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darkwolf989 · 28 days

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Outside the Office Part Seventeen

Hi all,

A little bit of a transition post- the next one will be a bit spicier. Enjoy the story and as usual, trigger warning, specifically for dealing with death.

I didn’t realize I was crying until my head was on Valentino’s shoulder. He wrapped his arm around me as the tears of sadness, anger, frustration and shame flooded through me.

“The first time hurts, princessa. It always does.” He said softly. “And it isn’t uncommon to not convince a soul to sign on the dotted line, especially on the first try.”

I felt his hand run through my hair as he held me. The thought of someone, anyone, going through the unimaginable pain of descending into hell by themselves, and the inevitable of what would happen to someone who was very close to just a child herself.

“You tried,” Valentino said quietly. He released his hold and guided me to his desk. He sat himself down in the chair and pulled me on his lap, and cradled me against his body. “You tried your best, but at the end of the day- she chose not to sign.”

“She didn’t have time to hear me out! If I had said different words, if I had just…” My words broke into a hiccuping sob. “If I had just done better.”

He again wrapped his arms around me and silently held me until I quieted once again. When he spoke again his words were soft, but stern.

“You need to understand something, reader. Listen to my words carefully. We offer a soul a choice, and we do our best to provide a soft landing for those we can. But at the end of each interaction, the ultimate decision is not ours to make. You can wish you had done things differently, but the outcome is not ever in your hands.”

His arms wrapped tighter around me and he ran his hand down my back, and pressed his lips to the top of my head.

“This is the most I’ve ever heard you call me by my name,” I said, rubbing my eyes. Tears leaked out and I let out a frustrated laugh mixed with a sob, “goddamn it.”

He gave me a small smile. “Only when I need to get your attention. Otherwise, I prefer my pet names. And I think you do too. Close your eyes for me, princessa.”

I did as he asked and I felt him gently pat the tears away from my face. I let out a hiccup and a sob as I opened my eyes.

“God damn it.” I cursed as another hiccup shot through me.

“I’ve got your cure, sit tight,” he said as he stood up. He carefully placed me on the desk and walked across the office. “I promise I’ll be right back.”

I watched the wall roll to the side and when he stepped out, it closed behind him with a silent slam. A few hiccups later, Valentino reappeared, balancing three mugs in his hand. The first he handed to me and with his guidance, I went through the ritual of bending at the waist and drinking down the warm water. of warm water. After a few hiccup free moments, he handed me a second mug.

“Tea. Sip on it, princessa. It will help settle your nerves, I promise.”

I eyed him suspiciously. “Just tea? What kind?”

He rolled his eyes. “Yes, just camomile tea and honey. Nothing extra, I promise. I wouldn’t do that to you. Ever.” He wrapped his hands around his own mug and took a sip.

I did the same. A calm washed over me with each sip and all too soon, the mug was empty.

“Feel better?” Valentino asked, his own mug empty as well. “I always feel a touch dehydrated whenever I travel to earth and back, no matter how frequently I go. Vox and Velvette feel the same, which is why we keep cold water back here,” he nodded towards the fridge in the corner. “Though after tough nights, I find tea more helpful than anything else. But keep that between us, okay?” He leaned over and kissed the top of my head.

“I feel better now, can we go back out? Vox said there was no limit on souls collected, so we can travel back right now, right?” I asked.

He hesitated. “Mi amore, you witnessed a difficult scene tonight. I think it would be best if we….”

“Went home? Saved no one?” The frustration in my voice was evident to both of us. “Val, I…”

“Also deserve to rest. I won’t refuse your request, but is that really what you want? Or do you think you could better serve the next soul you touch by ensuring you are at your best?” He kissed my forehead. “Think about it, princessa.”

As much as I hated to admit it, he had a point. I was eager to get back out there, but the anger, the lack of control that surged through me when I realized I hadn’t done what I set out to do frightened me. And if I couldn’t keep my own emotions in check, what was to keep me from doing more harm than good? I could still feel the tingling sensation and inside, my emotions tumbled.

“Val, I want to go home,” I said quietly.

“I think that’s a good choice for love.” He offered his hand. I took it in mine and together we walked back into the club scene.

The bright lights and loud music momentarily stunned me as I walked back into the scene. Compared to the quietness of the office, the unwelcome noise made my head hurt. Desperate for a moment to myself, I tugged his hand.

“Val, I need to use the bathroom,” I said as I released my hand from his. “I’ll be right back.”

He nodded and turned his attention to a demon who slid up next to him. His expression shifted into work mode and his signature smile broke across his face. Ugh, watching him work was the last thing I wanted to do. I slipped off to the side and made my way into the club bathroom.

The bathroom itself was eerily quiet, absent of the drunken demons who typically showered each other in compliments. As I stood and washed my hands as a gaggle of girls walked in.

“Ohmygodlook, it's like the Vee's little pet,” one of them cooed. “Did they finally let you off your leash?”

I whirled around to face them. At my fingertips, power tingled. “What did you say?”

“Uhm, are you fucking dumb as well as deaf?” one of the others snapped. “You’re more pathetic than the rest of Valentino’s little fangirls.”

“Honestly, what does she have that we don’t?” another sneered. “With you out of the way, Valentino will have no distractions to keep him from us.”

“And that Vox…mmm…I wouldn’t mind getting wrapped up in his circuits,” the final one cooed.

“So really, if we just push her out of the way our pathway will be clear. We can do that, right girls?” She reached for me. “Come to me you little who-”

I punched her before she could finish her sentence. The events of the night, all the rage, the anger, the sadness and uncertainty coursed through my veins as logic was forgotten, leaving behind nothing but the rawness of emotion. Power coursed through me as I picked another one up and threw her through the door. The door flew back off its hinges and she hit the wall, leaving behind a demon shaped indent. I reached for the next one and grabbed her by her stupid black wings before I launched her as far away from me as I could. Security came rushing over and I could feel the rage grow with each passing second as the rest attempted to scurry.

“Don’t you ever, fucking call me a whore,” I snarled as my hands wrapped around the throat of the first demon, “and if you ever, ever even think about touching me again, I will end your fucking life. I’m not Valentino’s fucking pet, I’m the princess of fucking hell!”

Another explosion as I launched her across the dance floor. I felt a hand on me and without hesitation, I pushed away the security demon. He flew back, and landed far, far behind me. Somewhere deep inside, this power felt amazing. Slowly, I advanced towards one of the girls who lay on the floor. How far could I take this?

Vox’s voice broke through my thoughts. “Reader!”

The anger in his voice caught me by surprise and I felt his hand wrap around my wrist. Or what It thought was my wrist. The sight of the swirling red and purple around my hands yanked me back to reality.

“Come with me. Now.” Vox yanked me across the now vacant dancefloor.

Every inch of energy I had put towards wasting those bitches deflated as I was dragged out the door, Velvette behind me, her fingers flying a mile a minute on her phone. I tried to protest as he pulled me into the limo and Vox shook his head at me and pushed me into a seat.

“But Valentino!” I begged.

“Now has a major clean up to handle, what the actual fuck happened?” Vox asked, his voice eerily calm as he forced me to look at him as his eye swirled. “Now is your one chance to explain.”

“The girls, in the bathroom they…” I broke into the story, humiliation and horror washing through me as I realized what I had done.

“So you thought the best way to handle stupid drunk bitches was to put them through the wall? And lose your shit?” Velvette asked. She glanced up from her phone. “I mean, on a personal level I can’t blame you. I probably would have done the same thing.”

Vox looked pained. He pulled out his own phone and began to type. “Lets just hope Val and Lucifer can do enough damage control that this doesn’t fuck up your reputation or ours.”

I felt the color drain from my face. In the heat of the moment, I hadn’t considered the long term consequences, or how it would affect those around me

“Did you not think your actions would be noticed? Just because they didn’t realize who you are, others fucking did,” Vox asked when he saw my face. He leaned back against the seat, the annoyance prominent on his features. “You’ve been with us long enough now to know we only show our best sides in public, and keep the meltdowns behind closed doors.” He shook his head. “Luckily for you, every single instance of footage of the incident is already gone. We’ll see what kind of in person damage control Val and Lucifer can do.”

If I felt bad before, I felt absolutely awful now. Shame and embarrassment flowed through me and as soon as the painfully silent ride home ended, I rushed ahead of the other two up to my bedroom, and locked the door behind me. I half expected to hear a knock or for the door to be zapped open, but instead blissful silence surrounded me. They were probably too busy trying to cover up my fuck up to come and check in the way I had grown used to the past few months.

Unsure of what else to do, I opted for pajamas and a shower. As I let the hot water hit my skin, the feeling of self loathing intensified with each passing second. I fucked up, not just once, but twice. I cost a soul her chance at a safe landing and I fucked up not only my reputation, but the reputation of the Vee’s as well. Dread knotted in my stomach as worry and fear took over. What would be the consequences of my actions? My lack of control? Whatever it was, I deserved it- every single part of it, whatever that might be. I hoped beyond hope that the consequences were ones that I would bear alone, and that my actions didn’t hurt the ones I had come to love.

My mind continued to race as I wrapped a towel around myself and stepped out of the bathroom. I stood in my closet, and looked over the plethora of pajamas. After a few moments of hesitation, reached for one of Valentino’s shirts, then pulled my hand away. Of all the people, he would be the one to suffer the most for my actions tonight. It was his club I had damaged, his clients who had paid the price of my misplaced anger, and his reputation I had probably wrecked.

I felt the hot sting of tears threaten to spill and I grabbed a different pair of my own pajamas and crawled under the covers of my bed. Gone was the fierce girl in the mirror, and unable to control the swirling emotions, all I felt was weakness. As I bit back the tears, my fathers voice echoed in my head.

Tears never solved anything. He would snarl at me. Get up, and fix the issue.

This applied to everything to a scraped knee, a paperwork error, and everything in between. I wrapped my arms around myself and tried desperately to regain control. That’s all I needed to do. Stop feeling, and let logic dictate my next steps. Crying twice in one day? Unacceptable. I was better than this. At least, I used to be.

“Hey, little lady. Why the frown?” Lucifer’s voice floated through the bedroom.

I felt his weight as he sat down on the bed. Wrapped in my own thoughts, I hadn’t felt the shift in power when he entered the room, or maybe there just hadn’t been one.

Silence for a moment, and then he cleared his throat.

“Val told me what happened, when you went to collect your first soul. And I saw the footage from the club. While I completely agree they deserved every single bit of your anger, you need to not ever do that again. You’re lucky it was towards the end of the night, on a relatively slow night at that.”

I didn’t answer. I felt him shift and lay next to me before tugging the covers from over my head. My eyes met his and he offered me a smile.

“Hey, I’m talking to you sweetheart. I need you to do the same,” he said. He propped his head up with his hand. “Come on, I know you’ve got to be angry at the circumstances, and if I knew my brother in law well enough, at yourself.” His voice turned mocking, sarcastic. “Angel’s don’t make these kinds of mistakes, right? Angel’s don’t lose control. Angel’s have absolutely perfect decorum at all times. Am I right?”

I gave him the slightest nod.

Lucifer groaned. “Well, that’s all bullshit. Sorry to tell you, sweetheart. In as much as I am irritated at the amount of excess work I had to do tonight, I’m more pleased that you’re feeling your feelings- and doing something about it. That’s not to say that you can put everyone who pisses you off into a wall, but at the very least I know somewhere in your heart you’ve started that healing process.” He pushed his hand against my forehead and smoothed back my hair. “No lasting damage has been done, I promise.”

“You should all be furious with me,” I said. “Not only did I fail you, I failed a soul. I failed Valentino. I failed the Vox and Velvette.”

“You failed no one. You’re swinging too far in the other direction, love, and letting your emotions take over. Bring back some of the logic and mesh it in with your emotions. Step by step. How could you have handled the bathroom situation with a balance between the two?”

“I could have ignored them. I could have walked out of the bathroom because the logical side of me knows they’re spewing bullshit.” I responded quietly.

“Mmm, you could have done that, but there is a better way.” Lucifer said, a grin on his face. “One that would have both shown your power and gotten your point across.”

I stared at him for a moment.

“Really? Nothing?” He asked in an amused voice. “Fine. I’ll tell you. The moment that bitch opened her mouth you could have controlled yourself enough to tell her off, push her against the wall, tell her exactly who you were and then walked away and took your place back at Valentino’s table.”

“I didn’t have enough control to even think that far ahead,” I admitted. “I had zero self control, I just…wanted what I wanted in the moment.”

“That’s where practice and time and reflection will help guide you. And the more it happens, the better you’ll get at it. Though I strongly suggest practicing more at home than in public- I’m sure there is enough going on around here that you could be angry at.”

I frowned. “What do you mean by that? The Vee’s are fantastic. I don’t get angry here, ever.” I replied.

He raised an eyebrow. “Valentino’s work never bothers you? No one ever gives you an odd look in Vox’s office or in Velvette’s studio?”

“I mean, yeah, but…”

“No buts. Stop brushing it aside and handle it by acknowledging your emotion and confronting the person who made you feel that way. I’m not saying go overboard, but if you hear a snicker when you walk past one of Valentino’s workers, turn around and call them out on it. Watch what happens to your respect level when you do. And carry that control out of this building. You’ll find life gets much easier when you embrace the gray parts of life. Not everything is black and white.” He leaned over and kissed my forehead. “A hard concept to grasp, I know. Especially when Angels live their lives by that rule.” He sat up and swung off the bed. “Come on sweetheart, let your Uncle Lucy lift your spirits. Follow me.”

My pajamas were replaced by sneakers, a gray hoodie, and blue jeans. At the end of my bed, a rift like the one in the office opened up.

“No, Uncle Lucy- I”

“Come along,” he said, ignoring my protests as he pulled me to my feet. “You will be successful tonight and you will feel better.”

Together we stepped through the portal and onto my second scene of the night. Around us, a blue light glowed from the scene of yet another accident.

“There is your soul,” he nodded towards the teenager in the front seat. “Driving too fast on a dark wet road. His girlfriend is in the front seat, also heading straight to hell for sins of her own. Convince them both to come with you so they can be together. Otherwise they’ll be separated upon their arrival to hell. Be sure to tell them that.” He pushed me forward. “Go. This is your redemption shot, and I know you can do it.”

I didn’t see the point in arguing with Lucifer. I stepped forward, sitting in front of the cracked upside down windshield to look at both of their faces, or what was left of them. My heart went out to them both, and in the moment all the failures of the night were forgotten. My focus was on them, and them alone.

“In moments, you two will die. If you wish to stay together, you will take the deal I am about to offer you.” The words came to me effortlessly, a clear deviation from the script Velvette had taught me.

Both humans looked horrified, but stayed silent. Two contracts appeared, alongside two pens. Neither moved, but their eyes were glued to me.

“But heaven….” the girl began.

“Isn’t willing to accept either of you. Hell, however, offers you a chance. Either arrive in hell together, with people who will make sure you’re taken care of, or arrive in front of the sins where you will be separated, as different sins lay claim on your souls. Which do you choose?” My words continued to follow effortlessly, but inside I begged for them to make the right choice.

After what felt like an eternity in silence, they spoke.

“Together,” the man choked out. I watched as he moved what was left of his hand towards his girlfriend.

She gave a small, wordless nod.

“Then sign the contract, give me ownership of your souls, and I will ensure that happens.” Internally, I wanted to yell in excitement. All they had to do was sign, and their lives would change for nothing but the better.

In a moment, the whiteness began to float and both scrawled their signatures across the bottom of their contracts before vanishing down to hell. The night around us sat silent and dark, the sound of sirens noticeably absent. No one knew they had flipped their car, and on a night this dark, no one would until at least the morning. I felt a power rush through me vanishing almost as quickly as it came.

“Much easier when you stop thinking, isn’t it?” Lucifer asked as the portal opened up, breaking the night into two. “There isn’t a script you learn by heart. You assess every situation and attempt to comfort and convince. You did perfectly, my dear.”

Together we walked back through the portal into my bedroom. It snapped shut behind us, and Lucifer turned to me.

“Congratulations, you are now the proud owner of two souls. Listen to me- there is nothing you need to do to uphold your contract. Its all taken care of. Take what I’ve talked about tonight into consideration and learn how to balance your emotions and logic. Two souls won’t make much of a power difference but twenty? Two hundred? It will only grow. The sooner you learn to manage it, the better.” He leaned in and kissed my forehead. “Valentino should be home momentarily. Goodbye, sweetheart.” He paused for a moment, “I’m proud of you.”

He vanished just as I heard the doorknob jiggle, and the tell tale zap of Vox unlocking my door.

“Hey, you okay?” Vox asked, pushing the door open. “Val’s home, he wanted me to check on you.”

“Why didn’t he come and check on me then?” I asked, a little more aggressively than I meant. “I mean, I’m sorry it’s…”

“Been a long night. He asked that you come to him, that’s all,” Vox said gently. He turned as if to walk out and then paused. “Believe me when I tell you he needs a shower before he sees you.”

I shivered at the implication. I watched as he turned and walked out of my room. After a moment, I followed him out and made my way down the hall to Valentino’s room. I turned the door knob, and to my surprise, I found it unlocked.

“Valentino?” I called out cautiously as I pushed the door open. I could hear the sound of the shower running, and I cracked open the bathroom door. “Val? It’s me.”

“Princessa, I am almost done. Sit on the counter and wait for me,” he answered instantly.

I let myself in all the way and did as he commanded, pulling myself onto the countertop, letting my legs dangle. I watched his shadow move behind the door and after a few seconds, he emerged. I handed him a towel and he wrapped it around himself and leaned over, kissing my forehead as he spoke.

“You okay baby girl? You did some…pretty good damage tonight.” He pulled on his bathrobe and turned to me, his expression a mix of concern and something I didn’t quite recognize.

I hung my head. “I’m sorry Val, I didn’t mean…”

He cut me off with a kiss. “Enough, mi amore. I understand. Come on, let’s put this to rest. We all make mistakes, and yours isn’t all that big of a deal. I promise. ” He lifted me up and with another kiss, carried me off to bed, the sins of the day to be forgotten and the victories to be celebrated.

And celebrate the victories we did.

#the vees #valentino x reader #valentino x wife #valentino x you #vox x reader #valentino #hazbin fluff #hazbin hotel #the vees x reader #valentino hazbin hotel

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damiansgoodgirll · 10 months

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Being your big brother’s best mate, Marcus is obsessed with you but he just can’t, so he tries to keep his distance as much as possible, until he finds you crying in your room because some idiot had you thinking you’re not pretty nor sexy enough, that no guy would ever want you if you kept being so shy and uptight all the time. So yeah Marcus can’t hold back anymore and makes it his mission to show you otherwise. Basically, if you’re okay with it, some angst turning into sweet smut, with him showing you how much he craves and adores you just the way you are with your shyness and all

Also idk if it’s worth writing in general so feel free to ignore it if you don’t like it🤍

this is my first time writing for marcus, i hope you like it 🫶🏻

marcus rashford x reader

fluff and implied smut!!

Love confession

marcus knew it was wrong having feeling for you. he was your brother’s best friend and he practically grew up with you. you were like his little sister but over time he started developing feelings for you in a not so brotherly way.

he knew you like the palm of his hand.

he was there for you when you had your first date and he was there for you when your boyfriend cheated on you. you were only seventeen at the time but you swore you were in love with him. and he was the one who wiped away your tears and held you all night while you cried over your ex.

he hated seeing you crying, especially over someone who wasn’t even worth of your tears.

and as the years went by he tried to stop his feelings for you, he really did but you were like a magnet to him. always finding his way somehow.

so he started avoiding your brother, saying he was too busy with practice and football games. but that implied that he started avoiding you too and that pained you because you thought he would never leave. he started answering to your text messages with short answers and sometimes he would leave you on read. you tried to call him but he wouldn’t reply.

you thought he was mad at you for something you did even if you weren’t sure.

so one night you drove all the way to his house because you got tired of his childish behaviour.

he heard your car in his driveway and he was surprised seeing you on his doorstep.

“hey y/n…what brings you here?” he asked with the fakest smile possible. he knew why you were there he just didn’t want to face the consequences of his actions.

“why?” you simply asked him.

“why? why what?”

“why are you ignoring me? you stopped texting me, answering my calls, hell, you even stopped texting my brother! your best friend! whatever got into you, you better sort it out because my brother doesn’t deserve this…he’s always been by your side and you are basically ghosting him…and if you got some problems with me…i’m here to listen to” you told him once he let you inside his home.

“i’m not mad at you…not at you or at your brother, i’ve just been very busy with the team and the games…” he said.

“oh cut the bullshit marcus! i know you! you’ve been a player all your life and you’ve never, never ignored us so much! what is your problem?” you asked him, clearly mad at his answer.

“you! you are my problem y/n…”

“w-what? is something i did?” you asked him.

“no…that’s the point, you did nothing wrong” he whispered.

“so what is it?” you asked him again but he started avoiding your look “marcus please…”

“you are my problem because i can’t stop these feelings i have for you…this is so wrong in many ways, you’re my best friend’s little sister, we grew up together but i…i think i’m in love with you and i don’t know how to stop it” he confessed completely avoiding your look.

your mind was spinning. you’ve been in love with marcus for years. you started have feelings for him the moment you found out your boyfriend cheated on you. marcus was there to pick you up and to help you get over him. he held you that night, he wiped away your tears and made you feel safe. you were just too stupid and young to realise that the man you needed was right beside you.

you did the most irrational thing you could ever think of and grabbing him by the neck of his t-shirt you pulled him closer to you and you kissed him.

he was shocked but he immediately started kissing you too.

“this is so wrong…” he whispered.

“i’ve always liked you marcus…i was just too stupid and afraid of your rejection” you confessed too.

“what about your brother?” he asked you softly while he stared into your eyes.

“he’s definitely not my first thought right now…” you joked and he smiled too.

“i can’t believe we were so stupid, what we could have been if we confessed years ago?” he sarcastically asked you and that made you laugh “but we’re here now…you’re all mine, and i really, really, want to show you how a real man should treat a princess like you…”he grabbed your hips and held you closer to his body “i really want to show you how much i need you right now” he kissed you once again.

“then take me to bed mister rashford…” you whispered in his ear.

that was all he needed from you because he has been waiting that moment all his life and he couldn’t believe how lucky he was.

#football fan #football imagine #football x reader #football headcanon #football one shot #football x y/n #football x you #football #marcus rashford #marcus rashford x reader #marcus rashford x you #marcus rashford imagine #marcus rashford imagines #marcus rashford angst #marcus rashford fluff #marcus rashford smut #marcus rashford one shot #marcus rashford x y/n #marcus rashford headcannon

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ksyongi · 2 years

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reacting to you sitting in their lap - seventeen hip hop unit

pairing: seventeen hiphop unit x fem!reader

members: scoups, wonwoo, mingyu, vernon

genre: fluff, suggestive

warnings: kissing, lowercase post other than dialogues, suggestive themes, mentions of other members

m.list

tags: @dinosbestie @odetoyeonjun

scoups: he was hooked onto a recent drama, so he was sitting on the couch and hasn't moved for the past few hours. you were weighing your options on ways to get his attention after failing multiple times. deciding that sitting on his lap would be the best one since you weren't big on affection. you slowly approached him, then slipping into his lap and looking at him straight into his eyes. finally he looked at you before asking "why so affectionate suddenly?" you inch closer to his face, close enough to almost feel his lips on yours before saying "maybe my boyfriend kept ignoring me because of a show?" his eyelids were almost closed, getting needier for your lips on his by every growing second. "i can show you how much i miss you." before attaching your lips to his and pushing him backwards, making him lie down on the couch. "and don't even think about being the dom choi seungcheol."

wonwoo: you two were holding a party at your house, wonwoo's band mates were all there. they were playing a few games in the living room as you just finished cleaning the dining room from the slight mess they created during dinner. you joined them, getting smiles from jihoon and jeonghan. you noticed that there was no more room for anyone to sit, so you decided to sit on your boyfriend's lap, thinking he'll not mind. he placed his hands on your hips as you did so. due to the lack of space and the amount of jokes the members were saying, you laughed multiple times and changed positions. you did not notice your boyfriend stiffining up until he said "can you not move so much y/n." you realised the bulge getting pressed against you and stopped moving instantly. you tried to quickly chase the boys out of the house, giving the excuse that wonwoo was feeling unwell. as you closed the door and let out a huff of relief. wonwoo pulled you to the couch and pinned you. "you better be sorry for the unwanted boner you gave me. you are going to have to fix it now that the boys left."

mingyu: he was sitting on the bed, using his phone. you decided to sit on his lap since you missed him dearly. due to having to go on tours, you would try to be as close to him at any and every chance you got. you grinned and walked towards before plopping yourself on him. you pecked his lips before looking at what he was doing on his phone. you slid your arms around his waist and snuggled yourself into his neck, enjoying the moment. the moment was interrupted by something getting pressed to your undergarments. your eyes widened as you said "KIM MINGYU HOW ARE YOU SO HORNY I SWEAR TO GOD, NOTHING CAN BE NON-SENSUAL TO YOU." he let out a nervous chuckle before saying "anyways since you know already, could you help me?" you sometimes could not believe your boyfriend, but anyways you decided to help him, getting rewarded afterwards.

vernon: you two were listening to music in the bedroom, it was around 6:38pm in the evening, exhausted from work, but happy to be in each other's presence. sometimes either one of you would sing out loud, being hyped by the other. but both of you being seungkwan's good friend, you would know the choreographies to these songs too, due to having dance battles with him and having to do research, not wanting to loose to him. a slow song played. it was rather explicit in language but nevertheless you told vernon "watch me freestyle this dance." you sat in his lap and started grinding on him. his head fell back before letting out soft moans. though your movements were unexpected, both of you guys enjoyed it. you placed your lips on his. he turned you around so that he was on top. he softly said "i want to show you how much i love you."

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veny-many · 6 months

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AU idea: World where Kaminoans developed programming and mechanical engineering not clone biological engineering.

Obi-wan: So, they really do look like Jango Fett. Are they clones of him?

Kaminoan: True, but also wrong. We programed them exactly like bounty hunter, but they don't called as clones.

Obi-wan: ...Programmed?

Kaminoan: Well, it is not usual that droids having similar appearance to sentients.

Obi-wan: ...Droids!?

Ahsoka: I don't think we should call you by numbers. It's so weird, thinking all livings have their own name to be called.

Rex: But sir, we are droids. We don't need names...

Anakin: Artoo! Come on buddy, let me check you!

Ahsoka: See, even droids deserve their names. So you pick it up.

Rex: But...

Ahsoka: Before Skyguy name you a weird nickname before you can. Look at me, I'm Snips now!

Rex: Okay, all boys gather around, we will have important meeting!

Kit: Are you all waterproof?

Monnk: Well, we don't need to breathe actually, and we were meant to fight under water, so yes sir.

Kit: So does that mean you can swim in naked body?

Monnk: ....yes?

Kit: Great! Join me troopers! <Throws away all clothes>

Monnk: <Monnk.exe has stopped working>

Kaminoan: But be careful, they are droids but not designed to resist space vacuum, due to their sensitive and complex body parts. They will never suffocate, but the low temperature and vacuum will slowly destroy them.

Plo: <Already traumatized, saying nothing>

Kaminoan: You don't need to worry, they are droids, we can provide thousands of them if you pay.

Plo:

Mace: No Plo this is not the right time to use Electric Judgment-

Ki-Adi: Excuse me, you said they were programed to be royal but there's some boys who doesn't want to listen to me.

Kaminoan: Report us about your defectives, and we will provide exchange-

Ki-Adi: Never mind, this was a bad idea.

Caleb: If you are droids, why are you so warm?

Grey: Because we are overheated by moving and calculations, sir.

Grey: The heat will make you uncomfortable, so you better away.

Caleb: No, it's warm and cozy here...

Depa: Caleb, don't assault others body like that with no permission.

Grey: But sir, we are droids. You can use us anytime for anything.

Depa:

Depa: We are going to Kamin-

Depa: Sorry Commander, I was tempted. I need meditation, please take care of my Padawan, will you?

Grey: Uh... Of course sir.

Barris: I'm confused, Master. If they were truly droids, why are they acting like they can feel pains?

Luminara: I have no idea indeed, my Padawan. Perhaps Kaminoans can answer us.

Kaminoan: Ah, about that, we added that option to easily search the damaged parts. They are more efficient than just scanning or inspection.

Luminara: ...And how did you find out to add... Pains...?

Kaminoan: Well, we had to do some experiments for many times.

Luminara:

Barris:

Kaminoan: And additionally we removed a 'screaming' options of their communication system, because it's not an important option when they can just point out their damaged parts with their pain system.

Luminara:

Barris: Master, I'm going to bomb this facility-

Bly: (I'm just droid. Droid can't love)

Bly: (I'm just droid. Droids can't date with sentients.)

Bly: (I'm just droid, and my General is gorgeous but I can't love her for...)

Aayla: Master, why are you digging into trashcan?

Quinlan: It is my seventeen attempt to ask date to that guard commander.

Bly: Sir, I'm sorry to inform this but since we are droids, we work for all time and Fox will never have time to have hang out with you, General.

Quinlan: ....All time?

Aayla: ....That's why you haven't ask me dates?

Bly: No sir actua- <Bly.exe has stopped working>

Quinlan: Aayla, you are the seventeenth Jedi who broke down their commander's programming!

Fox: What the actual kark is happening in here

Fox: <Tried to throw away the trashes that senators gave, only to witness two Jedis moving overheating commander, all in near trashcan>

#star wars #the clone wars #what have i done #my mind is diseased #my crack #my au

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aylacavebear · 3 months

Text

She Thought She was Normal

This one's gonna hurt guys. I cried writing it.

Story Summary: Maria really thought she was normal, for most of her life. It was normal for people to have natural talent, she would tell herself the older she got. Many things came easy for her, and that was probably how their rivalry began when she was five and he was seven and she met the Winchesters. Little did either of them know that it wouldn't stay like that forever, both having a far larger destiny than they could imagine

Word Count: 4955

Please don't take my work. I'll post warnings for each chapter. Will eventually be 18+!

Warnings: Death, Nightmares, Running Away, Angst (lots)

----------------------------------------- Chapter 8

Over the next two and a half years they only made it back to Bobby’s twice, and it was only for one night both times. William had let her go on hunts alone once she turned seventeen, as it had taken that long for her hormones to even out and she was less impulsive. She thought of Sammy often, as they hadn’t run back into each other since that Thanksgiving.

The bracelet she’d given him had done exactly what she had told him it would, although she didn’t know that. Maria had become quite the hunter, which had made her father proud, but when a lead came up regarding the yellow-eyed demon, he had to take her back to Bobby’s. He couldn’t risk her safety.

“Will you be teaming up with John again?” she asked about a mile from Bobby’s.

“Not this time. He’s too far away. I shouldn’t be gone long though,” he replied.

Maria had an uneasy feeling about it all, “Please, let me come with you,” she practically pleaded.

“I said no. End of discussion,” he told her sternly.

She crossed her arms and stared out the windshield, pissed, but didn’t make another sound. When he pulled into the driveway she got out and grabbed her bag, slamming the door before she went in the house, right past her Uncle who was standing in the doorway. He had to quickly move or she might have run right into him.

“I’ll be back in a couple days Bobby,” William told him from the driver’s seat of the truck.

“Be careful Will,” Bobby said to him.

“Always am,” he smiled before he drove off.

Bobby heard Maria’s bedroom door slam, which made him sigh before he went and knocked on it, “What?” she practically growled from the other side.

“Can I come in or are we gonna talk through the-,” he didn’t get a chance to finish before the door swung open and she was standing in front of him.

“What?” she asked again, still angry but not nearly as bad as before.

He sighed, seeing her like this, “What’s wrong?” he asked her softly.

Her anger wasn’t gone, but she felt bad that her Uncle, who had always been nothing but nice to her, had been on the receiving end of it, “I’m sorry for yelling,” she told him, softer than before, “It’s my Dad. He won’t take me with him and he won’t wait for John, and I’ve got a bad feeling about this but he won’t listen,” she blurted out.

Bobby thought for a moment, “He’s a good hunter and he’ll check in because you’re here,” there wasn’t much he could say that would ease her mind and he knew it, but he had tried.

“I still don’t feel better,” she grumbled, crossing her arms.

He chuckled a little, “I’m not good at this, but I’m here for you.”

She sighed and looked down at the floor, “I know Uncle Bobby and I appreciate that you’re here and I’m not alone in some motel room.”

“Want some ice cream? I got your favorite,” he asked her with a small smile.

“And chocolate syrup?” she asked, glancing up at him.

“Yup. It’s in the cabinet, not even opened yet,” he replied.

“Definitly then,” she smiled, even if it was a small one.

Maria had ice cream as she sat on the living room couch while her Uncle sat behind his desk drinking whiskey. She noticed that he had gotten more books and wondered what ones she’d end up reading during her stay this time. She was finally old enough that her father had stopped restricting what she read, which had stopped when she turned sixteen. Bobby was worried about her, and Will. This was the first time William had gone alone after the yellow-eyed demon.

William checked in with them when he reached the motel in the town he had been headed to, which wasn’t as reassuring to Maria as he had hoped it would be. After the quick phone call, she walked over to her uncle's books and he watched her with a raised eyebrow.

“Lookin' for something specific?” he asked her.

“No,” she said plainly, “Just wanted to see what you had, that’s all.”

He wasn’t sure if he believed her, remembering the book he’d found the last time she stayed with him, which was in a warded box in the safe. She grabbed one on demons and sat back down on the couch, curling up with her feet tucked neatly next to her on the cushion. The two of them sat in silence for the next hour before she got up to head to bed.

“Night Uncle Bobby,” she said as she stood up and stretched.

“See ya in the mornin', kid,” he replied.

Maria headed to her room and this time, she looked around it, remembering her stay there when she was fourteen, “God, I was such a kid,” she mumbled, looking at the posters.

Not in the mood to take them down she just changed into some pajamas and then went to bed for the night, not prepared for the dreams that came once she drifted off to sleep.

At first, it was the symbol on the cover of the book she’d read the last time she was there. Then, there was a box and a glow coming from inside it, then a safe. The dream changed and she saw a man standing outside the window of a house. He was watching whoever was inside. She couldn’t make out exactly what the house looked like or even what the man looked like, as she could only see the back of him. Again the dream changed and it was nighttime outside of an old abandoned warehouse of some sort. She’d never seen the place before in her waking world but somehow knew it was a real location. Voices were coming from inside but she couldn’t make them out. She could only tell that they were male. Before she could get close to the door, a pair of yellow eyes glowed in her mind and she woke up screaming.

Bobby had been sound asleep but when he heard her scream, he ran to her room and flung her door open, gun in hand. He quickly put it away seeing that she had apparently had a nightmare, “You okay kid?” he asked, slightly out of breath.

She was holding her chest, eyes wide open, and fear flowed through her veins as her heart pounded in her chest. At first, she didn’t even register that her Uncle was standing in her doorway, or that he had spoken until he was sitting on her bed next to her.

“You okay?” he asked her again, softly.

She took a deep breath before she looked over at him, having calmed down slightly, “Just… a nightmare, that’s all,” she replied, slightly quietly, unable to shake those yellow eyes from her vision.

“You wanna talk about it?” he asked, although he didn’t want to push either.

Maria shook her head a little, wanting to piece it together on her own, “No, I think I’m just worrying too much about Dad.”

Bobby sighed, “Well, I’m here, if you want to. He’ll call us tomorrow,” he told her before returning to bed.

She waited till he left and checked under her mattress, near the foot of her bed where she had stashed the book the last time she was there but it was gone. She knew Bobby had to have found it at some point and wondered if that had been the reason they hadn’t been back to her Uncle’s place except those couple of times, and only for the one night each time. Maria sighed before she crawled back into bed, lying on her side. Sleep found her quickly, although, it was dreamless this time.

Her father did call in the following day, letting them know it would probably be a week that he’d be gone and he wouldn’t be able to check in every day. She wasn’t happy about that and still had that uneasy feeling. The days passed slowly for her and the nights were long over the following week, her dreams were mostly the same, those damned yellow eyes, the warehouse, the men talking inside. She never saw them, nor could she determine what they were discussing. Maria would wake up the same every time, although she hadn’t screamed. William called them around the afternoon of the fourth day though, telling them the lead looked more promising than anything. Maria pushed for him to involve John, but he refused, so she begged him to be careful.

Bobby’s place was quiet, and she liked that. It wasn’t just inside his home. With his place being outside of town, there was little to no traffic that ever went by. She spent most of her time reading, loving her Uncle’s collection of books she’d never even heard of before, and now, she didn’t have to sneak to read them. Maria cooked a couple of times, trying to take her mind off of her father and the yellow-eyed demon. She’d almost called John a couple of different times but knew he wouldn’t listen to her either.

Her nightmares were mostly the same, although some things had changed. She always saw the book first, the warehouse, and the yellow eyes though. Once she saw her mother pregnant, another time it was her mother, father, and her Uncle talking in what she could only figure was some strange house, one she’d never seen before. It was the nightmare that came a week later, and that was of her father getting killed in the warehouse she hadn’t stopped dreaming about.

Screams echoed through Bobby’s house and he had come running to her room again, gun aimed and ready when he shoved her door open. She had tears in her eyes and looked terrified, “Kid, what’s wrong?” he asked, putting his gun away and sitting next to her on her bed, worried.

“I… Dad… the demon…” she couldn’t even get the words out, still sobbing like a five-year-old.

He put his arm over her shoulder and pulled her into a hug, “It’s okay. He’s smart. He’s okay. Just breathe,” he said softly, trying to soothe her.

She cried in his arms for a minute or two before she was able to take a deep breath, beginning to calm herself, even though her body was still shaking, “Dad’s in trouble…” she whispered.

Bobby knew he had to stay calm, more for her sake than anything, “It’s four in the morning, otherwise, I’d call him. We’ll call him first thing, I promise,” he told her softly in a soothing tone.

Neither of them was going to get any more sleep at this point, “I think I’m just gonna make some coffee. I don’t want to go back to sleep Uncle Bobby,” she told him quietly.

He kissed the top of her head before he looked down at her as she pulled out of the hug, “I’ll put on some coffee,” he said with a soft smile. He figured she’d need to calm down before she was going to even make it out of her room. At least this way, the coffee would be ready for her when she did.

“Thanks,” she replied, managing a small smile herself.

He headed out to the kitchen while she sat in her bed for a bit longer, still trying to calm her nerves. That nightmare had shaken her to her core. She shivered one more time before she finally got out of bed and got dressed, slower than usual though. It took her even longer to make it out to the kitchen. She was dragging her feet, almost in a daze or worry as she got herself some coffee and sat down on the couch. Bobby was sitting behind his desk again, knowing the hours of the morning were going to pass slower than normal for the two of them.

Two hours later, William’s phone went to voicemail, causing Bobby to sigh, “I’ll keep trying. It doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong,” he tried to reassure her, and himself.

When that happened the next several times he called, his own worry was beginning to set in and he finally called John, “Look, I know you’re probably not even close, but I need you to go check on Will. He hasn’t checked in in almost a week now.” John could hear the concern in Bobby’s voice, “Where’s he at?” John asked, Sam and Dean listening from their seats in the Impala.

“He went after yellow-eyes. In Preston, Nevada,” Bobby told him.

“I’m in Sunnyside. That’s less than an hour's drive,” John replied, wondering what the hell Will had been thinking, “I’ll call you when I get there,” he added before he hung up the phone and stepped on the gas.

Bobby tossed his phone on his desk and looked over at Maria who had a worried expression, “He’s close, he’ll call us when he gets there. It won’t be long,” he told her,

She hadn’t looked up at him. There was a feeling of loss inside that she couldn’t place its source. In a way, she felt somewhat numb and just nodded a bit to what he’d said. Maria sipped her current cup of coffee. All they could do now was wait. John had explained to his boys what had happened and where they were headed. He didn’t have time to take them somewhere safe to keep them away from yellow-eyes like he would have preferred, feeling neither of them was old enough or prepared enough to take the demon on.

That hour ticked away like half a day had passed before Bobby’s phone finally rang again, “Bobby, he’s not at the motel, and neither is his truck. There’s not much here as to where he could have gone but the clerk said he paid through the month,” John explained as he glanced around the room William had been using.

“Tell him to look for a warehouse, on the outskirts of town, please,” Maria said quietly, staring off at nothing.

“I heard her. Call you when I know more,” John said quickly before hanging up the phone.

It wasn’t long before John and the boys found the warehouse. When they saw William’s truck parked outside, John was even more worried, “Boys, stay here,” he told them, “and arm yourselves.” Dean and Sam just nodded, pulling their guns and keeping a vigilant watch as they watched their father get out of the Impala, gun aimed and ready.

Bobby had been drinking for the last few hours and downed another shot before he poured himself another as he stared at his phone that was sitting on his desk. His mind was playing out the worst-case scenarios and it wasn’t helping. He glanced over at Maria, worried about the blank expression on her face before he poured himself another drink. Again, time ticked by slowly. When his grandfather clock dinged, signifying noon, it made them both jump and take a deep breath. It snapped her out of her thoughts.

She finally stood up and stretched, not having realized how long she had been sitting there, curled up on the couch. She hadn’t been able to get those yellow eyes out of her vision. Zoning off had been the only thing that had helped. When the phone rang, her head snapped over to it and stared, fear in her eyes once again.

“John, please tell me you fou-” Bobby began, but John cut him off.

“Bobby, are you sitting down?” John asked calmly.

Bobby glanced at Maria, “Yeah…” he replied, concerned.

John rubbed his hand over his face, not wanting to tell him what he’d found, “Are you alone?” he asked.

Those words alone gave Bobby the answer he needed but he refused to believe his thoughts, or his instincts, wanting them to be wrong, “Maria’s with me,” he replied.

“Damnit,” John mumbled under his breath, barely audible through the phone, “There’s no easy way to say this Bobby. He’s gone,” John told him, barely able to keep the loss out of his tone.

Bobby went stone-faced, unable to fully process what he’d just heard. The silence in the room was deafening. All Maria could do was stare at him, waiting for something, a word of hope, but none came, “When will you be here?” Bobby asked.

John sighed, “Six hours,” he answered.

“See you then, and… thank you. I owe you for this one,” Bobby told him before hanging up the phone.

Bobby looked up and over at her and the look in his eyes told her all she needed to know. She felt the tears falling down her cheeks long before she could even register them and then ran to her room, slamming the door. Maria fell on her bed, face in her pillow, and cried. Bobby let her go, let her cry out her grief as he drank away his. Neither of them had kept track of time. She cried for hours off and on before she fell asleep.

Five hours after that call, the truck and the Impala pulled up in Bobby’s driveway. He set his glass down on his desk and went outside, not wanting to wake her, “Hey John,” he sighed as he met them in the driveway.

Dean climbed out of the driver’s seat of Wiliam’s truck, handing Bobby the keys, a solemn expression as he headed toward the house, looking at the ground, followed by his brother.

“She’s sleeping, so you two better stay quiet,” Bobby told them, to which they just nodded.

“His body is in the back of his truck. We can have a hunter’s funeral for him tomorrow. Me and the boys will stick around for a couple of days,” John told him before he looked from the truck to Bobby, “And Bobby, I’m sorry about this, and your loss.”

Bobby felt his hand on his shoulder, the only comforting gesture the man ever gave. The grief began coming out in Bobby's expression and he quickly pushed it aside, “I really appreciate this John, and so will Maria,” he replied, his voice a little shaky, fighting back tears.

John nodded and headed inside, wanting to give the man a moment alone with his brother-in-law’s body. The boys had made themselves each a sandwich, now sitting at the table quietly, “When you’re done, grab your stuff. We’ll be staying for a couple days,” John told them as he went to the fridge, getting himself a beer.

Two hours later, Maria woke. Her tears were dry on her cheeks and her heart hurt. On the inside, she felt empty. She rolled onto her side, facing away from the wall for a moment. Everything just felt numb. When she heard other voices in the house she finally climbed out of bed to see who was there, feeling detached from even herself. The four of them were in the living room, talking quietly about where they would build the wooden pyre for William’s funeral, a hunter’s funeral. She barely glanced at them as she went into the kitchen when she realized it was the Winchesters. Of course, who else would have been there with her father’s passing, but family?

Dean just watched her. She’d changed since he’d seen her last when she was fourteen. Seeing her as lost as she looked did something to his heart. He was nineteen now, almost twenty. Even as pained as she looked, he found her beautiful, and not just on the outside. Something in him felt as though it was pushing him to go hold her, but Dean wasn’t the kind to do that sort of thing. He kept himself in check, especially around his father, who had already told him that she was completely off limits. For a moment, the memory of that five-year-old girl came playing through his mind when she beat him with a simple rock-throwing challenge and he smirked a little.

Maria got herself a drink of water. Nothing felt real for her as she stood with her back facing the living room. She set the half-empty glass down on the counter and found herself looking over at the door. Her body was moving toward the door, then outside, and toward her father’s truck. The closer she got, the more the pain came back, but she forced herself to keep moving. Somehow she knew his body would be in the back, probably wrapped in something. Maria slowly climbed up and into the back of the truck, using the back bumper.

She crouched down next to his body, near his head at the other end of the bed of the truck, “I’m gonna miss you, Pappa,” she whispered, reaching out, but not touching him.

The tears fell again, silently down her cheeks. She reached over and pulled a beer out of the cooler on the other side of her father before she sat down and leaned against the cab of the truck. She smiled slightly, her knees up and her arms resting on them, the beer opened and in her hand.

“This one’s for you Dad,” she said softly as she looked up at the heavens, lifting the beer, in a toast before she took a drink.

Her tears had stopped shortly after that as she sipped the beer. It wasn’t the first time she’d drank. William had seen that she was mature for her age, so had let her have a beer six months before this day. She never overdid it, having researched alcohol beforehand. At this moment, she didn’t feel alone, sitting next to his body, even though she knew he was gone. There was an odd comfort in the moment which was helping with her grief. None of the others bothered her, just giving her the space she needed. They knew she needed to say goodbye, in whatever way that looked like to her. They would occasionally peek out the window though, keeping an eye on her.

Night came quickly while she sat there, although she was on her third beer. It had helped her relax a little, as had just sitting with her father’s body, in her father’s truck where she had shared so many memories with him. A soft smile had returned to her as she stood up and climbed out of the bed of the truck, looking back over at her father one more time.

“I really am gonna miss you, Pappa,” she whispered before she went back into the house.

This time Sammy went over to her and hugged her. At first, she was surprised but then hugged him back, welcoming the comfort, “I missed you Sis,” he told her.

He was practically as tall as she was now, and she smiled softly, “I missed you too little brother,” she replied.

She pulled back and looked at him, as they were now eye level with each other, “You got tall,” she chuckled.

He chuckled back, “Yeah, growth spurt. You okay?” he asked, concerned again.

“I think I will be,” she answered, not really sure of that herself yet but she didn’t want him to worry about her.

The two made their way into the living room, where she grabbed a chair and sat down with it backward, resting her arms over the back of it. Sam sat back down on the couch, “How long are you guys staying?” she asked all three of the Winchesters, only mildly curious, attempting to push her grief aside.

“We’re gonna stay for a couple days, help with the arrangements,” John answered, knowing she wasn’t okay, no matter how well she was hiding it.

She nodded, and thought for a moment, “So, tomorrow's the funeral then?” she asked.

Bobby could also tell something was off with her but for now, wasn’t going to say anything, “Yes. We’ll build the pyre and give him a proper funeral tomorrow night,” John replied.

Her mind began working with the information before she spoke again, “Where?” she asked, tilting her head slightly.

“In the back part of the lot,” Bobby answered her, knowing it’d be the best place.

Again she nodded, mentally making her plan, “I’m gonna get something to eat and head to bed,” she told them before going back into the kitchen.

As she made herself a sandwich, again calculated her plan, then took her plate into her room. She packed her things as she ate, being almost silent as she moved around her room. She was still slightly buzzed from the beers she had earlier. It had almost helped her thoughts and emotions slow down long enough to think. However, the anger portion of grief hadn’t fully hit her yet, although, it was what was fueling her plan, even if she didn’t fully realize it.

The following day she helped them with the pyre. About halfway through, she had excused herself to get something to eat. She did get herself some food but also packed up her father’s truck, which was now hers, hiding her bag in the back seat. Maria rejoined the four of them to finish helping and then watched as her Uncle and John carried her father’s body to it, placing it in the center. None of them spoke, but Dean watched her while he worked, always looking away before she could notice. They had dinner before they headed back outside to where the pyre had been built.

Maria was more numb now than anything as she followed behind all of them out to the pyre. Bobby had handed her a lighter when they reached it and she looked up at him before taking it. She took a deep breath and lit her father’s pyre before stepping back and returning her Uncle’s lighter to him. Bobby had said something, a prayer, but she wasn’t paying attention as she watched her father’s body burn. Halfway through, she excused herself, leaving the four of them out there. She checked behind her several times as she made her way back to the front of her Uncle’s property, and then into the house. She knew where Bobby’s safe was and she had to retrieve something that had been calling to her from the time she’d gotten there.

She located the safe and picked the lock in almost record time, pulling the box from it and closing it, or at least, she thought she had. Maria pulled the keys out of her pocket and went back out to her truck, looking again towards the smoke in the sky from her father’s pyre, “Goodbye,” she whispered to them all before turning back to her truck.

The window was down so she just climbed through it, not wanting to alert them to the sound of the closing door. She glanced through the rearview mirror one last time before she started her truck and drove off, her focus only on the yellow-eyed demon that had taken both her parents from her. She was going to find something, even if she had to stop in every single town in every state in the country.

“Balls!” Bobby exclaimed and he quickly ran to the driveway, followed by the other three.

“Son-of-a-bitch,” Dean said under his breath, seeing the truck gone.

“Want me to try to chase her down?” John asked, wondering if that was even possible.

“If she don’t want to be found, no one will find her,” Bobby sighed.

“Boys, go keep an eye on the pyre,” John told them before he had Bobby headed inside.

The boys didn’t say a word, but they listened, both of them worried about Maria. Dean wanted to get in the Impala and do exactly what his father had asked Bobby about, but he knew better.

Bobby went straight to her room. She’d left it neat, but all her belongings were gone, “Bobby!” John hollered from his study.

“What?” Bobby asked him, standing in the doorway.

“Missing anything?” he asked, gesturing to the slightly open safe hidden behind a picture on the wall that hadn’t even been put back in place.

“Balls,” Bobby grumbled, knowing exactly what was missing, “She took the damn book.”

“Well shit,” John sighed.

The two shook their heads before they rejoined the boys at William’s pyre, staying silent as they watched the fire begin to die down, the embers glowing brightly beneath the dying flames.

Maria continued to glance in the rearview mirror, half expecting to see the Impala’s headlights following her, but after four hours, they never did. Her anger finally flared as she felt a sense of freedom. She didn’t have to answer to anyone and she had no plans of doing so. Her grip on the steering wheel made her knuckles turn almost white as she glared at the road ahead of her, deciding to find the nearest demon and get answers.

Her cell phone had rang numerous times, but she never answered it, letting it go to voicemail while she drove. She wasn’t even tired when the sun began to rise, anger flowing through her veins, revenge driving her. A day later, she just turned off her phone and threw it in the glove box, and the battery on it died a couple of hours later. All four of them were worried about her, that she’d do something reckless in the state she was in, and they had no way of finding her.

The box with the book inside it had been shoved under the front seat of her truck and forgotten. It slept for now, knowing now was not the time to teach her more.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 9

Tag List: @deans-spinster-witch @kazsrm67

Link to the master list for this story.

11 notes · View notes

fruitcoops · 2 years

Note

Could you write something about Alex bonding with Logan and Leo, just hanging out and getting to know Finn’s partners? And maybe sharing stories about little brother Finn 😈 or something like that

Fic O'Ween Day 8: Ghost! Fluffy bonding, character credit goes to @lumosinlove <3

TW mentioned alcohol (no drunkenness)

“Okay,” Alex laughed, setting his beer down on the coaster while Leo and Logan tried to catch their breath. “Alright, next q—stop it, we’re moving on!—next question: favorite Halloween costume of all time, and why.”

“Merde.” Logan wiped a hand under his eye. His stomach hurt from laughing for…he didn’t even know how long it had been at this point. Two hours? Four? The O’Haras had a way of making every minute magnetic. “D’accord, Knutty, you first.”

“Oh, god,” Leo laughed. He bit his lower lip and stole a fry from Logan’s basket, leaning back against the booth to sling an arm over his shoulders. “Favorite costume. That’s tough, my family goes all-out.”

“Mine, too!” Alex said with the cheerful grin that always made Logan feel at home.

Leo’s face lit up. “No shit?”

“Yeah, man, we used to spend days setting up. My ma once carved 13 pumpkins and they didn’t even fit on the porch.”

“Nah, we always had space.” His drawl was honey-thick, the way it only was when Leo was fully relaxed. Logan loved that sound. He loved how it swayed like a hammock and sweetened the very air—when he pressed a kiss to the corner of Leo’s mouth, he could taste it on the tip of his tongue. A pleased blush highlighted his freckles and Logan felt a squeeze on his shoulder. “NOLA porches are no joke.”

“I bet.”

“But costumes…” Leo drummed his fingers on the tabletop. “I went as a glow-in-the-dark skeleton when I was fourteen and quite literally scared the shit out of one of my teammates.”

“No!” Alex gasped at the same time Logan nearly snorted his rum and coke out his nose.

“Swear to God! I had just passed six feet and he came around the corner of the bathroom looking at his phone,” Leo snickered. “Ran right into my chest. Never heard a guy scream like that. Scared me, too, I thought there was a gotdamn chainsaw killer behind me.”

“How am I supposed to beat that?” Alex muttered, falling back into the soft leather seat. He spun his beer bottle between his fingers with a hum. “I dunno about a specific costume, but there was one Halloween where I convinced Finn that Hershey had started using coconut oil in their chocolate to make it shiny.”

Leo’s jaw dropped. “He’s allergic to coconut!”

“Indeed he is. I had a haul like you’ve never seen. Smartest 12-year-old on the block.”

“He was only eight?” Logan laughed. “Oh, that’s cruel.”

“Eight’s old enough to know better than to listen to your siblings about candy,” Alex corrected. “Finn was so fuckin’ gullible as a kid, you wouldn’t even believe it.”

“I bet he knew better the next year,” Leo snorted.

“You bet your ass he did. Still hasn’t forgiven me, either.” Alex tossed a fry and Logan angled to catch it, but missed—it bounced off his chin and into Leo’s lap, who snatched it right up with a lazy wink. “Batter up, Tremblay.”

“I’m going to win this one,” Logan informed them. “Because Noelle had a boyfriend when she was seventeen and wanted to do a couples’ costume, but she was still supposed to take the rest of us trick-or-treating, ouais? And of course Syd and Aubrey threw a fit when she tried to ditch for this guy from her math class.”

“Of course,” Alex agreed. “I would expect nothing less.”

“Well, anyway, our parents had to get involved and finally Noelle was allowed to bring her boyfriend with us, but Sydney wore her down into matching costumes as well. This is where it gets bad.”

“This is the bad part?” Leo asked, incredulous.

Logan leaned up to kiss his cheek. “Ouais. Shh. Noelle and her boyfriend had decided on going as the characters from that movie Ghost—”

“Oh, no,” Alex said gleefully.

“Oh, yes. All four of us went as different types of ghosts. Syd wore this creepy Victorian dress, Aubrey was a ghost goalie, and since I was ten—” Logan broke off to laugh for a moment. “—since I was ten, I was still their little dress-up doll and none of them could agree on who got to match with me, so they stuck a sheet over my head with the eyeholes cut in the wrong places—”

“Oh my god,” Leo gasped.

“—which meant I couldn’t see shit and Noelle had to hold my hand the entire night.”

Alex had given up on listening and had his face in his hands, elbows splayed on the table while his whole body shook with mirth. Leo planted a sloppy kiss to the top of Logan’s head through his snickering, but eventually buried his face in the curve of Logan’s neck to ride it out until he could take a full breath again. Logan’s whole body buzzed. Not only was he incandescently happy to spend time with two of his favorite people for hours on end, seeing Leo with a smile like that…it was beyond words.

He knew Leo was insecure about how long he and Finn had known each other, sometimes. He had brought it up once or twice—always quiet, always careful—but Logan could read it on his face clear as day. Alex was so entrenched in the bruised bones that made up one-third of their relationship that he would have been worried if Leo didn’t care about him. Even after six years, Logan still held Alex’s opinion in the highest regard.

But if their matching grins and rosy cheeks were any hint, there was nothing to worry about. Logan smiled to himself and leaned further into Leo’s side, sliding an arm around his waist while Leo’s thumb traced patterns by the collar of his shirt. “That settles it,” Alex said as he spread his hands. “Tremz, you win.”

“Oh, please,” Logan scoffed into his glass. “I always do.”

#alex ohara #logan tremblay #leo knut #coast to coast #vaincre #lumosinlove #my fic #fanfic #finn ohara #noot fest #fic o'ween 2022 #ghost #bonding #o'knutzy #fluff #halloween costumes

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luveline · 6 months

Note

hiiii jade my love light of my life i hope it’s not too late for me to talk about a thread of time! i’ve been so excited to read it and share my thoughts with you cause you know better than anyone how much i love the red string of fate thing and i couldn’t wait to see how you’d write about that <3

"No! I have delusions to attend to. Need anything while I'm out?"

and

Eddie pretends to stab himself in the eye by the front door, over and over.

i love how boyish eddie is portrayed in that! his small arguments with wayne, him hanging out with his friends <333 i loveeee boyish menacing eddie as much as i love seeing him all mature and it’s a delight to see your take on both sides of him <3

i love the way you write about the string too! how only eddie can see it at first and he tries to show it to everyone and no one sees it, but also how it’s tricky to move and live around it cause it almost has it’s own personality. i thought this was probably my favourite thing about it!

You're stripped back in one way and more beautiful all the others, bare-skinned, no makeup or glitters to hide behind. Eddie loves when you're expressing yourself but he craves how you look now, a secret he's desperate to know.

first favourite quote <3 maybe one of my all time favourites from you <3

Sure. If I'm delusional, of course it's something to do with you.

ughhhh he likes her so muchhhhh 😭😭😭😭

but then his hand dropped down rather than up, looking for something to take rather than something to hold.

this is kind of heartbreaking and infuriating but also beautifully written

Come and meet my parents," Eddie says, shoulders jumping, hands up in jazz hands, "look at my baby photos."

you have no idea how hard im fighting the urge to do a ryan-evans-in-high-school-musical joke about his little jazz hands

Wayne used to say Eddie could wear whatever he wanted, paint his face a hundred different colours, so long as he got to take a picture.

and

"I still think you should ask her for dinner. Any sense about her and she'll say yes." Eddie smiles. It's one of those things your mom says to you when you're down on your luck. Handsomest guy in the world, how could anybody say no to that face?”

I LOVE WAYNE SO MUCH YOU DONT UNDERSTAND (you do)

He thinks he'd like that, to sit here and watch you, listening to one of your CDs, the string between you bouncing with each turn of a page.

can i please have that. im not above begging. such a comfortable and beautiful image and also one of my favourite scenes too.

The string must be a manifestation or those seconds, threads of time tied together that join you forever, even if you can't see them. They're there. Eddie cares about you and it makes his throat hurt to hear your unhappy sounds; you have this morosity to you that he isn't stupid enough to ignore. Everybody had something weighing them down. He needs to find a way to hold yours for you. Just for a bit, however long you need.

“just for a bit” i love him so much. i really do

It's not other people I need to convince." You retreat behind your closet door again, your voice half as clear as you confess, "I think... I've always been like this. I look in the mirror and I don't even know who I'm looking at. She doesn't feel like me."

oh. felt

Is that rejection, or is he self-absorbed?

im not sure if you meant it to be funny but i thought this was so hilarious and i really loved that line

Seventeen year olds are stupid. I thought I knew everything at seventeen and now I'm twenty three and the only thing I know for sure is that I don't know anything.

that’s sooo nothing new - taylor swift ft phoebe bridgers coded

The string whips like a ribbon in the wind before falling into the shape of a heart again, clearly pleased to have you near.

and

In fact, all it takes is the idea of you, the slightest memory of your smile, your hands, the way you tell stories to the group with your shoulders turned to him like he's there alone, and the string flinches.

see what i mean about the string having a personality of its own!!! it’s so cool and fun and magical i really loved that <3

None of it was love, you aren't in love, but Eddie thinks he could've been. He was halfway there, falling, whatever the poets might say —Eddie wants you. Wants to do stupid shit with you. He can picture everything like he has before, that first bouquet of flowers, lilies with big white petals and purple sunspots. The cellophane would crinkle in trembling hands pressed to his chest, their stems leaking dew into his hardly worn button up. He'd pass them to you with more confidence than he feels and tell you that you look pretty. You always look pretty. He's not pretty, he's barely funny, he was stupid for thinking you'd like him too. […] There were times... Eddie clutches his chest. The nausea he's feeling can't be understated. There were times when you could've been in love with him, he thinks.

THIS WAS BEAUTIFUL AND HEARTBREAKING AND MY ABSOLUTE FAVOURITE PART

Because he likes you. Because a string runs from his hand to yours that can't be severed. The latter feels as mythological as the former.

ouch…… felt

Eddie thinks that there's a string tied from his finger to yours to torture him as a link to something he wants, but can't have. It doesn't make much sense. Eddie Munson could have you if he asked nicely enough.

ahsbajsjenaj if he asked nicely enough!!!! same girlie

“Loser," he says, looking himself straight in the eye.

me !

Imagine buying a girl baked goods for her to reject you.

honestly? can’t even imagine rejecting someone who got me baked goods. they might be the way to my heart

Eddie wants to be cool like a rockstar who knows you want him and doesn't care, and he wants to be sweet and gentle and give you the respect you deserve, but mostly he wants to make it out of this conversation with you at his side. He's not sure how to do it, but holding your hand as you seem to want him to is a start.

i love him it’s not even funny

Eddie doesn't know if he believes in soulmates, but he believes in the hopeful colour to your voice as you say it, and the tacky skin of your cheek as he leans in for your fifth kiss, your sixth, each one better than the last. If his soulmate were going to be someone, he'd want nothing more than for it to be you.

jade. my love. i know you worked so hard on that fic and it paid off SO well. this is beautiful and young and lovely and fun and i love it and i love you. i genuinely adore how you write every character and how you write reader, i genuinely feel so seen through all of them. thank you thank you thank you for your dedication and your hard work and your beautiful writing. to read your work is a privilege and to be able to discuss it with you is an even bigger one. and being your friend is better than all of that combined. definitely something beyond privilege!! im glad fate brought us together too <3 love youuuuu 💌 - lu

hallo

first im not sure But I think some of your quotes are from the earlier versions I sent to you which is fine and doesn't matter but you're exposing me to the masses for my typos and rough draft hahaha

You know I love your commentary almost more than I love writing the fic in the first place 😭 thank you for taking the time to compile what you liked, it makes me so happy reading the stuff you picked out and your thoughts too. And we're always on the same wave!! I loved writing boyish Eddie, the string, Wayne being Wayne, so I love that you picked that stuff out 🥺 thank you for reading lu (like three whole times) I love youuuuj

#jade's asks #ily

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nottapossum · 1 year

Text

Itty Bitty Imps Chapter 6: 💚Never enough 💚

Notes:

TW: creepy guy (17 year old flirting with a 15 year old) Kissing, rejection, unrequited love

Present day:

Fizzarolli messed up.

While cuddling with Ozzie when regressed, Fizzarolli spoke the words he promised he never would ever again!

Once he was out of his little headspace, he left Asmodeus. He climbed out the window, and just left. He didn’t even bother telling Ozzie, because he was too humiliated to face up to what he had said.

He showed up to work like normal, because he had to.

Asmodeus finds him and walks over to him immediately. “Fizz, thank goodness you’re okay; I was worried. What happened?” Ozzie asks.

“I have to get to makeup.” Fizz says, not daring to look at his caregiver. He tries to leave, but Asmodeus grabs Fizzarolli’s arm.

“Fizz, what is wrong with you?” He asks.

“Nothing is wrong with me, okay? I’m super mega fine; this weekend got me all energized for tonight’s show!” Fizzarolli lies, pulling his arm back violently.

His face did not fit the enthusiastic tone he was displaying.

“Fizzarolli, I want the truth.” Ozzie demanded.

“I-“ Fizzarolli stopped to think about it, Ozzie didn’t seem worried about it- but what if he didn’t hear him? And now bringing it up would just make him feel uncomfortable?!

“I just did.” Fizzarolli says. “Come on, we have a show to prepare for!” He says.

Past: age 15

Sometimes when the circus ended, everyone was so fucking exhausted, they did nothing but collapse into bed and pass out-

But other times, it was easy enough to slip away to their favorite club for a little dopamine (no, they didn’t drink alcohol or do drugs! Not like anyone really cared around here how old they were; But Cash would definitely make them work even if they had a hangover…they learned it wasn’t so fun pretty early in their teens.)

Barbie instantly ditched Fizz and Blitzo to talk up some strangers. Wasn’t that hard to understand, the three of them spent most of their time together, Barbie deserved a break from the guys every now and then.

“I’m going to get us some drinks.” Blitzo says.

Fizzarolli smiles and gives Blitzo a thumbs up. Personally, he didn’t care for making new friends, he was pretty happy with the ones he had, even if Blitzo can be a bit annoying sometimes.

“Hey, saw your show at the circus the other night. You really know your stuff.”

Fizzarolli looks behind him. There was a man, a really creepy man. He was kinda scrawny, but also a few years older and taller than Fizz was. “Uh…thanks, I guess.” He says.

The creep touches his face suddenly. “You look so much better without all that paint on you, doll.”

Fizz grabs the man’s hand to pull it away. “Listen, I’m not interested. Also, I’m fifteen.”

“I’m only seventeen; I don’t mind, you look pretty mature for your age.” The creep laughs, touching his face again.

“Is there a problem here, buddy?” Blitzo asks, suddenly behind them.

“No, no problem. We’re just talking.” Creep says.

Blitzo set the drinks down on the table. “Right, but it doesn’t really look like my boyfriend wants to talk to you right now. Do you want to talk to him, Fizz?” Blitzo asks.

Fizzarolli shakes his head, hoping Blitzo didn’t see that he was slightly blushing. “N- no, in fact I’ve asked him to leave several times.” He says.

“You’re his boyfriend?” Creep asks.

“Yeah, that’s right. So hit the road before we turn you inside out.” Blitzo says, smiling at him sadisticlly. “We’re circus performers. We can do that.”

The guy scoffs and leaves. “Whatever, circus freaks.”

“Guess he couldn’t stand a little competition.” Blitzo shrugs, sitting next to Fizz again.

Fizzarolli wraps his arms around Blitzo and kisses his cheek, which surprised Blitzo immensely.

“Boyfriend, huh?” Fizzarolli asks smugly.

Blitzo blushed slightly. “Hey, I saved you a lot of fucking hassle tonight.” He says. “You should just be grateful!”

“Oh yes, thank you. My wonderful knight in shiny armer!” Fizz laughs.

“Shut up asshole.” Blitzo chuckles, taking a drink.

“Seriously though…thanks.” Fizz takes Blitzo’s hand.

Blitzo looks down at his hand and sets the cup down. “Uh, yeah… no- no problem.”

Fizzarolli gets nervous suddenly, Blitzo…he was actually- kinda…cute for an obnoxious bitter jealous no good egotistical lousy scoundrel bitch.

Fizz and Blitzo gazed into each other’s eyes, Blitzo occasionally looking away before looking back at him.

There was obviously something there- but neither Blitzo or Fizz have ever dated anyone… None of them were particularly interested in being intimate with each other, but now?

“H-hey- uh. Blitzo? Would you maybe want to uh… I mean, maybe we could-“ Fizz didn’t really have the words, he didn’t really know what he was asking for. His face was brighter red than usual and his breathing increased immensely; he’s never felt this way before.

Blitzo blinked a few times, eyes still wide as he stares at Fizz. Suddenly, Blitzo’s tail wrapped itself around Fizz’s. “Uh, yeah.”

Fizz looked at their tails, he couldn’t believe what was actually happening right now. “Blitzo?“

Blitzo carefully took Fizzarolli’s face in his hands to turns it to face him again.

Fizzarolli’s eyes widen even more, his heart beat violently against his chest, his face still burning hot. He leans toward Blitzo until their mouths suddenly made contact.

They kissed deeply as Blitzo wrapped his arms around him.

Blitzo wasn’t the worst kisser it turns out.

But wait- he can’t date the person he shared a bed with- can he?

No! They work together, they can’t do this!

They break the kiss and stare at each other for a moment.

Well, maybe they could. A little. Fizz kisses him again, but this time it lasts a little longer.

~~~Present:~~~

After the show, Fizzarolli went straight home, and this pattern kept going for a two weeks.

He’d arrive late, and leave early to avoid Asmodeus as much as possible, he figured Ozzie would eventually get the message and leave him alone.

Until…

Asmodeus was fed up with Fizzarolli’s behavior; he wasn’t angry, but when your friend ignores you for two weeks it’s normal to feel a little annoyed.

“Fizzarolli, I need to speak with you in my office, now.” Asmodeus spoke as a boss now, not as a friend, the other performers looked at him, glad they weren’t in Fizzarolli’s shoes.

Fizz sighs. “The show is starting in-“

“Now. Fizzarolli!” Asmodeus said loudly.

The other preformers were shocked when they heard Asmodeus’s tone, he never spoke that way to Fizz.

Fizz sighs in defeat, there’s no avoiding it now. “Yes, sir.”

He followed the rooster to his office and they both took a seat.

“If this is you letting me go, just hurry up.” Fizzarolli says.

“Shut up.” Asmodeus says, not unkindly, but rather annoyed. “I’m not going to fire you.”

“Then can you make this fast? The show is starting soon.” Fizz rolls his eyes.

“Forget the show, Fizz. What is going on? Why are you avoiding me?” He asks.

“Who says I’m avoiding you?” The imp asks.

“Fizz… please just talk to me.” Asmodeus begs. “I just want to understand.”

“I just-“ Fizzarolli sighs, and covers his face shamefully. “Okay, fine. Do you remember what I said to you when I was regressed?”

“What you…? Oh.” Asmodeus got it now.

“I told you that I loved you…” Fizzarolli says.

Asmodeus nods. “You did.”

There was a sudden silence but then the two started to explain at the same time:

Fizzarolli: “I shouldn’t have said that-“

Asmodeus: “I know I should have said it back… it’s just-“

“What?” They both asked.

Fizzarolli spoke first: “No, you- I was just being a kid! Kids say things like that, it doesn’t necessarily mean anything, I mean, I do like you, I just-“

“I do love you, Fizzarolli.” Asmodeus confessed.

“You…wait, you what?” Fizzarolli asks, shocked.

“Yes, I’m sorry I didn’t say anything before. It’s just that, I’m supposed to be the embodiment of lust; it just wouldn’t be good for my image to go around saying things like that. You do understand, right?” He asks.

Fizzarolli widens his eyes. “Well…yeah. I- uh.”

“But, We already keep a few secrets, what’s one more right?” The rooster asks, awkwardly.

Fizzarolli looks at Asmodeus with teary eyes.

“Fizz, what- what’s wrong?”

~~~Past:~~~

All Fizzarolli really wanted was for someone to love him.

His family sure didn’t, his co-workers didn’t either… not even his boyfriend.

He hoped when he was bought by Cash and Tilla, that they would be his new family:

Tilla, was the kindest person Fizz knew. He had been living there for a few months now when Tilla announced: “Alright, kids. Time for bed.” She smiled kindly yet firmly.

Blitzo huffed. “No fair! I want to stay up.”

Tilla kissed his head, then Barbie’s. “Come on, you three. Off to bed.” She said again. “We have a big day tomorrow.”

“Fine! Goodnight, mom.” Blitzo says.

“Goodnight, Blitzo, Barbie. I love you both so much. Sleep well.” She said. She turned to Fizzarolli and patted his head. “Goodnight, Fizzarolli. You did great work today.” She smiled.

“Thanks…” Fizz said. “Goodnight.”

Fizz may or may not have cried himself to sleep that night…

He was property, he was not family… it was about time he knew that.

~~~~

When he was sixteen, Fizzarolli said it to Blitzo, his boyfriend:

It had been a hard day, long hour week, the circus was getting more crowds then ever, which meant Fizzarolli and Barbie had fewer breaks.

Blitzo was sent out every day to do a different kind of work that neither Blitzo nor cash would explain further when asked.

All Fizzarolli knew was that when Blitzo got back from these jobs, he’d come back more emotionally distant, but physically closer when they got in bed.

“Blitzo?”

“What?” He asked; he was so tired, he didn’t even move or open his eyes to look at Fizz.

“I love you.” Fizzarolli said.

Blitzo opened his eyes finally and sat up to look at Him.

They stared at each other, and Fizz wondered if maybe that was a mistake.

“Yeah… thanks.” Blitzo smiled and kissed him deeply- probably just to make him stop talking…or forget.

That wasn’t what he had expected Blitzo to say, or do. But, he didn’t ask him about it. He just waited for Blitzo to finally say it when he was ready to.

Weeks.

Months.

Years.

He never said it.

~~~

For years Fizzarolli worked for Cash, for the false promise of family and fortune… but it was an empty promise, like a constant void in his life. So, when The Mammon approached him with the opportunity of a lifetime:

“The fans will see you, you’ll be adored by millions. Everyone will love you!” He promised.

“They’ll love me?” Fizz asked.

“Of course.”

How could he possibly say no?

~~~Present: ~~~

“Fizz? What’s wrong?” Asmodeus repeated.

“Nothing.” Fizzarolli smiles at Asmodeus. “Nothing is wrong.” He stands on Asmodeus’s desk and hugs him.

#age regression #age regression fanfic #helluva boss age regression #helluva boss fanfiction #helluva boss blitzo #helluva boss

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snowbellewells · 1 year

Text

WIP Wednesday: “One More” (part two)

Okay, here (at way too long last! ;p ) is the second part of Melanie’s @searchingwardrobes birthday gift fic, which I began way back in November! I don’t have much of an excuse for why it has taken me so long, other than that I have gotten too many WIPs going at once, and I’m having to take turns. Anyway, I also waited until I had the third installment ready to go as well, because ~*FAIR WARNING*~ this chapter is sad and angsty and I didn’t want to leave you with it for too long without the next update, I don’t even feel like I should make you wait a week. Just please know going into this one that this isn’t the end, and there’s more yet to come, so don’t give up hope... (I can already feel Krystal @kmomof4 scolding me for the angst and pain!)

Okay, without further stalling, Part Two of “One More”...

Summary: Through the years, Emma keeps waiting - one more placement, one more year, one more separation - until she can find where and with whom she truly belongs. It turns out the person to show her has been right beside her all the time...

{A 5 Part CS Modern AU}

From the beginning here on Tumblr, or on AO3 if you prefer

Part Two

by: @snowbellewells

ii. seventeen years old (three years later)

“Just one more year, Emma,” he assured earnestly, his sparkling eyes wide and imploring her to understand. “Just one more year and you’ll be fre to go wherever you want. We won’t be apart that long.”

Tilting her head to look up at her best friend, Emma blinked back the tears rapidly gathering behind her eyelids, determined not to let them fall where Killian could see. She nodded in agreement, logically knowing his words were true, but unable to deny the hurt that lanced through her at the thought of their parting. The ache in her chest expanded and grew with every breath she took.

For all her life, Emma had been alone. Oh, not physically - she had rarely experienced true privacy or had space to call her own - but emotionally, with no one to listen to her hopes, her fears, her secrets, to laugh with her over inside jokes, or to offer a shoulder when she needed to cry. Not until three years ago when she had almost literally fallen at Killian Jones’ feet. Since then, Killian, and his older brother Liam too, had become what seemed to Emma like her whole world; the best approximation of family that she had ever known. To think of him leaving her behind, when she was stuck in one place and unable to follow, was crushing. Even as she tried to seem supportive, it pained her more than she’d like to admit.

Perceptive as always, Killian paused in his torrent of explanation to really take in her expression, the struggle on her face no matter how she tried to mask it. Reaching up to brush his fingers under her eye, he subtly wiped away the errant tear she hadn’t yet realized she’d let fall. The enthusiasm he had been broadcasting was tempered with concern for her as he murmured lowly, “Hush now, Swan, what’s this? Surely it isn’t all for me.”

Emma bit her lip, shaking her head quickly in frustration at herself. She hadn’t wanted to dampen his excitement or hold him back from the opportunity before him. Grasping his hand abruptly before he could withdraw it, she clutched it in both of hers and interlaced their fingers as she pressed it to her chest. “Killian,” she choked out, trying to push past the emotion clogging her throat, “Of course it is! I want to be happy for you - I do - and I didn’t want to cry. B-but I’ll miss you so much. Without you… it’s lonely, Jones.”

He dipped his head to playfully waggle his eyebrows at her in the way he had that never failed to make her laugh. Emma shook her head at his antics, feeling the tiniest bit better in spite of nothing having changed. “Seriously, Jones?” she griped, equally in jest, even as she put her hand to his chest and shoved him away, disgruntled by his antics. She sniffled, the tracks of her tears drying as she found he had her laughing again, bouncing back from her push and wrapping her up tightly in a hug she couldn’t escape, no matter how much she wriggled or feigned protest.

In truth, for a moment she had to catch her breath and concentrate on not reacting to how much more solid and muscular his pectoral muscles felt under her palm and how wildly her heart fluttered when he pressed warm, full lips to the crown of her head as he held her close. Killian was no longer the lanky fourteen-year-old boy she had met on the front steps, though she had been under his spell even then.

No, he was nearly a man now, ready to strike out on his own and find what he was meant to do in the world. The military had served his older brother well, had even given Liam the means to take guardianship of his younger brother when his enlistment had ended about the same time their mother had passed away, leaving Killian all alone. She had heard Liam speak fondly of the places he had seen and the comradery he had shared with his fellow officers when they talked over supper sometimes while she was over at their house for the evening, or when the travel shows all three of them enjoyed happened to feature a place he had sailed. He didn’t bring it up all that often - Emma could sense without being told that the elder Jones never wished for his younger brother to feel guilt or like he had been a burden - but his fond reminiscence of the experience was clear nonetheless. Killian too spoke of his brother’s service with a definite sense of pride, looking up to the brother who was role model, parent, and friend rolled into one with a desire to follow in his footsteps.

This would allow him to do just that, as well as give him a real start in the world. They were two young men without much to their names. That he could then afford schooling when he returned was huge. Emma knew Killian wanted to prove himself, to show that what Liam had given up was worth the cost, for his big brother’s sake almost as much as his own. Even setting making Liam proud aside, Killian was smart. He wanted badly to go to college - either for marine biology or astronomy, most likely - whether he would usually admit it or not. This gave him that chance without putting he and Liam both into years of debt.

And he would be marvelous at it. Emma had no doubts about that. She might be biased, but there was literally nothing she had ever seen Killian Jones set out to do that he wasn’t brilliant at once he started.

So it was just the matter of the huge hole he would leave in her life while he was gone. She needed to try not to let him see how desolate the very thought made her feel. It wasn’t forever. Like he said, ‘just one more year’. She would be out of the system, graduated from high school, and free to go wherever he might end up. She could find a job, make her own money, and figure out what called to her, what she was meant to do as well. As long as he came back, and whatever she found was also with him nearby, everything would be fine. She could do this.

Offering him a crooked and rather wobbly smile, Emma returned Killian’s embrace, making him promise he would write every chance he got, and that he’d return with stories and pictures from all over to share with her. Meanwhile, he swore he’d be there with her again before she had a chance to really miss him. She nodded her agreement, already knowing that wasn’t possible. She would miss him the moment he left; like she had been split down the middle, like the other half of her body and soul was gone. It was the same empty feeling she’d carried with her from home to home, town to town, one foster family to another, until she’d ended up with Killian next door.

Emma didn’t want to go back to that, even if it was only temporary. But, if they had the rest of their lives afterwards, she could make do.

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

It wasn’t until eight months later, when she saw through the screen door an unfamiliar and official-looking vehicle sliding silently up to park along the curb outside the Jones’ house that Emma truly feared her best friend might break his word. When two soldiers in dress uniform got out and moved slowly up the walk to Liam and Killian’s front door, one holding what even from a distance appeared to be a folded flag, Emma knew. Her head felt heavy, and she listed to the side as if she might fall over, dizzy and unable to see straight; suddenly she was unable to draw a full breath.

Liam came to tell her himself, an hour or so later, looking shrunken and pale to her eyes; his grief eating at him in a manner she knew all too well. Granted, Emma knew before he managed to tell her that Killian was gone, but that couldn’t have made putting it into words any easier for his elder sibling. They might be saying ‘missing’ rather than dead, but the detached, blank haze that had taken her over in order to survive didn’t seem to comprehend the difference. Liam promised he would tell her of anything he learned, that they should hold onto hope, that there was still a chance, and he assured her that she was still welcome at their house any time. She thanked him, promised to check in with him - though she wasn’t sure she could be in that house knowing that Killian wouldn’t be standing there again - and they hugged and cried together until both their eyes ran dry.

That night as she lay in bed unable to sleep, all Emma could think was that ‘one more year’ had become the rest of her life… and she was once again alone.

Tagging a few who might enjoy: @searchingwardrobes @jennjenn615 @kmomof4 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @laschatzi @jrob64 @apiratewhopines @cocohook38 @hollyethecurious @winterbaby89 @darkcolinodonorgasm @stahlop @teamhook @revanmeetra87 @scientificapricot @gingerchangeling @gingerpolyglot @let-it-raines @elizabeethan @the-darkdragonfly @donteattheappleshook @tiganasummertree @optomisticgirl @spartanguard @therooksshiningknight @drowned-dreamer @kday426 @lfh1226-linda @zaharadessert @xarandomdreamx @xsajx @wefoundloveunderthelight @cosette141 @sotangledupinit @booksteaandtoomuchtv @justanother-unluckysoul @bdevereaux @thislassishooked @blackwidownat2814 @tomeandflickcorner

#wip wednesday #five part cs modern au #one more #birthday fic for @searchingwardrobes #part two #cs angst #young emma #young killian #lieutenant duckling (sort of?)

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ilovefandoms · 2 years

Text

Alastember free for all week

My Alastair playlist

and the lyrics of each song that remind me of him:

seven - taylor swift

And I've been meaning to tell you I think your house is haunted Your dad is always mad and that must be why And I think you should come live with me And we can be pirates Then you won't have to cry Or hide in the closet

dollhouse - melanie martinez

Places, places Get in your places Throw on your dress and put on your doll faces Everyone thinks that we're perfect Please don't let them look through the curtains

for the love of a daughter - demi lovato

Oh, father Please, father Put the bottle down for the love of a daughter son

broken home - 5sos

Hey, mum, hey, dad, when did this end? When did you lose your happiness? I'm here alone inside of this broken home

family line - conan gray

(I know this song is already a popular opinion within the fandom)

Scattered 'cross my family line I'm so good at telling lies That came from my mother's side Told a million to survive

[...]

All that I did to try to undo it All of my pain and all your excuses I was a kid, but I wasn't clueless (Someone who loves you wouldn't do this) All of my past, I tried to erase it But now I see, would I even change it? Might share a face and share a last name but (We are not the same, same)

matilda - harry styles

you talk of the pain like it's all alright But I know that you feel like a piece of you's dead insidе You showed me a power that is strong еnough to bring sun to the darkest days

devil in me - halsey

You said I should eat my feelings Head held high I won't take anyone down if I crawl tonight But I still let everyone down when I change in size And I went tumbling down tryna reach your high But I scream too loud if I speak my mind I don't wanna wake it up (x3) The devil in me

perfect - simple plan

I'm never gonna be good enough for you Can't pretend that I'm alright And you can't change me […] Nothing's gonna change the things that you said And nothing's gonna make this right again (Right again)

i’m not okay (i promise) - mcr

(this one's here just because I can picture Alastair screaming the chorus)

But I'm okay, I'm okay! I'm okay now, "I'm okay now," but you really need to Listen to me, because I'm telling you the truth! I mean this, I'm okay! "Trust me…" I'm not okay I'm not okay, well, I'm not okay, I'm not o-fucking-kay!

I HATE EVERYBODY - halsey

I'm my own biggest enemy Yeah, all my empathy's a disaster Feelin' somethin' like a scaly thing Wrapped too tightly 'round my own master [..] So I just keep sayin' I hate everybody But maybe I, maybe I don't

jet black heart - 5sos

The blood in my veins is made up of mistakes Let's forget who we are and dive into the dark As we burst into color, returning to life 'Cause I've got a jet black heart And there's a hurricane underneath it Trying to keep us apart I write with a poison pen But these chemicals moving between us Are the reason to start again

tolerate it - taylor swift

(the fact that this song fits for both Alastair's relationship with his father and Charles says it all)

You're so much older and wiser, and I I wait by the door like I'm just a kid Use my best colors for your portrait Lay the table with the fancy shit And watch you tolerate it […] I know my love should be celebrated But you tolerate it

29 - demi lovato

(just change the ages to fit Charles and Alastair)

Finally twenty-nine Funny, just like you were at the time Thought it was a teenage dream, just a fantasy But was it yours or was it mine? Seventeen, twenty-nine

paris - the chainsmokers

(remember when Cassie put this in her ChoI playlist and we clowned thinking this was about thomastair?)

If we go down then we go down together They'll say you could do anything They'll say that I was clever If we go down then we go down together We'll get away with everything Let's show them we are better

this is me trying - taylor swift

(another popular fandom opinion)

They told me all of my cages were mental So I got wasted like all my potential And my words shoot to kill when I'm mad I have a lot of regrets about that […] I just wanted you to know that this is me trying

be kind - marshmello & halsey

I know you need, I know you need The upper hand even when we aren't fighting 'Cause in the past, you had to prepare every time, yeah Don't wanna leave, don't wanna leave But if you're gonna fight, then do it for me I know you're built to love, but broken down, so just try, yeah

still learning - halsey

And you wouldn't believe Everything that I seen, no Comin' apart at the seams And no one around me knows Who I am, what I'm on Who I've hurt and where they've gone I know that I've done some wrong But I'm tryna make it right

only the brave - louis tomlinson

Pour mercy, mercy on me, set fire to history I'm breakin' my own rules, I'm cryin' like a fool

Charles/Alastair playlist

Thomastair playlist

#personal post #alastair carstairs #alastair appreciation month #spotify

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reinbouxsworld · 2 years

Note

About the character headcanons asks

Please 💕 and 🎻 for all your OCs! I want to ship everyone and make a playlist for them!

YUNO YAMINE

💕ˀˀ. . . ₎ Hopeless romantic, but she tries not to. Yuno is a very delicate balance between constantly daydreaming and being aware that life is not a Disney movie, but nothing sounds better than that little scenario in her head about hugging her crush before falling asleep that just 😔🤌. She's by far the most open about her feelings in general, so it is pretty obvious when she likes someone too. Her main way to show affection is physical touch, so even if she plays cool and not bothered at all while being afraid of being clingy, you can see her staring at your hand like 👁👄👁.

🎻ˀˀ. . . ₎ A loud bad singer. Grim hates it, but can’t bring it to tell her to shut up because she only sings out loud when she's really happy or really sad, the poor thing. Also, her upbringing made her really into classical music, like Tchaikovsky and Vivaldi and she listens to it almost everyday, but overall pretty eclectic out of it.

Yuno is into a lot of indie and kpop on a daily basis too. Also the type of person that always listens to people's recommendations, or learns her friends' favorites to vibe with them.

FACILE DRAKE

💕ˀˀ. . . ₎ His love language is words of affirmation, so it would be nothing weird to him to come and "you know I love you" or very soft whisper out a "my evening star". Even in platonic, it is not weird for him to say out of nowhere a "bro, you're my favorite person”. but Facile doesn't have any priority in romantic love at all. He's seventeen, it isn't like he's going to meet the love of his life just now, right? right?

🎻ˀˀ. . . ₎ He tried to play piano like Sam when he was younger but what really made him passionate was saxophone. He plays on the afternoons in the Pomefiore lounge for Vil, or after his shift in Mr.S Shop, when he can. He’s also a fan of Jazz and Blues, mostly because of Sam and their homeland.

AGONIA TARTARUS

💕ˀˀ. . . ₎ Against what people tend to think about them, they’re not a fuckboy or anything like it, for sure, Agonia is sure into some mutual flirt and rarely get involvelved, but once they do, they love deeply. They're main languages are through acts of service and physical touch, so they like to demonstrate that yes, they are into you. No, they don't do it for anybody. They don't mind making a point out of it. If they chooses you, then it's you.

🎻ˀˀ. . . ₎ Unlike his brother and Idia that are always with headphones, Agonia only listens to music in their room, usually some heavy metal or punk rock, but anything that makes some success on Ignihyde walls is a go to for them. Also a really good singer, but they don't bother to show it since they like to poke Pannik nerves telling he's the gifted kid from their family.

PANNIKOLAUS "PANNIK" TARTARUS

💕ˀˀ. . . ₎ He's born to friends to lovers trope. Pannik is too shy for any kind of relationship that he doesn't know deeply. His main way to show affection is through words of affirmation but in his own way: with music; you can expect a ton shit of Playlist made for or thinking about you on his phone, and for sure he will be writing songs about you too, but you will have to take it from his dead cold hands 😊

🎻ˀˀ. . . ₎ Pannik loves music more than himself, but he can easily follow the sad boy aesthetic with the amounts of indie and grunge he listens to. Believe it or not he's pretty much into everything (please listen to his recommendations).

Pannik is always with his headphones for when he needs to calm down, if he loses or it breaks things get really bad.

CHARACTER HEADCANON ASKS

Sorry for taking so long but THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR YOUR ASK!!! PLS SEND ME THE PLAYLIST LINKS PLS PLS PLS <3333

#ask.txt #yuno yamine #facile drake #agonia tartarus #tartarus siblings #twst yuu #twst oc #twisted wonderland #pannik tartarus

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jongnorp · 1 month

Text

WELCOME HOME, MA ILSEONG!

You've got the keys, unlock your new world!

NAME. MA ILSEONG. DATE OF BIRTH. 19981004. OCCUPATION. CONVENIENCE STORE CLERK. NATIONALITY. KOREAN-AMERICAN.

FREE FORM.

ma ilseong never learns the proper way to leave.

at six years old, it’s him standing in the entryway of the only home that he’s ever known, hands gripping the doorframe with all his might. it’s raining outside and his mom’s saying something about how he’s letting it in while dad’s screaming ‘get your ass over here right now, ilseong’ — a core memory, his school counselor will call it years down the line, when it’s the only thing that he really remembers about america.

he’s korean, but his mother tongue is english. the ‘universal language’, his parents had called it when explaining their reasoning for not forcing him to speak korean at home, but it doesn’t help him any when he has to introduce himself to a class full of people who hide their snickers behind their hands. his homeroom teacher introduces him as isaiah ma, something that makes him feel baffled. he’s never gone by his english name before, and it makes no sense to him that he would be ilseong in america and isaiah in korea—it’s backwards, and he’s not sure whether the foreign names are a defense or just another way to make him feel othered.

“no, my name is mouse,” he says. a nickname he hasn’t outgrown yet, never will outgrow. but this is when his new classmates laugh and his homeroom teacher clears her throat behind him, says something that ilseong doesn’t quite understand, but he catches ‘name’, so he tries again just in case.

“nobody calls me isaiah. my name is ma ilseong, but i’m called mouse. mouse.” (no, he’s joking, he has to be joking / what kind of name is mouse? he can’t really expect us to call him that / what’s up with his pronunciation? he can’t be korean.)

at ten years old, he still falls short of a graceful exit. hands tremble as he stands up from his desk, elbow slamming against cheap wood, but he doesn’t show that it hurts. he disappears faster than everybody else, fast enough that by the time the motion sends that glass milk bottle toppling from his desk, he’s halfway down the hall. the glass breaks, but he doesn’t hear it. can’t hear anything beyond the blood rushing in his head, always embarrassed to be alive.

flights are emblematic of rainbows, with mom and dad always promising that there’s gold on the other side. when he was younger, ilseong believed it. sort of, anyway—naivety and wishful thinking had stood with fingers intertwined and he’d gazed on longingly, waiting for ‘better’. believing it would come.

but he’s just a kid and he doesn’t need 'better’, doesn’t need 'adventure’, he needs stability. a home that doesn’t feel like a hotel, a photo album of backyards and best friends instead of tourist attractions. sometimes he pleads and sometimes he’s humored, but a promise made to appease is almost always sure to be empty and there’s nothing beautiful about italy when dad’s always gone and mom’s methods of distraction have long grown predictable.

“your dad and i are thinking about getting a divorce,” she tells him one day, disposable camera in her hands. a kind of hope-shattering confession that steals the beauty from lake como. “but i don’t want you to worry about it too much, il, okay?”

she never talks about it again, and dad never brings it up either, but ilseong never stops thinking about it. sometimes he wonders if he can still be loved when the connection he was born from has died, other times he wonders if that’s why his parents never look each other in the eyes. most of the time, he blames the military. just like how he blames it for everything else.

at seventeen, ‘leaving’ is preceded by ilseong holding a crying girl in his arms and not knowing what kind of apology would make up for the fact that his dad’s work is sending his family to a country she’s never heard of before, so not saying anything at all. it’s listening to her say “i’ll never forget you” in a language that she barely speaks just to make sure he’ll understand. it’s not looking back on his way through the terminal because looking back never makes leaving any easier.

it’s writing her a letter two years later and never receiving a response, because just like he’s always leaving, the ones left behind are always moving on.

mom says that no one’s meant to be in his life forever, anyway.

korea doesn’t feel as threatening in 2016 as it did in 2008. maybe because he’s older, maybe because he’s bolder, maybe because his expectations are low—whatever the case, he doesn’t go home much anymore. “studying,” he says, always. “you know exams are coming up soon.” but there’s not much truth to the story, no real interest in his future. internet searches call it a sophomore slump, but his dull mindset extends into every aspect of his life and what he needs is a distraction.

so he says he’s been studying, but he’s really been at the some local band’s show scrubbing x’s off the backs of his hands in a public bathroom. word of mouth carries him to the gig, but real interest keeps him around and before he knows it, it’s a routine. one of the first self-made ones he’s ever had.

he talks too much. he talks to bartenders, he talks to attendees, he talks to the band after the show. finally, someone asks him what his name is. “mouse,” he says, and there’s no hesitancy, no judgment, just some humored quip: “like the guy from the matrix, i guess?”

2017 comes and ilseong barely graduates. he goes down in flames as a first-year honor roll student with a trashed gpa, and all his teachers can do is shake their heads. “we’re not sure when he started slipping,” they say. maybe they hadn’t been paying attention, either. there’s a short stint in which every note feels sour, every day feels like a threat and ilseong starts to think that the embarrassment of claiming him as their son might be what finally does his parents’ marriage in. (again, the end never comes. by now, he almost thinks it’d be better if it would.)

september, mom and dad move back to indiana. they promise that it’s permanent this time, but he hasn’t trusted their word in years and he’s tired of always leaving. for once, he wants to stay.

they say goodbye, ilseong doesn’t. while they’re on their way to incheon international airport, he’s on his way to a show. he’s got a feeling it’ll be a while before he hears from his parents again, but when he’s dancing with hardly-strangers in the back of a crowd, he doesn’t feel lonely.

still, ilseong never really learns the proper way to leave. he attributes it to his parents, who text him pictures of themselves often to make sure he won’t forget them, but the vacant smiles are not lost on him. they’re already gone, and he thinks they left not long after he was born—his fault, like he accepts most things to be.

ilseong becomes an honest, yet still shameful man: shoulders squared, awkward smile, apologies on the tip of his tongue. he can never quite figure out what he wants to do with his life; a boy who never got to choose turns into an adult who can’t. promoting gigs, acting, selling half-priced goods, working the night shift in seedy places just to say that he’s trying, really, when he has to explain to his landlord why another month’s rent is late.

he turns his back on responsibility before he can feel any real consequences, chase him as they might, and has perfected the art of being disarming for the occasions when he’s caught. a sweet face that reads, 'you’re not really mad, are you? please don’t be’ works on almost everyone he knows.

like this, the path continues on: forgiveness applied as a bandage on his ego, enabling him to continue his half-here, half-there lifestyle. it’s the reason that shame withers and he buys rounds at the bar with money he ought to be paying his rent with, or at the very least, paying back the friends that he owes with; it’s the reason why he dances in the crowd like he’s not in debt.

25 years old and still fucking up on the daily, anger is inevitable, but at the end of the day, he’s just mouse: the guy who means no harm, the guy who owns his mistakes, the guy who doesn’t really understand and is learning as he goes.

he expects forgiveness and his attitude reflects it, but he’s not as ignorant as he seems. toothy grin in place, even ilseong knows that he can only walk on a thin line of 'oh, he’s always been like that’ tolerance before he’s all lucked out.

#JONGNO:WELCOME #FC: YOO TAEYANG

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unknownjpegs · 3 months

Text

unexpected

There’s a pattern forming with this house, this door. Visitors. Except this time —

“Amma?” Benji asks, his face slack with shock at this latest guest. He’d heard a card coming down the drive, and he’d opened the door and — and it’s her.

She’s walking up the gravel path, their path, one hand lifting her the hem of her skirt and the other elbow weighted by that giant tote bag she’s had since the can remember — since he left at seventeen, actually. He’s got no idea how she overloads it well past full like that and still keeps it looking brand new.

“Saha gave me your address.” Prick. Traitor. Benji scowls. “How come you didn’t invitee me yet, Benji?”

He closes his eyes and pinches his forehead. She is, unfortunately, a human lie detector. And even if she wasn’t, Benji has always found it nearly impossible to be dishonest.

“Did you drive?”

He holds a hand out to help her up the steps, but she

“I’ve had company, amma. A’right? Sorry.” He says, taking her hands and leading her further in. “I’ve just…I’ve been trying to find the right time to…to ask you ‘round.”

Shrewd as ever, she narrows her eyes. “Right time, ah? Company?” She stands on her tiptoes, swatting at his shoulder knowingly.

Fuck’s sake. Benji’s face heats up. She always knows.

“Ah-haha,” she wags a finger at him, one eye narrowed victoriously, her mouth quirked.. “Was taking a guess. Knew it — you’ve always got that tell.”

It hasn’t been long since he visited her, back before Xavier — well. Moved in, he supposes. She’s never been here. And, partially by choice, he has never spoken about Xavier.

Where would I fucking start? Is the first question always pinging around his skull if he tries to think about the possibility. Can’t just tell her I’m seeing a wanted mercenary, now can I? Not even that — defected one. Probably got warrants, hasn’t he? Can’t tell her I’ve let him move in, either. That I — that he’s here to stay.

The absurdity of it hits him square in the chest. As things have gone, it’s a strangely normal thing to wonder, to worry after: how am I meant to introduce this person to my parents? So the laugh starts within him but sticks against his diaphragm with a putty, thick swell of relief.

It’s absurd because it’s funny, and it’s funny because it’s absurd. This is all they’ve got to worry after now, for the most part. Little things. Mundane, normal, little things. He taps into the well of worry that had, on more than one occasion, nearly upended him into its depths. A gunshot, a looming lieutenant, something to chase after in the scant moments, in the dark. Wariness for their lives, for each other, in case they couldn’t manage to keep the secret. In case they weren’t careful — weren’t sneaky — enough.

Fuck’s sake. Benji does not ever want to have to think of Xavier in terms of a secret to keep or hide away with or squeeze precious, tiny moments together. They’ve got time now, so it feels like a disservice to muddy that with anything other than transparency.

Benji stares down at his mum and smiles. He’s also missed sharing things with her. Can’t think of a better place to start up again, than with Xavier.

“Fuckin’ hell. You’re gonna press it ’til I drag him out, huh? He’s asleep.”

She points at him with that scowl again, prodding him in the chest. “Swearing.” She warns. “Pfft. Sleeping. It’s nearly noon, isn’t it. What do I care, ok? Sleep. Go wake him up.”

He missed her so much that he’s gotta scoop her up right there, squish her in a hug until she splutters and laughs and swats at him. So her, making demands. He missed the melodic, endearing swing between languages much more than he realized. Feels like home, listening to that sweetly clipped standard accent next to the curled lilt of vowels.

He thinks of that — feels like home, thinks of the other body in his bed, of putting such a surprise on him, and balks a bit.

“What?”

“Nothing.” He cringes at the lie. “Just. I think he’d like to prepare for these sorts of things, yeah? Maybe you can —”

“That was a forty minute drive, Benji. Nearly an hour!” She swings her bag from her shoulder, knocking him with it and then meandering into the kitchen. Starts rifling through his fridge as if she owns it. “Do you have fruit?”

“No, amma, but —”

“None, eh?”

“Listen, I —“

She looks over at him, eyebrow raised warningly. “Do y’know how much I spent on petrol to get up here?”

He snaps his mouth shut around another but that threatens to burst out, feels the concerned pout twist amusedly. She flaps her hand in the air, go on, Benji, and begins pulling glassware and plates from the cupboard (first try, like she knows already where they are). Fresh fruit and other ingredients from the seemingly endless confines of her bag.

“I’ve got stuff here.”

She stares at him. “All right, want an award then? G’on. I’m cooking.” And waves him off again.

He’s grinning stupidly, a cheeks-hurt sort of smile, when he slips a knee onto the mattress next to Xavier’s hip. He’s facedown, half under the blanket with his jumper rucked over his ribs. Got too hot, but not too hot to kick it off.

“Xavier,” he whispers, heart clenching affectionately, a well and proper squeeze, when he gets a soft and content sigh of his name back in return. “Awh, sorry. Shit. I am so sorry for this.”

One green eye cracks open, fuzzy and heavy-lidded. That pressure returns to his chest. It’s ever present, these days. Because Xavier is ever present. “Mm?”

“Amma…my mum’s —” Xavier turns, slips a hand up his arm and pinches his elbow. Makes him interrupt himself with a huffing laugh. “Fuckin’ hell…Xavier. My mum’s here.”

“Where else would she be,” Xavier mumbles, rubbing his cheek into the pillow and then stretching as he finds Benji with slightly more present eyes. He feels, as he always does, a bit stunned by their hazy, content sleepiness he sees there. The love. “The fucking moon?”

Benji snickers and runs a hand down his back, smiling at the arch Xavier bends to chase the touch. “Xavier, not in the fuckin’ country. I mean she’s here here, yeah? She is here in the house. She stopped over.”

Xavier sits up, making his hands slide off his body. “She huh?”

Benji holds them palm-out instead, waving assuredly. “In the kitchen, at least.”

Fuck, does he look spooked.

“Here?” It’s nearly a squeak.

“Relax,” he chuckles. “I know this is — this is a lot, right? But she’s not about to leave.” He twines their fingers together, one handed. “And m’sorry, but…I’m not gonna try and get her out. Or act like you don’t fuckin’ exist, or ask you to hide, or any of that.”

Benji’s unspooling a bit as the seconds tick by, the more thought he puts towards this entire situation. His heart’s kicking up, hands going rather clammy, so he wipes one anxiously on his thigh and then tucks it up under Xavier’s jumper.

His face is a mask of…not dread, really, but the expression is fit into a strange, unrecognizable thing on his face. A careful behind a mask of genuine concern; eyebrows pulled so tight that the little furrow appears between.

“I could try and tell her you’re sick, but she’d come up here with food.” He grins. “Or she’d us liars.”

Xavier takes a long breath, shuts his eyes for the duration of it and even the next inhale. Then, blind, he slaps his hands to Benji’s cheeks and kisses him quick and firm on the mouth.

“Nah. We’re good.” He swings himself up, nearly rounding Benji in the face with a knee. Unaware of himself in a way that probably attributes to the nerves. He’s got his hands in front of him, wringing a bit and his shoulders drawn.

So Benji follows him as he disappears into the closet. He’s genuinely looking so frazzled that he’s looking at the wrong side, at Benji’s hung clothes, and the hangers scrape back and forth — flicking through them without any choice being made. Probably too in his head to even perceive them.

“She doesn’t care, Xavier.” Benji says softly. It’s meant to be reassurance: earns a slight head tilt, I hear you but I’m over here right now, in response. He sighs again and touches a square of skin where it peaks from Xavier’s bunched up pullover. He jolts as if it’s a shock, which it’s not, or Benji’s hands are cold, which they aren’t.

“You could wear that.” They both look down at Xavier’s cartoon-print sweats and the dark jumper. When their eyes meet again, Xavier is looking at him as if he’s grown a second head.

Benji chuckles. “Mate, you’ve literally gone and defected a fucking — ” he lowers his voice, glancing at the door. “Whatever. She’s barely up to here, okay? You’ve got it.” The side of his hand knocks against his shoulder.

“She is your mom, dude,” Xavier hisses. He laughs anxiously, turning back to the rack of clothes. “I…I’m losing my shit right now.”

In the end, he gives in to Benji’s coaxing and settles on the same sweater with a regular pair of jeans. He debates on rolling his sleeves, on fixing his hair, on wearing socks, on finding a pair of good shoes, fixes his hair again, stares at himself in the mirror.

And they finally they head back down. Benji leads the way, his hand behind his back as they descend the stairs. Offering, fingers up. Xavier takes it and squeezes.

She’s over the stove when they meander into the kitchen. Benji goes over to peer into the pot, and Xaviier stands — well, he’s standing awkward as fucking anything in the center of the room.

“Ma’am,” Xavier says all proper.

It makes his mum laugh. That big, loud cackle that seems as if it’s too wild and filling of space to come from such a tiny woman. Xavier jerks his head to stare at him, blinking rapidly. Eyes wide, kicked-dog sad: did I already do something wrong?

No way to formulate a response quick enough, because his mother darts forward and claps her hands together before grabbing for Xavier’s, holding them in front of her face and gesturing up the length of him. “Like a tree, Benji, goodness. Oh, look. What’s this about, this sad posture? Sit up.”

He startles a bit when she moves in quick tiny steps around his side, slips behind him to smack a hand to the center of his back. As high up as she can reach, anyway. The top of her head barely reaches his bicep.

“You’ll be a hunched old man if you keep that up,” she chides.

“Mum.” Benji sighs, exasperated and amused. He’s grinning, eyes finding Xavier’s and offering him a couldn’t stop her if I tried sort of shrug. “Leave him be.”

Except Xavier squares up right away, the straight line of him more about authority and respect — military, the look about him that he gets sometimes, rigid in a way that makes Benji hide a laugh behind his hand. Hard to imagine his mum in any sort of place like that, so he doesn’t.

“Kayalvizhi,” she says, retracting a tiny hand to put it to her chest. “Kayal is fine, or Kay. Whichever’s easier.” She shoots a wink at Benji. “Mum if you want, lots of kids still call me that.”

“Okay,” Xavier says shyly, offering her a smile as she slips back around to stand in front of him.

“You were just a right chore for clothes, weren’t you?” She snickers, hands on her hips. “Right to the sewing machine with everything, I’d bet on it. What’s your name?”

“What’s your name,” Benji translates with a slight grin. It’s automatic, habitual; necessary, because she often forgets that she’s switched. Or, sometimes, she slips into it because somebody’s annoyed her — stranger, so they don’t deserve the focus of English, or her children, and they’ll be forced to put the effort in to translate for her.

Evil, he thinks fondly, shaking his head at Xavier. Apologetic.

“Uh,” he says, hands coming up and holding his fingers. “Xavier James Wolffe.”

His mum glances over her shoulder at him, thumb pointed at Xavier and her mouth pursed down in an amused pout near her chin: get a load of this guy.

“Well, Xavier, I won’t be using the whole bit.” She teases, patting the nervous mess of his hands. Benji watches as they unfurl a bit, let her tuck her tiny ones around his fingers. “Hope that’s okay. Now we’re all proper introduced…you’ll give me a tour, hey?”

“I—” Xavier pauses, nervous eyes flicking up from her face to Benji, stood behind her. Sheepishly, he grins. Shrugs. “Sure. I didn’t get a chance to make our bed, though.”

Benji’s face heats at her head-tossed laugh. “Oh it’s yours then too, is it?” She tosses an impish waggle of her eyebrows back at Benji. “How long?”

Fuck, if that isn’t a loaded question. One that Benji struggles to pin down, too. When had it started full-force? When was…that point?

“Um. Few months.”

“Months! Bastard.”

Xavier snickers.

They get on immediately, but Benji had a feeling they would. His mum was the favorite out of his friends’ parents growing up, because she just…radiates it. Warmth. Like a tiny, beacon coalesced of understanding and peacefulness. He knows it’s not something everybody had growing up, and she’d known that too. So people like her, especially if they’ve had a rough go. She lets them in.

Benji watches the pair from inside. The tour had gone well, noisy chatter and laughs and hushed, secretive voices as Xavier showed her the rooms.

Here’s the bedroom: oh, must be you in charge of cleaning, then, his room has never looked like this. The dining room, the living room, the empty upstairs rooms where Benji’d like to fill the space, eventually. He hears Xavier chatter and talk about their days, ask after hers, brag about the places that Benji has fixed or improved.

And now— now he watches from inside. Because the last place he had wanted to show her was the pond, their ducks, and Benji…Benji needed a moment to process.

She’s crouched next to Xavier along the shore, her posture perfect but making her look no more tall next to him. He’s since stopped pointing out specific birds, probably sharing all their silly names. Now their heads are close together, nearly touching — intimate in a way it would be if they’d known each other for much longer.

He can tell even from the distance that they’re speaking. His mum’s head bobs in that animated way when she’s particularly engaged. Xavier’s is tilted to the side, listening.

And then as he’s watching this silence, private conversation unfold, Xavier suddenly loses his balance. He lurches forward and then back to avoid face-planting into the water, legs kicked out. Clearly laughing — a bit hysterical if the pink on his face is an indication — and splayed out in the grass.

He gets fussed over, because it’s just rained that morning; she pats at him, prods at his shoulders. Benji can almost hear her telling Xavier to get up, he’ll get his clothes wet, he’ll catch a cold, make sure to eat the soup she leaves, to stay warm, and —

That’s my mum, Benji’s brain stutters into a churn of short, deliberate thoughts. That’s my mum with Xavier. Out in the back. By the pond. They’re sitting there together. That’s my mum. A couple months ago, I thought I’d never go see her again. And that’s Xavier. Couple months ago, I thought he was dead. And before that, I thought I would be.

Benji sways a bit and leans his shoulder against the doorframe, fingers tight around his mug. What a normal fucking thing that is. Just a daily occurrence. Parent meeting a boyfriend. Something that normal people do in an average, peaceful life.

He’s got no ringing in his ears, no gun in his hands. Nobody’s blood sticking his fingers together, making the gloves uncomfortable. The television’s got a Tetris menu idly chirping a song Benji would now know in his sleep, and his boots are lined up neatly at the door where Xavier had put them when they’d gotten home that morning. Next to his mum’s.

Because his mum had shown up. She’d invited herself in, told him to get Xavier awake, and they two of them had met. Feels like two parts of him slipping together in a way he’d never dreamt they might.

Benji blinks, vision suddenly fuzzy, and wipes off the fat few tears that roll down his cheeks. The vision of the two of them at the pond blurs.

Later, she asks the question Benji’s been dreading. How did you meet?

It’s directed at Xavier, who spares a shifty, unsure look towards him. Just as incapable, if not more so, of lying to her at this point. Maybe before they’d had a chance to talk. But now: I can’t, that look says. I can’t. I’ll spill it all.

So Benji offers parts of the truth, and leaves the bits she doesn’t need to know. Not just because she’d be horrified, but because she likes Xavier. He can tell. And Xavier likes her. Any other details, any full truths that he could offer, would make her shy away. Would devastate her. Maybe make her scared of him permanently. Can’t have that. Especially…especially because it…

Might also scare her, discovering some of the things she doesn’t know about Benji.

But those are things she, if he’s got a say, won’t ever know.

That’s sad in a way; most of what he’s been through is something he’d cradled in his hands and then offered to her. Bits of him, things that happened because he was there, because she’d raised him and gave him everything he needed to get that way.

But she’d had no hand in…that. So she didn’t need to know everything.

Benji shares some of it to answer her question. What she needs to know to understand, because he desperately wants her to: our units worked together. I didn’t like him at first. And then I did. A lot. And then he helped me a few times, and I got…got hurt. And he helped me then too.

She knows about the discharge and about the injury. He’d waited specifically until it was fully healed to tell her — bits she didn’t need to know. She’s smart, his mum. She’d put it all together, his absence and the period of silence where he couldn’t return texts or calls or letters. The awfulness of that tearing, rending injury was obvious.

She had made him show her.

And she had done what she does now, when Benji tells her he helped me. She reaches across the table, where they’re eating the meal she cooked, and puts her hand over his side on that injury. Stares up at him with her big eyes, his eyes, and then with her free hand, pats Xavier’s arm where it rests.

“That’s sweet,” she says, voice shaky. “That’s very sweet. A very good story, okay? Thank you.”

For coming home. For helping. For sharing.

They turn to each other once the door’s closed, and stare for so long that the sputter of her shit car startles them both.

“She’s so great, I —”

“I am so fuckin’ in love with you.”

They say it at the same time. The soft, gentled look Xavier’s been wearing for the duration of her visit slackens a bit and then rekindles in a bright, beaming smile. He reaches for Benji’s face, cradles his cheeks: we are going to kiss right now.

“She’s cool.” Xavier says, dropping their foreheads together. “The fuck happened to you?”

“Oh! Dickhead.” Benji hisses, and throws an arm around his shoulders. Tugs hard, swings him to the side. Expecting to launch him into the couch, but Xavier’s cackling — manages to lock his arms around Benji’s middle, hands fisted in the back of his shirt. They bounce off the edge in a heap, shoving and laughing and, eventually once the giggles have ceased enough, kissing. Kissing.

Quite a bit softer than usual.

#writing #ua #bp #xw #bp x xw #core au

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