#awake my soul ch 10 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tranquilpetrichor · 9 months

Text

take a break | ch. 2

synopsis: your ankle injury is a pain in the ass, but you find an unexpected source of comfort in a developing friendship with a teammate.

cast: ni-ki (enhypen) x reader ft. gunwook (zb1), soul (p1harmony), more to come

genre: dancer!au, hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, f2l

wc: 2.6k (2,677)

chapter warnings: mentions of injury, cursing, one joke about wanting to shit from fear

a/n: holy shit i'm just as sleepy as yn is here please do not follow our example. praying there aren't many typos. the lesson here? don't write when sleepy.

prev | masterlist | next

finished with another day of school, you sit at home on your computer, attempting to do one more assignment so that you can think about something other than schoolwork.

eventually, you complete the last problem on the paper, and reward yourself by sitting on your bed. time to be lazy, you suppose.

you’re still surprised about your small, but meaningful interaction with ni-ki from the other day. shit, maybe your half-formed impression on his character, mostly formed by anecdotes from friends, was all wrong.

he’d actually texted you a couple times throughout the day, checking up on you and sending various videos (mostly dance ones) he enjoyed.

(of course, you always make sure to respond with texts expressing your gratitude. it was the least you could do for him.)

and you live vicariously through those videos, imagining that you're the one turning and flipping, even though your present physical state limits you from being able to fly like you knew you could.

it's painfully bittersweet to be so close to your craft, and yet so far. having feelings of jealousy seem inevitable.

patience, y/n. injuries don't heal overnight.

despite your sadness, you had to find the good somehow. it wasn't fair to mope around and be sad while everyone else worked hard. you decide to call your friend hikaru (who also happened to be on your dance team) and see how she was doing—hopefully she was available.

unsurprisingly, she took the call in a matter of seconds, her cheery voice ringing through the speaker.

"hi y/n! are you at home right now?"

you sigh. "yeah. just finished a nasty set of math problems, and i needed a break."

"ouch. well, you always know that i'll be here if you need anything! how's your ankle?"

you look over at your theraband, neatly situated next to your dance bag. "eh, i'm doing my best with physical therapy but not being able to dance is such a drag. at least the injury isn't getting worse."

"that's good! just keep resting—and i know you'll be shaking your head at me, i know you too well. but you need rest."

she pauses for a second or two, and then starts speaking again. "oh, yea, i'm curious. was that ni-ki talking with you the other day at practice?"

you readjust your sitting position and respond. "mhm. said he likes my notes and wants to talk to me more. i'm surprised, he's texted me a couple of times in these past 2 days alone and sent me dance videos—it's improved my mood quite a bit."

"ah, that's actually kinda cute," hikaru says.

"maybe he likes you," she adds afterwards, teasingly.

you roll your eyes, that girl always wants to be a matchmaker. "okay, hikaru. and pigs can fly."

even over the phone, you can picture her excited face. "i'm just saying! he really does seem to care about you."

another pause. "look, putting my teasing aside, i'm glad other people support you too, y/n. just don't ever forget it."

if she were here, you know you’d give her a proper hug right about now. "i won't. thanks for everything, bestie."

she laughs. "of course, and you can thank me by paying for a meal sometime."

with the typical banter between you two alive and well, you feel at least some sense of normalcy in your life.

the next day, you go to dance practice wishing you'd packed something for extra energy. you're yawning every few minutes and slapping yourself up to stay awake throughout the car ride to your studio. nevertheless, you show up 10 minutes early, notebook in hand, and prepare to get more work done.

you'd say you have a pretty good idea of everyone's habits when it came to arriving late, early or on the dot.

some people, like gunwook and hikaru, are already present, as you predicted beforehand, while others, like ni-ki, will show up about 2 minutes before practice is set to start. how he's comfortable doing that, you have no idea.

he waves to you shyly when he does come in, greeting you with a small "hi", and you wave back with a smile. almost everyone is present now, doing some pre-warmup stretches or just sitting and talking.

the booming voice of your director interrupts your thoughts. "alright, time for warmups!"

everyone shuffles around the room to find their happy spot as you stretch your arms gently toward the sky.

at one point, gunwook shoots you a concerned look that seems to ask “are you good?". however, you reassure him that you're fine with a thumbs up.

as you figure would be the case, he doesn't believe you and tosses you an extra energy bar during break, saying "you look as energetic as me during english class, go eat," before he goes to your director to ask a question.

you find your head threatening to slump forward, and you reach for your water, hoping it'll alleviate your drowsiness.

it helps a bit, and you just tell yourself that you'll get through this next hour, mostly because you're stubborn.

you watch the rest of the rehearsal without falling asleep, which you consider a win. but now you’re hungry, and a hungry y/n is never a fully productive one. you open your notebook, and realize just how uncharacteristically messy your notes were from today.

i should rewrite those... but that's for later.

after practice ends, you decide to get a snack at a nearby cafe that you like. since you can't drive as of right now (another thing you were annoyed about), it's your mom that takes you there.

you use this time to take a brief power nap, and although it's not the same as getting a proper night of sleep, it's something.

"be careful," your mom says, opening the door as you step out with your crutches. "i'll order something too—ugh. god knows i need a coffee."

you suppress a yawn and cautiously make your way over the curb. "alright, mom."

you enter the cafe, which isn't completely empty but also not too crowded. instinctively your eyes scan around, and you spot ni-ki at a table, already eating some type of dessert. he was here too?

you feel a little shy (mostly because you're with your mom) and avert your gaze, but he notices you, a look of surprise on his face.

"y/n?"

you look back at him, equally as surprised. "what a coincidence, didn't think i'd be seeing you here."

"uh, same. i've been here a couple times."

"you didn't tell me about this friend," your mom whispers, giving you a side eye. "i thought i finally knew about all of them."

you groan. telling your parents about stuff was always one of your least favorite things to do. "well, forgive me, but it was a recent friendship."

"oh, is that your mom?" ni-ki asks you politely.

"yep, it is."

"uh, hi ms. l/n. i'm nishimura riki, but everyone just calls me ni-ki," he says, giving her a small wave of the hand.

she smiles. "ah, nice to meet another friend of y/n's."

you look back and forth between the two. usually, your friends ended up meeting your parents when you already had a well-developed friendship, not when you had just started talking a few days ago.

the counter to order is empty, so you ask your mom if you can go over. "mom, what did you want to order? i can get it for you."

"it's alright. i'll order for you, i'm sure you'd want to talk with your friend, after all!"

your mouth widens slightly in surprise. "okay, then. i'll get the chocolate açaí bowl and a medium peach iced tea."

ah, parents. they lived to embarrass you sometimes, especially in front of people you knew.

well, it's not like you were in a rush to go anywhere. you carefully sit down across from ni-ki, setting your crutches behind your chair.

"so, how was practice for you today?" he asks.

you groan unintentionally. "honestly? i wanted to curl up and sleep. and then now i'm hungry."

he raises a single eyebrow. "bruh. you didn't bring anything to eat?"

"forgot. i usually remember, but i've felt off today."

okay, maybe you had slept a little late yesterday, but you didn't think it would be that much of a problem. it was necessary to prevent a backlog of tasks to do, you couldn't stand going to sleep knowing there were still things to complete.

ni-ki shrugs, and extends a spoon towards you. "i guess we all have our off days. oh yeah, do you want part of this pastry?"

you look at the chocolate-filled treat in front of you, your stomach doing more of the thinking than anything else. it couldn't hurt to eat a lot.

ugh, is there a word for being hungry and sleepy?

"oh," you respond rather abruptly, realizing you'd been thinking for a couple seconds too long. any longer, and you'd be off in dreamland. "sure. thanks again. chocolate is always a guilty pleasure of mine."

"no problem," he says with a tiny grin. "well... i'm curious. you like chocolate, but what do you think about mint chocolate?"

you pause to consider your answer. "it's alright. i wonder if anyone could convince me to order it, though. i usually just go for plain chocolate. why, are you the mint chocolate enjoyer?"

"of course. it's the superior ice cream flavor," he replies with a grin.

you shudder slightly. "people like you scare me."

just then, your mom comes back, setting a tray on the table. she grabs a croissant stored in a paper bag and her coffee, leaving the rest of the food for you.

"i'll be in the car, let me know if you need anything," she says, giving you a knowing glance that seemed to say 'i should leave you kids alone to have fun.'

"got it, i should be fine, but thank you."

you look back at her briefly as she walks towards the door, a sheepish grin on your face. "oh god, that was embarrassing. i didn't think you'd meet her so soon..."

"i know the feeling. whenever my parents asked to meet my friends, i almost wanted to shit in my pants from fear, haha. it's not like my friends are bad people, i didn't know if everyone would get along, you know."

you cackle, hoping the two employees working the counter don't care too much. "damn. that's some descriptive imagery..."

he scratches the back of his neck, probably out of embarrassment. "too much?"

you roll your eyes with a smile. "it was funny, so i'll let you off the hook."

swept up in conversation, you almost forget about the fact that you actually have more food to eat, but as always, your stomach serves as a reminder.

you stare at the bowl in front of you and pick up the spoon beside it. "oh yeah, i'd better dig in. this place has good food."

eager to satisfy your hunger, you start eating. the açaí bowl tastes as good as it usually did, but admittedly, all food seems to taste amazing when you're starving.

in any case, you're certainly in a better state of mind now. if you really thought about it, you could attribute part of it to food, and part of it to being here with a friend. the two of you continue to talk, and that's how you end up learning some more interesting facts about him.

these include things like his favorite color (black), his dog's name (bisco), and favorite season (spring). he even shows you some photos of bisco on his phone.

you can't help but comment. "aww, your dog is so cute! i wish i had one."

he laughs, swiping to a video of him playing with the dog.

"thanks, bisco's a little dumb sometimes, but adorable. he's growing pretty fast... time flies, i guess."

"it really does."

he's smiling at his photo gallery, and unintentionally, you find yourself smiling too. in the back of your mind, you make it your goal to meet bisco one day—you'd like to think you're popular with animals.

only when you finally look at your own phone do you realize how much time you've spent conversing with ni-ki—it's been over half an hour. by now, you've finished your food and drink, and feel ready to leave.

"i'm surprised my mom isn't yelling at me to come out," you say, carefully cleaning up the table. "although, i should probably go home anyways. where's your ride?"

"my sister's coming, she's actually a few minutes away." he holds up an app that you presume it's a location tracker. "yea, everyone in our family has this to keep track of where we are."

you nod, glancing at the moving dot that was indeed on a nearby street. "alright, i see. i just didn't want to leave you here alone."

he looks surprised, which you didn't quite expect, but a second later, his expression is nonchalant. "nah, i'll be fine, no worries."

"well, if you say so."

you stand up slowly, reaching for your crutches and positioning them so that you could start walking. even now, it was frustrating to think about how the smallest things, like a carpet or a slightly slippery floor, could impede your progress.

and usually, you'll power walk everywhere, but of course, you're in no state to do that just yet. you need to learn how to rely on yourself again and adapt to the situation.

ni-ki walks beside you silently, and somehow, you're less worried. of course, you're still cautious about walking, but it's nice to have someone near you in case of an emergency.

by the time you reach the door, ni-ki's already opened it. the act is surprising, but welcome nonetheless, considering how often people don't hold the door open anyways.

"thanks," you say with a smile.

"see you at practice?"

you nod, looking at your mom's car. "yeah, see you there. stay safe!"

"roger that," he says, as you make your way across the pavement.

you open the car door, swinging it as far wide as you can, and situate yourself against the car but facing away from it. like you learned from your physical therapist, you put both crutches in your right hand, holding on tightlyi

you reach out with your left hand, using the dashboard as support, and carefully lower yourself onto the car seat. you swing your left leg into the car, followed by your right.

at least i can do that on my own.

your mom greets you with a smile.

"well, you stayed out longer than i expected you to. but you're talking to people, that's good."

"mom, i'm not a hermit."

she starts up the car and slowly backs out of the parking space.

"i know, honey. but i sleep well at night knowing you have good friends. life's quite harsh sometimes, but you don't have to be alone in that struggle."

you nod in understanding. she definitely understands a lot more about life than you do.

if only you had your mom's wisdom all the time. you've never wanted to burden others with your problems, hoping that you could shoulder them yourself instead of having people take pity on you.

your mother had once said pride was your "double-edged sword". how right she was.

"yeah, ni-ki's been kind to me," you say, recalling all the texts he's sent you, how accommodating of your injury he's been.

although i'm not entirely sure why.

from the time you've spent with him, you see bits and pieces of the easygoing jokester he's known as, but you also have been exposed to his moments of sincerity. you wonder why you haven't tried to befriend him before.

maybe it'll take a while for you to understand him more, but that just made the thought of seeing him at practice all the more exciting.

feeling your eyes start to droop, you drift off to sleep. you'll think more about all this later.

taglist: @luvistqrzzz @restlessmaknae

#kflixnet #kwritersworldnet #enhypen x reader #enhypen scenarios #enhypen fluff #enhypen drabbles #enhypen angst #enhypen x y/n #enhypen fics #tranquilpetrichorfic

6 notes · View notes

sunspray-peak · 8 months

Text

Ch. 48: Spirit's Eve Pt. 1

SATURDAY - FALL 27

The first half of Achilles’ sleep had been untroubled. He had woken, judging by the height of the near-full moon, just past midnight under the weight of stiff cotton. Someone—either Shane or Alex, though it wasn’t too difficult to guess which of the two—must have retrieved the decorative throw blanket from his living room and draped it over him.

With a deep groan, Achilles had trudged his stiffened muscles back into the farmhouse where he had promptly collapsed into bed, having stayed awake just long enough to shove Voltaire to the side and flip on the heat settings of his mattress. But even the comforting warmth hadn’t been enough to ease the tension and sense of impending doom that had haunted this second, and significantly longer, half of his slumber. For it wasn’t until half past noon that he woke, jolting up from his bed with a cold sweat and a racing heart, disembodied words beating alongside the blood pounding in his ears.

You will never start anew.

You are will never be content.

You will never be happy.

It will never be enough.

Why are you here?

Who do you think you are?

However, any further details from the night’s affairs had faded into the wind with his dreams, leaving him with only a tightness that stretched across his forehead and a dull anxiety simmering at the base of his skull.

His troubles weren’t so easy to toss aside today. At least, not without Alex’s presence. It took several splashes of cool water before his hands would even stop shaking.

But it was Spirit’s Eve. It was his birthday. Surely he’d find himself a distraction easily enough…

Fuck. He needed a costume.

*****

After taking about 20 minutes to button his shirt before giving up 3/4 of the way in (damn hand), he hobbled down the gentle slope of his farm, wincing every second of the way, with his messenger bag slung across his shoulders.

If he was remembering Shane’s words from the night before correctly, Achilles was to bring a couple more pumpkins down to Pelican Town for the evening’s festivities. And there, waiting for him in the wheelbarrow atop a pre-stacked pile of the aforementioned pumpkins was a six pack of grapefruit sparkling water, a notepad, some crosswords, a pack of multicolored ballpoint pens, and a small card featuring a chicken in a party hat.

Scrawled on the inside were the words, “Happy Birthday. —Shane.”

“Well isn’t that nice,” Achilles murmured, flipping through the notepad. Farm animals had been illustrated in the corners of the the blank to-do list templates. Charming. A big step up from supermarket erotica.

*****

Given the lengths everyone had gone to hype up Spirit’s Eve (“Zuzu Times’ #1 Spirit’s Eve destination 10 years in the running!” Lewis had practically spat in his face, nearly frothing at the mouth in his zeal when he had stopped by the farmhouse the week before to request the generous pumpkin donation for the event), Achilles had expected all to be hustle and bustle in Pelican Town.

But it was quiet. Perfectly still, but for the cool breeze. And not a soul to be found.

Alarm bells immediately began ringing in Achilles’ head. Smoke clouded the corners of his vision and the town began to spin. Where were the spirits, were they coming—it was Spirit’s Eve, surely, where was his sword—his knees began to weaken as his left hand feverishly searched for the corner of his wheelbarrow, he just needed something to hold onto, something to ground him—

“Oh, hello dear!”

Tottering towards him was Evelyn, a bright pink witch’s hat already atop her head. George however, was costume-less, rolling alongside her with a stack of three yellow boxes in his lap and shouting out from across the square, “What are you doing down on the ground, boy? Everything all right?”

The smoke immediately began to clear from his sight, and with an uneasy breath, Achilles straightened himself up from his squat.

“Evelyn, George, it’s… good to see you. I’m fine, I was simply… tying my shoe…”

He gave his head an abrupt shake. What was wrong with him? See, everything was fine… he was fine…

As Alex’s grandparents continued to weave their way past a massive metal cage (empty for now— what on earth would that be for?), Achilles, now breathing slightly more steadily, took a minute to better survey the new decorations around town. In his idiotic, premature panic, he had failed to notice Pelican Town had been utterly transformed.

Huge shrubs, must’ve been nearly 12 feet tall, had been erected to the north by the park fountain. He had heard Abigail mention a haunted maze, it must’ve been that. To the east of that, right in front of the community center, he could just make out a tractor-led wagon parked amidst a cozy scatter of hay bales and pumpkins. Semi-spooky monsters, their faces twisted in silly scowls, had been painted on slabs of plywood and had been spread throughout the tractor path alongside smiling scarecrows.

In an effort to calm his still racing heart, Achilles moved south to to take a seat at one of the six orange tables in the square—later to be laden with Gus’ usual catering, no doubt—and gazed beyond the neighboring stage (lined with ginormous candles) towards the rest of town.

An actual carousel, complete with over two dozen red-eyed horses and fanged bats, had been erected behind Jodi’s home, while an elaborate green screen and photo booth backdrops had been set up behind Haley and Emily’s. More pumpkins, some carved, had been piled high on a rectangular table flanked with chairs behind the graveyard, now decorated with black and purple paper streamers. And beyond that, he could just make out the fluttering tops of red and white tents, like those from the Stardew Valley Fair earlier in the season.

Their familiar sight seemed to soothe his heart, and as Evelyn and George approached, he found the strength to stand and greet them.

See? The quiet was nothing to be alarmed about. Nothing unusual about the lack of hustle and bustle. The townsfolk must have risen early and spent the morning setting up. They were probably all taking a well deserved lunch break before the festivities, that was all…

“Happy Spirit’s Eve,” he said, receiving Evelyn’s hug as gently as his sore muscles would allow.

“Happy birthday, dear!” Evelyn patted his cheek. “I do hope you’re feeling all right… you look a bit pale. Oh, you and Abigail, you poor things… I’ve never liked those mines. George and I were just worried sick, weren’t we?”

George’s eyes drifted down to the open collar of Achilles’ lavender shirt and scowled.

“Oh!” With a small start, Evelyn covered her mouth with her hand. “But my apologies, dear, we shouldn’t pester you… now, Alex was looking for you, but we wanted to make sure you got your rest. Why don’t you drop by the house?”

“I just need to get these to Lewis—” Achilles tapped the 30 or so head-sized pumpkins sitting inside his wheelbarrow.

“Oh, you just leave these here, dear. I’ll speak with Lewis and make sure they end up where they’re supposed to. We’re just dropping these cookies off at the saloon, now—I’ve baked some extra for you, dear—snickerdoodle and vanilla, your favorites! Alex will know where they are, you just run along now.”

*****

“Hello, hello.”

Achilles peaked his head into the kitchen of 1 River Road just in time to see Alex jump from his chair as a pumpkin teetered on the dining table.

“Yoba, Achilles, you ever heard of knocking? I could’ve cut my finger off…” Alex dropped to all fours to retrieve the carving knife that must have clattered to the floor. “Could’ve murdered my dog…”

With moderate difficulty, Achilles chose to pointedly ignore the rather entrancing sight of Alex’s ass peaking out from under the blue tablecloth, and instead eased himself into the adjacent chair as Dusty plodded over for a head scratch. He reached for the pumpkin, tossing it gently in his good hand for a better look. “Carving contest?”

“There is one, but nah.” Alex reemerged, running a hand through his hair as he stood, and wiped the flat of the knife against his pant leg. “Just something to put outside the house for tonight. It’s a cat, see?”

“Not really.”

“Okay…”

“The town looks great,” said Achilles smoothly. No need to mention his silly little panic attack earlier… He set his messenger bag gently atop the table as Alex made for the sink.

“Yeah? It’ll look even better at night, Lewis spends a ton on these really cool candles every year. Should probably be spending that money on other things, but…”

“Gotta keep up Stardew’s winning streak of Zuzu Times’ #1 Spirit’s Eve celebration, or whatever the fuck it is somehow…”

“Ha, exactly. Was pretty much peeing himself with excitement this morning when he saw how many pumpkins Shane had brought over… have you seen him yet? He was looking for you.”

“Yeah, probably to try to poach more free pumpkins. I’m surprised he wasn’t waiting on my porch… But no. I haven’t seen anyone today, except your grandparents. And I have to say, I’m a little disappointed, was sort of expecting to wake up to a parade in my and Abigail’s honor now that we’re both out of the hospital and all.”

“I thought you weren’t in it for the glory,” Alex jabbed, returning to his seat and sliding a ceramic bowl filled with fruit and nuts across the table. “Here, have an orange. Vitamin C’s good for you.”

A tiny chance at glory.

Had to prove yourself to you.

Born for something bigger.

Born for something better.

Who do you think you are?

Alex must’ve noticed Achilles turn rigid at his words—or perhaps he had caught the shadow that had darkened Achilles’ eyes—for Alex lunged for an orange himself and quickly added, “Well, anyway, you can blame Harvey for your lack of a parade. He told folks to give you and Abigail space, let you guys rest—I mean, not that Abby listened, but ah well, when does she ever…

“Don’t worry, though, I know Lewis is planning something, you know how he is, pillar of the community this, representative of Stardew that, he wouldn’t pass on a chance like this to get the Valley in the news. You two will be the center of attention soon enough. Honestly, the dude probably just didn’t want to overshadow Spirit’s Eve, what with Zuzu Times’ #1 spot at stake and all…”

Achilles had stayed silent, distracted by the cold darkness that had begun to stir again within him, though he was still acutely aware of the concerned gaze Alex had tried to mask beneath his blabbering, forced-casual tone.

Yoba, what was his problem? The tension, the stress, the anxiety, the confusion. All had returned in a rush with Alex’s innocent jab, and why? What for? The mines were over. The Shadow King was gone.

Oh, but he knew what it was, didn’t he? What it had always been. His final meeting with the Shadow King had shone a light on what had already long been lying dormant deep within Achilles’ psyche. Nothing new. The old crew of problems, all reemerging, like maggots squirming out from the soil under the Spring sun, nauseating in their startling, naked clarity.

Fuck. Can’t just fucking relax, can’t you? What’s wrong with you?

Once again, the memory of the Shadow King’s voice loomed in his head.

Such a startling, disappointing lack of ability.

An absolutely inexplicable, burning flush began to creep up his neck, and he pressed his palms to his eyes to staunch any potential tears as Alex slid him a peeled orange. You are not going to fucking cry. Yoba, what was the matter with him…

“How are you feeling?” Not quite a whisper, but nevertheless Alex was subdued in tone.

Given only a stilted shrug for an answer, Alex again leapt to retrieve the orange where Achilles had left it on its plate and began ripping the segments apart.

“I don’t think anyone—outside of, like, Abby, Marlon, and Rasmodius, of course—really understands the, uh, stakes of what you had to do down there. No, stakes is the wrong word. Uh… well I guess just nobody really knows everything that you had to do. Sure, Abigail gave folks a run down yesterday but… I suppose that maybe wasn’t the full way of it.”

He slid the plate, now filled with ten separate little orange slices, back to Achilles.

“Like I said, Dr. Harvey said not to talk about it with you guys for now, so I’ll just say, well… You know you can talk to me, Ash. If anything’s ever on your mind. I don’t mean to pry, and you don’t have to say anything now. Or ever, if you’d rather talk to… someone else, I understand. But I just want to make sure you’re aware. That if you ever would like to talk to me, I’m… well, I’m here.”

Alex’s head was tilted somewhat endearingly to the side, as it was often apt to do, much like Dusty’s at that moment, too. But unlike the dog there was a glint in Alex’s eyes that seemed to demand a response.

Pull yourself together and say something so he’ll stop worrying.

Achilles raised his head from his (dry!) hands and forced himself to meet Alex’s gaze unobstructed.

“Right… thank you.”

Bravo. Really deserve an award for that one.

Achilles straightened himself up and shoved an orange slice into his mouth, more for something to do than anything else. “So your grandma mentioned you were looking for me…”

“Oh… oh! Well, yeah, of course—it’s-I mean, it’s your birthday. I wanted to say happy birthday! Give me a second, I’ll be right back.”

*****

Perhaps Alex was taking his sweet, sweet time on purpose to give Achilles a beat of privacy after that pathetic display of vulnerability. Achilles didn’t cry, however—had absolutely refused to—instead slowly (and rather grossly) sucking on orange slices and various nuts for five minutes until Alex finally returned, traipsing into the kitchen with a large, wrapped box between his hands.

“It’s from all of us—Elliott, Leah, Haley, Emily, Penny, and I that is—I wanted them to be here, too, but we weren’t sure when you’d stop by, so they told me to just go ahead.”

“Yoba, you all really didn’t need to…”

“Just shut up, man. It’s your birthday.”

With his left hand, Achilles delicately untied the ribbon before sliding his fingers gently below the tape. “You’re probably going to have to help me with this, I can’t bend any of the fingers on my right hand. Been a real pain in the ass, can’t even hold a pen…”

Alex had been watching his hands closely, likely in anticipation. “Well good thing you’ve got this now, isn’t it?” With none of Achilles’ subtlety, Alex ripped the wrapping paper off with one satisfying yank and tossed it on the floor.

“Oh my god.”

It was a typewriter. And not just any typewriter—an Émile Horst, much like the one he had owned six years ago. Convertible, functional as a traditional typewriter and as a keyboard to connect to his computer. An older model, released probably three or so years ago, but it didn’t matter. It was beautiful. It was perfect. And it was his.

“Fuck. Alex…”

He lightly traced the brand logo stamped in gold leaf the corner with his finger, his heart aching to open the box, to touch the keys, but he was too afraid to open it. It was simply too precious.

Alex, however, must’ve mistaken his hesitation for his fingers’ present incapabilities, and eagerly lifted the cardboard lid. “Here, I’ll help you get it out. Like I said, it’s from all of us. Well, I’ll be honest, it’s mostly from Elliott, he paid for like, half of it, so make sure you thank—”

“I don’t deserve this.”

Within a few seconds, Alex had managed to slide the giant block of styrofoam out from the box. A million tiny white pearls had scattered to the floor, clinging to each of their hands and hair; it looked almost like snow.

He paused from scratching at the tape to glance at Achilles. “What? Yes you do.”

“This is way too much—”

“Man, like I said, Elliott covered most of it—turns out the guy’s secretly rolling in dough, did you know that? I’ve no idea idea how—”

“I haven’t done anything to deserve—”

“Yoba, it’s not about—listen, man.” Alex shoved a nearby kitchen drawer closed, scissors now snipping furiously in hand. “It’s your birthday. You’ve had a right time lately, and you deserve to have a celebration. You deserve to feel… I don’t know. Happy? Do you feel happy?”

You will never be happy.

But in his head, the words, for the first time that day, fell flat.

“Yeah. I do.”

“We weren’t sure what color you’d like.” Alex cut easily through the tape and lifted the top piece of foam, setting it neatly on the ground. “I was leaning towards the blue like your old one, but Leah insisted this one was better. Figured it’d be smarter to trust her artsy eye on these things more… you haven’t got a favorite color, have you? Can’t believe I don’t know this already.”

Dusty had taken it upon himself to send the fallen styrofoam squeaking raucously down the hall as Achilles, switching places with Alex who had leapt after his dog, stepped forward for a better look.

“Eh, not really, I’m good with anything—”

“—Dusty, get back here, grandpa’s not gonna be happy—”

The typewriter was green. A rich, emerald green with gold keys that shone even under the plastic wrap.

“Sorry, what were you saying?” Alex had returned, furiously kissing the fat dog that was bouncing in his arms like a baby.

Achilles stumbled over his words as Alex watched him, green eyes wide and expectant. Yoba, it had to have been the exact same shade, or something near enough… his fingers seemed to have gone numb, and Achilles found that all he wanted in this moment was to touch him, as if that could restore the loss of feeling.

Stop that.

He quickly turned back to the typewriter.

“Oh, um. It’s green. Actually. My favorite color.” Even under the garish light of the kitchen, the gold in Alex’s eyes seemed to glimmer. “This is perfect. Thank you.”

He gave Alex a very brief, awkward hug.

“Now if you feel guilty again, just pretend this is a bribe to get you to turn down those job offers and stay in the Valley to write full time.”

Oof.

At this reminder, Achilles’ flush was immediately replaced by another unpleasant wave of nausea. In all the chaos of the past few days, he’d completely forgotten about the two job offers waiting for a response in Hyacinthia.

But the sudden panic was quickly pushed aside as Alex reached for Achilles’ wrist and withdrew a thick, yellow envelope from his back pocket.

“There’s also this.” With a bit of a flourish, he handed it over. “This is just from me, and it’s not really a gift, I was putting it together a while ago, but… yeah. Open it later.”

“Why?” Achilles asked, eyes narrowed as he held the envelope up against the fluorescent glow of the kitchen lamp. “That doesn’t sound suspicious at all.”

“Because you might get mad, and I don’t want you to get mad on your birthday.”

“I’m not going to get mad…” Achilles said, rolling his eyes, but he slid the envelope into the front pocket of his messenger bag. Which reminded him… “You know, I actually have something for you.”

“Yoba have mercy, that’s a joke right? It’s your birthday—”

“Hey, it’s tradition.” Achilles unzipped the top and removed a slim, white box, eight or so inches in length. “My parents always made me give my friends presents at my birthday party as a kid.”

“Oh I see. So what’d you get Elliott?”

“Okay, okay, you got me there… look, I saw an ad for this—I know, I hate myself for that, too—but it made me think of you because you said you were trying to practice reading, and what can I say? Capitalism got me. Obviously, I forgot to give it to you yesterday, but I bought this weeks ago, and look, man, it’s not even wrapped—”

“Someone needs to take your money away—”

Between bouts of laughter, Achilles raised his voice to drown out Alex’s protests. “Doing this makes me feel happy and someone told me that I deserve that, so—”

He handed it over once Alex freed Dusty from his grasp.

“It’s really less a gift for you, and more a gift for me, as it’s just another way for me to demonstrate my raging, incessant narcissism and unparalleled arrogance. I already took it out of the box to download some things, but I promise outside of that it’s not used.”

Alex gently unboxed the tablet as Achilles proceeded to reach over his shoulder and switch it on.

“It’s called an e-reader. You can download library books onto it, too—comics, whatever, it’s got color if you want it. And,” Achilles leaned over and tapped the screen, “you can change the font. There are a couple options, apparently this one can be helpful for dyslexia. Though I’m not a scientist, I just read an article, it could be garbage. But you can also change the background color and the text spacing and size and what not. Technology, am I right? Amazing stuff. You can also download audiobooks, too so you can listen and read along.

“Now, I’ve already done you the favor of downloading the critically reviewed, somewhat selling novel, Apparition on here already just for you.”

Alex tapped through the settings, his brows furrowed. “Achilles…”

“No pressure to read it, though. I also downloaded some other shit—put some of my favorite books on there, we have similar tastes. Also, see here, House of the Phoenix, so you can try to catch up before the new season starts. The audiobook’s fantastic, I listened to a bit. Unfortunately, there’s no audiobook for Apparition, because the masses just weren’t ready to handle it, but hey, whatever. Too ahead of my time, what can I say—”

Alex cut off his nervous rambling with a laugh, now scrolling through the fifteen some books Achilles had pre-purchased. “I guess you’ll just have to read it to me instead.” He held the tablet to his chest and took Achilles’ hand.“Thank you.”

*****

“So did you find yourself a costume? Probably should’ve asked you earlier, oops. Festival starts in about three hours.”

They had eaten a late lunch of leftover rice and beans with a side of birthday cookies (“I still can’t believe you like vanilla over chocolate”), and were now lounging in Alex’s meticulously clean bedroom with a couple hard seltzers and chips, (poorly) playing a two man game of Journey of the Prairie King on the tiny TV set atop the dresser.

“Oh yeah, actually.” Achilles set his controller on the floor and reached for his messenger bag. “Meant to show you. I’m pretty proud of it, given the last minute of it all—here, let me get your thoughts, you can tell me if it’s ‘good enough’ for this damn Valley’s standards—”

“No!” Alex, in his fervor, seized the bag from Achilles’ grasp, the sudden movement sending his own controller skidding across the rug into Dusty’s paws. “I can’t see it until tonight, remember? It’s tradition—”

“Alexander, you are ruining my birthday.”

“Yeah, and you’re ruining my Journey of the Prairie King stats, you’re awful—”

“I’m playing with one hand, bitch—”

“Ok, ok, fair enough—”

“Come on, Al. I need your expert guidance.”

“Ugh.” Alex relinquished the bag with an eye roll. “Fine. But we’ll have to pretend I knew nothing. Those are the rules…”

“Yeah, yeah…” Achilles unzipped the bag and withdrew a set of neatly folded clothes: his neon windbreaker, the bird-bedecked button down he had purchased with Haley what seemed like a lifetime ago, a pair of grey jeans, some high top sneakers. “To be honest, it should’ve come to me as soon as you mentioned having a costume—”

“No. Wait.”

“Oh no.” Achilles set down the grey tie he had pulled from an inside pocket. “Don’t tell me you decided to be Zedd Finch—no offense, I think I’m a little more Finch-y than you are, you’ve got too much of a resting friendly face—”

“No, no.” Alex scrambled up and bounded to his closet. “Also, what? Ok, wait, no, no, this is amazing. Look—”

Achilles’ stomach began to sink. If Alex was prepared to break the Valley’s (idiotic) secrecy statute, surely that could only mean…

“Tada!”

With a clumsy spin that nearly sent him tripping over the thick gold cape in his hands, Alex held his costume aloft. “I gave you a hint, didn’t I? The last time you visited, when you asked about the comic books on my desk—told you you’d see in a few days.”

“You made this?” Achilles said, taking a closer look, his worst fears confirmed. “Or did you buy it?”

“How dare you, of course I made it. Everyone in the Valley makes their costumes, it’s—”

“Tradition, I expect.” Achilles mouth twitched.

“Well… yes.”

“This is… this actually really fucking good.” Achilles ran his fingers along the blue, mesh-like fabric. This was sturdy stuff—high quality. Stardew Valley townsfolk really didn’t mess around with their Spirit’s Eve… The silver and gold lightning bolt insignia had been screen printed neatly in the center of the chest. “Color me impressed, I’ll be honest, I wouldn’t have expected this from you.”

“Rude af. Actually, okay, well…” Alex flung the costume across the back of his desk chair. “Ya got me. Emily helped… but she helps all of us. The tradition rules make a special exception for her.” He turned brightly back to Achilles, arms raised in triumph. “But look how perfect this is! Now we haven’t broken any rules, we can say we have a group costume!”

Achilles’ stomach twisted at the words. “Yeah… you haven’t… kept up with the Nimbus comics lately, have you? Or the TV show?”

“Not really, why? Oh no, is he problematic now?”

“No—at least, I don’t think so—”

“Does he have a new costume? I guess these comics are like 15 years old now, but we can call it vintage—”

“No, no. Or, I don’t know, I haven’t read any of the new ones either. I’m sure it doesn’t matter, I was just… curious…”

“Oh.” Alex bit his lip. “Um… do you not want to do a group costume? I mean, it’s a little late for me to switch mine out, but like, if you’re not picky you could wear one of my older ones. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to force anything on you—”

“No!” Fuck. You idiot. Alex must’ve mistaken Achilles’ bubbling anxiety for a lack of enthusiasm. “Sorry, no—I would love to. Really. I’m just… I think I’m still a little out of it, Alex. No, this will be really great.” He flashed a bright smile and lifted Alex’s costume from the chair, feigning a closer examination as he sorted through his own thoughts.

Oh, this would be good. Really good.

Or, rather, absolutely terrible. A group costume? More like a couples costume—

No. On second thought, it’d be good. Could be good. Right?

Fuuuuck.

By his own admission, Alex hadn’t kept up with the series, and Achilles was prepared to bet his farmhouse that Alex didn’t keep up with the trades, so clearly the man wasn’t aware of the recent… romantic development between Nimbus and Zedd Finch. For all Alex knew, the characters were just friends. Coworkers at the GDL Weather Station. As of the last issue Alex owned, Nimbus was off dating Meg Maizel. This would be fine. Perfectly fine.

It’s not like he had planned this—how the hell was Achilles supposed to know Alex would be dressing up as his childhood sexual awakening for Spirit’s Eve? Damn “tradition.” Stupid rules.

This would be fine. If anyone asked, he’d plead ignorance. And he doubted anyone would ask, Nimbus wasn’t even close to the most popular comic book character out there, there was a good chance the whole thing would fly under the radar.

But if someone did ask…

Well Alex wouldn’t care, would he? Surely he’d shrug it off, make a joke. He hadn’t ever indicated he took after George’s thoughts on same sex relationships. His best friend was Haley, for Yoba’s sake.

Then again, maybe he’d feel different if his own sexuality came into possible question. There were people like that—

No. Alex would be fine with it. Everything would be fine. Honestly, between the windbreaker and the button down, there was a good chance nobody would even realize Achilles was in costume, anyway. No cover to blow.

Yeah, this would be fine.

Just let yourself have fun… or, at least, try, won’t you? Chill out, man. It’s not a big deal…

Alex interrupted his silent monologue. “You know, kind of a perfect coincidence you just happened to have a jacket like Zedd’s, it’s not like it’s a common pattern.”

“Oh yeah, no, not a coincidence. My mom made it for me some years ago and specifically based it on Zedd’s jacket…” Six years ago, in fact, in an effort to cheer him up after Eddie Bloomsbury’s soul-crushing review. “I mentioned he was my favorite character growing up, right? She changed a few things, of course. Kept the colors, but stripped the symbols so I wouldn’t look like some nerd walking around in public. I thought maybe I could stop by Joja, though. Cut up some colored duct tape or something to make his bird logo, make it a little more obvious… thoughts?”

Or maybe a ‘little more obvious’ is going too far…

“Oh yes! And we can get glasses, too. Maybe just pop the lenses out—”

“I actually have glasses.”

“Wait, really?”

“Yeah. See?” He retrieved them from their case and popped them on, blinking away the immediate headache from their clash with his contacts. “They’re the most basic ass hipster plastic frames, but so are Zedd’s anyway. I just normally don’t leave the house with them.”

“Oh. Well they… look nice.”

Achilles sprang his glasses case shut with a snapand stood to make for the door.

“We could dye your hair blue, too. If you’re willing.” Alex pumped his fist and cried, “Full commitment to the character!”

Now that was definitely going too far. “I’m not bleaching my hair just for Spirit’s Eve, Alex.”

“We don’t have to dye it all, could just dye the grey bit right there.” Alex reached over and, in a gesture that sent goosebumps rising all along Achilles’ arms, ran his hand through Achilles’ hair. “Emily’s got blue dye, we could swing by. Come on!”

It’ll be fine. Just enjoy it.

*****

After grabbing some last minute materials from Joja, plus a handle of vodka (“It’s tradition.” “Alex, you say that word one more time today—”), they returned to the Mullner’s to grab the typewriter and Alex’s costume before heading back to Achilles’ farmhouse to get ready.

Evelyn and George must’ve returned while they were out. Alex’s grandma had changed into a pink, cupcake-shaped gown to match her witch’s hat, along with a pair of shimmering pink wings.

“Looking good, Evelyn!” Achilles grinned as they entered the home. She blushed, waving the words aside.

“How about me, how am I looking, young man?”

George rolled over, his wheelchair now hidden behind green painted dragon scales, complete with curls of fire.

“Very nice! Love the couples costume.”

Won’t be the only couples costume other there tonight…

The possibility of George learning about their costumes reawakened his anxiety, sending a nervous tremor back down Achilles’ spine. He couldn’t give two shits, but what if George thought it had been Alex’s idea… the old geezer wouldn’t like that, not one bit… fuck…

Then again, why the hell would George be familiar with the latest developments in the comic book world? All he ever watched were black and white westerns.

“For 60 years we’ve been matching!” George declared, wheeling over to his wife and patting her arm. “We’ve been making our way through fairy tales the past five years.” He shot Achilles a disparaging look. “Now what in the world are you supposed to be?”

“I’m not in costume yet…”

“We’re going to head out now, dears,” Evelyn said, balancing a tray of cookies under one arm. “Just last minute preparations—now, we’ll be helping Jodi with the pumpkin carving if you need us.”

“Hey, you should help Jodi with the pumpkin carving,” Achilles said, turning to Alex and struggling to keep his voice steady. “I mean, has she seen your cat jack o’ lantern?”

“Man, you shut your mouth—”

“Stay safe tonight, boys!”

With a cheery wave (from Evelyn only), Alex’s grandparents and Dusty, who was dressed in a red, faux-fur trimmed cape and little gold crown, headed out the front door.

“Stay safe?” Achilles asked, his brow raised just as Alex handed him one of two shot glass.

“Eh, it can get a little rowdy on Spirit’s Eve—I mean, not to the point where like, stuff gets damaged, I mean, this is Zuzu Times’ #1 Spirit’s Eve Carnival, but I mean… it’s pretty much an open bar, there’s a lot of drinking… yeah… drinking is pretty much… tradition. Now come on, festival starts in an hour, we should get going.”

*****

Achilles dyed his hair first—or at least, tried to, it was difficult to raise his elbows above his shoulders with the cut across his back, and unfortunately that was more or less required for him to wash his hair.

Elliott had shared with him Harvey’s notes, so he had been aware it’d likely take longer to heal, and continue to hurt more, than a normal cut. But even with that knowledge, he was consistently unprepared for the throbbing pain that was now lacing through his shoulders every two minutes or so.

Alex sauntered over and leaned against the door frame, a 4x4 inch square of bright green duct tape and scissors in his hands. “Shit. That looks really bad.”

“Yeah.” Achilles glanced behind him through the bathroom mirror and responded through gritted teeth. “It feels really bad.”

“You got medicine for it?”

“Should be on the bed,” he said with a wince. Yoba, why was it hurting so much? Likely he had opened it back up when showering…

Alex returned with a stool and set it on the floor with a gesture for Achilles to sit as he himself knelt on the tile.

“Holy shit.”

Directly under the bathroom light, it was now clear just how many bruises and cuts and burns were scattered across Achilles’ arms and chest.

“I didn’t realize how bad it all was.”

“Yeah? You should see Abigail,” Achilles groaned, accepting the mug of vodka Alex was offering him (he didn’t own shot glasses). “Or maybe not, that doesn’t sound very appropriate, does it…”

He tossed the drink back.

“Don’t happen to know a good masseuse, do you? Not for now, obviously, I’d rip right open and bleed out on the table, but later down the line… Figure you’d know a good one, professional athletes get them all the time, right?”

“Wouldn’t call myself a professional athlete again just yet… You know, though, I’ve been told I’m something of a good masseuse myself.”

That seemed plausible enough. Achilles eyed Alex’s gloved hands (ever the professional…), which had been confidently unwrapping a fresh length of gauze and whose fingers were now nimbly unscrewing the lid of the ointment Harvey had prescribed. Yeah, he could definitely believe that…

Picturing those hands rubbing his back, though…

Stop that!

“Right…” He hid his red face in his hands. “Know anyone else?”

“Woooow, okay. Turn around, please. Whew, that is one nasty cut.” A cold shiver ran from Achilles’ head to his toes as Alex applied the gel with a light hand. “Well, we’ve got two in-house masseuses at Orange Grove, they come in once a week on Wednesdays. But you could probably also find a place in Zuzu.”

Alex was quick and efficient, pinning the gauze neatly and finishing up with a gentle pat of Achilles’ damp hair.

“Hair dye time?”

“Why are you so excited about the hair dye?”

“I don’t know, it always looked fun to me whenever I watched Emily do it.”

Instead of waiting for Achilles to grab some gloves, Alex popped the plastic tab off the bottle and squeezed the electric blue dye onto his own fingers.

“You know what you’re doing?”

“Relax. Like I said, I’ve seen Emily do it a thousand times. Don’t worry, you’ll still look good, the rest of your hair’s so dark anyway, no one will notice if I mess up.” With his dye-less hand, he reached for Achilles’ chin, tilting it up slightly. “Anyway, you really think you can do a better job than me with that useless left hand of yours? Can’t even eat a salad.”

“Stop bullying me.”

Achilles closed his eyes as Alex slid his fingers through his hair. Fuck this felt nice… soft and slow… Alex’s touch was tender as he rubbed the dye into the grey strands, and Achilles felt another flush coming on as he imagined again what that touch might feel like elsewhere on his body.

Stop that! What’s wrong with you!

His brain didn’t stop, though, and he had no choice but to start silently reciting his multiplication tables when he felt his toes begin to curl.

“There. Boom. Now we wait uh, 30 minutes, I think,” Alex said, glancing at the bottle. “And then you can wash it out.”

“Right.”

“Another drink in the meantime?” Without waiting for a response, Alex stood and reached for the bottle of vodka he had left by the door.

Achilles eyed the remaining amount of liquor. It had decreased significantly since the last time he had seen it.“How many have you already had? Maybe you should slow down…”

“Relax, Ash, only four. Or five. I’m not actually sure…”

“Look, you’re already drunk.”

“Like hell I am.” Alex poured Achilles another shot. “But I will be. This is the one day of the year I’ll get drunk, so you better get ready. You know, you should also probably actually get drunk, if you plan on doing the maze… tradition… ”

*****

After two more shots, Achilles felt enough at ease to help Alex into his costume.

“Can’t believe you’re making me do this, in my invalid status. How would you have gotten into it without me?” he asked, zipping up the back one-handed before securing the gold cape to Alex’s shoulders. “Damn statute and all.”

“Oh, I can do it myself, I just figured, well, I have you here… makes things easier. How does it look?” Alex took a step back and turned, his long arms, now sleeved in blue and silver, spread wide to the sides.

Well. It was tight, that was for sure. Every muscle—and more—of his was evident under the fabric.

At least he could blame the blush on the alcohol this time, though in his current state, Alex wasn’t likely to notice anyway.

Forcing himself to look up, Achilles grinned. “You’re perf—it’s perfect. Seriously, you could put Colin van Os to shame, they should revive the show with you instead. ”

Alex eyes sparkled from above his grin—and, was that a faint blush of his own reddening his cheeks or a trick of the light? Or perhaps it was actually the alcohol… regardless, he shook his head with a chuckle. “Go wash your hair. I’ll unbutton your shirt for you, you… what’d you say? Invalid? Invalid? How do you pronounce it? Invalid…”

With a jolt, Achilles glanced down at the hoodie he had tossed on after Alex had bandaged him up, before realizing the man was pointing at his costume lain out on the bed. “You’re still planning on wearing this one, right? With the pink birds?”

“They’re finches, actually, rose finches—”

“Yeah, yeah, weather boy… hurry up, we’re running late.”

*****

Achilles sat in the corner of his shower and watched the blue drain along the grout between the pebbled floors.

Damn. Alex was hot.

That wasn’t anything new—he had known that from the first day they met, huddled under that bus stop escaping from the rain.

But, there was just something different about it all tonight. Something more than just the costume, though he was a picture perfect superhero, that couldn’t be denied. Some sort of sparkle in the air that was keeping Achilles, exhausted as he still was, awake with a silly, childish sort of glee.

Or maybe it was just his recent brush with death talking. That could do it, he’d read. A near death experience resulting in a fresh appreciation for all things in life…

Combine that with the five shots of 90 proof vodka he made you drink… yeah. Don’t kid yourself, you fool.

After a few minutes, he staggered out the shower to clumsily blow dry and style his hair one handed, leaving a rather aggressive trail of blue in his wake.

After tugging on his pants, he made his way back to the bedroom where he sat primly on his bed and watched Alex in the kitchen take what must’ve been his eighth shot.

“My dude, please take it easy, we’ve got a whole night ahead of us and the sun hasn’t even set.”

“It’s seting.” He pointed clumsily out the kitchen window. “Eh, don’t worry that was my last one for now.” Alex rinsed the glass in the sink and set it back in the cabinet before waving Achilles over.

Achilles’ now unbuttoned shirt in his hands, Alex found himself wincing once again at the sight of Achilles’ wound-laden body.

“What did this to you?” he murmured, lightly tracing his finger along one of the thinner cuts below Achilles’ collarbone as his eyes scrutinized the rest of Achilles’ chest.

“Shadow spirits,” Achilles responded tartly, fighting the urge to hide his body behind the windbreaker in his hands. “Suffice to say, wasn’t a great time down there.”

“No, I guess not…” Alex moved his hand to softly grip Achilles’ upper arm and absentmindedly thumbed his tattoo. “I’m sorry you had to go through that…”

Without any further prying, Alex began to carefully button Achilles’ shirt, starting from the bottom and ending perhaps one buttonhole sooner than Achilles would typically opt for on his own.

Before Achilles could slowly tug on his windbreaker, Alex once again swooped in to help, gently taking the lead to maneuver Achilles’ arms into the sleeves so that he wouldn’t have to raise them above his elbows.

“It feels like you’re my squire,” Achilles said, in a halfhearted attempt to break whatever the hell sort of tension was building in his brain. Yoba, the last time someone had a reason to help him into clothes… pity this couldn’t have been under similar circumstances…

Stop that!

“Oh, like I’d be the squire between the two of us. I should get to be the knight—I could beat you up, punk.” Alex scoffed and gave the orange drawstrings a hard yank (“Ow!”) before stepping back to admire his handiwork. “Ah shoot, forgot the tie— ”

Achilles, now the one wincing at the events at hand, had no choice but to allow Alex to continue dressing him—whereas he could’ve buttoned his shirt on his own had he really tried, albeit slowly, there was no way he would be able to tie his own tie one handed.

“Do you know how to—”

In a smooth motion, Alex roped the silver silk around Achilles’ next, pulling him slightly closer as he measured out the length.

“Don’t see you wearing ties often.” Achilles, hyperaware of Alex’s fingers this close to his throat, had jumped into small talk mode. “Where’d you learn to do it?”

“My mom’s funeral.”

“Ah—”

“I’m just kidding. Well, no, I’m not. But I’ve surprisingly had a lot of practice since then. Swim banquets and stuff. Been a bit, but muscle memory, you know…”Alex finished knotting the tie and slid his hands down from the collar. With a satisfied hurrah, he gave Achilles’ chest a quick pat.

And then, for no good reason at all except to apparently torture Achilles, he left his hand there.

Oh Yoba, hopefully Alex couldn’t feel his heart beating at 8 million miles per second, it was practically ballooning in size, he could felt it close to burst, hear it thundering in his ears—was this what a heart attack felt like, for his heart was surely under attack, this was Abigail’s birthday all over again—

“Your glasses, Ser Achilles Desrosiers?”

Achilles pulled his focus from Alex’s left earlobe.

“Pardon?”

“Glasses?”

“Oh yeah.” Achilles made for his bedroom. “Don’t worry, I can handle putting those on myself, thanks… be right back…”

He bought himself a minute, taking a seat on his bed and balancing a hand mirror on his knee as he popped out his contacts.

“You guys need to chill out,” he muttered to his eyeballs, both of which seemed suddenly determined to blink at a million miles per hour.

Perhaps, his subconscious seemed to think, he could just… blink away all this nebulous, antsy anxiety. Maybe, if he just blinked fast enough, his heart would take the hint and chill out.

He slipped on the black frames.

“Outside of the glasses and the hair, this is pretty much how I look every day, I don’t think anyone’s even going to think I’m wearing a costume. Not that folks likely know who Zedd Finch is, anyway.” Achilles gave a twirl, his pointer finger pressed against the bridge of his glasses, as he reentered the kitchen. “But you’re a fan. How do you think it looks?”

With a “hmm?” Alex glanced up from his phone, before deciding to set it atop the kitchen counter and take a step forward. He smiled warmly.

“I think you look very handsome, Achilles.”

Oh lord.

Achilles chose to (very intently) preoccupy himself with raking his hand repeatedly through the length of his hair. “Who the hell uses the word handsome like that, what are you, 80 years old?”

A very green eye roll. “Man, I was trying to give you a compliment—okay, I think you’re… I don’t know. Looking like a real snack. Is that better, is that what the kids say these days?”

“You should legally never be permitted to ever speak again. I think I just threw up. ”

“Way harsh. Well. I think you’re… hot as hell. How about that, huh? Better? Sheesh.” Alex swung his arm around Achilles shoulder and pulled him close as they walked to the front door. “Yoba, there’s really just no pleasing you, is there?”

Alex’s touch alone—never mind the artificial flattery, drunkly motivated as it likely was—should have brought yet another red hot prickle to his cheeks. But his last few words had doused Achilles’ flush as quickly as it had come.

You will never be satisfied.

You will never be content.

The memories from his encounter from the Shadow King, like those before, hit him like a brick, pulling him down, down, further down into that nauseating sea of unease that had been threatening to drown him this whole day.

What is wrong with you?

Get a hold of yourself —

Shouldn’t have drank, shouldn’t have put yourself in this position…

Should’ve been a fucking bedsheet ghost for Spirit’s Eve, what the hell are you doing, you’re playing with fire…

“Hey. You okay?” The sun had nearly set; the only light illuminating Alex’s concern now came from Achilles’ wan porch lamp. “I, uh... do think you’re good looking, Ash, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to turn it into a joke.”

“That’s not it, I… can take a joke, Alex.” Come on now. Relax. The rapid blinking had returned as he worked to slow his breathing as well. Alex’s hand had slid to the small of his back, the warm pressure calming. “Sheesh, I’m not that much a narcissist…”

“I don’t know, man…”

#llnks #stardew valley fanfic #my fic #sdv fanfic #sdv alex #stardew valley alex #alex sdv #stardew valley oc #sdv farmer

3 notes · View notes

genevievemd · 3 years

Text

The Year Between (15/?)

February 1-11, 2022 - Tolerate It

Book: Open Heart: Third Year Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Genevieve McClure) Word Count: 2358 Rating: T Category: , Extended Series: WIP, AU Series, Angst Trope(s): and they were fighting,

Summary: ~Series: Following their engagement, Ethan and Gen navigate the year between the ring and wedding. ~ Chapter: Their growing distance comes to a head.

Warnings: none

A/N: You can’t see me, but I’m wearing my Angst Queen™️ Crown.

February Part 1 ~ TYB Masterlist

Ch. 1 ~ Ch. 2 ~ Ch. 3 ~ Ch. 4 ~ Ch. 5 ~ Ch. 6 ~ Ch. 7 ~ Ch. 8 ~ Ch 9 ~ Ch. 10 ~ Ch. 11 ~ Ch. 12 ~ Ch. 13 ~ Ch. 14

Tuesday, February 1st

A month ago, they’d be here together. Holding hands, whispering to each other, stealing kisses between sips of coffee.

A month ago, Ethan would have jumped at the opportunity to have a quiet - as quiet as one can get in a coffee shop - moment with her.

But now… now the response she receives is a simple no, or Olivia already brought me coffee. No longer does Ethan drop everything to be with her. And it only adds fuel to her raging fire of doubt.

Doubt that Genevieve was certain she’d never have in regard to him. Because in even in their darkest moments, in retreats and resets, she never once doubted that he was the man she’d spend her life with.

He was her person; her best friend and soul mate.

But now he’s a ghost. A fleeting image she only sees in the early morning hours and late in the night.

And she’s never missed him more.

Thursday, February 3rd

Talk to him.

It’s the advice she’s gotten from everyone. Sienna, Natalie, even her cousin, Stephanie, have all said the same thing.

Talk to Ethan.

But it’s hard to talk to a man that isn’t there. One that forgot to mention he was actually going to have a bachelor party, despite is earlier refusal.

One that promised to be home in time for a late dinner, but hasn’t showed.

She stares at the digital clock on the stove.

11:23 PM

11:27 PM

11:30 PM

It’s another promise broken. Or maybe another lie.

Whatever it is, it makes the ache in her chest worsen. All Gen wanted was one night, a few hours where they could sit on the couch, where she could be in his arms and feel the ground at her feet again.

She’d be too afraid to talk to him, regardless of that being the sole reason she had asked if he’d be home for dinner. Because how do you tell the man you eloped with, the one you’re supposed to truly marry in exactly one hundred days, that you’re afraid he’ no longer in love with you. Afraid he’s changed his mind on the vision you shared for the future.

Gen would rather wait, suffer in silence until the right opportunity emerges and she feels confident enough to tell him.

Or perhaps, things will get better on their own, and she’ll never have to tell him about this brief moment in their life together where she feared for their future.

Gen looks up at the clock again, only fifteen minutes until midnight. With a defeated sigh, she gets up from the dining table and heads for their bedroom. Jenner is already settled at the foot of the bed, snuggled with his favorite toy.

She gets ready for bed, throwing on one of Ethan’s shirts instead of her usual pajamas. She hears the front door open as she settles between the high end sheets, hears him drop his briefcase and shuffle into their room.

“I didn’t think you’d be awake still.” Ethan stops in the doorway, his face emotionless. Cold.

“I wanted to wait for you.”

“Give me a minute to shower and change, and I’ll come to bed.” He heads for their closet, not waiting for her answer.

Gen watches him intently, cataloging every move he makes. In the moment he’s about to undo the last button of his shirt, she leaps from the bed, the need to feel his skin against hers, hear his heartbeat, overwhelming.

Ethan startles but quickly relaxes, drawing her closer.

“I love you.” She keeps her voice at a low whisper, afraid to get any louder so he doesn’t hear the crack in her voice.

Gen squeezes her eyes shut, tears prickling behind closed lips when Ethan cradles the back of her head.

“I love you, too, G.”

For a brief moment, she forgets her fears, the suspicions and doubts. For one singular moment, nothing exists but her and Ethan.

Thursday, February 10th

He looks nervous the entire elevator ride to their floor, when he grabs her hand to lead her to their door. Ethan wanted her to talk to him hours ago, finally discuss why she’s so afraid.

But she couldn’t do it at the hospital. They weren’t safe there. His office came with Olivia, and anywhere else would only lead to gossip.

Their home was the only safe place.

“Do you want to make dinner or talk first?” Ethan breaks the silence when they walk in the door, throwing his keys onto the counter.

“Whatever you want.”

“It doesn’t matter what I want, this is about you.”

She almost laughs in disbelief, looking up at the ceiling to find the strength needed to push forward. “That fact that you think this” She gestures between them, eyes now focused on his stormy and uncertain blue. “Is just about me is part of the problem.”

“From where I’m standing, G, everything is fine.”

“Everything is not fine! You -- how can they be when I don’t see you? You don’t talk to me, you don’t kiss me, we…” Gen takes a deep breath, moving into the living room.

The large windows cast shadows from the moonlight across the room, like little black holes she wishes she could fall into. Run away from inevitable destruction.

“Are you done with me? Is that what’s going on with you? You’re trying to find a way to tell me you changed your mind about marriage and kids?”

“Where is -- where did you come up with that?” Ethan looks at her, bewildered.

“Just answer the question.”

“If I changed my mind, we wouldn’t have eloped. We’re already married.”

“No, we’re not. Not really.”

The pain her words cause him is almost immediate. His face drains of color, his breath quickens.

“I seem to remember standing in front of the Eiffel Tower and giving you a damn ring. Was that not a wedding? It was up until this moment.”

“But it wasn’t legal. No matter how much we claim it was real, it wasn’t. Not really. But, maybe you wanted it that way all along.” She can feel the tears falling down her face. Every emotion she’s felt in the last month, breaking free from their cages.

“Are you kidding me, Genevieve? After everything we’ve been through, you think I want an out?”

“I don’t know!” She doesn’t mean to yell, to throw her hands up in fury. But she’s become unhinged, a host body for her disordered feelings. “I don’t know anything about you anymore, because you’re never here. We just exist in this house on completely different schedules. You see your assistant more than you see me.”

“You’re being hysterical. You honestly believe I’m having an affair with my assistant? That’s an insult, Gen, to me and to our relationship.”

“Of course I don’t! But you’re not even trying to understand where I’m coming from.”

“Because you’re completely out of your mind. How the hell did we go from believing we’d make it to our sixtieth anniversary, to this?”

“Easily. You. You cancelled every date, either at home or out. You cancel any other plans we have. You get annoyed when I try to talk about the wedding. You stopped coming home before I’m asleep and then leave before I’m awake. You never tell me l love you anymore, unless I say it first.” She takes a breath, desperate for air, to stop sounding like a blubbering fool. “I feel like I’m losing you, Ethan, and you don’t see it.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Genevieve.”

“Anything.” She steps forward, looking up at him with wide, pleading eyes. “Tell me the truth, something, please.”

He stands there, unmoving, eyes focused on her own. He doesn’t reach for her, doesn’t say a word. Leaving her in limbo, feeling like a fool.

After what feels like an eternity, Ethan takes a breath, only to deliver an almost fatal blow.

“I don’t have an answer, Gen, because I don’t see what you see. I don’t know how to help you right now.”

“That’s all you have?”

“I don’t… yes.”

“Okay.” Gen wipes the tears from her cheeks, stepping away from him. Every inch of new distance feels like a mile. Worse than the chasm that was already between them.

He doesn’t stop her from walking into the guest room, or call after her to try and talk things out. He simply lets her close the door.

And for the first time in almost a year, she willingly sleeps in a bed that isn’t theirs.

Friday, February 11th

7:10 AM

The last time he felt this close to losing her, there was a layer of plastic between them. She was the unintentional victim of an old vendetta. But this time --

This time, the only person Ethan can blame is himself.

He can’t even pinpoint the moment he became this man. The one who willingly lies to his wife’s face, the one who broke almost every vow he made to her. Every promise. The one who crushed the very heart he swore to protect.

Ethan had seen how anxious she’d become, knew she was falling apart, but kept ignoring it. Putting off the easy fix another day. He was so secure in what they have, he never stopped to think his own actions could cause her to doubt.

Doubt to the point where she thinks he’s having an affair.

Of all the things she said, that was the only falsehood. And he’d be lying if he said the accusation didn’t hurt.

He hasn’t thought of anyone else but Genevieve since the day they met. She’s been in his heart, owned his heart, for longer than she’d ever know. There was no one else for him, and there never would be.

Olivia was just one of many who flirted shamelessly, and just like he does with all the others, Ethan ignored it. Let the young woman make a fool out of herself.

Gen should have known that, no matter how many times he cancelled their plans or how often he saw his assistant, he would never cross the line. Would never hurt her in that way. In any way.

With a strangled sigh, he opens the door to Derry Roaster’s, getting in the long line to order his coffee.

He barely slept the night before. Instead, he went over every second of the last month. Every time he had the opportunity to fix he and Gen’s growing distance, and every time he brushed it off. Thought about his wife, alone in a bed on the other side of their home, no doubt crying because of his asininity.

Ethan had every intention of fixing the issues, fixing them, when morning came, but Gen was gone before he had the chance. Leaving him a note on the counter that she’d gone to work early.

So here he was, waiting in the morning rush, for coffee to help him get through the day.

He looks towards the back, as the line inches forward, to the spot he and Gen always occupy. Where they’ve shared countless kisses and gallons of coffee. Feeling the ache of her absence.

He needed to fix things, before she got any farther away.

Ethan quickly pulls out his phone, texting Olivia first to hold all his calls for the next hour, and then Genevieve. Asking her to meet him at Derry’s. That, for the first time, he’d be waiting for her. That he loves her, now and always.

His attention is pulled from his phone right when he presses “send”, hearing a collection of screams outside.

The reality of what’s about to happen hitting him like a ton of bricks.

He never quite understood when patients would say their life flashed before their eyes in the moments leading up to catastrophe.

But he gets it now, in the seconds between hearing the screeching tires and attempting to jump out of the way as a car crashes into the café, Ethan sees his life play out. Every instance of joy, every moment of regret. And most of all, the most painful part of those last few seconds, he sees Genevieve.

Her smile, her laugh, the first time they kissed, the night she declared her love for him, the day she moved in, when he proposed, their wedding in Paris. Every detail in perfect clarity.

And right at the end, before the world falls black, he sees the look on her face from ten long hours ago. The uncertainty, the heartbreak. The cry for help that he so carelessly ignored.

7:28 AM

She gets his text as she enters the elevator, reads his words over and over.

A part of her wants to meet him, hear him out, fix the problem. But she’s been waiting on him for weeks - years, in truth - so he can wait another day.

Sit in the same pool of agony that she’s been floating in.

Because if their new pattern has taught her anything, it’s that this apology will fade as quickly as it came. Just like the thousands of others she’s gotten since Ethan became chief.

So instead, she answers her page to the Emergency Room, focuses on work and not her mercurial relationship.

Gen isn’t surprised by the chaos as she walks through the doors, quickly maneuvering through the crowds to find Ines. Get whatever information she can.

“Thank god you answered.” Ines lets out a breath, moving herself and Gen out of the way as paramedics wheel in another patient. “It’s only going to get worse.”

“What happened, exactly?”

“You didn’t hear? Someone crashed into Derry Roasters, right in the middle of the morning rush. We’ve only just started getting…”

The world goes white as Ines’s words sink in. The mayhem of the E.R. becomes a blur of muffled voices. Her lungs constrict to the point of suffocation, her shaking hands dropping her pager to the floor.

He was there.

Ethan was there, waiting for her. And now he could be hurt or worse.

And it was all her fault.

A/N: *evil laughter*

(Tagging separately)

#ethan ramsey x mc #ethan x mc #open heart #open heart fanfiction #oph au #the year between #ethan x gen

121 notes · View notes

jerzwriter · 3 years

Note

Hello! If you're feeling up to it, I'd absolutely love to read a fic with Ethan and Casey, based on the prompt number 12 from the pairings+numbers prompts.

Thank you ❤️

-Mil

Book: Open Heart 1 - Ch 10 - Miami Beach

Pairing: Ethan x F!MC (Kaycee MacClennan)

Rating: Teen

Summary: In Miami, what Ethan says when he thinks Kaycee is sleeping.

Category: Fluff

Warnings: None

Words: 912

A/N: 12: Things you said when you thought I was asleep.

From the things you said prompt list

Hello! This was such a great topic! I hope you enjoy it!

3:30 AM. He exhaled and threw his phone back onto the floor in defeat.

Sleep was not going to be a luxury afforded to him this evening. When questioned about it tomorrow, he would claim that sleeping on the sofa was simply too uncomfortable, but even before the words left his mouth, he would know he was lying.

Sitting up, he glanced in the direction of the ample king-sized bed just ten feet away; he was careful not to let his gaze linger too long lest she woke and saw him stare. But a momentary glimpse was all that it took to undo any success he may have made in quelling the internal battle of longing and regret that had overtaken him. She looked like an angel, with the dim light of the room illuminating her pale skin and her golden locks splayed around her.

Am I a goddamned fool?

He could have been lying at her side. His body flush against hers, their limbs entangled under the sheets as they basked in pleasant exhaustion after finally giving in to their feelings for each other. But instead, he sat across the room alone on the sofa, wondering what he would say to her when she finally woke.

He had done the right thing. He stopped the speeding train, and he was glad because he was wrong to let it go as far as it had. Someone had to be responsible, and it should have been him.

An affair would have severe ramifications for both. As an established, powerful leader in the medical field, he could withstand such a blow; but she was just embarking on her career, and he could not allow it to capsize at the hands of his untamed desire. He would not be able to live with that. But could he live with this?

The physical longing was painful enough, but there was so much more. Never had he connected with anyone in this way, emotionally, intellectually, dare he say spiritually? Who was he? Who was she? No one had ever captivated him so. He craved her every day and dreamt of her every night, and now, she slept just ten feet away. Was he a hero or an utter fool?

“God damn it!” he said out loud, momentarily forgetting she could hear him. He quietly approached the bed to confirm that she was still asleep. The temptation to run his fingers through her hair was almost more than he could bear.

“My Rookie,” he whispered as a tender smile came to his lips, “I’m glad at least one of us gets to sleep tonight.”

He walked to the sliding glass doors that led to the balcony where it all began just hours ago. He slid the curtains over just enough to see the view. The beach was desolate at this hour, the surf pounded the shore, and the palm trees swayed gently in the wind, it felt as if this idyllic paradise existed solely for him, and it caused his heart to ache.

“How I wish you were awake with me right now, taking in this view. Outside of you, I’ve never seen anything more beautiful, and I wish we could share it together, then it would forever be ours.”

He let out a sad chuckle, “But, as with so many things, I’ll have to be content to take it in alone. You’re too special to have anything stolen from you Kaycee, I hope you understand my reasons. You’re just too important to me.”

He quietly slid the door open and took a seat on the balcony, staring into the horizon as if it held the answers to the questions his soul could not find.

Once she was confident that Ethan had left the room, Kaycee's eyes darted open. She remained motionless in bed, processing what she just overheard and weighing it against her own emotions. She longed to run to his side and tell him she had been awake. To plead with him to try because what they shared was worth any risk. But she knew his words were not meant for her consumption, and she did not want to cause him any more distress.

After a respectable amount of time passed, she slipped on a bathrobe and walked to the balcony to join him.

“Hi,” she said sheepishly.

“Hi,” he answered, his voice a low rumble. “Kaycee, I wanted to….”

“Shhh,” she said, “No worries, Ethan, we don’t have to talk about it. But, if it is OK, I’d love to sit here and watch the sunrise with you.”

He smiled gently, “I would like that.”

She took the seat next to him. Closing her eyes, she listened to the surf crash and deeply inhaled the salty breeze; she wanted her senses to be filled with this moment so that its memory would never escape her. Silently she sat back and together they watched the rising sun turn the sky from black to vibrant violet hues and, finally, to a cloudless azure blue.

Kaycee surreptitiously moved her hand towards Ethan’s and grazed her pinky against his. He was startled at first, and she worried that she made a poor decision. But then he smiled and gently took her hand. Together they took in the beauty that surrounded them in silence. Words were not necessary; they both knew that this sun, this view, this moment now belonged to them, and only them, for eternity.

Permatags: @adiehardfan @barbean @binny1985 @bluerosesbloom@brokenmemoriesblog @charisworld @chemist-ana @codykosuckmytoe @custaroonie @everybodyscreamsposts @izzyourresidentlawyer @jamespotterthefirst @jennieausten @kachrisberry @lady-calypso @liaromancewriter @mjlbwork @mm2305 @phoenixrising308 @schnitzelbutterfingers @secretaryunpaid @shewillreadyou @shygirl4295 @thegreentwin

@txemrn @txfledglingscribe @wanderingamongthewildflowers

OH Tags: @alina-yol-ramsey @chaoticchopshopheart @choicesaddict5 @coffeeheartaddict @dorisz @heleus @imma-too-many-fandoms @kat-tia801 @lucy-268 @panda9584 @parisa-kh @queencarb @swiminthegarden @youlookappropriate @choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

#open heart 1 #ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #ethan x casey #casey mactavish #choices fanfic #choices fanfic writers creations #fic of the week #asks #asks answered

126 notes · View notes

ikeromantic · 3 years

Photo

Peace

A Mitsuhide Akechi fanfic. This scene occurs just past the midpoint of Ch.10 in his main route. Approx. 1700 words of pure, uncut fluff!

First: Mitsuhide and the Maiden

Previous: Not an End

Mitsuhide swam up towards the light. His eyelids opened, heavy as stones. He was in a room, on a futon. A lantern sat nearby, throwing off a warm glow. His bloodstained clothes were gone, replaced by a clean nightrobe. And someone had freshly bandaged his wounds. Hideyoshi?

No. The mother-hen wasn’t there, but his little mouse sat on the floor beside him, her chin resting against her chest. Her eyes moved under shuttered lashes. Her breath came in little gasps. A nightmare, perhaps? Not surprising given the battle she’d survived.

“What hells I have put you through,” he said softly. His mouth was so dry the words were barely a whisper. Still, it was enough to jolt his beauty awake.

She turned, eyes wide and damp with the remnants of her tears. “Mitsuhide? You’re awake?” Her smile at his nod was like the sun. Without being asked, she put a cup to his lips and helped him drink.

The water slid down his throat, a cool burn against smoke-raw flesh. He pushed the cup away and sighed. “It seems I passed out in the middle of our discussion. Have I slept for long?”

“Not long, no. We’re still in Honno-ji. Hideyoshi helped me put you to bed.” Her gaze was heavy with worry.

Mitsuhide chuckled, which almost turned into a cough. “After all his rage, he still tucked me in? It seems he will be a mother hen to the end.”

This brought a smile to her face. She looked down, her hair falling forward to hide her laugh. “He kept lecturing me on how to bandage you properly and wouldn’t leave until you were clean, dressed, and in bed.”

He sat up, tucking her hair back from her face so that he could see her better. She was beautiful. It almost hurt to be so close to her again, after telling himself he could let her go.

“You should lay back down. Everyone else is still asleep. The sun won’t be up for a few hours yet.”

“Mmm. If I close my eyes, I won’t be able to see you.” His fingertips moved from her hair to her cheek. Soft skin. Warm. There was such joy in these simple touches.

His little mouse blushed.

“I am so glad you are unharmed. I cannot tell you how worried I was,” he said earnestly.

She tried to blink her tears away before they could fall, but they escaped to trickle down her cheeks.

“You still cry so easily.” Mitsuhide wiped them away with the pad of his thumb.

“Only around you . . .”

He wished that was not true. But he couldn’t deny being the source of her tears. Were he a more romantic man, he thought, he would promise her only joy. He would kiss the tears from her face and swear to never make her cry again. But that would be a lie. He had no sweet words, only the ache in his chest.

She took his hand, her warm fingers stroking his bruised knuckles gently. “You are so - so reckless! Did you even sleep since you escaped the dungeon in Azuchi? Or stop to eat?”

Mitsuhide raised an eyebrow. “I took sufficient care of myself to finish my mission.”

“Oh?” She met his gaze, her eyes red rimmed from her anxiety and sleepless nights following after him. “People who take sufficient care of themselves don’t pass out mid-conversation.”

He hadn’t considered how his peril might hurt her. That she would worry for him like this. He didn’t have a ready reply.

She took a deep, shaky breath. “You knew what the shogun planned didn’t you? Before anyone else? But . . . why didn’t you tell Nobunaga at least? Or warned Hideyoshi?”

“Little one.” His gentle tone quieted her. “It wasn’t that kind of fight. Nobunaga is not a man to strike from the shadows. Neither is Hideyoshi.” He smiled. “And if they tried to battle Ashikaga on their terms, he would have won.”

“So you took it all on yourself? Alone?”

“That is -”

She narrowed her eyes. “If you lie to me, I will leave you here alone in this room for the rest of the night.”

Mitsuhide chuckled. “I can see that you’ve learned my lessons well. Fine.” He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “I couldn’t tell anyone what I knew, even if I could trust them to let me handle this in my own way. The Oda forces had an infiltrator. A spy close enough to Nobunaga to know the contents of our private meetings. The list of suspects was short but . . . I could not be certain who was involved or if I’d identified them all. So it made more sense to simply move forward with my plans on my own.”

“So you really thought you couldn’t talk to anyone?” His little mouse raised an eyebrow. “You could have told Hideyoshi when he came to visit you in the dungeon. There weren’t any spies around then.”

Mitsuhide remembered that visit well. Hideyoshi’s pain at betrayal. His anger. He wore his emotions openly, and his actions followed suit. “No . . . Hideyoshi is terrible with subterfuge. He is a man of honesty and people love him for that. He must remain in the light. And the light suits him well.”

She watched him with wide-eyes, clearly thinking over his reply. “And there was never a moment you might have had Nobunaga alone? At least to tell him your plans?”

“Ah. Perhaps I could have,” Mitushide nodded. “But I chose not to. Nobunaga has bloodied his hands time and again. Gone to great lengths for his dreams of unification.” He tapped a finger to his chest. “But it was my actions at Enryaku-ji that earned him the sobriquet ‘Devil King’. I did not want to see that happen again. I will bear the cost of my own actions.”

“Well, but what about -”

Mitsuhide shook his head. “No, there is no one I would share the burden with. And none suited to this work, regardless.” He smiled and gave a slight shrug. He thought of explaining further, but his eyelids felt so heavy and his body was aching to lie down again.

His little mouse looked as if she might cry again. “But you’ve sacrificed everything. For what?”

“Peace.” He sighed. “Before Nobunaga, hundreds of petty warlords fought and wasted the lives of their vassals for nothing but pride. People starved. Life was a coin to be spent, and lower class lives were spent cheaply.” Mitsuhide did not want to tell her what it looked like to clear the streets of bodies dead from starvation. Nor to ride through towns where the only men left were ancient and toothless or still suckling because the rest had died in war. He fixed his gaze on her. “That kind of chaos must never be allowed to happen again.”

She leaned forward to rest her head on his chest. “I - I think I understand.”

He settled an arm around her, taking comfort from her touch. “Little one . . . I am not a kind man or a good one. I do these things for my own purposes. Don’t think of this as a noble sacrifice.”

“Mmm, you say that but . . . you won’t even get to see this peace you’re working for. You will die first. And people will curse your name. Even your friends. No one will know what you did. That sounds pretty noble to me.”

“If you say so, little mouse.” He kissed the top of her head. Her words were so sweet. Just as she was. He wished they were true. Mitsuhide settled his chin atop her head and pulled her closer. “You know. When I left Azuchi, I wanted to say goodbye to you. You have a home to return to. A life that is safe and good. But I couldn’t do it. I wasn’t able to lie to my own heart. There is no one I treasure more . . .” Speaking the truth to her felt right. Like freedom after a lifetime in shackles, yet he could barely get the words out.

She looked up at him, nestled in his arms as if she belonged there.

Mitsuhide wanted to kiss her, but he held himself back. “I cannot change who I am and I would not. Yet, despite all my sins . . . my faults . . . I want you - I want you to stay with me.” The words tumbled from his lips, heedless of the consequences.

His little one gave him a slow, warm smile. It lit her from within, and somehow made her even more beautiful. “I never want to leave you Mitsuhide. I don’t want to be apart.”

“I hope you know, it is too late for you now that you’ve said this. I won’t let you go again.” He leaned down to capture her lips in a kiss so deep he felt it in his soul. There was no release from a love like this, he knew, and yet, he didn’t want to be released. He wanted more.

When he broke the kiss, she was pink cheeked, lips red and swollen. A look that stirred him and made his aching body want more than it could handle. He could see the desire in her heavy-lidded gaze too.

“Y-you should probably . . . get some rest,” she said unconvincingly.

“I should,” he nodded, and kissed her again. His hand slid beneath her kimono, caressing her skin lightly. He wanted to pull it from her. To see her . . . and worship every inch of her with kisses. He might have, had his vision not burst with little sparkling lights, darkness framing the edges. Mitsuhide released her regretfully.

She pulled away from him with great reluctance, slowly adjusting her clothes. “You ah, you need to- to recover.”

“I would sleep better with you beside me.” He wasn’t at all sure he would but he wanted her close. Even if it was a sweet self torment.

His little one smiled. “I told you I wouldn’t leave your side.”

Mitsuhide scooted over and she snuggled in beside him. It was as wonderful - and terrible - as he’d feared. She smelled wonderful, and he could feel every inch of her pressed tight to him. The thin layer of cloth did nothing to hide her curves or her softness.

“I love you,” she told him sleepily.

“I know.” He kissed the edge of her ear. “I love you too.”

Sleep took him by surprise, hidden in the rhythmic breath and comforting warmth of his love.

Next: Reunion

#ikemen sengoku #ikesen mitsuhide #ikemen mitsuhide #Mitsuhide Akechi #otome guys #otome #fanfiction #fanfic #fluff

116 notes · View notes

aftgficrec · 3 years

Note

Hey, can you find me fics of the whole thanksgiving-Drake fiasco but in Andrew or Kevin’s POV. Preferably Andrew. You guys are really amazing 😫

There are a few WIPs recreating the whole series from Andrew’s pov, find them here. Some fics from that ask are listed below, and the others have not yet reached that scene.

‘Cross the Board and Crown Yourself Queen’ here is Kevin’s pov of AFTG, but again, has not yet covered Drake. You can subscribe to these fics or their authors to catch any updates.

There are not a lot of fics that are exactly what you’re looking for. However, there are many previous recs that include an attack by Drake or Andrew’s childhood with him or living with/working through that trauma in a variety of settings/povs.

Some of these carry heavy trigger warnings. - A

Also see:

The new fics recced at the bottom of Andrew bad days/trauma here

‘Monster’ here

‘Pickaxe’ here

You may also like:

Andrew breaks down here

Andrew dealing with past sexual assault here

Andrew talks to Cass post-canon here

Andrew in foster care here

Neil kills Drake here

Foxes react to Andrew’s past here

Nicky and Thanksgiving here (‘Thanks for nothing’ is Kevin’s pov)

Wymack’s pov: ‘Yes, Coach’ Ch 8 here and ‘I can’t carry this anymore’ here

‘“I have contemplated becoming a hermit.”’ here

‘both hungry and awake’ here

‘bare: a fox opera’ (since updated) here

‘Hidden in the Folds of Your Wings’ here

‘Minyards' Magical Mischief’ here

‘Tragic by association’ here

‘Oakland’ (since updated) here

‘Fire Burns;Underneath My Skin’ here

‘A boy made of lies and promises’ and ‘Promise of an Unbroken Boy’ (since updated) here

‘Marked’ here

‘There are bad days and then there are good days’ here

‘Therapy session,’ ‘Bottom Line,’ and ‘Ink Stains and Paper Cuts’ here

‘These Days’ and ‘Oh Brother Of Mine’ here

‘Love, Loved, lover(s)’ here

‘The Bodyguard’ here

‘Apartment 314’ here

‘Twinyard Bonding’ and ’I just want…’ here

‘Normal Isn't a Virtue’ here

‘our veins are busy (but my heart's in atrophy).’ here

‘What it takes to survive’ (now complete) here

Aaron’s pov:

‘Crux’ here

‘met you in the dark (you lit me up)’ here

‘Fucked up by the blame’ here

‘Aaron Minyard Vs. Calculus’ here

‘Aaron having nightmares’ here

‘Shards of Glass’ here

‘All My Barbed Parts’ here

Aaron’s trial:

Aaron loses the trial here

‘Not all wins can be celebrated’ here

’No Hope in Solitude’ here

‘Don’t Mind Us’ and ‘horns are broken halos’ here

‘“Can you just hold my hand?”’ here

‘I’ve been silent for so long’ here

‘aaron & neil talking after aaron’s trial’ here

‘Tumblr Headcanons...Ch 8′ here

‘The Kandreil Continuation’ Part 1 here

‘Another Minyard’ here

‘The Aftermath’ here

‘there’s a niche in his chest…’ here

‘Sophomore Slump’ (since updated) Ch 8, ‘Trust Fall…’ (Ch 10 is Aaron’s trial but Andrew deals with healing from Drake throughout), and ‘Lessons in Cartography’ Ch 8 here

growing up it made me numb by felinedetached [Rated M, 2037 Words, Incomplete, Updated 2018]

Andrew has never been the kind of person to break easily. He knows his limits intimately; knows what it would take to stretch them, what it would take to break them, and knows what it would take to utterly bulldoze them. Luther and Drake did the third, as a pair; stretching and breaking and bulldozing the limits of his patience, his calm, his restraint. Together, they take family and make it synonymous with poison, and Andrew hates them all the more for it. Drake takes laughter and physical contact and twists them both into something ugly, while Luther takes truth and honesty and belief and turns it into a commodity—something that he owes everyone, but does not believe anyone will give him.

tw: rape, tw: implied/referenced incest, tw: implied/referenced csa, tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: canonical character death, tw: blood, tw: non-consensual restraint, tw: trauma reenactment, tw: abuse of power, tw: psychological abuse

Lost Boy by eyes_like_a_miracle [Rated M, 6401 Words, Complete, 2016]

A look through Andrew's eyes during some of the major events in the series.

Since I did use scenes and quotes from the series, I'm going to put a disclaimer on this one: All copyright rights to the characters, dialogue, and canon events belong solely to Nora Sakavic. I don't own any of it; please don't sue me. I'm broke.

tw: rape, tw: canon typical violence, tw: implied/referenced self harm, tw: canonical character death, tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: ptsd, tw: suicidal thoughts, tw: alcohol, tw: blood, tw: trauma reenactment, tw: psychological abuse, tw: abuse of power

never fallen (from quite this high) by crystalcrow [Rated M, 225131 Words, Incomplete, Updated April 2021]

For most people, a problem is a matter or situation regarded as unwelcome or harmful that needs to be dealt with or overcome.

For Andrew Minyard, it’s the word that fits Neil Josten with a capital P.

(or, aftg from andrew’s pov)

tw: rape, tw: alcohol, tw: canon typical violence, tw: homophobia, tw: homophobic slur, tw: drugs. tw: non-consensual drug use, tw: implied/referenced csa, tw: blood, tw: canonical character death, tw: vomit, tw: psychological abuse, tw: withdrawal, tw: implied/referenced self harm, tw: implied/referenced abuse, tw: implied/referenced child abuse

[Un]broken by City_Of_Paper_And_Ink [Rated M, 7126 words, complete, 2020]

These are eight small, and big, scenes that span the three books but I wanted them to be in Andrew's POV because his mind is so interesting to be in. The first one starts out with Drake but I really thought that adding it in gives the rest of the stories some sort of backbone to how Andrew is, and the scene isn't long because I couldn't do that to myself. Also the song lyrics for each scene is Broken by Anson Seabra!

tw: implied/referenced rape/non-con, tw: violence, tw: implied/referenced self-harm

The Tell of a Truth by bitwicre [Rated G, 1433 words, complete, 2018]

One shot of the scene where Neil shows Andrew his scars in The King’s Men from Andrew’s POV. Just a quick character study of Andrews character and how he sees Neil.

tw: scars

Scars by all_my_dreams_and_ambitions [Rated M, 3098 Words, Complete 2018]

An AU where the injuries of one soul mate appears on the skin of the other, but they aren't as severe. This is a oneshot focusing on Andrew's take on what happened to Neil in Baltimore after they played the Bearcats.

When he’d been younger, Andrew had never thought himself worthy of a soul mate. His own mother hadn’t wanted him, let alone a random stranger. Then, he felt the sharp pain of a knife on his ribs. A few months later, the hot press of an iron left him blistered and red under his shirt. Years later, the shape of a bullet hole appeared in his shoulder and that’s when he realized he’d been wrong the whole time.

tw: violence, tw: implied/referenced rape/non-con, tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: implied/referenced self harm, tw: scars

Soulmates who can feel each other’s pain by @nickyhenmick [Tumblr Fic, 2017]

Anonymous said:

Soulmates who can feel each other’s pain for Andreil <3<3

tw: canon typical violence, tw: implied/referenced rape/non-con

Art

Trust Abram. art by @ikusabas and @rudy--steiner

“Then don’t trust ‘Neil’...Trust me.” art by @leefyetime

the aftermath of drake’s death edit by @scodders (tw: blood/gore)

47 notes · View notes

btsslowburnfic · 4 years

Text

Born to be Yours Ch. 10

Story Summary: For Namjoon, the moment he set his sights on being the #1 rapper, he pushed the symbol to the side and hated it. Love should be chosen, not forced on you. He didn’t believe in fate and this mark on his wrist was a big “fuck you” to all that.

Chapter summary: Life after you and RM part ways goes back to normal until an accident changes everything

Previous chapters found here: Chapter 9

You are surprised that life does in fact go back to normal. You and Xavier make up and get back to working with smaller local groups after the awards season ends. Things with you and Ben get back to normal; you become a master of using heavy foundation on your soulmark when you’re at home. The summer tour is amazing. You and Xavier traveled to 32 states in 4 months. You find yourself following Twitter and Weverse to see what RM is up to. And you sometimes found yourself thinking about that night the two of you spent together. You mostly try to push it out of your mind though. Even though you told Xavier and he randomly brings it up.

“Right here? On this desk!?!” he asks, running his hands over the surface.

“Yes. And don’t do that, it’s weird and gross.”

“How was it? Describe it to me again.”

You chuckle a bit and roll your eyes, “No. I told you once so I could get it out of my system.”

“Ughhh you’re so boring.” he whines playfully.

“Shouldn’t you be reprimanding me about being a terrible cheating slut?” you raise an eyebrow.

“No. I ship that shit.” he responds, sipping on a smoothie. “Have you eaten yet?” he asks

You laugh and look through your phone. “No, I had a zoom meeting with Gina at noon and then I covered spinning class.” You press some buttons on your screen. “There. I just ordered. I’ll see you in a while.” You stand up and put your flip flops back on.

“Sounds good. I’ll see you in pilates tonight.”

You toss your bag over your shoulder and put your sunglasses on as you step out the door. You look both ways and start to cross the street as you hear a screeching sound. The next thing you hear and feel is the sickening crunch of bone hitting glass. Tires screeching away and then everything is black.

----------------

Namjoon occasionally finds himself thinking about you. Mostly when he accidentally slams his body into a door frame or cuts his finger. He always says he’s sorry and then kind of feels like an idiot for apologizing to no one. He also thinks about the night the two of you shared together quite often and had made Jhope send him those photos he took.

He’s happy to be working and on tour again. It’s been a fun summer. They wrapped up the Asia portion of their journey and were well into Europe now. As usual, the filming crew was in the green room as they were preparing for their second night at Wembley. The first night had been amazing. He couldn’t think of anything that made him happier than being in front of ARMY, especially when they were singing along to the songs he wrote. He smiled as he scrolled through his phone while he had his makeup touched up.

“10 minutes, 10 minutes.” Management called out.

“Alright guys, let’s get it.” he yells through the green room.

They gather around and do their chant. The minute they step out of the green room they can hear the fans roaring and cheering along to the pre-show videos. They each go to their respective starting positions and wait to hear the signal.

They open quick and fast with “On” and the crowd is absolutely pumped. They begin their second song and will then introduce themselves. The music for “Dionysus” begins to play and the elaborate set pieces are added throughout the song. They are almost to the end of Dionysus when RM goes down hard. He falls off the table. People are gasping, Jin runs over and signals to the staff on the side of the stage that something is very wrong. ARMY and BTS are freaking out. The visual director quickly puts a message onto the big screens to please wait a moment. The medical staff immediately takes the lift up to the main backstage area. The obvious damage is a cut on his arm that took the brunt of the fall from the table, but that gash can’t account for the fact that he’s unconscious and breathing shallowly. There is a rush of oxygen masks and people yelling. Jimin and JK start crying, the other guys are freaked out about the show and what to do next. Jin rises to the occasion by asking if they should go ahead and skip to his and Suga’s solos until there is more information. A decision is quickly made to begin the solo portions. The two of them quickly change costumes and prepare to go out. An ambulance ends up needing to be called. The guys decide that Namjoon would want the show to go on and so they do. It’s ugly and weird and they are unfocused but they manage through it. ARMY is crying for RM because they know it’s bad when he doesn’t come back on stage. They skip the ments and encore and the guys are immediately loaded into vans and transported to the private health facility that he’s been taken to.

The staff escorts the six of them to a room where they wait for a doctor to come and speak to them. A translator is located and brought in as well.

“What happened? Did anybody see what happened before he fell?” Hoseok asks.

“He was fine. I didn’t notice anything strange.” Tae responds.

“They took video and showed the doctor,”Yoongi adds, having overheard the staff on the way there.

After a few minutes a doctor comes in. “Hello Gentleman. Your friend is in good hands here, and is stable.” she reassures them.

There is a collective sigh from the group as they hear this news.

“However, we aren’t sure what’s causing this condition. There is no evidence of an aneurysm on the CT scan and the video doesn't show any seizure-like activity prior to the fall. His heart is in excellent shape as well as his lungs. At this point we are running more tests but we do need to ask you all some questions here. Please answer honestly. Does your friend use any drugs? Even maybe extra prescription medication?”

It takes a few seconds for the translator to relay the message and the guys’ reactions range from anger to disbelief. Jin is up on his feet shouting about how they should be focusing on fixing Namjoon rather than gossiping, Jimin is crying more. It’s a mess.

“Calm down guys, it’s a standard question,” Yoongi says stoically. “She’s not trying to be rude.”

“No. He drinks beer and wine sometimes. But no. He’s not on any drugs. That’s ridiculous.” Jungkook summarizes.

“I’m sorry, it’s something I do have to ask. Is there anything else you guys could think of that might be pertinent? An old injury? Something he did earlier today or ate that he doesn’t usually?”

The guys all sat there for a minute. It was Jin who made the connection first: “His soulmate. She lives in LA.”

Tae’s hand flew to his phone to make a phone call.. The next few things happened over the course of a few hours: a phone call to Hitman Bang to get Gina’s contact information. Several phone calls to Gina. Calls from Gina to you. No answer. Phone calls to Xavier. No answer. Xavier calling Gina back hysterically sobbing that you were in a coma with a skull fracture and blood loss, Gina crying, Gina having someone else call Hitman Bang because she couldn’t stop sobbing, Hitman Bang calling Tae back.

The doctor was updated on the situation. “Ah...well that would explain it. Were the two of them very close?” she asks delicately.

It’s highly inappropriate but Yoongi just laughs, “No. They met one time .”

The doctor raised her eyebrows, “Oh. Well that’s unusual.”

“If she dies, will he die too?” Jimin asks quietly with tears in his eyes.

“No. And especially not if they weren’t close. I need to consult with some colleagues on this before we proceed. If you all want to go get some rest I think he’s going to be like this for a while. We can call you if anything changes.” the doctor informs them.

They are uneasy about leaving Namjoon there so they split up into groups of two to take turns. Jin and JK take the first shift at the care facility.

----------------

The doctor reaches out to several colleagues who are familiar with more case studies of soul mate injuries and what to do when there is a mirrored trauma response. She gets permission from RM’s parents (who have flown to London as well at this point) to try a reverse cryogenic procedure to restart his systems. Basically, they will bring his body down to an almost hypothermic point and slowly reheat him, encouraging cell regeneration and movement. It has been successful in similar cases, but it is a slow procedure that needs to be carefully monitored.

Meanwhile, social media is having a field day about what could have happened. BigHit put out that story that RM has developed a severe allergic reaction to shellfish and went into anaphylaxis on the stage; he was administered an epi-pen and hospitalized but is now resting and recovering. The rest of the guys give interviews to back up this story as well. 48 hours after the incident began, RM is slowly regaining consciousness.

“What happened? I feel like someone is opening up my skull with a pair of pliers.” he asks the doctor.

“I’m sorry but your soulmate was in a very bad car accident. She’s in a coma and you suffered a mirrored trauma response. I’m going to go let your friends and family know you’re awake.”

“Shit.” RM says, really taking in everything that was just said to him.

Jin is the first one in the room. “Hey. You’re finally awake. We were so worried.”

“How long have I been out for?”

“2 days.”

“Shit. What happened with the concert? Is everything ok? Oh God. What did they tell people?”

“One thing at a time.” Yoongi said as he entered the room. “We finished the show. The tour is postponed for at least a few weeks. We told people you had an allergic reaction.”

RM visibly relaxed but was still upset about the show. “Those fans have to be so disappointed.”

“Yeah, but they want you to be well. There’s thousands of flowers and cards being left at Wembley and so many messages on Weverse. We’ll make the dates up when you’re better. ARMY understands. It’s not your fault.”

“No, it’s [Y/N]’s fault.” he says briskly.

“I mean. She got flattened by a car. So, not really.” Tae added.”She’s in an actual coma. They can;'t just reheat her.” he was surprised by how cold RM sounded talking about his soulmate.

“You’re right. I’m just...it’s a lot. My head still hurts and I guess I just want someone to blame.”

“Blame the asshole who hit her,” Yoongi adds.

“Yeah. I will. I’m so tired.”

“Here, we’ll leave so you can talk to your parents for a minute before you rest.”

“My parents flew in?” he says surprised.

“We thought you were going to die,” Jimin says seriously. “Your sister is on her way here too.”

Rm laid his head back against his pillow. This is exactly the kind of soulmate bullshit he’s been trying to avoid. And you were in a coma. He stopped for a minute and thought about how scary it must be for you but he won’t allow himself to dwell on it. He’s getting his soul mark obliterated as soon as you wake up from your coma and sign off on it. If you wake up from it. Shit.

----

24 hours later he is discharged from the hospital and decides to book a flight to LA to see what your doctors are doing about rectifying this situation. He can’t shake the massive headache and leg pain that he’s still experiencing constantly. He cannot perform like this. Also he’s looked into the legal status of soulmark obliteration if one party is a permanently vegetative state and what counts as legal consent. Because of course he has. The guys all talk and decide that Tae will go along with him for support. Really it’s to be the voice of reason because they can’t believe that rather than going to see how you’re doing, he is going to ask you to remove your mark.

------------

RM knows what hospital you are at because his doctor consulted with yours in order to determine the best course of treatment. You doctor was hoping that once RM woke up, you would show signs of improvement. So far though, there wasn’t a lot on your end.

Ben and Xavier dutifully took shifts staying with you in the hospital. On this particular night, Ben is taking the night shift, walking back from the vending machines. He stops when he sees two dudes who look like models standing outside your door.

“Hey. Are you guys friends with [Y/N]? You must be from the studio. I don’t think we’ve met before. I'm Ben” Ben is tired but tries to be friendly.

Tae and Namjoon turn and look to him. Ben. Ben must be her boyfriend.

“Actually we’re from one of the bands she worked with. I’m Namjoon and this is Taehyung. You must be her boyfriend?”

“Fiance actually,” Ben politely corrects. “Just a few weeks ago actually,” he awkwardly laughs. “But then this all happened. You know the asshole didn’t even stop?”

Tae feels extremely awkward. He can understand a small bit of what’s going on, but he knows that what’s coming will be very difficult for everyone.

“That’s awful. How is she doing?”

“Bad. Stable. But, bad. She lost a lot of blood and hit her head pretty hard. They’re surprised she didn’t have any broken bones other than her skull fracture. She dislocated her shoulder when it hit the hood. The guy was definitely speeding.” Ben runs a hand through his hair. “Sorry if you were hoping to visit.”

RM awkwardly runs his hands up and down his jeans. There is not an easy way to say this.

“So. You know that [Y/N] has a soulmark on her wrist?”

Ben stiffens ever so slightly, “I do. But it’s ok. We don’t really care about that whole destiny thing. It’s unconventional but you know…” he trails off.

RM takes a deep breath and rolls up his sleeve. “I have the matching soulmark. I was in a coma for 2 days. I need to speak to her doctor immediately.” NEXT CHAPTER

#bts rm x you #bts rm fanfic #bts fanfic #bts au fanfic #bts fanfction #namjoon x you #bts soulmate au #bts namjoon x reader #rm x reader

56 notes · View notes

shining-red-diamond · 3 years

Text

Ch. 23: Eye of Horus

Cast of Characters//Ch. 1//Ch. 2//Ch. 3//Ch. 4//Ch. 5//Ch. 6//Ch. 7//Ch. 8//Ch. 9//Ch. 10//Ch. 11//Ch. 12//Ch. 13//Ch. 14//Ch. 15//Ch. 16//Ch. 17//Ch. 18//Ch. 19//Ch. 20//Ch. 21//Ch. 22//Ch. 23//Ch. 24//Ch. 25//Ch. 26//Ch. 27//Ch. 28 (coming soon)

Words: 1.2k

Genre: Fluff, some angst

Pairing: ATEEZ OT8 x OCs

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: brief sensuality, mentions of illness

Soft kisses on her cheek pulled Grace-Anne from her sleep. It was part of Seonghwa’s morning ritual to wake up his fiancée, and he did so by kissing her in various places on her face. Him being so touchy-feely was only saved for Grace-Anne when it was just them alone, and it contrasted with his “no nonsense, serious man” persona. He was still a kind soul, he just wasn’t a fan of PDA except for hand holding. Behind closed doors, he was all over her.

“Good morning,” his deep voice sang softly.

“Hi, you,” Grace-Anne’s morning voice croaked, causing Seonghwa to chuckle. “What time is it?”

“Same time I always wake you: seven in the morning.”

“I figured as much. Are we in Egypt?”

“Come look,” Seonghwa smiled as he motioned for her to come to the window.

Still a little disoriented, Grace-Anne slowly stood from her side of the best and trudged over to see what was happening. Once she glanced outside, she felt fully awake. The sky was a beautiful blue as the sun was still rising, the desert sand a golden hue, and the breathtaking ruins of the pyramids added to the eternal sunny desert. A few men on camels could be seen riding as they led a few more, and a city could be spotted in the distance; but it was on the other side of the pyramids.

“Won’t people notice the ship?” Grace-Anne asked.

“The camouflage is up,” Seonghwa reassured. “So we’ll be okay.”

He kisses her cheek just before she turns to get dressed.

“No good morning kiss?” teased her fiance.

“You already gave me one,” giggled Grace-Anne as she grabbed her clothes from the armoire.

Seonghwa snakes her arms around her, capturing her in an embrace. He kissed right below her earlobe and whispered, “I want a proper kiss.”

Grace-Anne scoffed playfully. “Someone’s needy.”

Turning around in his arms, Grace-Anne pulled him towards her until their lips touched in a warm kiss. Seonghwa had a habit of being sneaky in stealing kisses from the woman he loved, and she always played along with his antics. Sometimes, he’s so sneaky to a point it ends up with the two having laugh attacks. But this morning was just him being romantic and wanting her touch.

“Can I get dressed and make breakfast now?” she requested after breaking the kiss.

Seonghwa sulked but let her go attend to her ship duties. He then busied himself making the bed and packing his bag before meeting with the captain for the daily agenda. Today was one of the days where he packed Grace-Anne’s bag for her as she spent longer in the kitchen this morning, which was not uncommon as she would make Celestia’s specialized meal depending on what everyone else was eating for breakfast.

Once all of the essentials were packed in both bags, Seonghwa made his way to the board room and was surprised to find the captain standing at the corkboard pinning some new information.

“Are you feeling better, captain?” he asked.

“A little,” Hongjoong answered honestly, dark circles under his tired eyes. “My stomach still feels weird, so I’m not sure if I’ll go exploring the pyramids. What I can do right now is give everyone the brief.”

If Hongjoong wasn’t going to lead this exploration, who was going to be in charge? He was typically the one who kept everyone together, so Seonghwa wasn’t sure what he or Yeosang or even Dahae would do if the position was handed over to any of them.

He put the thoughts aside as the rest of the crew piled into the board room, Celestia immediately sitting in one of the chairs.

Hongjoong took a breath before addressing his crewmates. “Good morning,” he smiled weakly. “I hope everyone slept well and has what they need for exploring today. However, I won’t be joining you on this one.”

A few shocked murmurs erupted from the crew, and Dahae was quick to calm them. None of them could wrap their heads around the idea of exploring without their leader. Hongjoong was the one who knew how to keep everyone together, knew his maps, and made the big decisions. The fear of falling apart dangled in the back of their minds.

“I’m still having side effects,” Hongjoong explained, “so I’ll be putting Seonghwa in charge for now.”

The First Mate wasn’t expecting to be the one chosen to lead temporarily, and he didn’t have the map skills Hongjoong had; but he knew San could help him decipher it if he was healed.

“First,” continued the captain as he went over the agenda, “we need to establish the rotation for Celestia’s caregiver during explorations. Who’s going to take the first shift?”

“I’ll stay,” volunteered Phoebe, raising her hand.

“Excellent. Now, I’ve asked Celestia to look over the notes for Egypt, so she’ll be handing those to Seonghwa.”

“I made my own notes as well,” Celestia replied as she handed a sheet of paper to Seonghwa. “It’s just a little cheat sheet of symbols and artifacts mentioned in maps for this location.”

Upon him reading over her notes, Celestia had made bullet points and labeled what each key point meant:

-Ankh: classic hieroglyph used in a lot of fictional storytelling; symbol used for “life” and actually holds a lot of power in Egyptian beliefs -Treasures can vary between different artifacts like vases/pots, jewelry, heirlooms, and blue gold in some cases -Pets were considered sacred treasure to the culture and some royal figures had their pets buried in the tombs with them

Much more had been jotted down, but the thing that stood out to him was three underlined words: Eye of Horus.

“So, are we looking for a tomb or something?” Taeran interrupted, pulling Seonghwa from his thoughts.

“No,” Celestia shook her head. “It’s a secret room that holds all kinds of treasures the great pharaohs of Egypt valued: gold, precious stones, even sacred items. There are symbols of the ankh and Eye of Horus in there somewhere, but it doesn’t say where exactly. Those are where you’ll find the next diamond piece.”

Everyone, including the captain, looked at Seonghwa now to make the next move. It was all new to him now that he was temporarily in charge, but he straightened himself and cleared his throat.

“Thank you, Celestia,” he spoke. “Let’s get everything ready before meeting at the door.”

“And you’re sure you’ll be okay without me?” San asked as he strapped on his backpack.

“San, for the last time,” his wife giggled, “I’ll be okay. Phoebe will be my guardian angel, and Byeol will snuggle with me. Hongjoong will be here, too, but he’ll probably be resting mostly.”

San sighed in defeat. He couldn’t help that he worried about her so much, especially if she were to go into labor when he wasn’t on the ship to attend to her quickly. However, he knew she was in good hands.

“Alright,” he smiled slightly. “I love you, angel. I know I worry to death about you, but I just want you and the baby to be okay and healthy.”

Celestia cups his face and promises, “We’re okay. If something was wrong, you’ll be the first to know.”

His gloved hands went to her swollen waist and pulled her in for a long and deep kiss. He then knelt down to her belly and kissed it before whispering, “You be good for mommy, now. Okay, Princess?”

Tags: @treasure-hwa @ateezlovenet (Let me know if you’d like to be added or removed)

15 notes · View notes

inkribbon796 · 3 years

Text

The Deal Ch. 2

Chapter 2: Dealer’s Choice

Summary: Sometimes to stay alive, you have to make a deal. The heroes just didn’t expect for this person to make a deal with them.

Chapters: 1, 2, 3

The heroes saw him coming before he was even down the block. Jackie rushed out to meet him.

“Hey Nate, man, yah[1] okay in there?” Jackie asked.

“My mouth tastes awful and I have a hangover,” Nate grumbled. “But I’m fine.”

“Let’s get inside,” Jackie offered.

Nate pulled back a bit, tapping at his temple, “I’ve got a passenger, Mare’s in here with me.”

“Yah[1] need him out?” The speedster offered.

“No,” Nate answered, uneasy. “I was thinking he could come in with me. He promises to stay in my head and you guys can cuff me to Marvin if you need to. We’ve got a bit of a deal going on.”

Jackie just studied him for a bit and Nate wished, not for the first time, that the other heroes didn’t have to wear masks because he couldn’t see all of the speedster’s reaction.

“What’s the deal?” Jackie asked, starting to look around as if he caught some movement out of the corner of his eye.

Before Nate could answer he was tugged into the garage and Jackie closed the doors. “He’s been in here b’fore a couple times, it should be fine. So what was the deal, yah don’t make deals with’em unless yah wanna get fooked.”[2]

“I know, I know,” Nate groaned. “I wouldn’t have made it unless I got more out of it. So you know how some demons don’t physically feed off people, they kinda feed off their emotions?”

“Does Mare do that?” Jackie asked. “I know Anti feeds off fear, he’s just gotta[3] kill a couple people ta[4] get what he wants.”

“Mare needs large groups of people to feed from, which is why he likes to hang around me in the first place,” Nate explained. “He doesn’t even need to touch people, he just needs to be in the area. So the deal is, he stays out of trouble and he gets a more concentrated dose. One of my shows can set him up for a couple months. That tour I took is going to keep him good for a year.”

“An’ yer okay with that?”[5] Jackie asked.

Nate nodded, “Yeah, I am.”

“So long as he keeps his hands ta[4] himself,” Jackie warned, “I think we can convince the others. Outta[6] all the demons we’ve dealt with over the years Mare’s probably given us the least problems.”

The Jackie paused, motioning to lead, “Well, guess that’s not true anymore, but Lunky’s been givin’ him a run fer his money.”[7]

“Who’s Lunky?” Nate asked in confusion.

“Oh you’ve missed one hell’uva[8] week,” Jackie smiled. “So King had a kid, one bouncin’ baby demon, an’ that kid is hell ta babysit.”[9]

“King had a kid, with who?” Nate stopped to ask, Mare was feeling antsy.

“One ‘a the Jims stabbed him with a soul splitter an’ now the kid’s been scratchin’ up the walls like a deranged cat,”[10] Jackie summarized.

Nate had a thousand questions but decided to go to sleep first. He woke up to his mouth tasting and feeling even more like sawdust.

When he woke up he grabbed something to eat and drink, and a coffee. Then he started wandering around for Bing, looking for his and Oliver’s workshop. Nate figured he should tell everyone on security about Mare.

To his surprise he saw the two androids talking with Logan, Roman was sitting in a chair next to him, looking bored and tired.

“Well it won’t work now, unless we can find some work around we’ll probably have ta[4] bench you,” Bing reported.

Logan groaned, “I wonder at this point if that’s even necessary, most of Dark’s network has already seen my face.”

“Suit did more than protect your identity, dude,” Bing reminded.

“I appreciate your concern, however,” Logan began to refute, then he noticed Nate opening the door. “Oh, Nathan, you’re awake.”

“Yeah,” Nate said, “you doing better?”

“I am,” Logan paused, “adequate.”

Bullshit, Nate thought but kept that to himself. “You said it was fine.”

Logan sighed, dragging a hand over his face, “I know, I can barely remember anything from last night. My suit won’t even function again. I don’t know what came over me and for that I am truly sorry.”

“Are you actually okay with it, or not?” Nate asked. “I just don’t like that this thing has its claws snuck into you.”

“Objectively you are correct,” Logan agreed, moving his glasses farther up his nose. “I should not be fixated on some camera.”

“But perhaps Logic has some insight the heroes should heed.”

“Fuck!” Nate jumped at the voice suddenly right behind him.

The Host was standing barely five feet behind him. “Yes, the camera is cursed. Yes, Logic is disproportionately obsessed in the camera. However the camera is safer in the hero’s base.”

“I am not obsessed,” Logan defended as Nate rolled his eyes.

“Kinda are, dear nerdy,” Roman countered, making Logan sputter in defense. That brought a small smile back to his face

“Fine,” Nate decided. “Got my dog and some things I need to grab at my place anyways. We can put it under glass and I’ll tell you what I know about it.”

“That is very agreeable,” Logan was quick to agree and followed Nate out. Roman quickly followed after them, eager to keep Logan in his sight. The trio picked up Patton on their way out, Virgil still sleepy from the long hospital trip that had drained him physically and mentally.

The four heroes made sure not to suit up when they carefully walked out the door.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Accessibility Translations

1. You

2. He’s been in here before a couple times, it should be fine. So what was the deal, you don’t make deals with them unless you want to get fucked.

3. got to

4. to

5. And you’re okay with that?

6. Out of

7. Well, guess that’s not true anymore, but Lunky’s been giving him a run for his money.

8. hell of a week

9. So King had a kid, one bouncing baby demon, and that kid is hell to babysit.

10. One of the Jims stabbed him with a soul splitter and now the kid’s been scratching up the walls like a deranged cat

11 notes · View notes

tomhiddlestonfanfic · 3 years

Text

A Step Too Far? Chapter Ten Merely a Setback

Ch. 1 - Ch. 2 - Ch. 3 - Ch. 4 - Ch. 5 - Ch. 6 - Ch. 7 - Ch. 8 - Ch. 9 - Ch. 10 - Ch. 11

TITLE: A Step Too Far? NUMBER OF CHAPTERS/ONE SHOT: 10/? WHICH TOM CHARACTER: Stepfather Tom OTHER CHARACTERS: Benedict Cumberbatch, Andrew Scott PAIRING: Tom/OFC, Benedict Cumberbatch/OFC GENRE: Drama, Hurt/Comfort

CHAPTER TEN Merely a Setback

For the first time since she started working at the office, Nina called in sick. Tom looked at her concernedly and took her temperature before he had to head off to work. She didn't have a fever and there was nothing physically wrong with her, she was just feeling like she couldn’t bring herself to get out of bed. The guilt was like a much too heavy weighted blanket over her.

Her mother came inside her room several times throughout the day, expressing her worry and trying to get her to eat or drink something. She even brought up one of Nina’s energy drinks from downstairs in hopes of getting her to ingest at least something other than some water along with her medications. But Nina just remained in bed all day, trying to sleep as much as possible. It was not a good day, and she just wanted it to be over.

When Tom came home from work, he had a colourful flower bouquet with him from Stina. There was a little card on it reading ‘Get well soon. Love, Stina.’

“I’ll put those in a vase for you,” Helena told her with a smile and soon came back with the flowers placed in an old vase that she had always been very careful with and only brought forward on special occasions.

“But that’s grandmother’s old vase, what if I break it?” Nina objected as her mother smilingly put down the antique vase on her bedside table.

“Darling, I want you to have it. That’s why I’ve been so careful with it all those years. Last I checked you are no longer throwing bouncing balls around the house, so you have nothing to worry about,” Helena assured her. Nina smiled briefly at the mention of bouncing balls. It had been a subject of discussion when she was a child not to throw bouncing balls around the house.

“Good old times,” Nina reminisced. “I believe I might still have some left somewhere. I’ll save them for Will for when he’s old enough.”

“I’d rather you didn’t,” her mother laughed and gently caressed her cheek. “It’s good to see you smile. Maybe you’ve just had an off day. Should we try turning it around?” she suggested.

“Okay,” Nina agreed and climbed out of bed. She went downstairs to hang out with Tom and the baby as her mother cooked dinner.

“Are you feeling any better?” Tom asked as she slumped down next to him on the sofa. He handed over the baby to her and the two siblings cuddled. He was barely awake and smiled one of his toothless smiles that made her heart melt.

“I love him so much,” Nina said, avoiding his question.

“So do I. He’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” Tom told her sincerely.

“He’s the best thing that ever happened to me too. I want to see him grow up,” Nina said emotionally. She did want to see what kind of person her little brother would grow up to be, and she couldn’t do that if she decided to end her own life.

“It’s going to be amazing. We have so much to look forward to as a family,” Tom told her with a warm smile. “I’ll probably regret saying this, but I can’t wait until he gets old enough for you to teach him pranks. He’s going to love it.”

They continued to talk about the future, and Nina felt a sting of bad consciousness for having considered giving all of that up in a particularly dark moment.

“You know I’m here if you need to talk, right? About anything at all,” Tom told her earnestly and she smiled gratefully at him. “I’ve noticed that there’s been something weighing you down lately. I wish you would talk to someone about it.”

“You want me to see a psychologist,” Nina concluded.

“I’ve been recommended one. He’s english speaking, but you don’t mind that, do you?” Tom asked.

“Who recommended him and why?” Nina asked suspiciously.

“Andrew mentioned that he and Josef had seen a therapist, and that he strongly would recommend him if me or anyone I knew needed someone to talk to,” Tom explained. Nina nodded in response. During one of their numerous chats over the phone, Josef had actually mentioned that he and Andrew were seeing a couples therapist.

“Okay, I suppose I could give it a shot,” Nina agreed with a shrug. Perhaps she could come clean about her troubles to a therapist. It couldn’t hurt to try, now could it?

“Really?” Tom asked, seemingly expecting some more resistance from her. “I’ll call him right away,” he said, picking up his phone.

Tom left the room for some privacy and came back a couple of minutes later with a smile on his face. “He could see you tomorrow at nine,” he informed her.

“That’s early,” Nina sighed, having planned to sleep most of the day away.

“I take it you’re not planning on coming to work tomorrow either,” Tom assumed and looked at her thoughtfully.

“I still have a stomach ache,” Nina insisted and refocused her attention to her little brother. “Who’s a cute baby boy? You are. Oh, yes, you are.”

“I’ll make sure someone drives you there if I can’t do it myself. He has a home office and it’s a bit far to walk if you get there by bus,” Tom informed her. Nina didn’t have a driver’s license, so she couldn’t drive there herself, and her mother would rather not drive at all if she could avoid it.

“Okay, thanks,” Nina replied and smiled appreciatively at him. She felt both nervous and good about seeing a therapist, now that she had a real dilemma to talk about. In her earlier experiences with therapy, she had found it hard to put into words what exactly was wrong in her life. She had so many reasons to be happy and grateful, yet she wasn’t. Now she had something more substantial to talk about.

The next morning, Nina was woken up by her mother who told her to get dressed quickly so she wouldn’t be late for her therapy. Tom was outside in his car waiting for her. Newly awakened and confused, Nina quickly cleaned herself up in the bathroom before throwing some clothes on. She didn’t have time to apply any makeup or even brush her hair.

“Here, put your hair up,” her mother advised and handed her a hair elastic once she got downstairs. Nina put her hair up in a sloppy bun on her head and went to the fridge to grab an energy drink. “Perhaps he could hypnotise you into stop drinking those,” her mother told her humorously. Nina snorted at her mother’s comment before hurriedly heading out the door.

“Are you good to go?” Tom asked her and started the car. Nina nodded and grimaced slightly as she looked at herself in the rearview mirror. She didn’t like how she was looking without makeup on.

“I look like shit,” she muttered to herself.

“You look beautiful, as always,” Tom assured her. The drive to the therapist’s office went by rather quickly. “I’ll be back in an hour to pick you up,” Tom informed her before she reluctantly got out of the car.

Nina felt nervous as she slowly walked up to the house with the energy drink in her hand. She took a deep breath to calm her nerves before ringing the doorbell. She instantly regretted not putting on any makeup the moment she saw the handsome man who opened the door. He was surprisingly muscular for a therapist and quite tall, his hair was dark, his eyes greyish blue and he had a friendly smile on his perfectly chiseled face.

“You must be Nina,” the man greeted her and held out his hand towards her. She blushed as she moved the energy drink from her right hand to her left in order to shake his hand. “I’m Henry.”

“Hej, hi,” Nina mumbled awkwardly in response. Why did he have to be so excruciatingly hot? “I’m sorry I look like a disaster, I forgot to set an alarm,” she apologised once she noticed how nicely dressed he was in a blue checkered shirt, black tie, brown jacket and matching pants.

“You don’t need to apologise about your appearance,” Henry assured her and showed her to his office down the hall. “This way.”

Nina seated herself on the sofa and placed her energy drink on the coffee table as she watched Henry take the seat in the armchair opposite to her. “I can see that you already have something to drink,” he noted and motioned towards the energy drink on the table as he picked up the notepad and a pen from the coffee table. Nina nodded wordlessly and looked around the office which was decorated with dark wooden furniture and had a homey feel to it. It was a vast contrast to the mostly white and sterile therapist’s offices she had visited before.

“So Nina, would you like to tell me about what brings you here today?” Henry said and Nina sighed softly.

“I don’t know,” she replied, unsure if she was willing to tell him the truth about how much she had messed up her life lately. When the therapist looked at her thoughtfully through his black rimmed glasses, Nina added; “My mom and my stepfather thought I should go see a therapist, and someone recommended you.”

“I see,” the therapist replied. “So are you here only because your mother and stepfather wanted you to come here?” he wondered.

“That’s partly why,” Nina replied and searched her mind for what to say next. “I haven’t been feeling so good lately.”

“Would you like to elaborate what you mean when you say that you’ve not been feeling so good?” Henry requested as he looked at her with interest.

“Well, I’ve been feeling bad a lot lately… like, I’ve felt guilty and ashamed. I feel like I’m a horrible person.”

“Those are very difficult feelings to have,” Henry told her empathically. “Do you think those feelings are justified or may they be blown out of proportion?” he asked her as he took down some notes on his notepad.

“I think they are justified,” Nina admitted embarrassedly. “I wish they weren’t, but they are.”

“And why is that?” Henry questioned and looked at her inquiringly. She felt as though he was looking straight into her soul and instantly broke eye contact with him. She picked up her energy drink from the table and took a sip before putting it back down again. “I notice that my question is making you uncomfortable, so I’ll ask you about some other things instead. How would you describe your relationship with your mother?”

“It’s alright I guess. We’ve always been pretty close, but I don’t feel like I can tell her everything, because I don’t want to make her worried. Especially now that she has to take care of my little brother. He’s only three weeks old,” Nina told him.

“Congratulations on getting a baby brother. What’s his name?” the therapist asked.

“Thanks. His name is William,” Nina said with a smile. “I was with them in the delivery room when he was born. It was the most powerful moment of my life.”

As they continued to talk about her family and her close relationships, Nina came to realise that the one she had been talking to the most about personal things lately was Tom. The hour went by quickly as they mapped out her social relationships and talked about each of the people she mentioned. It was nice, Nina thought to herself as she got herself ready to leave the office. Their chat had made her realise that she wasn’t as alone in the world as she sometimes felt. She had her mother, Tom, Stina, Jim and a whole bunch of other people she could contact if she wanted to go out for a coffee or beer. They decided together that she should take up contact with her father before their next meeting following week.

“How did it go?” Tom asked interestedly once she got in the car with him. Nina smiled at him and shrugged.

“It went well, I suppose. He gave me an assignment,” she told him.

“What was the assignment?” Tom asked curiously.

“That I should take up contact with my father. It’s been months since I last saw him,” Nina explained.

“That sounds like an excellent idea,” Tom said with a smile. He had always been the bigger person when it came to her father, who seemed to despise Tom for no other reason than that he was Nina’s stepfather and rich.

Nina smiled as she thought about her father who worked in a warehouse and despised the middle and upper class. He had divorced her mother when Nina was ten, but still seemed upset and jealous when Tom came into the picture when Nina had just turned eighteen. Her father had claimed that her mother only wanted Tom for his money, which she always thought was ridiculous since Tom had never been anything but a gentleman. Her mother would probably have fallen for his charms even if he had been poor.

“I don’t want to put any pressure on you, but when do you think you’ll be back to work?” Tom asked her as they approached their house.

“I suppose I could come back tomorrow,” Nina replied with a shrug.

“Really?” Tom asked, seemingly surprised by her answer.

“Yeah, I think I’m done feeling bad for myself,” she told him and made a slight grimace as she thought about her own behaviour of trying to shut out the rest of the world when what she really wanted was to be a part of it.

When she got home, Nina offered to take baby William out for a walk to let her mother have some rest. Her tired looking mother gratefully accepted the offer and Nina felt a sense of pride as she walked down the street with her little brother in the baby carriage. In the park, she saw other people in various ages playing with their children or walking around with baby carriages and strollers. She smiled to herself as she thought about how some people probably assumed that she was William’s mother. She imagined for a moment what it would be like to have a baby of her own, and that’s when she remembered that she had completely forgotten about the morning-after pill after having sex with Benedict.

With a sense of urgency, Nina went to the closest pharmacy and bought a morning-after pill. The pharmacists smiled at her and baby William, probably assuming that he was hers. Nina smiled proudly as they spoke softly to her little brother. She felt no need to correct anyone who thought he was her child.

When Nina got back home with William, she noticed that Tom’s car was in the driveway. She knew that he would sometimes come home during lunch breaks and smiled as she brought William with her inside.

“There you are,” Tom greeted them smilingly and carefully took the baby from Nina as she kicked off her shoes.

“How did it go? Is he hungry?” Helena asked, walking up to them.

“It went well. He slept most of the time, except for when we were at the pharmacy. He charmed everyone working there,” Nina informed her mother with a smile.

“That’s nice,” her mother replied with a smile as she reached out for her baby. “He’s sucking his hands, I think he’s hungry,” she told Tom who reluctantly handed over his son to her.

“What were you doing at the pharmacy?” Tom asked Nina once her mother had gone into the living room.

“Oh… I bought… caffeine pills,” Nina said slowly, grimacing slightly at how bad she was at coming up with a quick lie. She should never have mentioned the pharmacy.

“You shouldn’t take too much of those things,” Tom warned her, seemingly believing her lie. “You already ingest enough caffeine as it is in your energy drinks,” he said and held out his open hand towards her. “Give them to me.”

“N-no,” Nina huffed and took a step backwards.

“Why not? Are you hiding something?” Tom asked suspiciously. “If it’s ephedrine I-”

“It’s not ephedrine,” Nina sighed and took out the morning-after pill from her pocket. “Damn it, Tom,” she muttered.

“Oh,” Tom uttered once he saw what it was and blushed slightly. “I’m proud of you for taking responsibility.”

“Mhm,” Nina muttered and walked past him into the kitchen, where she grabbed an energy drink from the fridge to swallow down the morning-after pill with.

“I’m sorry for accusing you of taking ephedrine again,” Tom told her regretfully. “I just really care about you.”

“But you’ll throw me out if I start taking them again, how’s that caring?” Nina questioned irritably.

“I wouldn’t throw you out to live on the streets, but I would make sure to get you into rehab if you should need it,” Tom told her seriously. He crossed his arms as he watched her take the pill. “Did Jim come over yesterday?” he asked and Nina stared at him in horror. Was he onto her and Benedict? She frowned slightly as she shook her head. She had been alone in bed all day yesterday, which Tom would find out if he asked her mother about it.

“I met him on Monday, when I was out on a walk, if you necessarily have to know,” Nina told him brittly.

“I’m sorry if I upset you,” Tom apologised but kept looking at her inquiringly.

“Did you want to ask about anything else? What position we used perhaps? Or whether we had sex outdoors or not?” Nina questioned impudently.

Tom grimaced in response to her insolence and shook his head at her. “No, I was just thinking about something. Forget about it. It wasn’t about you,” Tom told her uncomfortably. “I brought you some lunch, we’re eating in the living room,” he informed her. Nina looked at him stubbornly. “It’s salad,” Tom added, causing her to smile a little. How could she possibly stay angry with him for being too inquisitive, when he was being so sweet?

Following day, Nina went to work with Tom. She yawned largely and leaned back in the passenger seat of the car with her eyes shut.

“I heard that Benedict shouted at you for misspelling his name,” Tom told her, causing her to open her eyes and look at him. “Does that have something to do with why you didn’t want to come to work?”

“A little bit,” Nina told him with a sigh as she recalled her fictive argument with Benedict.

“Well, I told him not to shout at you again, so you shouldn’t need to worry about that,” Tom assured her, causing her to blush in embarrassment for having caused Benedict trouble for something that didn’t even happen. “I also told him that if you need ‘a talking to’ about something, he should let me or Andrew take care of it.”

“Okay, thanks. You didn’t have to do that, but I appreciate it,” Nina replied awkwardly, and blushed slightly as she thought about how Andrew’s talking to’s tended to include spankings.

Benedict asked Nina to come to his office once during the day, and to her surprise, he insisted that she should leave the door open as they talked.

“I just wanted to apologise about what happened. I shouldn’t have ‘shouted’ at you,” Benedict said with emphasis on the word shouted. Nina felt like he was really apologizing about what had actually happened between them.

“And I shouldn’t have misspelt your name,” Nina replied with an embarrassed smile as she thought about how she had asked him to fuck her. Benedict grinned widely in response, seemingly relieved and held out his hand towards her.

“Are we good?” he asked and she took his hand and shook it.

“We’re good,” she replied. As long as they could keep things professional they were good, she thought.

The two days at work before the weekend went well. Nina and Benedict had only work-related conversations and she made sure to always keep a distance between them to prevent any physical contact. Benedict obviously noticed, she could tell by his slightly raised eyebrow when she took detours to avoid him as they walked past each other. But he didn’t say anything about it. At some point, he even seemed amused by her efforts to stay away from him.

The weekend came, and Nina had dinner over at her father’s apartment. They ordered food since he didn’t particularly enjoy cooking and watched some TV together. They didn’t talk much, but that was okay because they didn’t need words in order to enjoy each other’s company. After a quiet afternoon in her father’s company, Nina took a long walk home instead of taking the bus. Her father would have given her a ride if he hadn’t had beer with his dinner. He expressed that he felt bad for not driving her home, but she assured him that it was alright. She also told him that Tom usually had wine with dinner during the weekends in order to make him feel better about himself.

“Did you have a good time at your dad’s?” Helena asked Nina once she got back home. Nina nodded in response and gave her mother a hug as tears filled her eyes.

“He seemed so lonely, mom,” Nina confided in her mother. “I should probably visit him more often.”

“I bet he would like that,” her mother encouraged. “But remember that it’s not your responsibility to make sure he’s not alone. He’s a grownup and he can take care of himself.”

“I know,” Nina sighed. “But still. I wish he would be able to spend more time with friends when he’s sober and not only when he’s drunk.”

“Well, we are all different when it comes to those things,” Helena said with a hint of sadness in her eyes.

“I know,” Nina said again. They had had this conversation before. “I’ll try to visit him more often. Maybe we could watch a movie next time.”

“That sounds like a great idea,” her mother agreed with a brilliant smile.

The weekend went by quickly. Too quickly for Nina’s liking. It felt like the weekend had just arrived and now it was time for work again.

Ever since their date, Nina and Stina had lunch together on a pretty much daily basis during the work week. A waiter at their most frequented restaurant jokingly referred to them as the twins, since they dressed so similarly and almost always ordered the same kinds of food. Nina very much enjoyed Stina’s company for lunch and was relieved that Stina never once commented on when Nina didn’t finish her food. It was bad enough that Tom and Andrew both seemed to have the habit of monitoring her food and caffeine intake.

As they got back to the office after lunch, the phone rang and Nina smiled as she instantly recognised the voice at the other end. It was Josef.

“Hi, Nina. Do you have time to talk?” he asked and she gladly told him yes. “How are things going with Stina?” he asked curiously.

“It’s pretty good. We have lunch together every day now,” Nina replied as she habitually began sorting the mail.

“Have you decided on having a second date yet?” Josef wondered. Nina frowned slightly as she realised that she hadn’t given it a moment of thought. Perhaps she should ask for a second date. Or was she looking for something serious?

“I haven’t really given it much thought,” Nina admitted and glanced over at Stina who had busied herself with work the moment she got back to the office. “She sent me flowers when I was sick. It was very sweet of her.”

“That is indeed very sweet. I have a feeling that she’s a keeper, Nina. You should ask her out for a second date,” Josef advised.

“But what should we do?” Nina asked insecurely.

“What do you like to do Nina?” Josef wondered.

“Go for long walks and watch different series on my computer,” Nina replied.

“Hmm… I could work with that,” Josef said and went silent for a moment. “Perhaps you could go for a walk, have a picnic and then go home to start watching a new series together?”

“But don’t you think she might find it boring?” Nina questioned.

“Nina, listen up. The whole point of dating is to get to know each other better, is it not?” Josef asked her, but didn’t wait for her reply. “Doing things you enjoy is a great way for Stina to get to know you.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Nina agreed, feeling inspired to try asking Stina out for a second date. “Thanks for the advice.”

Nina smiled up at Andrew as he stopped by her desk. ‘Is it Josef?’ he mouthed and she nodded in response. He shook his head smilingly at her and motioned for her to give him the phone.

“Josef... Nina has important work to do, you can’t keep calling her like this,” he admonished in a soft voice. “I know she said it’s alright, but she really needs to hang up now… Yes, I can… No, I don’t think that’s approp- Because I’m her boss… Fine, I’ll ask her… Yeah, I love you too. Bye.” Andrew hung up the phone and crossed his arms as he looked at Nina with a playfully admonishing look. “Having private conversations during work time, are we?” he asked her amusedly.

“Sorry, I was going to hang up,” Nina told him guiltily.

“Good, about that. Josef asked me if you could give him your private number. I tried to tell him that it was inappropriate, but he insisted I should ask,” Andrew told her with a dejected smile. “Of course you don’t have to.”

“I would love to,” Nina replied gleefully. “I need to keep him updated on how things are going with Stina. He’s really good at giving advice.”

Andrew’s face lit up at her response. “He is good at giving advice,” he agreed, and glanced over at Stina who was sitting by her desk typing at her keyboard. “So you and Stina, huh?” he commented and smiled warmly at her. “As long as you keep it professional.”

“Of course we will,” Nina replied.

“No sex in the toilets,” Andrew whispered to her, causing her to blush deeply. He smirked at her before walking off to his office. As soon as he was out of sight, Nina got up from her seat and walked over to where Stina was sitting.

“Can I ask you something?” she asked, causing Stina to look up at her with a bright smile that reached her green eyes. She nodded wordlessly. “Would you like to go out on a date with me this Saturday?”

“I thought you would never ask,” Stina replied happily. “Yes, I do.”

“Great. I’ll give you the details once I’ve figured them out,” Nina told her with a smile before walking back to her desk. She couldn’t stop smiling to herself as she kept working. Now she felt like she had something important to look forward to. Perhaps her gloomy mood last week was merely a setback? Perhaps things would only get better from now on?

Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston fanfiction #tom hiddleston stepfather #tom hiddleston father #henry cavill #benedict cumberbatch #andrew scott

9 notes · View notes

babbushka · 4 years

Text

Mind & Soul - Ch 7/10 (Part 1)

The story of how one man fell out of love and into it again

Charlie Barber x Reader

Tumblr masterlist for previous chapters // Available on AO3

6k; Warnings for angst, marital affairs, mentions of past infidelity, current infidelity

--------------

You don't know what love is Until you've learned the meaning of the blues Until you've loved a love you had to loose You don't know what love is

Last April

It’s been a month, since Nicole left. Charlie tries not to look at the calendar anymore, tries not to think of it in terms of days that she’s been gone. Charlie tries not to think about anything anymore in terms of her absence, he tries. It’s hard, when so much of the house was hers, has her presence.

It’s impossible to deny that things are different. He doesn’t smack his head on cabinet doors anymore, only has to pick up after one person instead of two. He doesn’t trip over her shoes or get frustrated when her laundry is thrown all over the floor. He can keep the windows open now, for however long he wants without her complaining about the air conditioning. He invites you over more and more, your time together less of a sharp secret. You have a key to the house, there’s an excuse now, for you to be around so much – and he takes it and holds it tight against his chest, you being around.

Those are good things, and he holds onto them, the good things.

She has been gone for a month. Thirty-one days, to be exact, but who’s counting?

Charlie’s counting.

Henry’s counting too.

Charlie’s taken it upon himself to pretend like everything is normal, and he forces himself to believe that it’s going well. Every morning he wakes Henry up and tells him to get dressed, gets himself dressed. They brush their teeth together mostly so that Charlie can make sure he’s doing it for long enough, and then Charlie starts making breakfast.

He doesn’t burn the muffins or the bagels in the toaster oven anymore, he learned that lesson the hard way that first time, that first morning. Sometimes he runs late for work and has to rush out the door with Henry, other days they somehow have enough time to talk about each other’s dreams they had the night before over french toast.

This is one of those times where Charlie can’t stop checking his watch, where he’s scrambling to hurry hurry hurry, because he’s got something big, something huge that could potentially walk through the door at work, and he needs to be there if it does.

“Henry, come on honey, breakfast time.” Charlie calls out to wherever his son went for a moment.

“What are we having?” Henry asks, bounding into the kitchen in a mis-matched outfit that doesn’t really go together. Charlie doesn’t have the frame of mind to care too much, Henry can wear what he likes, who gives a shit if it goes together? Charlie’s the one who has to keep himself together, not Henry.

“Cereal.” Charlie fishes out the box from the pantry and puts it on the table, and Henry sighs.

“We had cereal for breakfast yesterday.” He complains, going to the fridge anyway.

“There are kids who don’t get to eat breakfast at all, you know.” Charlie’s not looking, he’s doing up his tie in the reflection of the little mirror that hangs on the wall. The fucking knot isn’t coming out right, and he doesn’t have the time for this – he doesn’t --

“Dad?” Henry interrupts his thoughts apprehensively.

“What?” Charlie turns then, gives up and figures he’ll just do it on the fucking subway.

“We’re out of milk.” Henry shakes the carton and they can both hear the sloshing of only an inch of milk left.

Charlie wants to scream, because he hates when people leave only an inch of milk left without saying anything, but he doesn’t even know anymore if he’s the one who did that, and he sure as shit isn’t going to scream at Henry, but he doesn’t have the time to make anything more substantial for breakfast.

“No milk? Okay, um, how about I make us some – ” He tries to think out loud.

“Can I have ice cream?” Henry asks randomly, and Charlie frowns, looks at his watch, tries to figure out if Henry is kidding.

“No, it’s six o’clock in the morning.” Charlie shakes his head eventually, blinks and thinks and is in desperate need of a cigarette. “Here, come on why don’t we get breakfast on the way to school. Go get your backpack, we can go grocery shopping when you’re out of school, okay?”

That appeases Henry enough to stop with the questions for two seconds, and Charlie drags a hand through his hair, runs it down over his face. He looks exhausted, and that’s because he feels exhausted, but he just chugs a mug of black coffee that’s way too hot and tries not to grimace as it hits his empty stomach.

There’s a place around the corner from Henry’s school that has the best breakfast sandwiches Charlie’s ever eaten. He’s gone there a couple of times with you, back in the beginning, way back when you were just friends. Back when he was falling in love with you but too terrified to say anything, too worried you’d reject him, worried you’d tell him to stay away.

You’d sit and order a sandwich and Charlie would order a coffee and the two of you would share the other’s while you smiled behind the screens of your laptops and tried to pretend this was nothing out of the ordinary.

Now he knows, you both know -- it never was, was it?

He almost wants to call you up and ask if you’ll join, but he knows you’re asleep still, it’s early still. He’ll call you soon, when he knows you’ll be awake, flipping through the newspaper out in the backyard like you like to do.

He’ll call you then.

For now, he and Henry are leaving the place around the corner with mouthfuls of egg and cheese.

“Here, hold my hand we’re crossing the street.” Charlie says as they approach the sidewalk and wait for the light to turn red like all the other pedestrians. He offers a couple spare fingers to his son and emphasizes around a croissant, “Hold my hand Henry.”

“You’re carrying too much stuff.” Henry remarks, and Charlie huffs out a laugh that’s also a sigh.

He’s got his messenger bag, and a briefcase, and a couple folders and a brown lunch bag and a cup of coffee from the corner store, and he looks down at this mess in his arms and wonders when the mess started reflecting his life – or if it were vice versa.

“Next time I won’t carry so much okay, but we have to hurry I’ve got a big meeting today, and if it goes well, when we’re at the grocery store how about I get us stuff for ice cream sundaes to celebrate, okay? Does that sound like fun?” Charlie tries to be a fun parent, a good parent, a decent one, anyway.

He also really just wants to get his kid to school so he can run to the subway and fix his tie.

“Yes!” Henry has a skip in his step about that, and Charlie walks faster faster faster, trying to make it on time so that Henry’s there before the bell.

“Is your bagel good?” He asks as they rush, as that skip in Henry’s step turns to a bit of a jog from the effort of trying to keep up.

“Uh huh – dad!” He complains right as he stumbles over a lip in the sidewalk, and Charlie immediately realizes he’s been pulling on Henry’s arm too tight, going too fast, and his stomach drops.

“Sorry! Sorry, shit, we’re okay, you’re okay.” He crouches down to make sure Henry didn’t get hurt at all. He hugs Henry right in front of all the other parents hugging their kids, and he tries to stop his heart from racing. “That was my bad, I’m sorry. You’re okay. Have a good day at school, okay? Remember everything so you can tell me all about it when I pick you up, alright?”

“Bye dad!” Henry nods and then he’s running up the steps to go meet with his friends.

Charlie stays there until he’s sure Henry is inside safely as the bell rings rings rings, an alarm going off inside Charlie’s head as he snaps into action, rearranges all the shit in his arms so he can run to the subway station.

You don't know how lips hurt Until you've kissed and had to pay the cost Until you've flipped you're heart and you have lost You don't know what love is

“You’re late.” She says, when he finally bursts into the building space above the theater, where everyone’s been waiting around for him to show up.

He’s out of breath, his tie is crooked, he’s jumpy and pissed off because he nearly missed the stop on the subway again and he checks his watch, nearly has to steel himself for it.

“No I’m not.” He says, wills it to be true.

“Well you almost are.” His stage manager nags at him and he’s frustrated at himself and at Nicole and at the world.

“Almost isn’t late, Mary Ann, now could you just – ”

“Hey I was wondering – ”

“No, Mary Ann, could you just let them know I’m here?” He interrupts him interrupting her, snaps a little too hard.

He hasn’t thought about her, about Mary Ann. Doesn’t think about the awful sex he had once upon a time when he wished he was having sex with you, back before he had the courage to be with you. He’s a bastard for getting her hopes up, because it’s clear that her hopes are up now, now that Nicole’s gone.

He doesn’t have the time for her, he never really did, and he knows that’s a shitty thing to think, but it doesn’t make it any less true.

“Sure thing Charlie.” She says eventually, no longer coy, no longer twirling a strand of hair around her finger.

He feels bile rise up in the back of his throat as he pushes past her, greets the rest of his troupe on his way to the small room which serves as his office. He gets to sit for exactly thirty seconds, doesn’t even have a chance to fix his fucking tie, before the door opens again and two men in crisp suits are stepping inside.

Charlie stands up behind his desk, squares his shoulders with false confidence and extends a hand.

They’re a pair of brothers, these men, brothers with exorbitant wealth and who pride themselves on being a patron of the arts. Charlie’s only ever heard of them in passing, he’s never been contacted, never even seen them in person.

And yet here they are, in Charlie’s little studio, in their smart suits.

Charlie’s going to scream.

“Hello gentlemen, it’s great to meet you in person.” He smiles with what he hopes is a casual sort of warmth. He wants to make a good impression on these people – he needs to.

“Likewise Mr. Barber! I must admit we were so impressed with your show, I myself came to see it twice.” One of them, Tom – or maybe this one is Jerry? He never can tell – takes a look at some of the awards that Charlie’s hung up on the walls.

Well, actually you’re the one who hung them up, ages ago. You’re the one who had gotten them framed and put up on the wall as a surprise for him one day, the thought of you sneaking in here way too early still makes him smile.

He’s smiling now, despite everything, smiling because he’s thrilled that they like his work, that they like him.

“I’m honored, thank you. Please have a seat – can I offer you anything to drink?” Charlie gestures to the two chairs on the other side of the desk, and tries not to feel a rush of power. Is this how big money CEOs felt?

“No, that’s alright.” The other brother, Jerry-Tom waves his offer away, and Charlie thinks no, that’s the power big money CEOs felt, “Listen, Mr. Barber, we’d like to cut right to the chase.”

“We’d like to finance your next project.” Tom-Jerry says with a nod of agreeance, and Charlie wishes that they did take a seat so he could too and not be rude.

“Really?” He asks, braces himself against the desk ever so slightly.

“Yes, really. We feel that you are a well established writer and director, and the MacArthur grant only solidifies this in our mind. Congratulations, by the way.” Jerry-Tom replies with a smug smile behind his circular turtle-shell glasses.

“Thank you very much, I’m – well I’m speechless.” Charlie can’t help but laugh, can’t help but run his hand through his hair because he’s so elated! He can’t believe that they actually meant it, that they actually wanted to work together, he –

The phone in his pocket buzzes buzzes buzzes, and it catches Charlie off-guard; hadn’t he set it to Do Not Disturb?

He remembers that the function doesn’t work for emergency contacts, and when he peeks at the screen on the table where it’s lighting up, the caller ID is of the elementary school, and Charlie’s heart nearly stops.

“Is everything alright?” Jerry-Tom asks, concerned.

“Yes – I’m, I’m so sorry, it’s my son’s school calling.” Charlie picks the phone up, fear cold and blinding as it drips down his into his stomach, “Would you excuse me for a minute?”

He’s out of the office before they even have a chance to respond.

He doesn’t go far, just steps outside the door into the little hallway, big thumb immediately hitting the button to accept the call as he holds it up to his ear, praying nothing happened, he doesn’t know what he’d do if something happened.

“Mr. Barber? This is – ”

“Is Henry alright?” Charlie doesn’t have the patience to be polite, not when his hands sweat and his heart pounds and he’s so tense he feels like he could snap into a thousand tiny pieces.

“Yes he’s fine, he says he forgot to get his workbook from home before arriving at school, is it possible you could bring it in? I hate to bother you but we’re using it extensively today.” The teacher says, and Charlie’s almost stunned by how innocuous the issue is.

He had nearly whipped up a whole scenario where Henry was being whisked away to the hospital right that very second, and the whiplash of it only being forgotten homework or whatever the fuck it was, has him stuttering all over the place.

“Uh, yeah, I can have someone drop it off.” Charlie says, already pulling the phone away from his face.

“Thank you, have a nice day.” The teacher says something along those lines, but he doesn’t really know because he’s hanging up on her, dialing your number as fast as he can.

“Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.” He whispers into the phone, willing you to pick up, checking his watch, begging the powers that be that you’ll answer, that you’re awake.

“Hey honey.” Your groggy voice crackles to life, probably the first time you’re using your voice for the day.

If this were any other circumstance, he’d savor that feeling, the way your voice is like velvet being rubbed the wrong way in the mornings, before you’ve had your coffee you’re still like satin like silk like everything he’s not good enough for.

But there are rich men in his office and they’re waiting for him and so is Henry and the teacher and the world and he doesn’t have the time to savor it even though he desperately wants to.

“(Y/N) I’m so fucking sorry to bother you but can you go into the house and find Henry’s workbook? It’s blue and has letters on it and a hippo. He left it I think on the dining room table?” The urgency in his voice bleeds through to you, because he can never really hold himself back around you.

“You got it, I’m going right now.” You say, and he can hear the rustling of your sheets and his heart soars.

“Thank you so fucking much, thank you, I’d do it but I’m literally in the middle of a meeting.” He’d drop down to his knees if you were there, he’s so filled with gratitude.

“Go, don’t worry, I’ve got it.” You’re blowing kisses into the phone quickly, that urgency of his now transferred to you.

“Thank you, I love you.” He says, hanging up the phone on you and feeling awful about it, before trying to get a fucking grip.

He takes a deep breath, sets his phone back in his pocket, and appears cool as a cucumber as he re-enters his office.

“So sorry gentlemen, where were we?” He returns behind his desk, giving them a friendly smile that suggested all was well.

“The new project, we’ve been hearing buzz that you and your wife have been rehearsing a script but have been struggling to find additional funding for the more…avant-garde aspects.” Tom-Jerry says.

Charlie’s entire stomach plummets.

Sometimes, Charlie really isn’t so sure if he can take much more.

“My wife.” He repeats, the words sounding robotic to his ears.

“Yes, Nicole Barber? She was superb in the previous show.” Tom-Jerry confirms, and he realizes that he must have said something wrong, because he can see the color drain from Charlie’s face.

“Thank you. She um.” He tries not to scream the words, tries not to shout them out until he’s hoarse, tries not to go down the rabbit hole of she left she hates me she doesn’t work with me anymore I don’t want to work with her I don’t like her I don’t love her don’t call her my wife she’s not my fucking wife she hasn’t been for a long time. Instead he swallows that down, says, “We’re no longer together, she lives in Los Angeles now.”

“Oh I’m so sorry to hear that.” They say almost in unison, and Charlie tries tries tries to get a grip.

He needs more coffee than the shitty cup of corner store brew, maybe he’ll ask Mary Ann to get him some.

That thought makes him feel like shit.

“It’s – the new play is on hold, I’ve been working on something else that’s new with the troupe, if you’d like you’re more than welcome to hear the treatment.” Charlie offers meekly, wondering if they’ll even want him now, wondering if he’s any fucking good on his own.

“If you wrote it, we’re sure it’s worth it.” Jerry-Tom seems to be a mind reader, and Charlie doesn’t know if he wants to laugh or cry, and maybe Jerry-Tom can tell, because he checks his watch politely with a, “Perhaps we can come back at a later date – ”

“No, no it’s fine. I’m sorry, please, you have my undivided attention.” Charlie does sit then, and he doesn’t care if it’s unprofessional or not, he doesn’t care.

He doesn’t think his legs can hold him up anymore, he thinks he might be sick if he keeps standing.

--------------

They talk well into the afternoon, past the lunch hour. It’s so refreshing, Charlie thinks, now that he’s calmed down, now that he’s back in his element. The brothers (he finally learns their names) ask for the treatment, they like it. They ask to watch rehearsals, they love it. The troupe is on cloud nine, Charlie is over the moon. He wants to tell you all about it, wants to – he realizes the time just then, it’s nearly four o’clock.

Henry gets out of school at three-fifteen.

He doesn’t think he’s ever called rehearsals closed and ran out of the office that quickly in his entire fucking life.

He runs from the theater to the subway, from the subway to the station, from the train to the house. His phone buzzes buzzes buzzes in his pocket, and he sees ten missed messages from you, three missed calls.

You’re calling him now.

“(Y/N)?” He shoves the phone against his ear, heart racing, running running running.

“Charlie where are you?” You ask, and you’re worried, and something about that worry pangs his chest too harsh, makes him stop around the corner, has to brace himself on a lamppost.

“Shit I’m so – I’m so fucking sorry I’m literally running to you now, I’m – ”

“Deep breaths, it’s okay. I picked him up, we’re at your house. You have like no food here, you know that? Do you want me to – ”

“I’m coming, I’m right here I’m here.” You and Charlie talk over each other all the way until he reaches the front door, until he wrenches it open and is faced with you and his son in the living room, making drawings with crayons. He puts his hands on his hips and tries very hard not to look like he just ran fifteen blocks, “Hey Henry!”

“You said you’d pick me up.” Henry’s not happy, he doesn’t even bother to look up at Charlie from where he’s drawing a very elaborate looking robot.

“I know, I’m sorry, I’m.” Charlie really has to catch his breath, there’s a pain in his side that he presses a hand to, has to lean on the credenza. “I’m sorry. But you got to spend some time with (Y/N), and that’s fun, isn’t it?”

Charlie looks at you with wide pleading eyes, and he can tell that you’re itching to hold him, itching to get your arms around him.

And that fucking kills him, it kills him. Because even now that Nicole is gone, he still can’t have you. Not yet, he can’t yet. It’s all too up in the air, all too uncertain, too soon. He could scream, with how unfair it is – even from a thousand miles away she’s still fucking him over.

He wants to pull you into his arms and hold you tight and kiss you in front of Henry, and he wants it to not be a big deal. But he can’t, because it would be, because he’s still married, technically. He’s still got a wife, technically. One who could show up again any day now and she’d see – she’d know, about the affair. If he lets himself have this now, have you now, the whole world would know about the affair.

And then she would surely take everything away from him, and he doesn’t…he can’t risk that.

You know, he can tell that you know because even though your hands are literally stopping themselves from reaching out to him, you’re not angry about it. You’ve never been angry with Charlie, not in any real way.

You’re probably the only person who isn’t, anymore.

Henry’s angry, coloring away.

“Yeah.” Henry says, and it’s clipped, and Charlie knows he should back off and give his son space, but he sits himself down next to Henry on the couch instead.

You’re over in the armchair, the one that only you ever really seem to sit in. Charlie’s begun to think of it as your chair, your little space in this home. In a sea of reminders of Nicole, that armchair is a safe haven, an island where he can safely come ashore.

“Hey why don’t we all go grocery shopping together, I’ll even let you push the cart.” Charlie offers, knowing that the incentive might earn him some brownie points.

“You will?” Henry takes the bait, and he peeks out at the side of his eye at Charlie, who pretends not to notice.

“Yup, and we’ll get the stuff for sundaes too.” He nods, and this makes him perk up entirely.

“Really?” He asks with a smile now, and Charlie takes in a breath of relief.

“You bet, remember how I said I had a big meeting? It went great, and that’s why I was late, and I’m sorry and it’ll never happen again, okay?” He apologizes, really means it, and Henry can tell.

Henry wraps his arms around Charlie’s middle, presses his face against Charlie’s chest and lets out a sigh himself.

“Okay.” He nods, and Charlie rubs his back for a minute, feeling awful for fucking up so badly like this. Then he asks something that makes Charlie’s heart warm so much that he wonders if Henry can feel it from where his face is still smushed, “(Y/N) will you come too?”

Charlie looks at you, and you smile, and he wishes you could join the hug, wishes you could sit yourself right next to him and he could hold you too. But he can’t, so you only smile from the armchair that he’s decided is yours and you nod.

“I can pick some stuff up for my house, yeah.” You say, and that seals the deal.

Do you know how a lost heart fears The thought of reminiscing And how lips have taste of tears Lose the taste for kissing

You drive to the supermarket together. Charlie drives and you sit in the passenger seat, and Henry sits in the back trying his best to read aloud the slogans on the reusable shopping bags. He’s getting better, Charlie has been helping him more and more. He always helped him with his schoolwork, but now…he maybe has been overcompensating Nicole’s absence, she used to help him too.

But he’s trying, and he’s getting better because of the practice, and Charlie can’t stop smiling about it. He can’t stop smiling in general, because for the first time in a month, with you and him all heading to the grocery store, things feel normal, things feel like they could pass for a normal, every day family.

If someone pulled up to them at a red light, they wouldn’t know that he’s a single father cheating on his wife with his best friend, desperately trying to hang on and adjust to this new way of living and working in the wake of Nicole’s selfish absence -- they’d just see the three of you singing along to the radio.

And that’s a really shitty fucking feeling, Charlie thinks. Because he could have that, he could have had that for so long. He could have had the balls to just tell Nicole he didn’t love her anymore, that he didn’t want to be together anymore, and then maybe none of this would have happened. A year of hiding and sneaking around, months of sleeping on the couch or in the theater or in a hotel with you.

But he didn’t do any of that, and now here you all are, getting out of the car at the fucking grocery store of all places – what was more domestic than this?

“Okay, let’s see what’s on the list…” Charlie says, as he unfolds a little piece of lined paper that you had been working on while Henry colored, “I know, Henry why don’t you go and pick out what kind of ice cream you want for tonight, can you do that for me?”

“Yes!” Henry says, taking his job very seriously and going straight to the dairy section, while you and Charlie grab a cart from the little spot by the front door.

With Henry on his mission, Charlie lets his shoulders sag a little.

“The meeting went well?” You ask with a small smile, wanting to bring him back to happy, always trying to bring him back to happy.

You walk down one of the aisles, a random one that’s got absolutely nothing on the list, but one that’s blissfully empty, a rarity on an afternoon like this. Charlie follows, because he’ll always follow you, and you both stare at a random assortment of pet food, for pets you don’t own, and it feels all too similar to your secret meetings back in the beginning.

Meetings where you and Charlie would plan to do your groceries at the same time, just so you could have some time together at all. Together but apart, that’s how it had always been, hadn’t it? Even now, though you’re standing so close to one another, your shoulders barely brushing, he’s painfully aware that still you have to wait.

But…but you are so close, and your shoulders are just barely brushing, and he could…if he wanted to, he could take a half step closer to you and hold your hand.

It’s been a month, since she left. Surely that was long enough to excuse this small action, this gesture of friendship, wasn’t it? He doesn’t have a very strong will when it comes to holding himself back from you, and even though he wants to kiss you in the middle of the fucking pet food aisle, he lets himself have this, a few of your fingers wrapped around a few of his own.

“They want to finance the play.” Charlie says, because he’s told you about it over glasses of warm drinks late at night while Henry sleeps, the rumors about the brothers.

You forget yourself for a minute, and you wrap him up in a big congratulatory hug, and he hugs you back, because for the first time in so long he has someone he can share good news with, someone who is actually happy for him, someone who cares.

“That’s amazing!” You say too loud, and you laugh out in excitement and he laughs too, and you’re holding onto each other as someone bumps their cart into yours and try to reach around for a can of purina.

You detangle yourselves, the reminder that you’re out in the world a little too harsh, but still you both beam at one another, your happiness infectious.

“Thank you.” Charlie laughs, feeling good about something, feeling good about being with you, even in the strained way you have to be together. He sighs then though, scrubs a hand down his face. “Thank you again, for earlier, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to spring that on you.”

You loop your arm around his in the way that you sometimes do when the both of you walk around anonymously in Times Square, the crook of your elbows hooking around each other in the way that Charlie’s heart wants to wrap around yours all the time.

“You can always spring shit on me, okay?” You say softly, sincerely, “I’m here for you, you and Henry. I mean that.”

He looks at you, and he can feel his heart beat in his throat because what if he kissed you, right there? What if he leaned down and put his lips on yours for just a second? He looks around and maybe now he’s being suspicious, maybe now he’s getting himself paranoid, because the more he looks the more it feels like everyone else in the grocery store knows that this is an affair.

He has no idea when Henry is going to come back, so he decides not to risk it, the kiss.

His lips burn, but he can’t risk it.

“Would you join us for dinner and ice cream tonight? Sometimes when it’s just the two of us, I think he can feel the weight of her absence.” Charlie asks instead, not letting your arm go.

“How are you holding up?” You ask instead of answering, because the both of you know that his question is really a formality, of course you’ll come over, you’ll always come over. Charlie keeps asking you to come over and you always say yes.

He doesn’t know what he’ll do if you ever say no.

You rest your head on his shoulder for a second, as he thinks and thinks and thinks about his answer, tries not to sound pathetic about it.

“I don’t think I am.” He chews on the inside of his cheek, growing frustrated and angry and he tries to blink away tears of frustration as he spills his thoughts on the grocery store floor. “I mean, am I? I wake up, I get dressed, I take care of him and then I try to work and then I come home and take care of him and try to answer his questions and then I lie awake in bed so fucking angry that I could scream. I’m so angry all the time that she’s the one who did this – not to me, but to him.”

He runs a hand through his hair, and you’re patient and you listen to him and Charlie wants to kiss you.

“I – I feel sick about it but I’m so fucking happy that she’s gone I just wish she hadn’t left like this. I wish it could have been something I had any say in, because god knows I have so much to say. And part of me feels like a shitty dad because there’s stuff about Henry that I don’t know because he never told me, even though I try so hard to be there for him all the time, and I try to learn everything I can. I try. But then I fuck up and I wonder if I even know anything about him at all.”

He's breathing hard and getting himself frustrated but you just rest your head on his shoulder, and you squeeze his arm in yours in a reassuring way, and suddenly, suddenly it seems like all his troubles melt away.

“You’re not a shitty father.” You say, “You’re a good father, in a shitty situation.”

How do you always know what to say?

He doesn’t deserve you, doesn’t deserve anything that you give him.

“I’m sorry.” He replies, but for what he isn’t so sure. There’s too much, that he could apologize for, how is he supposed to choose?

“Don’t.” You say, pulling away from him, taking the list out of his hand, because really he needs to snap back to reality, needs to stop bitching in the middle of this pet food aisle. “Now what kind of laundry detergent do you get?”

“It’s orange!” Henry’s voice pipes up from behind them, and you and Charlie separate further as fast as you can.

“Henry don’t scare people like that.” Charlie startles, tips of his ears going red. How long had he been standing there? How much had he heard? What had he seen?

Charlie almost wants to ask, but Henry is bright-eyed and happy, arms filled with pints of flavors of ice cream that normally Charlie wouldn’t dare entertain. He doesn’t look upset or angry or even curious in that way he always is when he sees something he doesn’t really understand, so Charlie counts his lucky fucking stars that Henry must have just only now walked over from the freezer section.

“The laundry, it’s orange.” Henry repeats himself, dumping all the stuff into the cart and pushing his way in front of Charlie to get his hands around the railing, assuming control of the cart the way Charlie had promised.

You and Charlie look at each other and shared a look that practically screams holy shit that was close, and then you’re smiling out your nerves, walking alongside Henry down to the laundry detergent aisle and happily chatting with him, “Thank you, come and help us find the other colors, hm?”

Charlie watches the two of you walk, watches you smile and laugh, and when you throw a look over your shoulder at him and reach out a hand, he’s practically compelled to take it.

You don't know how hearts burn For love that cannot live, yet never dies Until you've faced each dawn with sleepless eyes How could you know what love is, what love is What love is

--------------

Tagging pals! @steeevienicks @heldcaptivebychaos @solotriplets @formerly-anonhamster @lookinsidemyhead @candycanes19 @adamsnacc-kler @whiskey-bumblebee @magikevalynn @tinyplanet-explorers @chelsjnov @romancedeldiablo @helloimindelaware @elfieboxcat @laurenshit @autumnlovesadam @peterisparker @goodboybensolo @the-marvelatic @miasera @emily-strange @proxyfoxy @disaster-rose @hazydespair @yosoymuyloca @1-800-choke-that-snoke @ktellmeastory @anongirl007 @zimmerxman @okk--maaan @flapjacques @aweirdlookingtree @callmemania-pls @theold-ultraviolence @og-selene @pinkmoontribe-blog @schopenhauerdeathsquad @mochi-jhs

#charlie barber x reader #charlie barber/reader #charlie barber x you #charlie barber/you #marriage story #charlie barber imagine #charlie barber fanfic #charlie barber angst #charlie barber fluff #my writing #mind and soul #mind & soul #adam driver marriage story

84 notes · View notes