Neil Josten the original Kandrew shipper.
#phm#ryland grace#rocky the eridian#project hail mary spoilers



seen from France
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seen from United States
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Neil Josten the original Kandrew shipper.

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
The update to the demo available for the public!!
PUBLIC DEMO - 05/11/2026 - (Total: 340k)
Chapter One is currently released for free! You can play it right now on the link above, totally available for the public!
In these chapters you will...
Lose your temper.
Talk about your dreams.
Become a delivery person.
Do your laundry.
Talk to pretty people.
Find a cat.
Get shot.
If you run into any issues or errors please send me an ask about it.
Content warnings can be found at the start of the demo. God Syndicate is a romance interactive fiction novel meant for mature audiences.
The Space Between Blood and Belonging
Alpha!Neteyam x Omega!Reader
Chapter Two
Wordcount: 5.9k
Summary: Waking to a presence in the tent, the reader's warrior's survival instincts take over—she attacks first, pinning the intruder with a knife to his throat. What follows is a charged confrontation where power, biology, and desperation collide. When she reveals her thirst for revenge against the RDA, Neteyam offers her a bargain: he'll give her the blood she craves and teach her how to make the sky-people suffer, but in exchange, she plays his mate to appease his grandmother.
Warnings: Age up characters, Graphic depictions of war and violence, Trauma and PTSD, Blood and injury descriptions, Omegaverse dynamics (A/B/O), Scent marking/scenting, Heat mentions (non-graphic), Survival situations, Emotional distress/mental health struggles. I think that's all for this chapter, please let me know if I forgot something!
Author's note: HIIII, miss you guys, sorry I've been busy with school! I haven't forgotten you guys. I hope you enjoy reading this chapter. I had so much fun writing it!
Previous - Masterlist - Next
Danger.
The thought pierced through sleep like an arrow, sharp and sudden and absolute.
Your body reacted before your mind fully woke. Years of sleeping with one eye open, of waking to attacks, of learning that hesitation meant death—all of it compressed into pure instinct.
Someone was in the tent.
Someone was close.
Your hand found the bone knife at your hip in the same breath you moved. No thought. No consideration. Just the fluid motion of a predator striking—rolling, twisting, using momentum to drive your weight forward.
The figure beside the bed barely had time to register your movement before you were on them.
You slammed into them hard, using your shoulder to drive the intruder backward. They went down with a grunt of surprise, and you followed, knees pinning their arms to the woven mat floor, thighs bracketing their torso. Your blade found their throat in the span of a heartbeat, sharp edge kissing the vulnerable skin just above their collarbone.
One slice. That's all it would take. Sever the artery and watch them bleed out. Quick. Efficient.
Better to kill first and ask questions later than fall victim to death.
Your hand tensed, ready to drag the blade across—
A growl ripped through the air.
ׂ╰┈➤ SUCKER PUNCH! ᶻ 𝘇 𐰁
Chapter Two: Jawbreaker
MIKE WHEELER X NOBODY!READER.
↳ in which a loser boy meets an even bigger loser girl.
𖤓 ch.2 CONTENTS: reader is described as chubby, unfortunately I do use Y/n for simplicity sake I’m sorry, mentions of bullying, awkwardness, friendlessness, eventual yearning, shitty nerd x grumpy loner trope, silliness, 80’s, physical violence, mentions of blood and slight gore..? (Scrapes n’ stuff like that), verbal bullying, talking poorly about oneself,
𖤓NOTE: Thank you so much for all the support already in chapter one! This is very experimental because typically I don't do fleshed out fanfictions like this, but I wanted to give it a shot!
I WILL BE UPLOADING THIS TO WATTPAD AS WELL! I like Wattpad's formatting :)
CH.3
— — — — — — — — — — — — —
YOU had decided to go to the Afterglow.
You had a good idea on who was clocked in right now-- and after sneaking out of school to get out of that clusterfuck, your brain immediately jumped to him.
You had never unlocked your bike lock so fast. You jingled the key and nearly dropped it, you didn't mean to be so shaky but you were so paranoid that a staff member would see you hauling ass out of there that you had to be quick. Once the lock finally released, you shoved it into your bag and swung your leg over the bike that you had painted your favorite color last summer. The second you gathered your bearings, you peddled like hell.
You zoomed past cars on the side walk, the cooler fall air rushing past you as you rode against it's force. You had to admit, it felt relieving to know you didn't have to worry about any of this garbage until you got home, where you knew your parents would know about how you skipped detention by then and that you'd probably be grounded. You were so fed up that you just couldn't find it in you to care: not now.
Ever since you were a kid, you had been different.
It was always something about you. Your skin, your hair, your eyes, your clothes, the way you spoke. Kids were mean, and they could always find something about you without fail that made you stand out compared to everyone else, and not in a good way. You never fit in, you were always too nervous, never knowing what to say as a kid. One of your first core memories flashed in your mind as you peddled down Strikers Avenue on fifth, taking a right. You remembered it like it was yesterday.
It was the first grade, and you had been sitting alone in the sandbox during recess. You were staring down, drawing circles in the sand with your finger. The sound of footsteps on the mulch made you look up.
A little girl in the class next to yours looked down at you with a smile, brown hair cut short with bangs round and fluffy-you remember thinking that she looked like a doll.
"Do you want to play princesses with us?" She asked, voice light and airy. You did nothing but stair up at her, eyes studying hers. You don't recall what you were thinking in that moment, you just remember the way her face contorted as you yelled 'no' after a moment of silence that was too long. She flinched back, face contorting into something mean... Well, as mean as a six year old could look. "Whatever... Freak..!" She yelled back in some sort of defense. She ran away.
You don't know why you did that.
You sigh as you near the Afterglow, cursing your little child self for being so fucking weird. You had nothing against playing princesses, you played it with your dad all the time at that age. Something inside you at that moment just got so scared and nervous that you had that embarrassing outburst, and every since that day, you were labeled as just that. A freak.
You just weren't good at talking to people, even as a kid.
You slow to a stop outside the record store, hopping off your bike and slowly walking in, shoulders slouched. The man behind the counter looked up, confusion washing over him as he saw you. "Y/n? What're you doing here? Shouldn't you be at school or somethin'?" He asked.
"Yeah.." you mumble, walking up to the cluttered counter top. His look was now mixed with concern. "Shit, what happened to your face?" He questioned, setting the days paper down. Your nails tap quietly on the counter as you looked down, sighing. "Veronica..."
that was all he needed to hear.
groaning out in sympathy, he leaned back in the chair, looking at you like he didn't know what to do--and to be fair, he didn't know.
His name was Shephard, least that's what everyone called him. He was the owner of the Afterglow, and after he hired you last year you had quickly grown to like him more than your own parents. It was weird, but he was much more helpful than your mom and dad: You knew that was a horrible thing to say and think, but it was true. He actually gave good advice, the stuff he said meant something. He didn't just scold you or nag you... He actually treated you like a person. Late at nights sometimes when you laid in bed after arguing with your dad about grades while your mom sat back and said nothing, you wished he was your dad instead.
"Shit kid." He sighs. He leans down, taking a diet Coke out of the minifridge hidden beneath the counter and sliding it over to you. "For yer mug. There's some Cheeto's in the back too, if you're hungry." He gestured back there with a nod. You take the cold drink with a pursed smile, pressing it gently to your jaw and wincing at both the cold and the pain. You saunter past the counter and into the small office Shephard had, home to all the filing cabinets and the stores safe. There's a sealed bag of Cheeto's that sat pristine on his rather messy desk, waiting for you as your stomach growled. "Just got them before I opened, they're all yours, kiddo." He gruffly yelled back at you to make sure you heard.
You walked back to the front, sitting on a shitty stool that you guys kept behind the counter. "Thanks, Shep." You say. All he does is nod.
Shephard was cool. No kids, no wife. Actually, you knew nothing about his personal life, just that this record shop was his everything. He was a taller guy, not fat but not skinny. He had a slightly overgrown beard and mustache, all salt and pepper like as his beard slowly began to gray out with the rest of his hair. He had sad brown eyes, like a man who had seen too much. He always wore band T-Shirts, some metal bands from the current times, but a lot of stuff from the 60's and 70's. He had told you about Blondie once because he thought you'd like it, you loved it. that was a month into working there.
"So, wanna talk about it?" He asked after a moment of silence, broken by the crunch of Cheetos as you swiveled sadly in the stool. "Mm'Not rweally.." You punily muffled out as you chewed, cheesy fingers reaching in for another cheesy delight. Shephard just pursed his lips and nodded, expecting that answer. "They give you detention?" He pried. You just nodded as you ate.
"...You not goin'?" He asked another question. You nodded again.
Another moment of silence fell over the both of you as you stared into the floor, wallowing in your own self pity. You didn't catch the way Shep rolled up the newspaper as he hit you on the head with it, making you choke on a Cheeto as your hand clutches your head--cheesy fingers raised so you didn't get your hair dirty. "What the heck!" You seethe, licking your lips to clean up your mouth.
"You're parents're gonna kill you, yanno that?" He scolds. Okay, so maybe he did scold you sometimes... But only when it counts. He sighed as he watched you shrink. "Sheesh, guess you can't do much of anything now, huh? Ya already left..." He shook his head, resting on his elbows on the counter. "Whatever, you can stay here until you have to go home I guess, but don't let em' know I was housing a fugitive all day," He warns, pointing at you. "it'll be my ass."
You nod. "yeah yeah, I know." you groan. "Thanks..."
another moment of silence. You watch as he picks up the wall phone and starts to dial.
"Want pizza?"
-
FOUR days later you were in your usual spot behind the counter, this time instead of doing a crossword puzzle you were flipping through some old Rolling Stones magazine, cutting out things that caught your eye as you pasted them onto a slip of bright yellow cardstock paper. Sometimes you made collages at work cuz Shephard horded a ton of old magazines that did nothing but collect dust. After he found out you made them after the first two, he encouraged you to make more so he could display them all on the open space bellow the counter that the customers see. Now, slowly the empty space gets filled with your art pieces.
The bells ring, and you look up.
It was Max.
She nods at you as she walks up to the counter, you notice that she came in alone. "How's the face?" She asks bluntly. You set the scissors down and crossing your arms, guarding yourself on instinct. "Still attached, so it could be worse."
She gives you a smile: not one of pity, but one of understanding, at least on some degree. "Right, it's always good to look on the bright side I guess.." She trails off and turns to look behind her. "Hey, do you guys have any Kate Bush cassettes?" She asked, turning her attention back to you while pointing towards all the merchandise behind her. You nod, getting up from the chair and leading her over to a small rack by the door. You look through the display before pointing to the three cassettes that were left towards the bottom shelf. "Here they are. We have records too," You started, gesturing to the Walkman sticking out of her pocket. "but judging by that, these are all we got."
"Sick.." She smiled, picking up one of the newer ones and inspecting it. "This is awesome... uhm, do you know how much it is?" She asked, looking back at you as you walked to sit behind the counter. "Nothin'." You replied simply.
Her brows furrowed, walking back up as you presumed cutting. "What?"
"You can have it..." You elaborated. "getting even for the Juicebox or... whatever." you shrug, speaking as if she was stupid for not clocking that right away. You really were trying to be nice, but as always, you weren't the best at communicating. Max looked down at the now free item smiling slightly to herself. Despite your tone, she had a sneaking feeling that you really weren't all that bad, even with the tone. "Thanks..."
silence filled the shop as she watched you cut and paste away. "I haven't seen you at school in the past few days... how come?" She pried. "Got a three day suspension because I skipped detention." You sigh simply, not looking away as you line up a cut out pair of lips with a microphone on the cardstock. "No shit." She nods.
You don't say anything, but you note in your head: Max seems pretty chill.
"Y'know... Whenever you come back, you should sit with me at lunch." She offered. "Not that it isn't totally cool that you sit by yourself and stuff, but, y'know... Maybe it'll make Veronica lay off you for a bit." She elaborated.
This made you look up. Your eyes met hers genuine ones as she waited for you to reply. "Sit with you? Don't you sit with your friends already?" You questioned. "Yeah, so?"
" 'so', don't you think your friends will think it's weird if some strange chick comes up and sits with them? Kinda weird." You point out, your first instinct being to decline, decline, decline. Maxine though, just simply shrugged. " I don't care what they think--besides, I told them I'd invite you anyways."
"What?" You looked back up confused. She scoffed out a chuckle and shook her head, stepping backwards. "Do it or don't, but they don't mind." She concluded with one last shrug of her shoulders, bells jingling again as she opened the door and finally turned around fully to leave. You watched as she slid her headphones on, walking down the sidewalk.
You had never been good at talking to people or understanding tone...
. . .was she serious?
Ever since that happened you hadn't been able to get that moment out of your head... You couldn't believe that you were invited to sit somewhere-- You, of all people. It was a miracle, an act of god or something similar to that. You laid on your bed, music blasting in your room as the scene replayed in your mind over and over.
What if it was some kind of set up..? You couldn't help but think. You had no reason to believe that other than the fact that everyone in your school seemed to either hate you or think you're creepy or both. But when it came to Max, from what you could tell from her character, she was just a normal girl trying to offer a helping hand to another 'normal' girl. Of course you didn't see yourself that way, and of course you were highly skeptical of the whole situation.
Even then... you couldn't help but let your mind drift back to that day-dreamy state. the one where you pretend that you're involved in a loving group of friends, a group you feel like you can call family.
You didn't know anything about her or her friends, but that didn't stop you. Based off of the argument you heard between Dustin and Lucas, you imagined what it would be like having your own side in an argument with them between who the best superhero was... Would you agree with Dustin? or maybe Lucas... Perhaps you'd have a whole other hero in mind like Superman or something.
Your mind flashed an image of Mike holding The Cure's album at the counter, looking at you expectedly for a reply. You wondered what it would be like to listen to music with him. Would he share similar tastes as you did? Did he like Blondie? What if he didn't?
You thought back to Max. She seemed laid back, teasing in a playful and friendly way. You imagined yourself hanging out with her, too. At the mall, at the arcade down the street from the record shop. You imagined going back and forth, messing with each other as you both took the piss and laughing about it after.
Your eyes opened, adjusting to the light.
Fuck, were you really going to do this?
After spending the entirety of your high school career alone and fending for yourself, one random day in your Senior year after getting a knuckle sandwich from no one other than Veronica Steel is what earned you a lunch table invitation. This all felt so random, that's part of the reason why you were so doubtful of the whole idea. You had tried to talk yourself out of it, you really did... But no matter what route you took in making an excuse as to why it was a bad idea, that part of you that yearned for connection drowned it out.
Eventually, you fell asleep thinking about it. And when you awoke, it was still the first thing on your mind.
You cursed yourself for harping on it so much. Today would be your first day back at school, first day facing hundreds of teenagers that saw you get punched in the mouth, and first day facing Veronica after said event. You think it goes without saying, but you were not excited.
Getting ready went a bit differently than it always did this morning. Today, you picked out some terracotta colored tights, paired with a darker denim skirt and a brown sweater that you purposefully didn't tuck in so you could hide your figure more. You lied and said you didn't know why you were now currently in the bathroom doing your hair and makeup, but you knew it was because you wanted to look at least halfway decent. Partially because you were nervous to go back in general, but mostly because you were anxious about lunch. Truth is, the only think you didn't know for sure was whether or not you'd chicken out.
You leaned back after putting small gold hoops in your ears, taking in your appearance. You felt unsure, scared. It's not like you were glammed out, or dressed like you were about to go to a fall line photoshoot--you just looked... nicer than usual? At least in your opinion. You bit your lip, eyes searching your own as a sinking pit found itself in the bottom of your stomach. You fucking hated school.
Heading downstairs to get a bowl of cereal, you're greeted by your mother. She let out a sound mixed with a scoff of surprise and a laugh when she looked up from her romance book as she sat at the dining table. "Well! Where are you goin', missy?" She joked, taking a sip of her coffee. It made you stop in your tracks, panic rushing over you. You look down at your outfit, fear setting in. Gosh, was this a mistake? You weren't a fashion god, and you definitely had limited options but... "I don't know... I thought it was nice.." You reply, voice shaking. Your gaze shoots up to hers. "Why? Why- is it bad??" You ramble, alarmed.
"woah," She chuckles. "Settle down, sweetie. You look fine-definitely better than your usual get up." She mocks, and now you just feel insulted. "right." you mumble. Typical mom. She can't compliment you without saying something that will tear you down. How kind.
She dropped you off at school today, something she only did on rare occasions. The whole drive you looked out your window, chewing the inside of your cheek and inevitably messing up your lip gloss, which resulted in you wiping it all away with a napkin. It was annoying anyways, you thought. After saying goodbye to your mother, you walked into school: it took every fiber in you to not look down at your feet the whole time as you walked past your peers. You were supposed to be tougher than your average loser, that's why you had gotten this far. If you let people know that deep down you were nothing but an anxious insecure mess, it would be your ass.
You found yourself at your locker, getting your things for the first bell while your eyes lingered in the small mirror you kept in there for too long as the bell rung. You did your best to ignore it, but you could see the stares from behind you in the mirror. Sick of it, you shut the door and went to class.
-
Surprisingly enough, you went through the first half of your day mostly unbothered. Sure, there were some looks and whispers here and there, but that was the usual for you. Honestly, you were relieved. Maybe you had been psyching yourself out too much.
Just like the fateful day you got punched in the face, you put your math folders in your locker and grabbed your English ones, getting ready for the bell after lunch so you didn't have to stop at you locker on the way there. Simple time savor.
Now, you found yourself walking into the lunch room, eyes raking over the groups of people that sat with their friends. You were suddenly so much more aware of your hair and clothes in that moment, in such a big area. One hand clutched the strap of your bag, and the others' fingers toyed with the hem of your sweater that you were realizing was a little too scratchy. You must have looked like an idiot.
where were they..?
You had a hard time spotting Max, looking around for anyone with red hair so that you could minimize the searching. After what felt like a minute too long of searching, standing in one space: your shoulders deflated. That was before a familiar voice called out to you from a table hidden by some of the student councils' tables heads.
You perked up. It was max.
"Hey, We're right here!" She smiled at you, waving you over. You swallowed, walking over. Okay, no chickening out now.
Walking up to the group, they all had their eyes on you. Not because of how you looked, whether good or bad: But simply because you were new. You couldn't see that though, all you saw were eyes on you. "Hey, guys--this is Y/n." Max gestured towards you, taking a bite of her sandwich.
You want to say something more light hearted and kind sounding than the stone cold, unenthusiastic 'hey' you did: you pursed your lips. Shaking her head, she scooted over so you had a place to sit: nearly knocking Lucas off the damn bench seat. Dustin gave you a toothy grin and waved. "Hi, Y/n." He greeted.
Everyone else, as in Lucas and Mike, let out a mixed 'hey' and 'hello.' These guys were just as awkward as you. "Man, you guys suck." Max teased. She turned to you, setting her food down and wiping her hands over her tray. She went to point to each boy. "Y/n, this is Dustin, Lucas, and Mike." She explained to you. Now, you could put names to faces.
"Cool." You nodded awkwardly... painfully so. Max could tell you didn't really know what to do or say, so she kept talking. "After I met back up with these idiots when I gave you my drink the other day I told them you were cool, asked if you could sit with us for now on." She elaborated. "--Uhm, you didn't ask, you told." Dustin added, meant as a joke, but you couldn't help but feel a twinge of 'unwantedness' at his words. Max kicked his shin from under the table. "Don't be an asshole! You literally said you thought it would be sick for her to join us so stop trying to act cool." She scolded. He threw up his hands. "what?? It was an astute statement! I don't have a problem with her sitting here!"
You sit there, watching the two bicker. Lucas shut them up with a hand meant to separate them. " Ignore them, we really don't mind if you chill with us." He reassured. You slowly nodded, something in you looking at Mike. You wanted to know if he had any input, anything at all. When your eyes met his, he glanced around before nodding. "Yeah, yeah It's fine." He added.
"Nice," You start. "Uhm, thanks." You express your gratitude with a blunt tone. Slowly settling in, you set your bag on the floor. People walk past your table as they get their lunch and go to their seats. You people watch for a second before a voice drags you out of your regular space-out.
"Where's your lunch?" Dustin asks with his mouthful of Doritos. Max mumbles something about 'gross', and you shrug. "Not really hungry. Ate a big breakfast, no big deal." You shrug, rubbing your hands on your knees trying to remain calm. You watch as he shakes his head, digging in his lunchbox for something. Everyone watches confused with a tilted head or a cocked brow.
"Here," He said, handing a wrapped candy to you. You looked down and read the label. It was a jawbreaker--you hadn't had one in ages. You look up at him with a cocked brow of your own, he just gestured it at you again. "It'll tie you over till you get home. These fuckers last ages." He smiles kindly. You make a note in your mind, Dustin seems nice.
"Real nutritious, genius." Mike adds, rolling his eyes. You look to him, and you notice his twitchy mannerisms. It intrigues you, and you look back to Dustin as he responds to his friend, hand still extended. "What? It's all I Have left! Besides, they're good." He replied. Mike went to respond back but you shook your head and took the candy, they both looked at you. "It's Fine... Thanks, Dustin."
You mess with the wrapper as your eyes get drown to the walkway of the cafeteria by your table for the day again. Low and behold, there she is, the best flyer on the Hawkins cheer team.
Veronica locks eyes with you, her usual posse as well: Though you notice that Kathy's eyes don't linger as long as the other two girls' do. You feel a familiar fear bloom within you, but your stubbornness prevailed. You unwrapped the candy, placing it in your mouth as her eyes followed you when she walked past. She didn't say anything, but the look in her eyes acted like some sort of warning you couldn't quite place.
You look back to the geeks you sat with, they were all debriefing some sort of campaign that the guys played a few days ago. They hadn't even noticed the stare-down. "Y/n, you ever play DnD?" Lucas asked, leaning past Max to look at you. The question brings you to reality. You answer.
And just like that for the rest of lunch, they're yapping your head off about Dungeons and Dragons.
𓏲ּ𝄢🎼ılılıll|̲̅̅●̲̅̅|̲̅̅=̲̅̅|̲̅̅●̲̅̅| llılılı🎼
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THE GOLDEN HOUR
Chapter 2 • Holding The Line
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⚠️ DO NOT READ IF THIS MIGHT TRIGGER YOU
Dana Evans x fem! Homicide Lieutenant OC
Summary: Joanna has been hurt during the raid. Dana and the ED staff try to save her life.
Content Warning: USUAL THE PITT TALK • Blood, injuries, wounds, Blood loss, being stabbed, having a piece of debris in the abdomen, mention of death, IV, needles | USUAL POLICE TALK • Homicide, victims, blood, violence, weapons, injuries, bombs, explosions, being stabbed, fights, mention of gangs, mention of the DEA, drugs
*

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
𝚆𝚑𝚊𝚝’𝚜 𝙸𝚝.
.𖥔 ݁ ˖🕷.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✩₊˚.⋆⁺₊✧ 𖥔.
Summary ⟢ After suffering amnesia from a severe accident, you wake up to find yourself in an unfamiliar house with an unfamiliar man, a man that acquaints himself to be your husband.
But is he truly who he says he is?
⋆⁺₊✧ 𖥔 ݁ ˖ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕋𝕨𝕠 ⋆⁺₊✧ 𖥔 ݁ ˖
When you emerged from the bedroom, it was the next morning and you were wary, almost edgily so, eyes jotting from both sides of the door, staring past the corridor to ensure no one was simply standing there before quietly sliding out where old floorboards churned grittily under your weight making you clamp down on your teeth.
You made your way downstairs once more and peered along the edges of each room’s doorframe that lined the corridors that bent into the foyer. Discovering an empty parlor, lounge room, dining room, pantry, and even the small study along the back of the house with a reverent approach, preparing yourself to find the blonde stranger somewhere within the process of your findings, but nothing.
You were alone.
You hummed at this, arms loosely falling at your sides as you stilled in the dead center of the hallway, light emitting from every room along the sides of the dim corridor and leaking alongside the floor plan.
The first thing you found yourself needing to do was find a phone. Not mattering what kind, you didn’t care. You just needed to call for help as you were in a very odd situation.
Part of you concisely entertained the idea of the most contrived level of a hostage situation you’ve ever thought of right before you had stumbled too close to the hallway’s walling, hooking the fabric of your sleeve to the accented frame of a hung up portrait.
You unhooked yourself, snapping a dismissing look at it’s’s glossy image before predetermining yourself to turn into the house’s kitchen.
Only did you step halfway into the archway of the room before slowly backing out and stumbling backwards from the wall next to it.
The picture wasn’t large but it wasn’t something that could’ve been overlooked either.
Framed in an ornate walnut square was a picture of you and the man that claimed to be your husband, clothed lavishly in wedding apparel. The two of you were perched along an elevated pair of steps in front of a wooden altar (within what you could’ve guessed to be a chapel of some sort). The lacy train of your dress trailing heavily behind you as your arms were intertwined so firmly that it was dwindling along the line of embracing. A large giddy smile graced your face through the lace veil that hung over your head as the same expression was pasted across his.
You hadn’t realized your mouth had fallen open until you could feel a cold breeze waft the palette of your tongue.
You were floored.
Another sensation fleeted through you that made you spiral and your head spin nauseously.
Your back hit the opposite wall as your vision tunneled onto the portrait.
When the fuck did this even happen?
You looked down at the back of your hand and at the wedding ring banded perfectly around your ring finger and then, as if trying to make sure your eyes weren’t deceiving you, you snapped your eyes back up at the picture. Both of your hands flattened against the wall beside your thighs.
“It’s my favorite picture, you know.”
You let out a yelp, spinning around to your left to see the ruby red knot of a tie peaking out from the tawny waist coat.
Your eyes panned up hurriedly and met those disturbing pale eyes once again.
You then realized within that moment that you should’ve kept yourself locked in the sanctum of the bedroom, where you wouldn’t see pictures of yourself doing things and participating in events that you had no recollection of whatsoever. Where you’d feel as safe and secure as you could manage to be.
You swallowed, still staring up at him, eyes contorted in a combination of shock and distress, fingers returning back to their habit of shedding whatever spare flake of flesh around the nail beds.
His smile widened, portraying kindly as you could watch him examine you.
“I’m sorry for startling you. I assumed you knew I was there.” He explained.
You swallowed hard, shaking your head and returning your eyes back across the left side of the corridor and at the picture, where you could see him in the corner of your sights meet where you were looking, swearing you heard him huff through his nose with amusement.
“Our wedding day.”
“I. I see that.”
“That day I never felt so happy.” The palm of a hand felt flattening softly against the base of your back,”You looked so beautiful.”
You shot him an odd look, confused.
“Still so pretty.” He added.
You shuddered and shifted away, feeling his hand slide off your back where it collected with his other in a clutch against his lower abdomen.
You fleeted your eyes from his bottom half to his top.
“I had planned to go on a walk for a bit. Would you like to come?”
You paused for a minute. Mouth parting for a moment before hesitantly closing.
“You don’t have to feel obligated to, of course.” He smiled, tilting his head to the side by a slight inch, “It may be nice to get out of the house for once.”
You thought for a moment, looking down at his shoes before letting out a breath before nodding.
“Sure.”
˚₊𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪₊˚
The morning air was slightly damp and cool against what little of your skin was bare, but not in the means that were bitter or anything like that. It was pleasant and it balmed whatever bit of unsteadiness that frazzled your nerves from the few moments prior to then. However, your eyes remained on the cotton white slippers that was given to you before setting out past the front door, being told that they were “yours” as well as the fleece house coat that wrapped snugly around your torso.
“Henry.”
You swiveled your head to the side with a confused expression tugging at your features, mouth open. “What?”
“My name.” He explained, angling his head in your direction,”It’s Henry.”
“Oh.” You muttered, turning away and letting your eyes wander elsewhere, beginning to entertain your attention along the small clusters of houses and occasional duplexes, noting how none of them had a single light on or displayed any sign of current residence.
It was odd. But, once again you remembered that this entire situation that you had fallen upon was odd in its own.
Feeling as if you’ve been ripped away from a prior life that you had dreamt up while unconscious only to lose total memory of it all and dropped inadvertently back into an old one where you were a wife to this much older and blonde stranger.
However, you weren’t complaining much about it. He wasn’t ugly. You’d admit that, at least.
“How long?”
“Hm?”
“How long have we been married?” You muttered, fidgeting with your cuticles against your midriff.
A pause swelled the conversation, as if he needed a moment to wonder and think about it truly, or perhaps still taken aback that you had lost so much of your memory.
“Next month will be 4 years.” He softly stated in a matter-of-factly manner, letting a smile grow on his face, still staring down at you.
Your eyes widened at his words.
Long damn time.
“Oh.” You muttered, looking back down at your slippers, feeling crumbled particles of rock and busted down cement crumble below the press of your feet.
“We don’t uh—“you whisked your attention off with an open mouth, pulling your face back into his direction where he patiently waited for you to find your words. Pleasant smile still painting his mouth.
“Don’t um…” you swallowed with an uneasy look on your face.
”Children?” You finally muttered.
He shook his head, pressing out a slight sound of amusement through his teeth,”No children.”
It was pretty obvious. Considering that the house was immaculately empty of any other soul besides you or him. You just wanted to know under a hungry curiosity, holding up small What if statements and assumptions that the said child(ren) could’ve been sent to a nearby relative until you had gotten better.
But no. Thankfully.
You’d hate to have a child and not remember who they were, after all.
“How long have I been out?”
The question came and went, for a moment you began to assume you were unheard, simply passing unanswered.
Your feet proceeded down the path, every once in a while you would give him the slightest glance to the side and at him before jotting your eyes back ahead of you.
You remembered having a life before this—this new or old one, you just couldn’t remember just like you couldn’t remember anything from this current life.
It was so disorienting and you swore if you thought hard enough you could remember a much more normal life. Where you didn’t live in a financially privileged estate, no husband, no lover, just you and your own devices. But, then your head would spin and ache with a severity of pains and discomfort and that would leave your nerves unbearable for a few minutes.
So you quit thinking about what was, abandoning it like a typical dream. A lucid one.
“A while.” He nodded.
You looked back at him, mouth craned open, not having anything to say except for a mere hum before sealing your mouth into a flat line and still proceeding forward, still holding the housecoat to your body.
You began to slowly settle on the plausible approach that maybe during your fitless state of coma-like rest, you had simply dreamt up what felt like a whole life. It wasn’t an unheard of phenomenon. In fact, it seemed the most realistic possibility out of this entire mess.
“How did we meet?” You chewed against your chapped lip.
And when he paused again, you began to assume you were exhausting him of answers, the prevalent duty of a wife annoying her husband bleeding through the hazy edges almost immediately after waking up.
But, you didn’t. You just wanted answers. And you were so very confused…
“The park.” He muttered.
You blinked, stepping on a dry leaf that crunched brutally under the sole of your slippers.
“The park?” You repeated.
“Mhm.” You felt his arm graze yours,”I knew what I wanted out of life when I first saw you, actually.” He explained.
Your tongue clicked against your bottom lip,”What were you doing at the park?”
“Watching.” He smiled.
“The birds?”
“Everything.” He answered.
The two of you proceeded down the sidewalk until you purchased the urge to look up, staring at your large blue home with white trim to your far left, on the opposite side of the road where the two of you had been trekking alongside. As if you hadn’t been walking down the entire opposite side of the neighborhood.
Unless the two of you had gone in a circle somewhere during your walk and you hadn’t realized?
You looked over your shoulder. Seeing a straight pedway stretching down the other side of the street, leaving you gagged.
“But, once I saw you, I couldn’t take my eyes off you.”
You turned your head back around, seeing him angled to face you, hands collected along his front side.
You turned to him, hands falling to your side.
“What happened next?” You asked.
His smile widened,
“I loved you for all you were worth.”
“Oh.”
Your eyes couldn’t help but to race from Henry’s leering face to the shrubby green treeline that bordered past the small playground across the street. Where the vibrant smudge of orange was seen peaking out from one of the trees within your peripheral vision.
When your eyes adjusted properly, you saw a girl.
She looked terrified.
You wondered why.
……..
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Chapter Three out now
As the year unfolds | Sir Pentious x Gender Neutral reader
Summer had arrived in London, and with it, the windows were flung wide.
Chapter rating: Universal, general audience
Relationships: Sir Pentious x Gender Neutral reader
[Chapter one - The Singular Gent]
Chapter Two - The Heat Of First Words
After tracing your shortcut for weeks more, it had become your habit to exchange bashful smiles and meek greetings with the strange bespectacled man, when your gazes did meet. Yet, you never uttered a word. He never did open wide his window, neither to offer a greeting nor to wish you a good morning, afternoon, or evening.
Was he a hermit? A monk, perhaps? Though his appearance did not resemble any monk you had previously beheld. He did not resemble any other man with his lengthy hair, for that matter. It did occur to you that perhaps he were a man of science, considering you witnessed what seemed to be implements of engineering resting upon the window ledge. You were not acquainted with many men of science, save perhaps for a fellow named Brunel, though he had been deceased twenty years or more.
When the weather had reached its most sweltering point in Whitechapel, you resolved upon a promenade. You had hoped that the sea's breath might waft up the Thames, a solace of sorts. Naturally, you did frequent your customary route, on the chance that your enigmatic gentleman might have a window ajar, and you did harbour the hope that he would be gazing out, as he usually now did.
As you rounded the corner, your heart gave a joyful leap. There he was, leaning from the window. His collars were undone, his tie was ever so slightly disarranged, and his long, raven locks were swept aside over his shoulder, tied off with a piece of twine, affording his neck a mere trifle of a breeze. His sleeves were rolled up to the elbow, as if to ward off the oppressive summer heat. He wiped his brow delicately with a handkerchief. You could see that grease or oil had dirtied his forearm. An engineer? You posed the thought to yourself. Gazing upward, you approached the window, now in full measure as was now customary.
The gentleman, now aware of your presence, granted your customary small smile and a modest wave. His gaze, inquisitive, peered at you from behind his golden framed spectacles. You returned the fellow's gesture, calling forth, "Good Afternoon!" Summoning the courage to address him now directly. If your face had not already grown ruddy from the sun, they jad grown ruddy from addressing the gentleman. He appeared almost astonished, as though he was a specter or ghost, newly perceived.
"Good afternoon!" he offered in return, with a certain timidity. A rasp lent itself to his voice. A palpable tension hung in the air as you stopped in your steps.
"Pray, good sir," you started, "I find it most irregular that we have been exchanging greetings near every day for weeks, and yet remain unacquainted. Might I be so bold as to enquire as to your name?" You ventured. Again, the gentleman bore a look that states that he was almost startled, almost troubled, yet a faint smile did grace his countenance.
"Pendleton," He declared. ",and might I enquire, what name it is that you bear?" You gave your name to him, and his expression brightened considerably. You noticed straight away, that this gentleman was not bred in Whitechapel. His manner of speech, a curious blending with Northern tones, denoted a certain degree of refinement. A well spoken chap. You proceeded:
"Might I enquire as to your occupation?" His face for the first time you had seen it, broke into a most radiant smile, his pearly whites were openly displayed for the world to observe, and one might now discern a distinct hook to his nose.
"I am an inventor, extraordinaire!" He proclaimed, now leaning from the window, supported by his hands, his face alight with joyous surprise that someone had paused to lend an ear. His eyes burnt with ardent fervour. You might've fancied that he were not altogether accustomed to socializing. His bearing, his very tone, possessed a singular sort of endearing enthusiasm. You found your heart fluttering.
"O! In the same manner as Brunel?" In honesty, you did not possess much of an understanding regarding the current inventor's sphere, yet you desired to project an air of...A thing of likely interest to the gentleman. You desired further knowledge of this, this Mr. Pendleton.
"A most great inspiration, indeed! Were it not for his influence, I should not be engaged in my current pursuits!" He straightened, his back slightly aching from his angle at the window. "And yourself? A fellow inventor?" The notion elicites a rather broad smile from yourself. Amusement passed through your lips in the form of a scoff. "I? No! Never! Though I confess to admiring the industry."
The noonday sun, high in the heavens, began to tingle any flesh left bare. You rubbed the nape of your neck, in a vain attempt to soothe the discomfort. "I should be utterly delighted to converse, Mr. Pendleton, but, I must take my leave." You paused. "Might we, perhaps, resume on another day?" You asked with hope. A fleeting shadow of disappointment momentarily crossed Mr. Pendleton's features, before his gentle smile returned. "Indeed! It's a pleasure at long last to have formed your acquaintance." With that, with the merest bow of your head, you took to the streets, river-bound. Pendleton, he retreated forthwith into the cool shelter of his workshop.
[Chapter three - The shelter of his light]
second chances
mob boss! lando norris x reader
part two: hush hush, baby
word count: 1.5k
warnings: just shock symptoms i think? creepy stranger vibes, that's abt it i think
one | two | three
Lando could tell she was in shock—he’d seen it before. Eyes wide, breath shallow, body trembling as though her very bones had been rattled. He took a tentative step closer, careful to keep his movements slow and non-threatening.
He had no interest in hurting her, not yet, not when she hadn’t done anything wrong. He never was a fan of collateral damage – meant you had messed up, gotten sloppy. It was unprofessional, if you asked him. However, it didn’t change the fact that sometimes, it was necessary. She had seen something she wasn’t meant to see, and while it was nothing personal, it had to be handled. He would handle it.
No need to rush things.
“You’re safe now,” he said softly, his voice smooth as he studied her. He offered her a hand, and though she hesitated, something made her instinctively reach for it. Her fingers trembled against his, cold to the touch.
“I know you’re scared, yeah?” he murmured, his tone soothing. “S’alright. Just breathe, m’kay? Can you do that fo’ me?”