll call you back when I get a chance. P.S. if this is Grace, you know where to find me.” Olive is not a crier. She rarely shows her emotions, especially to the people around her. But right now, she sits alone on a park bench, bawling her eyes out, wishing time and memory flowed backwards. What a perfect moment to start questioning everything around her—how time keeps getting faster, how babies are being born but others are dying. How the world seems to be constantly growing, and yet, this city has bolted her down and she can’t escape to see what’s out there and who’s living as vivid and complex a life as she is. She starts getting stuck inside her head, trapping her beautiful, yet damaged mind inside. She feels swallowed in a sea of thoughts and tumbling emotions that are rising like a maverick. She can’t contain it anymore. She erupts—she opens her big mouth and screams. Silence. No one is around her. The world has just stopped—frozen in time and place. She turns her head to see if she can move. Nothing happens, no sounds, just silence. Then, wham! A cab flips over and smashes into a tree.

Jack

4:13pm Jack usually gets picked up by Stewart after school, but he decides to ditch his driver and catch a ride in a cab downtown to Central Park. The clouds are hanging especially low, blanketing the city in its sorrows—these are the kind of days he likes. His driver slams on the breaks. However, the car beside goes flying through the intersection, but it doesn’t make it through the red light in time. The cab is hit by a fast moving semi, is vaulted into the air, and strikes a tree upside down. Jack tells his driver to go ahead and turn around to take him back home. The road would be closed soon, and if he stayed at the park, there would be too much traffic to ever get back home in time for dinner. Dinner’s always at a hard 6:00pm, after indoor lacrosse practice, but he skipped today…didn’t have the heart for it.

Jack’s birthday has always weighed on him, but this year has been especially heavy. His parents have pressured him more, his friends are mostly heroin addicts, and the girl he has been inconveniently crushing on for the past three years is stuck like glue to the hot glow-up from sophomore year. He turns his head out the window and watches as the people dance about the street, always rushing—places to be, people to meet, busy lives to attend to. For the rest of the cab ride home, Jack ponders the irrevocable power of freedom and silently cries in the back of the cab. He wonders if there is a person out there that will make him dance.

Olive

11:34pm Olive walks through the front door. Grace jumps up from the kitchen table and runs to her. “Where have you been? Don’t you do that to me again!” Grace has tears in her eyes. She grabs Olive and holds her in her arms. Olive explains that there was an accident near the park, so she walked for a couple miles before calling a cab the rest of the way home. “Hun. You have to be careful. It’s a zoo out there this time of the year and I HATE the idea of you being alone, especially today.” She plays with Olive’s hair. Olive looks into her eyes and starts sobbing again. She can’t hold it back anymore. It’s been a year since she cried—that’s how tough Olive’s cover-up has become, that’s how much time she has spent packaging all of her emotions into a tiny box and burying them deep into a pit in her soul. No longer, she has freedom from her pain at that exact moment. It’s fleeting though. Olive snaps back to reality and pushes Aunt Grace off of her. She wipes her tears and tells Grace that she isn’t hungry and just wants to be alone, again…a ploy to start hiding her true self from those who get too close to her.

She lies flat on her back on her bed and stares at the ceiling. Her mom was a fantastic artist and used to paint with Olive all the time. When her parents passed, she went digging under their bed for the boxes of old school supplies and random crafts until she found these paintings. She had stapled them to the ceiling. Aunt Grace was against Olive putting holes in the ceiling, but it didn’t bother Olive one bit. “What’s it like up there, mom? Is it colorful and just all that you hoped it would be?” Olive has the particular feeling that no matter what she does, everything will always go wrong. It’s like everyone around her is just living such a normal and simple life, but she has these powers to see the future and know that something—her passions, her love life, her job, her cares, her worries—will always go wrong. She’s coped this past year in her own silent, painful way. She wears threaded friendship bracelets and rubber bands over her wrists to hide the pain from the naked eye, but what the eye can’t see is that she is secretly scabulous. She is proud of her scars, of the character and the meaning behind where they are and how they got there. She plays with them like autographs on her body that she doesn’t share with the world. They remind her of her identity and how she got to this particular place of hell in her life. They speak of her brilliancy, of her broken mind and damaged heart. She gets out her phone and dials her mom’s number again. She can hear it ring in the box that she keeps it in, tucked away on the top shelf of her closet. It’s her namesake, and she must never let anyone take it away from her. Aunt Grace doesn’t know she has it for fear she would rip it away from her on a forced path of closure and acceptance. But, Aunt Grace, how the FUCK ARE YOU SUPPOSED TO ACCEPT THAT YOUR MOTHER WAS FUCKING KILLED?

Aunt Grace knocks on the door, and Olive lets her in. Grace apologizes, but Olive knows it’s not her fault. She pats the bed for Grace to come and lie down with her. They stare at the ceiling while Aunt Grace tells old stories of Abagail and the crazy, stupid adventures they would have as kids. How Abagail fell in love so young and then had Olive. How Olive was such a tiny baby, born 3 months early, yet grew up to a be such a feisty, resilient, and brilliant young woman. The world seems to be spinning slower tonight with Aunt Grace sharing her memories about Olive’s mother. This whole year has seemed, to Olive, to be growing faster in time, as though the moon has been gravitating farther from this earth, and so she was spinning faster and faster until now. Now, it finally stops. The moon returns, and there is a brief moment of clarity for Olive. “Aunt Grace, do you ever feel like you’re stuck in one body, occupying just one space and it will never change? That people around you will continue to live freely but you will essentially never grow up to understand the world and what it has to offer? That you’re just a gawky kid from Queens who has lived the same day over and over again and nothing about it will ever change… “And that maybe you’re supposed to meet someone who will change your world? That there is somebody perfect out there, just for you and you’re supposed to spend eternity together, because he is the cosmic balance to your failures?” Aunt Grace doesn’t have an answer for her. So for the remainder of her 17th birthday, they lie together, with Olive’s head resting on her aunt’s shoulder. Olive feels safe for the first time in what seems like ages. She likes it and holds on to that feeling for as long as she can.

Tuesday, December 18, 2018 Jack

10:00am There’s a school trip to the Met to see the new exhibit on Art and Conspiracy, how everything is connected—public policy and the expression of artists who explored the hidden operations of power and the symbiotic suspicions between government and its citizens. However, Jack’s class is comprised of kids who spend their time vacationing in the Hampton’s and whose parents are politically powerful in the Republican party. Therefore, they aren’t interested in artists who unveil how the government is hidden in webs of deceit.

Olive

9:00am Aunt Grace wakes Olive. “Let’s go to the art museum today. C’mon girly, call off work this one time. We didn’t get to do anything for your birthday yesterday, and it’s the perfect day to go. It’s raining and you looove the Met. You can’t deny it.” Olive smiles and already knows the answer. All Aunt Grace had to do was say the word “Met” and Olive would be snapping on her shoes and out the door.

10:00am They arrive with a huge crowd of prep boys from the Academy down the street. Olive looks at them with disgust. “Look at them with their perfect hair and pocket squares in their suit jackets, so precise and perfect. Their lives so plain and planned—destined for wealth and authoritative power.”

Jack

10:38am Jack is drawn to the stunning expression of freed meaning and colorful revelations. He approaches an especially extraordinary depiction of Gerald Ford being pulled by a puppeteer behind the stock mark exchange. It’s exactly how he feels. Someone is pulling on him, his heart, and he can’t see who. He walks towards the art piece. There’s a tall white wall separating the room into two sides. He leans his right shoulder against the wall as he looks at the picture. He stops and feels the wall with his hand.

10:41am The hopeless romantic questions, “Is it her?” The woman who is tugging on his heart and pulling him along. The woman who has been dragging him around the city, pushing him to think that there is more of the world out there than what his school has taught him and his parent have preached to him. More than the uniform thought that people live such boring, regular lives, but that there are people who claim a dynamic life of excitement, complication, and vividness. These thoughts come flooding in; he can’t imagine anything else but that there is someone with just as beautiful a heart and complex a mind as him. A woman who will flip him upside down and change his world.

Olive

10:41am She stands with a white wall on her left side as she stares up at two black and white paintings. One is an alien, and she knows that’s exactly how she feels. An out of body experience occurs. She is lifted up out of her body. She feels pulled along, with increasing thoughts that there is more to this world, to this universe than this one place that she has stayed all her life. There is more out there, a reason her parents were killed by a drunk driver. A reason they left this earth and flew into the sky. There is a person who lives at this exact moment who is drawing her in, her heart, her mind. Then…

The Meantime

10:42am Nothing. A moment of tangency flees from the mind; the simple sample size of the original thought that the people of this world stand still and their lives are of no real meaning, just random commotion, comes back into focus. Jack turns to his left and walks away. Olive turns right and tells Aunt Grace she should leave.

10:43am A failed occhiolism: they never became aware of the smallness of their perspectives, in which they could never draw a meaningful conclusion about their worlds, and how they could have crossed paths and added to the complexities of the world’s great culture. A moment so innocuous, but with a chance for it marking the diversion in a new era of life. Like they just missed their cue. Two people who share a parallel story, harmonizing in what could have been a wilder experiment if she just turned the corner and crossed his path. But life is an unrepeatable anecdote. A universal flaw that the epiphanies of Jack and Olive were imperceptive and fleeting, until nothing was left but the echo of what might have been.

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