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scoundrels-in-love · 1 year

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You hold me for a little (Curtains closed to the end of the world)

Three times Meryl is loaned a jacket by the men in their ragtag group through their journey and the one time she borrows it at the end of it all. | Vashmery/Stryfewood/Mashwood | | Grief | Persistence of hope | Father figure Roberto | Flirty Vash | | Wolfwood experiences the mortifying ordeal of being Perceived with Care | Meryl gets to cry in emotional support titties (again) | Orignally inspired by this lovely piece by @briizer even though it wildly spun away from that. Also on AO3.

When Meryl first spots the cluster of buildings in the distance, she isn’t sure if they’re really there or a wishful figment of her imagination after driving more than twelve hours without a break.

As the settlement comes closer, she feels the tension curling stronger still in her limbs. Is it safe to stop? Meryl isn’t even sure whose safety she’s doubting at the moment - theirs or the strangers’ that could end up with the same fate as Jeneora Rock. There’s no rock there anymore, she thinks numbly.

“We got to recharge the car,” Roberto breaks the silence. Her fingers curl tighter around the steering wheel, as if it could give her back control over anything.

They’re allowed inside without much questioning, which is a blessing, because Meryl doesn’t think she’s got much talking left in her at this rate. The couple running a makeshift inn of sorts are welcoming and don’t overcharge for electricity.

"Survivors of Jeneora?" The older man asks, after giving them a quick once-over.

There's no real way to hide it, they're still dirty and bloody, Vash looks more like a corpse than a passenger in the back seat. (Her blood ran cold when she looked back at him, passed out and still, and she thought he had succumbed to some wound she had missed. It was the only time they stopped, just long enough for her to scramble in the back and shake him awake in panic, to make sure that he was okay. As much as any of them could be.)

"Yeah, we were just passin' through when shit went down. Got real lucky," Roberto says.

"You poor things, that must've been so awful. I hope they bring that Typhoon fella to justice soon, this is getting out of hand," the innkeeper’s wife’s voice is full of compassion.

It's only Roberto's grip on her lower arm that holds her back from physically launching towards the counter and pouring out how wrong they are. Her lip wobbles instead and she looks down, at her scuffled shoes and the floor that blurs.

They’re immediately invited to stay the night to rest and recover, but Roberto insists they’ve got to keep moving as their (made-up) family must be worrying. Meryl is thankful for that, she doesn’t know if she’d keep her composure under a barrage of questions and sympathy.

There’s just enough time while the car charges to use the kindly-offered amenities, though. While Vash remains in the car, she and Roberto take turns scrubbing themselves clean and changing clothes in a tiny bathroom. Her jacket is thrown into a hurried wash and she tries not to think about Tonis’ blood going down the drain. Fails.

While it starts drying in the sun, she joins Roberto on the bench outside, next to the charging station. It’d be nice to hide from the heat, but she doesn't know where or how to be, exactly. Never did, really. It’s worse now, the thought of not seeing where Vash is like a panicked needle trying to cover her lungs in puncture marks. (Is it because she’s afraid for him or herself without him there?)

The wind is rough and feels surprisingly cold without her jacket, the dichotomy between it and the sun making her foggy headed. Or maybe it’s the lack of sleep.

There's a rustle of fabric and suddenly, with a waft of cigarette smoke, something is draped over her. It takes Meryl a second before she realizes that Roberto has thrown the side of his jacket around her. She glances up at him, but he’s staring ahead as he smokes, so she shifts to sit right next to him and pulls the cloth around her.

It’s nice, like a makeshift barrier against, well, everything, really. Even if the principle of it is more powerful than the actual physical protection. She allows herself to slump forwards a little, arms wrapping around her knees, which she pulls up to her chest, but one of her hands still holds the corner of the jacket closed so the wind doesn’t rip the cover away.

They don’t speak and it’s kinder that way, Meryl can close her eyes and almost picture it is her father sitting next to her. Like he never would. And maybe now she finally won’t need him to.

Being lucky is part of being a good reporter, Roberto had said. Maybe it had had a hand in him ending up as her mentor, too.

Meryl wakes in the thinning dusk of an early morning. Roberto is snoring nearby and everything feels the kind of calm that is trapped behind a glass. If she had nightmares, she does not remember them and that is a kind of gift, too.

For a couple minutes, she tries to chase after the wisps of sleep, but gives up quickly enough. Having an hour to herself before the rest of the group wakes up is a rarity she doesn’t feel like wasting, even if she doesn’t have a plan for it, either.

As quietly as possible, Meryl gets out of the creaking bed and, later, down the stairs that love to whine if she steps in the middle of them where they’re more worn.

The horizon is barely beginning to burn with sunrise and the wind is freezing cold as it greets her. She sinks deeper into her jacket and pulls the beanie lower over her ears, but continues down the sleeping street. She doesn’t know what she’s looking for, but she knows the quiet urge to walk, walk into the vastness until she melts into it.

Watching the suns come up will have to do, Meryl decides. She finds a ladder to the top of the shabby fortifications around the town and then onto one of the boxes there. The wind almost rips her hat off and she is starting to reconsider her plans, just when she hears someone approach.

Before she can look, the person speaks up: “Good morning, Meryl.” She knows the voice, huskier with sleep as it may be, and immediately relaxes. Vash.

“Good morning,” she says, rubbing her hands up and down her arms. There is a long yawn, right behind her. Meryl affords herself a smile, knowing that he won’t see it, as she pictures his sleepy face the way she’s seen it in the mornings when he seems to be less haunted - all boyish and soft.

“I didn’t wake you up, right?” It’d seem an illogical question, if the other person was anyone but Vash who seems to notice much more than he tries to let on. But her job is to notice.

“No, of course not,” Vash reassures her and she chooses to believe him, even if it doesn’t explain why he’d come and find her.

They are quiet for a minute or two, other than the wind billowing and the creaking of the wooden box as she keeps shifting her weight in an attempt to keep warm.

“I could lend you my jacket, if you’d like?” He speaks into her ear, low and deceivingly soft, and much closer than she thought he was. Meryl startles and hides her face in the collar of her jacket so he won’t see the heat that has nothing to do with the chill spreading across her face, all the way to the tip of her ears.

“Oh, thank you, but I wouldn’t want you to catch a cold, I’m used to feeling chilly anyway,” she says the second she thinks she has her voice under control.

“That won’t be a problem.” Before she can process his matter-of-fact tone, Meryl is pulled back so that her back hits his chest and red flutters around them for a split second. In another moment, she’s securely trapped and zipped up in his coat, only her head peeking out.

“Vash?!” she squeaks, quite belatedly.

“Never said anything about taking my jacket off, did I,” his tone is cheeky and she pokes him with her elbow, earning an exaggerated yelp. But it is so much warmer like this, almost too much, even, and absurdly, Meryl wonders if he can somehow sense how fast her heart is beating.

If he does, Vash seems unperturbed, letting his chin rest on the top of her head and propping his arms over her shoulders, giving an illusion of leaning on her though Meryl knows it’s nothing more than that and she’d be no real support to his height or weight. But even this pretense makes her heart swell with ache-edged joy.

She sinks back into him and his sturdy, welcoming heat just a little and rests her head against his left arm. It’s only when he tenses she realizes it’s his prosthetic - not that she didn’t know, just that it doesn’t really matter to her. She should’ve been more mindful of him, though.

“Is it uncomfortable?” she asks, turning to look at him. Vash is staring down at her with one of those expressions she can’t decipher all the while reading too far into them. (Like she’s something surprising and wonderful, like there is a gentle light pouring out of him, just for her.)

“No! No.” It seems honest enough, so Meryl returns to how she was before, feels him relax - gradually, like he’s allowing himself an inch of peace minute by minute. Her heartbeat evens out, too, and she realizes she isn’t observing the calm anymore, she’s in it, sinking into it like the kindest quicksand.

She lets it take her, smiling as they greet the suns rising together. Whatever squabbles they might end up having later, no matter how arduous the drive might be later, Meryl knows it’s going to be a beautiful day.

Maybe even more than that, if they get lucky.

III

In the doorway, Meryl takes another look at the form beneath the covers. Vash hasn’t stirred still, not since he had slowly crumbled to his knees and then onto the floor as the plant markings grew in almost blinding intensity before fading as suddenly as they had revealed themselves. She is thankful for that, it had made getting off the sandsteamer simpler, because even in the middle of the chaos someone would pay attention to a glowing man.

“Go, I’ll keep an eye on him and call you if he wakes up,” Roberto tells her from his chair at the bedside, noticing that she’s hesitating. Suppressing a sigh, Meryl nods and closes the doors behind her quietly.

The First floor of the saloon is noisy, filled with people from the sandsteamer and local townspeople drinking, panicking and discussing today’s events. She squeezes past them, pretends the crowd and the noise aren’t like a crushing weight, bursts through the door and lets the cold air hit her. Her inhales are deep and shaky and-

“Hey!” A hand grabs her and pulls her to the side, away from the doorway, a second before the exit bursts open and a drunken patron stumbles out.

“Sorry. I guess I’m a little out of it,” she says to Wolfwood, his hand still on her shoulder. It’s heavy and warm and makes her feel a bit more tethered to the present, like she won’t float up into the night sky because of the emptiness in her chest.

“Can’t really blame ya there. It’s been quite the day.” He releases her and puts out the stub of his cigarette, pulls out a new one and she watches how his hand shakes just so when he tosses the lighter and catches it.

“Nothing like yours and Vash’s.” She doesn’t really know what happened on the deck, who was the half-masked man, but the way Nicholas had screamed is still ringing somewhere deep in her. It might always.

When he says nothing, Meryl tilts her head back, watches the smoke drifting upward the clear night sky. The vastness of it, of today, crashes down on her again and the void in her chest grows heavy, like a bomb, and her whole body starts shivering with the effort of trying to keep it from exploding.

“I used to call him a coward. But it’s me who was a coward all along. I still am. I’m so scared for him and you and Roberto, and all those people on the sandsteamer, they could have died and I am so sorry for what happened to -”

Wolfwood pulls her out of the sentence and into him, pulling his jacket around her and sealing it with his arm wrapped around her. He is warm and firm and real. He’s here and she clings to that, pushes through the nausea sloshing in her stomach at the scent of blood and cigarettes.

One side of his shirt is drenched in blood and she presses her face into his chest on the opposite side. It’s a miracle he is alive, it’s a miracle how fast the welts on his hands are healing. She doesn’t know how much this miracle costs him, but she is thankful for it. Meryl wraps her arms around his waist, trying to find the words to say just that.

Wolfwood is quicker. “Roberto said you’d refused to budge. You had the fuckin’ luxury of choice and you stayed.” Meryl shakes her head in reply - it had been a choice, but it also wasn’t. If she had walked away and people had died, it wouldn’t be much of a living afterward. She knows Roberto understands, he wouldn’t have stayed otherwise.

Nicholas pats her on the back, either to shush her before she speaks or in an attempt to soothe her, while he continues: “I think… Bein’ afraid doesn’t make you a coward. If you don’t do nothing, that’s when you’re one. So, uh, thanks for stickin’ around.”

Then, he barks a quiet, cracked laugh. “God, look at the shit I’m saying, Blondie’s really rubbin’ off on me, huh?”

“You’re not so different, you know,” she tells him, pulling back just enough to look up at him as she thinks of the desperate, foolish way he’d decided to save Hopeland armed with only this want to (and swept them all up in his belief), “thank you for staying, too.” For following Vash when they almost hadn’t, for being here, in this moment, with her, instead of taking off who knows where. Or at least to the orphanage he worked so hard to protect.

With only the ghost of light from the saloon's window and his cigarette’s ember, it’s hard to see his expression, but she feels the way his arm tightens around her and the deep inhale he holds, holds. For a moment, Meryl feels the need to reach up and touch his face, smooth her thumb over the tension in his jaw, to tell him it’s alright to let it go here, where it’s just them.

Before she can act on it, Nicholas' other arm comes up to wrap around her, hand cradling the back of her head and gently pushing it back into his chest, as if he cannot bear to have her looking at him any longer.

It hurts somehow, as if on his behalf, and she hugs him tighter, grips the back of his shirt in her fists, as if that way she can force some comfort back onto him. She knows so damn little, not even how to really help these men that her stubbornness and maybe some kind of fucked up version of fate has brought into her life. And it’s just not damn fair. To any of them.

Her tremors turn into quiet sobs then, even as her thoughts rain lashes down on her - you should be comforting him, he lost someone today, he is so very hurt and he must’ve been so scared for Hopeland, and now you make him coddle you instead - and it only makes her cry harder.

Nicholas doesn’t say anything, just holds her until the vastness of tears inside her are consumed by the void again and she grows still and empty in the safety of his jacket and arms. Meryl doesn’t know how long it has taken, her only time gauge is his cigarette that has burned down to the filter.

“I owe you a shirt,” she croaks out, unsticking her face from where her tears have soaked through it. It’s hardly the worst that has happened to it today and, honestly, she just wants him in a clean one as soon as possible so she can pretend to stop thinking about the bullet wounds that would’ve put any other man in the grave.

“I’ll write up the check tomorrow, don’t you worry about it.” He loosens his hold on her, but she doesn’t rush to extract herself. They’re back to playing at normalcy in their words, but separating still feels scary somehow, as if he could just crumble or disappear if she isn’t touching him. Or maybe she’s afraid that’s what will happen to her. (Always afraid, always stalling.)

She wipes her nose with the back of her sleeve, draws a breath and pulls gently away from Wolfwood. The night feels so much colder than before and she immediately shrinks back into herself a little. All the more reason to get back inside.

“We should get some food before the saloon closes, bring it up to Vash and Roberto,” she tells Nicholas. Whenever Vash wakes, he will need to eat, even if he tries to refuse.

“I’ll join you in a few.” Wolfwood lights another cigarette, but it’s an excuse and maybe he needs the time alone that she had interrupted, but it doesn’t feel right to leave him out here.

She takes his hand gingerly, so as not to upset the welts on his palms. “Come. We will keep the window open, Roberto’s already smoking in there.”

He doesn’t say no, but doesn’t move, either.

“Please, Nicholas.”

His fingers curl around hers and he allows her to drag him back into the building, into the light like she's the world's smallest locomotive that can somehow move a sandsteamer.

If only she could always do that, she thinks; hold him and Vash away from whatever darkness licks at their heels, hold them without restraining them. Keep them safe in ways they’d never give permission themselves to be.

+IV

It's another day and another walk through the open grave of JuLai. Meryl is starting to lose count of both, it's only her notes that keep the flow of time in check.

Being a reporter had given her some privilege to go where others could not, though very little was enforced in the first days. There was hardly anyone to do it, after all.

That is how she knows there is nothing to find in the very epicenter of the explosion - only a field of half molten sand, like a murky eye glaring at the sky. Still, she had scrambled and slid her way through it, looking for a sign of impact, maybe a scrap of cloth. Anything, really. It had been Wolfwood to pull her away from there after hours or maybe days, set her on her feet outside the glassy indent and tell her he isn't there.

Where, then? Where?! she had demanded, hands fisting in the front of his jacket. His silence had been the only answer, his palms heavy on her shoulders.

For a man of faith, Nicholas doesn't believe much. And still, she knows he is out there, too, searching, helping and hoping. They will meet later and hold each other's hands so they don't feel as achingly empty, like they do most nights nowadays.

She does her job, too, of course. Takes photos that will take permanent residency in her nightmares, interviews survivors and the people that come to seek signs of their loved ones, dead or alive. She documents again and again the moment when the torture of not-knowing tears itself apart and becomes insurmountable grief, devouring the person.

Maybe someday it will loosen its jaws and let the healing begin, the sort that having no answer can never give.

As for her, Meryl doesn't know what hope looks like for her anymore. Just that she can't give it up yet.

(They have not found Roberto’s body yet, might never, but she knows his fate. That loss is heavy on her hands, the memory of his blood like a set of steel rings every time she holds her camera, brings out her notebook. It’s the only thing she can do for him now - do her best damn job of sharing the truth of this tragedy. His. Theirs.)

She stops to take a photo of a once glimmering neon sign sticking out of sand next to a pit, like a welcome sign to hell - see, we are still Open, come join us. It is then that she notices a piece of fabric flapping in the wind a little ways up and ahead. For a second she even mistakes it for a figure standing there.

The color is wrong, but not unfamiliar, and the sun catches on some metal detailing, sending a jolt through her that shocks her body back into movement. Meryl scrambles up the dune, over the wreckage, hisses when something sharp cuts into her palm, but doesn't stop until she's holding the coat in her trembling hands.

Because it is the coat, Vash's coat. Torn and stained dark, but she knows the Project SEEDS patch, knows the cut of it, knows it, even if the texture of the fabric seems to have changed in the process Vash underwent in the vat. (Like all of them changed that hour.)

With a strangled noise, Meryl presses her face into it, imagines that time and wind and the horrors haven't erased the soft, sweet scent of him from it.

When she regains her composure, Meryl gives the garment more thorough inspections, looking for any hints about what has happened to its owner. There isn't really anything, other than the fact it exists and has been discarded, as if taken off in a hurry. Or maybe left behind as a sign.

She scratches at the dark color lightly, to see if it would come off. Vash had liked - likes - the red. Maybe Luida can help her restore the original color, fix the tears. The thought makes her smile and she stands there, basks in the warmth of it, for a while.

Then, she folds the coat carefully and presses it to her chest, speaking into the quiet: "I'm going to borrow this, Vash. I hope you don't mind. Just for a while, I promise." Until you come back to us. Until we find you. Let it be a while and no longer, please, please, please.

After a long, memorizing look and a few photos taken so that she can surely find this place again, Meryl descends the hill with a lighter heart than she can remember having. In a minute, she's running in the direction Nicholas should be in, still smiling.

This is her current favorite place in the world, scarred and barren as it is. This is the new epicenter of her hope. Their hope.

#trigun #trigun stampede #vashmeryl #stryfewood #mashwood #my fic #when will I write something not tinged with grief and pain for this fandom? probably not that soon

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lollytea · 1 year

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hc that hunter and willow end up sharing a lot of clothing and because hunter has issues with the texture of certain fabrics, he sews that little W patch to remind himself that this or that belongs to willow. theres ceirtaintly an easier way to remember other than sewing an entire patch, but he enjoys designing patches that match the clothing. anyways look at what uve done to me im thinking up domestic huntlow hcs

I could imagine that during the time spent in Camila's house, mixing up clothes was a frequent occurance. Usually between Luz, Amity and Gus. They're all roughly the same size so they'd pull out a shirt, take one look at it and be like "yeah this is probably mine." Considering they're GFs, Luz and Amity wouldn't mind. But Gus would definitely complain if he saw either of them in one of his dino shirts tho lmao.

Willow and Hunter are also susceptible to this but less so. Hunter accidentally wore one of Willow's T-shirts once and when she was like "Borrowing my shirt, huh? ;)", he was absolutely mortified.

"O-oh! Is this yours? I didn't-- I-I'm so sorry. I mean, looking at it now... obviously it's yours. It's got mushrooms on it. Like, duh, am I right? I'll-I'll take it off immediately lemme just--"

"Now I know you're not about to take the shirt off right now in front of her, right?" Gus quickly adds before he embarrasses himself any further.

Hunter freezes, hands bunched in the hem, seconds before yanking the shirt over his head.

"ObViOusly not!" His voice cracks, face scalding. "That'd be weird. So weird! No I-...I'll wash it for you! I know you don't want my weird smell on it..."

Willow tilts head to the side, cocking an eyebrow "I don't?" She asks innocently.

All Hunter can manage is a confused but horribly flustered squeak. It's amazing the heat didn't melt the skin of his face off.

Gus has to give Willow a stern talking to later that day. ("You WILL kill him if you don't tone it down. Stop the violence, Park!!!")

Anyway, after that happens, Hunter does not throw on just anything. He carefully scrutinises every article of clothing he dons and makes absolute certain that it belongs to him. So yeah I could imagine him sewing in little name tags just to keep Willow's clothes out of his pile.

However, this is the point where Willow starts "accidentally" wearing his clothes in return. She bounces into the kitchen for breakfast in one of his rocko button downs and it makes his galdorstone fucking flatline. Sees his life flash before his eyes as he chokes on his cereal. He cannt TAKE this shit anymore man.

You know his sweater? The soft yellow one? Willow once asked to borrow it. She, Lumity and Vee were heading out for a girls day and she had this cute skirt that she wanted to wear and that sweater would match it perfectly and... 🥺

Anyway when Hunter gets it back, there's a strong scent of perfume on it.

"You'll probably wanna wash that." Willow winks, fully aware that he hasn't a notion of washing it. She leaves Hunter a pile of mush, clutching the sweater to his chest for dear life.

He wears it the next day. There's still traces of Willow's scent on it. He tries to be casual about it but fails miserably. She grins like an idiot all day long.

But yes YES absolutely. In a few years time they are constant clothes sharers. Deliberate this time. Very funny to think about Willow intentionally avoiding textures that Hunter doesn't like when clothes shopping, even when they're for her. Cuz like...they'll end up on him at some point probably. If she owns fabrics that bother Hunter, it's clothes that aren't really his style anyway. But shirts, pants, jackets, hoodies. These are all fair game.

Hunter STILL distinguishes every article of clothing with the personalised little patches but you want to know the biggest reason I think he does this?

He wants people to know. He likes flaunting who he's dating honestly.

Luz: *pointing at the leaf patch on the sleeve of Hunter's jacket* Lemme guess. This is your girlfriend's?

Hunter: *is not a teenager anymore and tries to resist the urge to giggle. Fails anyway* yeah 🥰

#huntlow

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katbrando · 1 year

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[ questions are from this post, 1-10 here, 11-20 here, 21-30 here ]

31-40 - INTERESTS

💙 Do you share any of the same hobbies/interests/passions? FASHIONNN we both care a little too much about our appearances esp related to clothing.. we both love reptiles and indie music as well

💙 What’s something you want to try together? traveling to various places, we want to see as much of the world as possible :')) various kinks... also taking cooking classes because we both suck at it.. he wants to take ballroom dancing lessons bc he's cliche as fuck but it takes a lot of convincing for me to go along with that

💙 What’s something you can do but they can’t? What’s something they can do that you can’t? i can draw, he Cannot LMAO... he can drive, i can't HFDSKJ but also he can speak a couple languages that i can't (latin and french) because he took classes at his Fancy School in the UK, he can ride horses as well because his mom enrolled him in lessons before she passed away (can't have diego without horses, it doesn't work)

💙 What do you do together on a bright and sunny day? sometimes we have a nice picnic, we frequent the farmer's market when it's nice out, occasionally he likes to simply bathe in the sunlight LOL so we sit on the balcony and just Vibe (it's great because the sun brings out his freckles)

💙 What’s something you do together if you can’t go outside? watch a movie (which he talks through the entire time), fuck, do our own hobbies (i draw while he reads an informative nonfiction book), cuddle and have deep discussions :'))

💙 How do you usually relax and wind down together? he has an Extensive bedtime/skincare routine and he tries very hard to involve me, but i'm quite lazy fhdskg... oftentimes we take a hot shower and brush each other's hair afterwards (i nearly fall asleep every single time), we might lay in bed and watch animal videos on youtube until we pass out

💙 If you’re away from each other, what do you prepare for each other? Welcome back gifts, setting time aside etc. we HATE being apart because we're both clingy bitches, not really an answer to the question but if we know we'll be apart for a while we'll borrow each other's jacket or sweater :')) when he returns i have his favorite snacks ready for him, freshly washed blankets (be he's always cold), and lots of kisses ofc.. he's ridiculous about me returning home and makes it a wholeass event, practically waiting at the door while one of my favorite records is playing... he immediately wraps me up and, depending on my mood, yanks me into the bedroom

💙 What is a guilty pleasure/something that you’d be embarrassed to tell them about, but want to share? i can't really think of anything tbh, i'm very much an open book and pretty shameless about things i like

💙 What do you find weird about each other? Is it endearing or an actual ick? his taste in food is Weird, like he's super picky and enjoys a lot of food i can't stand (it's mostly endearing unless he tries to kiss me while his breath smells like the food in question), and he really doesn't understand my selfless nature.. he kind of knows that he can't change that part of me, so he gets frustrated by it sometimes.. he also doesn't understand how i find some things funny, even though we share mostly the same humor

💙 Are you guys superstitious? How do you see belief in luck, ghosts or aliens etc.? he's TERRIFIED of the idea of ghosts, even though he loves a good horror movie.. so he absolutely believes in them and swears he's had multiple experiences :')) i also believe in them but i don't share his fear.. tbh i don't believe in much besides that, but we often "joke" (there's an undertone of seriousness) about the concept of fate

#answering these is Self Care #dinokat #modern au

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nihatzuwu · 2 years

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Satan, Asmo and The Twins react to you having their towel rapped around their body

"oh fuck. this isn't my towel" you muttered, looking at the towel on your hands while your body was still wet after taking a bath. "all my towels are in the storage room... i didn't notice the nametag" sighing to yourself, you decided to dry yourself with the towel first and wrap it around your body and quickly dash to the storage room to get your towel then put the towel you used in the washer. Besides, it was 1AM. No one else except Levi would be awake at this time. Oh boy you were wrong, cause the moment you stepped out of your room, he also stepped out of his as well.

Satan

was about to go back to his room cause he just visited a cat he's secretly keeping in the garden.

see's you from the stairs.

you don't even know that he was there until he cleared his throat.

"what are you doing with my towel, MC?"

sucks at hiding his flustered face and can't help but look at you.

just like his dad brother Lucifer, he will take a mental image of you in his towel and he would definitely take advantage of it.

bids you goodnight and went inside his room

"i can't believe a weak human like them has got me feeling this way."

he likes the feeling though.

Asmodeus

woke up because he had a bad dream.

wanted to go outside the garden for a little breather.

went out and saw you. this man immediately smiles.

"my, my MC darling! you look dashing!"

comes towards you and analyzes you from head to toe.

takes out his D.D.D and actually took like what, 10 pictures.

asks if he can post it and was immediately shut down by you.

will let you borrow more of his stuffs from now on.

"If you wanted to use my stuffs just say so! I wouldn't mind at all~"

completely ignores your explanation on why you had his towel in the first place.

kisses you on the cheek for goodnight and went back to sleep with a smile.

Beelzebub

woke up. he's hungry so he wanted to go to the kitchen for a "light" snack.

see's you with his towel on and just stands there.

doesn't even realize it was his towel until he saw the embroidery he did at the left.

immediately blushed but it was just a little. he did a good job on hiding the rest of what he felt.

"ah, MC were all your towels in the laundry?"

was listening intently when you explained why you had it and what you were going to do to it.

panicking inside when you said you were going to put it through the washer cause he wanted your scent to be kept on his towel.

"don't worry about it. just leave it on top of the washer and i'll run it tomorrow so that you can go and prepare for bed. besides, i'm sure you're feeling cold without any clothes on."

goes back to his room to wait for you to go back to your room.

rushes to the storage room to grab the towel on top of the washed and he was happy.

he's so inlove with you that he'd do anything to have things that smell like you.

Belphegor

went out of his room to go sleep in your room and cuddle with you

see's you in his towel and he just stares.

"what ever you're gonna do hurry up, i wanna cuddle."

proceed to go inside your room and lay on your bed.

secretly took a mental image of you in his towel.

hiding his blushing face in your pillow.

he's gonna be thinking of you for weeks now.

he will be clingy to you. deal with it.

"ah fuck i'm doing it again..."

annoyed with how much he's inlove with you.

#obey me brothers #obey me fandom #gn!mc #obey me mc #omswd #obey me swd #obey me belphegor #obey me beelzebub #obey me asmodeus #obey me satan #obey me belphie #obey me beel #beelzebub #belphegor #obey me asmo #om! mc

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thwethoobeen · 2 years

Text

[23.41] soobin × reader

⇀ as a leader, soobin realizes that he had to sacrifice a lot. but with you by his side, those sacrifices doesn't seem like sacrifices at all.

⇁ literally my very first work here eeeek 💕

Soobin rushed home by himself.

He can't believe he fell asleep in the studio for 2 hours and no one seemed to realize that he was gone for so long. Sure, he had said he was gonna wrap up some of his work and sure, he told the others that they could go home first. But he never thought that they'd actually REALLY go home first.

As he tugged on his cap lower, Soobin recalled the chores he still had to do and the fact that he forgot to tell anyone that Odi needs to be fed. He wanted to call one of the boys, most likely Kai, but his phone died and he forgot his charger.

Just the thought of what seemed like a million errands he still had to do made him wanna cry. He knew what he signed up for, he knew what he has to sacrifice, but it still sucks. Not to mention since he was left alone, he had to take the bus or else he'd have to wait for at least an hour to get picked up.

With the last remaining strength he has, he pushed open the dorm's door, expecting chaos between Yeonjun and Beomgyu and also Taehyun and Kai.

But the serene atmosphere in the dorm almost made Soobin think that he had gotten into the wrong apartment.

For some reason, Taehyun and Beomgyu were together in the living room, folding their laundry while Kai was by Yeonjun's side, washing mushroom while the older member was cutting vegetables.

Upon Soobin's arrival, Beomgyu was first to notice.

"Oh? Hyung, you're home," he said with a grin. Almost as if he didn't want the scene before him to disappear, Soobin trodded inside slowly, "yeah... I- I- what's going on?"

But before anyone could explain anything, you came out of Soobin's room with a plastic bag in your hand. "Remind me to get Odi a better brand of pee pad, that one's too har- oh hey, Binnie!" You grinned widely when you saw him. Dropping the plastic bag by the door of his room, you trodded up to him and pulled the still dumbstruck man into a tight hug. "I missed you!" You exclaimed, voice slightly muffled as your face was smushed to his chest.

Slowly, Soobin's hands wrapped around your form, clearly still confused. "I missed you too, baby. But, what are you doing here? It's pretty late," he asked.

You pulled away to look at him in the eyes as you shrugged, "well, I was dropping the hoodie I... borrowed... like two weeks ago when I noticed Odi's cage was a bit dirty, then I noticed your room was dirty, and I remembered I saw the things your managers bought and dropped off for you guys at the front door, so since I had nothing better to do, I helped out a bit," you grinned up at him.

Still unsure, Soobin leaned down a bit, "and the guys ? What did you do to get them to be so... calm?" He asked, jumping slightly when Beomgyu smacked him on the side of his thigh. "Did you bribed them? Threatened them ?? I won't even judge if you said you drugged these monsters," he cringed at himself.

At his exaggeration, you couldn't help but let out a hearty laugh.

"No, silly! They came home when I was taking the shopping bags in so I asked for their help and I just told each of them the things they could do," you rolled your eyes at him. At your laugh, Soobing scrunched his nose so adorably that prompted you to peck his nose (despite his members making kissy noises while Beomgyu pretended to gag).

Patting his butt, you ushered him to go take a shower and just relax. He immediately obeyed and when he stepped into his room, he realized that you had made his room into a room worth occupying. For once, Odi didn't blatantly stare at Soobin when he saw him, he actually skittered near Soobin in his cage, as if saying hello. Soobin realized that you had folded his laundry and tucked them neatly into his wardrobe.

All of a sudden, his fatigue disippated. Maybe he only felt so because of the awaiting chores bugging his mind. But now that things had been taken care of, YOU had taken care of it, he felt the stress leaving him.

He realized that you had helped him tremendously with the simple things you did. And you never demanded for reciprocation or reward, you did it because you were genuine and that made his heart soar.

Just before he walked into the bathroom, he turned to look at you once more. You could've not care and you could've chosen to let his problems be his problems. But no. There you were, blending well with his brothers, taking care of not only him but them too.

Sensing his gaze, you looked up and threw him a smile before gesturing a shooing motion to wordlessly tell him to take a shower. You immediately went back to assisting Kai cleaning the other ingredients whilst replying to Beomgyu's incessant questions.

Yup, he's lucky to have you in his life. That's for sure.

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agape-bakery · 3 years

Text

Mammon as your roommate (hcs)

Summary: Set in a time where Mammon and you live in the same apartment together instead of the House of Lamentation.

Contains: swearing, fluff, small bits of angst and crack, the brothers are humans here

Note: When I said I was going to post this after a couple of days, I lied. Have some spontaneous content of Mammon <3

Enemies to Friends

Safe to say you did not like each other in the beginning, like A LOT

Mammon was an insufferable prick who always steals your food in the fridge when you're not looking, borrows your money and takes 6 months to pay a quarter of it, rarely cleans, and is just plain loud to be with

You reminded Mammon of his brothers, being a killjoy to his fun and an absolute pain to be around

You would butt heads fighting about who would wash the dishes or get to shower first for months

And then the two of you had lead up to some agreement to take turns which lessened the arguments but that doesn't mean the two of you still like each other.

No, it started when you were having a bad day

Mammon might not be that smart compared to the rest of his brothers but he's emotionally intelligent and could read you no matter how hard you're trying to hide it

"Bottling your emotions isn't gonna help, ya know." He said, immediately noticing your tense shoulders and clenched fists.

"Who are you, my therapist?" He rolled his eyes and went back to cooking mac-and-cheese as you collapsed on the couch with a tired sigh.

"Seriously though, ya gonna be way more of an annoying baby than ya are if ya bottle it all up." You were about to retort, asking if he was the right person to say all that but bit your tongue at the last minute. He was right though. Bottling it all up doesn't help and irritated you way more than before. So, with a sigh, you vented to him.

Mammon usually gave his own opinions and advice (even though some were morally questionable) but he never cut you off. He even joined you beside the couch and cussed out the person giving you a bad time. It was the nicest interaction that the both of you had so far.

"Good thing I made mac-and-cheese then, did ya know it cleanses the soul?" "Says you."

Study Sessions

The two of you never get any work done when you're together

And even if you work alone, Mammon will always find a way to barge in your room and annoy you

You were quite surprised when Mammon asked if you could study together because frankly, you never saw that man study once

The two of you go to the same school and he was always out partying and socializing and generally up to do anything but studying

He mentioned that if his grades don't get higher, his older brother will punish him and close his bank account again

He begged you atleast 5 times a day about studying with you and you were tempted to pull his ear off

"PLEASE Y/N!! YOU'RE MY ONLY HOPE!!!!" His arms continue to cling to your legs as you try your hardest to shove him off, to no avail,

"Shut up! I'm busy here!" "Y/N PLEASEEE!! I REALLY REALLY REALLY NEED YOUR HELP ON THIS!" It shouldn't have surprised you that you would not be having a normal laundry day with your roommate around.

"What do I get for this, huh? Don't think I forgot your borrowed money!" "I- uh- I'll... I'll be your servant for a day! No! A week!"

Hmmm.... that did sound tempting...

A menacing grin appears from your face as you nod, "Alright, Mammon. If you don't follow your deal, you'll be sleeping on the welcome mat."

Teaching Mammon is surprisingly okay so long as he's not around anything that could distract him too much. He was surprisingly good at Math too.

"So, there are ways that miners mine underground. One of them is strip-mining." "Like the Minecraft thing?"

It doesn't take too long for it to go downhill as the two of you ended up screaming at each other and playing Mario Party- But your hardwork does pay off as Lucifer doesn't punish Mammon too much when he had a B+, and you could also order the tanned man as you please!

Family/Friends Talk

For someone who was so determined to leave his home due to a petty argument, Mammon does have a lot of moments of missing his brothers

He would be caught looking at random things that would remind him of them and get sullen

"I wonder if Satan would like the book we saw at the antique shop.."

After leaving his home and staying with you, he pretty much lost some contact with his brothers, not that much that it was depressing but it indeed made him lonely

The only brother who would actively chat with him was Lucifer

Mammon has told you many times about how he felt so it was only fair that he lets you do the same to him

Living independently after being with friends and family turned out to be much more lonelier than you thought it would be

It was even worse if your family and friends live in another country

+Bonus: Grocery Run

So the both of you rely on each other to ease that loneliness away

"Thinking about how far our friends and family really are... It's kinda scary, right?" Mammon asked, wearing a comfortable yellow t-shirt and on the verge of falling asleep. The both of you doing your hardest to stay up and celebrate after a particularly hard week.

"Yeah... I guess the both of us feel homesick. Maybe I should introduce you to them whenever we have the time?" You yawned as the male beside you gave a chuckle, "Of course. I'll do the same and invite ya to meet my brothers. They're a pain in my ass but...you know... I tolerate them."

"Awwww, do you miss them, Mammon?~" "Sh-shut it!!!"

There are times where either of you would end up picking the wrong item or forgetting it altogether

Depending on the time of day, it would be a relaxing and sleepy morning where the two of you would lean against each other while pushing the shopping cart, one of you would sit on the cart while the other pushes in the afternoon, or the two of you would put everything in the trunk of his car and get some coffee on a cold night

Mammon wants to pay less than you but seeing as you did most of the chores in the past, he always pays more for you. It's not like it hurts his wallet or anything! Haha! It does

Anyhow, you got used to each other's taste and subconsciously pick the item that the other would like

And then the two of you would go to a nearby cheap diner and eat! (Not on his car though, the both of you will sit on the floor)

One of you would leave the other while at the register and relish on the panic on the other's eyes

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ofhouseadama · 3 years

Text

Ed gets drafted into the Navy right after high school, and in between finishing basic and getting shipped out to the Pacific, he promises Lorraine that the next time he sees her, he's going to propose.

after high school, Lorraine needs something to do so she gets a part time job as a secretary at the Diocese of Bridgeport helping wrangle parish finances and correspondence and other clerical and administrative work.

(this is where Lorraine first meets a young Father Gordon, who occasionally borrows her because she knows her way around a files room and takes excellent notes; he hears a lot about her boyfriend who's away on a ship in the Sea of Japan)

Ed and Lorraine write... a lot of letters during this time, which range from very chaste and heartfelt to NC-17 horny teenage screeds referring to their 3-day sojourn when they were seniors in high school, their many misdeeds in the back of Ed's car, and the time he snuck her into the Alamo Theatre after it closed so that they could have a "private showing" of a movie they remember very little of

when Lorraine is too anxious to sleep, she sews her wedding dress. she saw the pattern a few weeks after Ed left, and liked it, and bought it. she's been slowly buying yards and yards of satin and lace and tulle.

Ed squirrels away all the money that he can towards buying a wedding ring set for Lorraine. after he buys them while on shore leave in Tokyo, he keeps the rings in the breast pocket of his uniform shirt, next to his heart, to feel close to her.

his ship strikes a mine and goes down in the small hours of the night in June of '53; the rings are in his shirt pocket, and Lorraine feels it immediately. Father Gordon has to drive her home from work, and believes her immediately when she says she knows something bad happened to her boyfriend.

Ed makes it home to Bridgeport ten days later; he gets in a taxi at the Navy yard and immediately goes to Lorraine's house. she meets him at the front door before he can even knock and tackles him on the front lawn.

he proposes to her while very exhausted and not exactly coherent.

technically, she proposes to him because she tells him they're getting married and she's not waiting any longer.

these are two hotly contested facts for years to come.

they get one very hasty pre-cana session in as the Moran family (+ Father Gordon a little bit) cash in all their political capital with the church to expedite a wedding as soon as humanly possible.

Georgiana and her friends plan the wedding, everyone is very concerned about Lorraine's dress. Georgiana tells them they should be more concerned about Ed's dress uniform, currently at the bottom of the ocean.

(He wears a suit from Sears. It's fine.)

the story of Ed Warren, hometown boy, as the sole survivor of the sinking of the USS Saint Paul makes the local papers and absolutely no one remembers to tell his father that he made it home until a full 24 hours later.

Ed and Lorraine get married exactly two hours after the end of the legally-required 72 hour Connecticut waiting period elapses. it's a Friday afternoon.

when he sees her in his dress, Ed absolutely cries.

their wedding readings are Romans 12:1-2, 9-18 and Sirach 26: 1-4. it's not a full wedding mass, due to time restraints. it's actually nothing like Lorraine thought her wedding would be like, but she's so relieved Ed is alive, and he's not allowed to go back to the war without being her husband.

their reception is some cake and champagne in the parish hall, Ed's hands have been shaking so badly all day that he can't manage to get cake in her mouth off a fork so Lorraine grabs his hand and sucks it off his finger.

by this point she's had three glasses of champagne on an empty stomach.

it's over by the middle of the afternoon, and they're speeding off to the same aunt's beach house that they ran off to when they were seventeen, this time with permission and this time knowing the whole drive down that they're finally going to have sex.

Ed spends much of the four-hour drive from Bridgeport, CT to Cape May, NJ rucking the many layers of the skirt on Lorraine's dress up her legs, running the hand not on the steering wheel of the car up and down the inside of her thigh, keying her up.

they arrive shortly after dinner, having eaten cheeseburger and fries in the car in their wedding clothes, and are suddenly very very nervous.

even though they've done everything except the technical deed itself.

as Ed peels himself out of his suit and tries to not psyche himself out, Lorraine goes into the bathroom and changes into the peignoir and robe she made for her trousseau. she comes out of the bathroom to grab her brush to take her hair down, but Ed asks her to sit on the bed and pulls all the pins and flowers out himself, gently brushing her curls.

when he's done, he moves onto gently touching her. the last time he saw her naked was also in this bedroom, as they shook with restraint. now they're shaking for other reasons, hands rediscovering each other's bodies and warming themselves on each other's skin.

kissing her neck, he reaches one hand in-between the halves of her robe as the other moves her hair off her shoulder, exposing more skin.

he rucks the hem of the sheer white peignoir up to her knees, then her thighs, then her hips. Ed decides that he needs to make her orgasm before they have sex, because if he doesn't last long, then at least she'll be satisfied.

he eats her out like a man with a point to prove, because he's nineteen and very much is one in this moment.

it's been almost eighteen months since they've been physically present together, and they didn't have much alone time together before their wedding, and Lorraine feels like her body is on fire. it's been so long, and she feels like a bullet leaving a gun. it doesn't take much to make her cum, and Ed manages to do it several times before she's hauling him up her body.

he's still not done getting her ready, unable to not think about every horror story he's heard about bleeding and pain and discomfort and the terrible jokes from his bunkmates.

(they're all dead now. he tries to not think about that, why he lived and they all died. why did he survive, if not to make Lorraine feel good? if not to make them both feel alive? he needs to feel alive, and when he drinks her with his mouth and feels her clench around his fingers, he finally does.)

he sucks hickeys into Lorraine's neck and chest and breasts, keeping her high as he circles her clit with the fingers on one hand as he plays with her nipples with the other.

he is harder than he's ever been in his life, he thinks, pumping two and then three fingers into her. she's wet and all over his hand, dripping down onto his wrist. he wants to eat her out again, taste her again. his mind is a feedback loop of her pleasure.

Lorraine is trying to touch him, but her hands don't feel entirely attached to her body. she ends up curling her fingers into his hair and pulling. the sharp pain is delicious, and he moans while lapping at her nipple and thinks he might see God.

eventually he realizes that she's begging, chanting "now, now, please now, Ed, please--"

they both feel lust drunk and clumsy, all limbs as they take their clothes off, as Ed slots himself between her thighs.

she hasn't touched him at all, and he thinks if she does he'll cum immediately.

he pushes into her slowly, incrementally, watching her face the whole time.

she gasps, bites her lip, scrunches her face up. then, it starts to feel good, and her eyes flutter closed, and she moans.

he doesn't want to move. he wants to move more than he's wanted anything in his whole life. dropping down on his elbows and forearms, he shakes while hovering above her.

Lorraine's mouth is a perfect "o," and slowly she tests out how she wants her legs, first pressing her heels into his calves, then his hamstrings, before pressing her knees in at the sides of his hips. it feels incredibly intense, and she's not quite sure what to do with herself. she no longer feels in control of her body. all of her gifts of perception narrow down to hyper-perceiving Ed, the red sheen to his face, the flop of dark hair over his forehead, the sweat dotting his brow, his heart in his chest. his racing thoughts, his love for her. she feels him inside her body and inside her head. she shivers.

she squirms, trying to get him to move.

he does not, burying his face in her neck.

eventually he realizes that, as she traces her hands up and down the side of his spine, she's whispering, "move, honey, you gotta move, oh God please move, Ed honey please--"

something in his head breaks loose a little bit, and he snaps his hips into hers. when she moves with him, it breaks loose entirely.

it's entirely unskillful and uncoordinated, but Lorraine is already so close to orgasming again that it doesn't matter. when she cums again, Ed's entire brain malfunctions and he stops, watching her, feeling it and feeling her. she reaches down and straight up spanks him, telling him to keep moving.

doubling down, he sucks on the tendon where her neck meets her shoulder, and doesn't last much longer than her.

he thinks his vision almost whites out, gripping her hips tightly as he cums inside of her before pulling out of her and collapsing, happily burrowing his face into her breasts.

Lorraine laughs, wrapping her arms and legs around him, holding him to her tightly.

the insides of her thighs chafe a little, and she feels a bit raw, but she likes it.

they almost fall asleep that way, but Lorraine knows that's probably not a good idea. her mother knew enough about their relationship to know that Lorraine needed a little bit of motherly advice before her wedding night, but not that much. after rolling him off her, Ed promptly falls asleep on his side of the bed.

he didn't sleep the night before.

Lorraine takes a quick shower, washing the shellac out of her hair and scrubbing the make up off her face. she doesn't bother to redress, just gets into bed with him. he feels her weight on the mattress and rolls over, blearily reaching for her to pull her against him. he's half in between dreaming and wakefulness, and slides his hand up to cup her breast in his hand.

"can we do it again?"

#this is deeply unhinged #ed warren #lorraine warren #emily watches the conjuring #otp: i forgot my pills #this is sam and brittanys fault they encouraged it

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davidsons89 · 3 years

Text

Toxic Turner - part 4

WARNINGS: this story contains signs of a toxic and manipulative relationship. also contains smut, mentions of drugs and alcohol. some scenes contain forms of abuse. read at ur own risk :)

the next morning arrived. you were hungover as hell. you felt an immediate migraine pounding in your head as you sit up. "morning love" alex says, wide awake and sitting next to you. "morning" you groan, sitting up right. "head hurting?" your mom asks, leaning forward to look at you as she's sitting next to alex on the other side. you nod and place your hand on the side of your head where you could literally feel your brain pounding. "coffee?" she asks you, reaching over to hand her mug of coffee to you. you take it off her and drink some, handing it back to her. it felt refreshing, but it sure didn't take the deadly headache away. you felt the dull feeling in your stomach fade away as your mouth began to water. you felt vomit making its way to your throat.

you quickly stood up and ran to the bathroom, kneeling over the toilet to throw up. alex wasn't far behind you. "you're ok." he assures you, kneeling down next to you to hold your hair and comfort you. "there we go" he says, rubbing your back with his other hand as you continued to throw up all the alcohol from the night before. after you stopped vomiting, you dropped your butt onto the floor and leant your back against the wall. alex flushed the toilet and sat next to you.

he brushed your hair out of your face and tucked it behind your ear. "this is why i didn't want to drink" you groan and lean the back of your head against the wall. "how are you not hungover?" you frown at him. "i didn't drink nearly as much as you. i'm sensible" he chuckled. you scoff and shake your head. "you're the one that made me drink, and now i'm getting the consequences" you say in annoyance, standing up and rolling your eyes. "y/n relax. it's good to have a drink every once in a while" alex says, standing up and facing you. "yeah but when i-" you begin to say, as alex cut you off. "shut up. you had fun." he spoke, shushing you by putting his index finger on your lips. you both locked eye contact as he deeply stared into your eyes, it almost felt like he was looking right through you.

"is everything ok in there?" your mom knocks on the bathroom door. alex removes his hand from your face and answers for you. "yeah, she's fine" he says. after your mom double checked that you were fine, she walked back into the living room to go about her morning. "we should head home. i don't want to disturb your family anymore" alex suggested. "we aren't disturbi-" you begin. he cuts you off again. "we're going home" he sternly says, widening his eyes at you, expecting you to do as he says. you nod to agree. "i can't wear this, i need to get changed" you say, looking down at your filthy outfit from the night before. "well borrow something of your sisters then" he demands, opening the door and guiding you to the stairs. he waits for you in the living room.

now upstairs, you quietly open your sisters bedroom door to see her lying down on her phone. "what's up?" she asked you. "have you got something i can wear? i need to change out of this" you say, lightly touching the bottom of your messy alcohol stained outfit. "sure. here" she says, standing up to walk to her closet. she opens the closet doors and picked out two random clothing items. it's hot outside, so she hands you a skirt and a t-shirt. "thanks" you say, quickly changing into them then walking back downstairs. "mom can you wash this for me?" you ask her as you walk into the living room. "sure, honey" she says, standing up and taking the dirty clothes from your hands before walking to the laundry room.

"you're not wearing that" alex scoffs. you frown your eyebrows and look at him sat on the sofa. "why not?" you ask. "skirt is too short. take it off" he says, motioning his head towards the door for you to go change it. "we're only going in the car, no" you chuckle and shake your head in confusion at him. "does it look like i'm joking? take it off" he says sternly, beginning to stand up and walk towards you. you fell silent and frowned your eyebrows at him. "i-" you stutter, quickly cut off by alex grabbing your wrist and yanking you towards him. "take it off" he aggressively whispered in your ear before shoving you away. you stumble over your feet just as your mom walked in. that was a close one.

you walk out of the living room and head back upstairs as alex sat back down. "she looks pretty" your mom says and smiles as she sits back down on the sofa to continue watching tv. "mhm" alex mumbled and nodded without taking his eyes off the tv. you came back downstairs a few minutes later wearing a pair of your sisters skinny jeans. you told her the skirt was too uncomfortable, so you changed. "right let's go" alex says, standing up, making sure he had everything. "thanks for having us.. love you" you say to your mom and wave at her as alex grabs your hand and pulls you out of the room. "bye" he says, opening the front door and pulling you out. "stop dragging me" you say, yanking your hand away from his grip. "get in the fucking car" he sighs sternly. you roll your eyes and walk over to the car, getting in the passenger side. alex in the drivers seat. he began to drive away.

the first few minutes of the drive was silent. alex seemed angry but you couldn't figure out why. you didn't even do anything this time. "what's wrong?" you kill the silence by asking. he heavily exhaled through his nose in an annoyed way. "well?" you ask again. "be quiet" he snaps, you gasp and stop talking. you lean your head on the window and begin gazing outside. alex came to a stop light. he turned to look at you, you felt his deep stare piercing through you. you take your head off the window and look at him. "what?" you ask and frown confusedly. "don't ever disobey me again. when i tell you to do something, you do it. understand?" he intimidatingly says, staring right into your eyes. you gulp nervously and nod.

"you belong to me" he smirks, taking his eyes off you to look at the road ahead of him as the traffic light turned green. "i belong to myself" you mutter. he raises his eyebrows and glances back and forth at you and the road. "do you?" he chuckles. "yeah" you nod, crossing your arms across your chest. "we'll see about that" he smirks. you frown as you glare at his gorgeous side profile. the rest of the drive home was completely awkward and quiet. each time you spoke, he blatantly ignored you, so you gave up.

you finally approached your home and when the car came to a stop, you were the first to exit. you entered the house and alex soon followed behind you. he slammed the front door and you stopped walking to face him. "don't" you roll your eyes as he was giving you the 'eyes'. "don't what?" he asks, raising his eyebrows at you. "don't say any of that narcissistic bullshit" you roll your eyes and begin to walk away but he grabs your wrist and pulls you back. "i don't own you, huh?" he sternly says, gripping tighter on your wrist and looking into your eyes. you look directly into his eyes without saying a word.

"then how come you'll do whatever i say?" he asks, chuckling to intimidate you, and it sure worked. "no i don't" you frown your eyebrows but it only makes him shove you closer. "really?" he smirks, moving his other hand down to your jeans and slipping it in. with his two fingers, he began to tease you above your underwear. you gulped and stared at him with entire hatred. you put your hand on top of his, trying to stop him but it didn't work. "relax.. take it" he whispers with a sly smirk on his face. you move your hand as he slowly backs you against a wall. the coldness against the palms of your hands. "i know you want it.. you're already wet" he whispers in your ear as he moves his face closer to yours. even his whispering voice turned you on.

you hate him so much, but he is great at pleasing you. with his two fingers he slides your underwear across to get access to your naked pussy. you gasp as you feel his cold fingers press against your clit. it felt good but you were still angry at him. "don't" you say, placing your hands on his chest to shove him away but that didn't work either. with his spare hand, he pins both of your wrists above your head. "bad move" he chuckles as he slides his fingers down and pushes them into you. you gasp and exhale a breathy moan. he smirks as he watches your facial expressions change.

he begins to slowly pump them in and out of you as well as curling his fingers to give you the proper sensation. you can't help but let him win every time. he drops your wrists that were pinned above your head and covers your mouth with that same hand. "shh.. take it for me" he whispers and looks into your pearly eyes. you whimper each time his fingers go in and out of you. he loves your whimpering. he loves to hear your little noises. he is in complete charge of you.

"what do you want?" he asks you, he sees your eyes wondering something. "you.. to fuck me" you mumble underneath his hand but he doesn't understand you. he moves his hand and caresses your cheek with it instead. "what?" he repeats. "fuck me.. please" you quietly beg. your legs trembling and weak. "anything you wish" he smirks and pulls his hand out of your underwear and grabs your hand. he drags you to the living room and placed his hand on your lower back, bending you down over the back of the sofa. "stay there" he demands in a controlling matter.

he moves his hand from your back and undoes his belt and jeans, pulling them down with his boxers too. he then undoes your jeans and pulls them down with your undies too. he was already hard, your whimpering and begging turned him on. without warning, he grabs your waist and roughly slides his dick into you. you moan and close your eyes as your hands grip the back of the couch.

he moves one hand from your waist and slides his fingers into your hair, gripping it tightly and pulling it back, lifting your head up. "see? i always win" he chuckles, kissing your cheek then letting go of your hair, making your head fall back down. your moans getting louder each time. all this moving made it feel like your guts were spinning around. being hungover didn't help, you started to feel sick again. "wait.. alex stop" you say, twisting your upper half to look at him. he stopped and frowned with confusion. "i think i'm gonna be sick" you say and put your hand over your mouth, it started to water. "go" he rolled his eyes and pulled his jeans up as you ran to the downstairs bathroom.

he followed you moments later and comforted you again, holding your hair out of your face so you didn't get any vomit in it. after you stopped throwing up into the toilet, you stood up and flushed it, cleaning yourself up. you look at alex and see a stern look on his face. "want to continue?" you ask and furrow your eyebrows. he shakes his head. "nah. i proved my point. let's get you to bed" he says, holding your hand and exiting the bathroom with you.

after making your way up the stairs, you both enter the bedroom and he helps you get into bed, tucking you in. "here, take some" he says, opening the bedside drawer to grab a paracetamol. he hands it to you with a bottle of water that was on top of the drawer. you take them from his hands and take the pill, washing it down with the water. "good girl. i'll be back" he says, planting a kiss on your head before walking downstairs. you smile to yourself and go on your phone until he comes back. when he did come back, he had a plate in his hand.

he closed the bedroom door with his foot and walked over to you. "here you go" he smiles, sitting on the edge of the bed and handing you the plate. "thank you" you smile at him, noticing he made your favorite sandwich. "aww" you giggle and take a bite. he watches you eat it and smiles. "i love you, ok?" he says and raises his eyebrows at you. you nod your head as your mouth was currently full. "you're my world" he says, kissing your cheek and crawling into bed next to you. you both watch a show together as he continues to look after you for the rest of the day.

#toxic turner

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wayward-riana · 4 years

Text

The Lost Silhouette | Part Two | Thomas Shelby

Summary: After Grace’s death, Tommy had closed his heart off but when he marries the new female detective of the Crime Investigation Department of Birmingham only for protection from the law, his cold exterior starts melting.

Thomas Shelby x reader

Warnings: Mentions of sadness. Brief cursing.

A/N: 'Gypsy' is a song by Fleetwood Mac. Let's pretend that it existed back in the 1920s. I just thought that it'd go so well with this chapter. I really hope you all genuinely enjoy this. I had a lot of fun writing this.

youtube

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Most nights Tommy likes to have Charlie beside him at night, while he's sleeping. Other nights, Charlie sleeps in his cot that is situated in his father's grand bedroom. Although, Y/N insisted that Charlie sleeps on her bed tonight, beside her. Tommy allowed it.

Now that he lays in his cold and lonely bed with a cigarette in his hand, he feels restless. Restless knowing that his boy isn't in the room with him. So, he throws on a loose shirt and marches towards Y/N's room.

As Tommy stands outside her door, he can hear a cry flowing out of the room. He slowly creaks the door open and relief washes through him when he sees Charlie.

Charlie clings onto Y/N's body as he buries his face in the crook of her neck. Tommy sees Y/N is sat on the bed, while she holds Charlie very gently against her and soothingly rubs his back.

So I'm back to the velvet underground

Back to the floor that I love

To a room with some lace and paper flowers

Back to the gypsy that I was

To the gypsy that I was

Tommy is taken aback by the sweet melody that flows out of Y/N's mouth. He is surprised by how sweet her voice is. But her voice also has an endearing rasp to it. Only voice that ever sounded good to him was Grace's. He never expected to appreciate anyone's voice after her's, let alone Y/N's.

The words that Y/N sung had stitched themselves like a thread, into his heart. The words take him back to Small Heath. They remind him of a much simpler time. They remind him of the happiness that he knew of, before the war. They remind him of the man he was. A man who knew how to laugh. A man who knew how to love life.

And it all comes down to you

Well, you know that it does, well

Lightning strikes maybe once, maybe twice

Oh and it lights up the night

And you see your gypsy

You see your gypsy

Did Thomas Shelby hope for a life without pain? Absolutely. But hope is not in his body, anymore. Hope is something he has thrown away, a long time ago. Pain has made him who he is and he doesn't know if it's for the best or not. Before all this, he had a God. A God that he said his prayers to but he lost that as well.

He lost everything. Fucking everything.

To the gypsy that remains

Her face says freedom, with a little fear

I have no fear

I have only love

And if I was a child

And the child was enough

Enough for me to love

Enough to love

If he gives Y/N a chance, will she end up dying too? If he loves her, will she be taken away from him too?

Doesn't matter. He won't let anyone in, anymore. He made that mistake once. Not again. Besides, he's content with what he has. Charlie.

Charlie is all he needs.

She is dancing away from you now

She was just a wish

And her memory is all that is left for you now

You see your gypsy, oh

You see your gypsy

The tears stream down Tommy's face like raindrops on a cold-blurry window. He doesn't even bother wiping them away. He puts the cigarette up to his lips and inhales the toxic smoke, that brings him peace.

And it all comes down to you

Lightning strikes

Maybe once, maybe twice

I still see your bright eyes, bright eyes

Y/N wipes her own eyes as she finishes the song. She looks down and sees Charlie sleeping, oh, so peacefully. She smiles and presses a gentle kiss on his head, before she slowly puts him down on the bed. She covers him with a blanket and delicately runs her finger across his cheek while staring down at him, lovingly.

Tommy watches Y/N's every single movement. He realises that she truly loves his son and genuinely cares for him. It makes him feel happ - no - satisfied with his choice to bring her in.

The overwhelming smell of smoke hits Y/N. A smell that isn't found in her room, ever. She snaps her head and looks at the doorway to see Tommy leaning against the doorframe. With a cigarette in his hand, of course.

Instead of calling out to him to ask if he needed anything, she climbs out of bed, not wanting to wake up the sleeping child. She slowly approaches Tommy and holds her dressing gown tightly against her body.

"Tommy, did you need someth -"

She stops mid-sentence when she notices his tear-stained face. She also notices tears in the corners of his eyes.

Y/N instinctively reaches out to wipe a tear droplet that slowly rolls down his temple. He watches her intently, as she does. His skin is soft beneath her gentle fingertips. She quickly realises what she's doing and regains her composure.

"What's wrong, Tommy?" Genuine concern is etched all over her face as she questions him. "Is everything all right?"

"The song...that you sang. Where is it from?" He croaks out.

Embarrassment dawns upon her as she realises he's heard her sing. She bites her lip and stares at the ground.

This is so unlike the two of them.

Tommy is always very emotionless and composed, but here he stands, broken and tearful.

Y/N is always incredibly confident and quick-witted, but now she found herself unable to speak properly and is a mess under Tommy's stare.

"I wrote it." She admits, slowly looking up from the ground. She gazes into his beautifully broken blue eyes. He raises his eyebrows in surprise, clearly impressed with her skill that he never knew she had.

"It's good." He compliments.

She blushes and nods at him, not being able to trust her voice to thank him.

Tommy sighs and stands up straight.

"You must be tired. I'll let you rest." Tommy states.

"I'm really not tired. You can come in and...talk,"

Y/N stares up at him, expectantly.

"If you'd like." She adds.

He barely shrugs, "All right."

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"What is the meaning behind the song?" Tommy asks as he lights up another cigarette. "I mean, what does it mean to you?"

"In London, where I grew up, there was an area where only the gypsies lived. No one went there, and by no one I mean, the elites. But my parents always did. Even though, they were part of the upper class, they didn't care about status. They always interacted with them, and most of my best friends were gypsies. I practically grew up with them. So I refer to myself as 'the gypsy that I was' because it makes me feel more grounded. It reminds me of the people that I've known and the people that I grew up with. Also, to remind myself that the people I love are gone, but I am not. I'm still here.

My best friend, James, died in the war. He was a gypsy, too. I'd known him my entire life. We were supposed to get married after he returned but that never happened due to the war. My father also died. I didn't know how to cope with the losses. So I put my heart and soul in this song. My grief is buried beneath these words.

The velvet underground stands for the velvet carpet in my father's bedroom. The lace and paper flowers were what James's family's house was decorated with. So yeah, little things like that makes the song so significant to me. That's what it means to me, I guess. Love and grief."

Y/N immediately shuts up as she realises she has rambled on for so long.

"Were you ever able to let go of that grief?"

She didn't expect Tommy to ask such emotional questions. She opens her mouth but is unable to string words together. She sighs and thinks about her answer before finally she speaks.

"Yes, I was. It took me some time to come to terms with it, but I did. I had to remind myself that none of it was under my control. Death isn't something anyone of us can control. You never know when one of us will be gone. Tomorrow is never promised. We're living on a borrowed time. I was unable to live my life. I was numb. I felt like everything was over. But then I realised you shouldn't be upset over things that you cannot control. Then, I eventually accepted it and moved on with my life. It's not like I've let go of Papa and James. I've let go of the grief. Their memories are still with me. They always will be."

Tommy judged Y/N very quickly, when he first met her. He would've never guessed that she has gone through so much.

"I know losing your wife must've been really difficult for you and I also know that you blame yourself for it but as I said before, you shouldn't be upset over things that you cannot control."

Her doe E/C eyes stare into Tommy's blue ones. The strong emotions in her eyes makes him uneasy. Uneasy because he can't afford to feel again.

The pair had talked all night long and before they knew it, the sun was up. Y/N reminded herself, it was nothing just a tough night for Tommy and he needed someone to talk to. That's it.

However, deep down inside her, she hoped that this was a start of something. Maybe 'Shelby' won't just be a legal name, anymore. Maybe, it'll be the name she shares with someone she loves and who loves her back. Maybe, she'll finally feel like she is Mrs. Y/N Shelby. Maybe, she'll finally feel like she's Thomas Shelby's other half. Maybe, he'll finally realise that she is more than just a spare.

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I hope you all enjoyed part two. Part three will be up real soon so stay tuned. I really hope you all enjoyed this. R, xxx.

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@sxperncturalimpala67 @lovemissyhoneybee

#thomas shelby fanfic #thomas shelby #thomas #thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby #peaky blinders #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinder fanfic #thomas shelby imagine #tommy shelby imagine

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lu-undy · 4 years

Note

Sniper is a lone man, talks very little even asa kid. When we gets hurt he doesn't say anything, he doesnt whine, he doesn't want to be a bother. But his back hurts a lot. Sniper (tries to) ignores the pain as always, but Spy notices. And he tries to convince Sniper to let him give him a massage because the pain is affecting his job. So yeah, just a massage, a professional one. But Spy's hands touch just the right places, and the ambience is amazing, and maybe that massage has a happy ending❤️🐑

Funny you mention that! I have already written it in one of my fics ^^ But here is something completely different from what I already wrote in the past, I hope you’ll enjoy it! :D

The tall man grumbled.

He wished the windowsills were higher so that he didn't have to spend his day slouched that way. He sometimes would sit on a wooden crate but that would end up giving him a sore bottom. Everyday, for every battle, the choice was there: sore bottom or back pain?

That day, he had gone for back pain with a side of slight headache, the former causing the latter.

Sniper took his shots, his jaw clenching and his shoulder contracting more than was necessary to compensate for the pain in his back. He reloaded and shot again. The cycles of reloads and shots spiralling for the entire duration of the match, along with his pain growing and his posture degrading.

After the battles, he went back to spawn and put his rifle in his locker. It needed a good clean but he just wanted a hot shower and a nap, or maybe just lying down for a while. He put his hand on his shoulder and tried massaging himself but of course, it was to no avail. A massage only works if one is completely resting while someone else did the job.

Had he been back home, he would have asked his mother. But she was thousands of miles away and he knew that calling her wouldn't help.

Sniper walked back through the base.

Nah, it wouldn't help. She would worry from far away and he didn't want to be a bother for anyone and especially not his dear mother. What about his father then? Nah, he would get told off for sure.

"Told ya, gunman's no proper job, son. And you'll get hurt."

"Dad, it's only back pain…"

"Does it hurt or not? It does! And is it because of shootin'? Yeah it is! So the point stands."

He opened his van's door and shook his head as if to shake away his father's voice that echoed in the walls of his mind. This entire discussion had rolled in his head as if he had it for real.

Sniper threw his hat and sleeveless jacket away before sinking on his couch. Oh it was an old, worn out thing that couldn't possibly be less comfortable. He wouldn't usually mind but he twisted his back left and right, trying to find a position that would hurt him the least.

"Bugger…"

He unbuttoned his polo shirt and slid a hand behind his back. It hurt… The pain growing stronger and weaker under the waves of his hand.

Knock, knock.

He raised his eyes to the door. Sniper hadn't heard anyone come to the door, which immediately gave away the identity of his visitor. He rose from the couch and, his hand still behind his back, he opened the door.

"Hey, Spy, what d'you want?" He asked.

The Australian watched as his colleague's face went from his usual suave smile to something else, something between distress and rage.

"Bonjour first maybe? And I'm sorry to interrupt, I shall come back later." The French accent was strong, not too much, but thicker than usual.

"What do you think you're interruptin'?" Sniper asked, confused.

"Well, look at you! Your shirt is open, your hair is completely disorganised, you are not even wearing your hat or your glasses!"

The tone of the Frenchman's voice had grown louder and louder as he spoke. By the end of his sentence, he sounded irritated. Sniper's eyes snapped wide. Why was Spy being so pissed off?

"W-wait, what?!"

The Frenchman sighed and lowered his head.

"Nevermind, Sniper, nevermind. Forget it. Forget… me."

He turned on his heels and walked away, shoving his hands in his pockets angrily.

"Spy, wait!"

The Frenchman turned to face him.

"Non, Sniper. I'm going back to my room. See you, maybe."

"Ugh, bugger…"

As if his day wasn't bad enough, he had to give the wrong impression and piss off his only friend… Sniper grumbled and fell deep in thoughts.

Need to apologise and tell him…

The Australian went to the Frenchman's room and knocked.

There was a moment before Spy opened.

"And you have the nerve to come to my door?" Spy asked.

"Spook, there was no one with me, I was alone! Can I come in and explain now, please!?"

Spy lowered his head and opened his door wider, as if to invite Sniper in. He entered and the Frenchman shut the door after him.

"What the-?! You're the one expectin' someone!" Sniper exclaimed his arms extended towards the unusual object standing in the room.

Spy had all the lights off apart from the flames of the fireplace and… some candles? Sniper looked around him. The Frenchman had put candles here and there and there was a gentle smell in the air… It smelled like a forest, fresh trees and leaves. But the most bizarre thing was the physiotherapy table there in the middle of it all.

"Indeed I was expecting someone. And he arrived." Spy answered, very calmly, with a smile.

"Well, as someone said, if I'm botherin' ya in the middle of somethin', I might as well leave…"

"Non."

Spy stood between the Australian and the door.

"You imbécile, I was waiting for you."

"What?!" Sniper was utterly confused. "What the bloody hell's all this?!"

"It's to relieve you. I do believe your back is killing you."

"How did-mh!?" Spy had put his index finger on his colleague's lips.

"Had I gone to your van and just asked you to come, you would have said you were too tired and you would have refused. So I had to think of another way to make you come out of your den of a camper van." Spy explained with a smirk and Sniper's eyebrows shot up.

"Now, don't make me get angry for real this time and go to my bathroom. You'll find a pair of shorts that I might have borrowed from your van. Put them on and come back here, lie down on the table."

Spy released his finger on his friend's lips and nodded his head towards his bathroom. Sniper thought he was hallucinating or dreaming. What the bloody hell was all that?!

He did obey though, in a brain-dead way. He went to the Frenchman's bathroom and found his old pair of grey short on the edge of the sink. He closed the door and slipped them on. When he came back, the Frenchman was waiting. He had removed his jacket and vest, his tie had gone too and he had opened the first few buttons of his shirt as well as rolled up his sleeves.

Sniper looked at the physio bed and back at his colleague. Spy's eyes were riveted on the bed. He had noticed how prude his friend was and how he wrapped his arms around himself and hunched his back, as if it hid his bare chest and back.

"Where did you ever find this…?"

"I borrowed it from Medic."

"You nicked it from Medic?"

"I intend to give it back. So it's a loan that he might not be completely aware of. Now, please, lay down."

"Roight…"

Sniper had gone too far to refuse. He lied on his stomach.

"Bien, put your arms along your chest, that's it, very good. Now, my hands are a bit cold but they will warm up, bear with me for a while."

"Alroight…"

"Shush, you close your eyes and don't think about anything."

"Spy?"

"What did I just say, Bushman?"

"Can you lock yer door though…?"

Spy sighed with a smile.

"Fine." The Frenchman moved to the door and locked it. He came back and removed his socks.

"Why the hell…?"

"And to think that you are the least sociable of us. Now you never stop talking…" Spy said. "But to answer you, I cannot proceed if my feet are not in contact with the ground."

Sniper heard the noise of some liquid being squeezed between Spy's hands and then he felt them on his back.

"When you massage someone, you are not just running your hands on someone's body. You are in a way taking the tension from that person, onto you, in your palms and your fingers. But all this strain, you have to throw it somewhere. I do believe it circulates through my body and I'm giving it away to the ground through my feet and the wooden floor."

Spy's voice was soothing Sniper.

"Also, I do hope you like the smell. I didn't have kangaroo and desert scented candles, but I thought that fresh forest would do."

"Spy… Your hands…"

"They're getting warmer now with the friction."

"No… They're… bloody… good…"

Spy smiled.

"Let me know where it hurts."

"Top, go all the way up."

Spy slid his hands left and right from his friend's spine, his feet anchored in the floor and his eyes closed.

"Shoulder blades… please… and shoulders…"

"Fine."

Spy took more oil in his hands and went for it. The Australian grunted and moaned under the Frenchman's efficient hands. He felt like some dough being rolled and kneaded. He had no idea Spy could be that skilled with his hands. Sniper was waving and rolling in his mind, his eyes closed, the smell of the candles and of the oil gently washing him from the inside.

And it lasted a long time, in silence. Spy thought that after the racket of the battlefield, the solitary hunter that Sniper was would appreciate some peace and quiet.

"Spy…?"

"Hm?"

"Talk…"

"What do you want me to say?"

"Any… Thing… Just… Talk…"

Spy's smile widened. His friend sounded so different.

"Well, I can start by asking you if you don't mind turning on your back."

"Five… More… Minutes…"

Had Spy not been used to keeping his emotions for himself, he would have chuckled at least.

"Fine."

His hands traced circles and loops, his palms pressed, his fingers following closely.

"Oooh… Spy… How…?"

"Sshh… Just enjoy." He whispered.

He kneaded his back slowly, paying attention to not neglect a single muscle. All of them were massaged and accounted for. Spy bent to Sniper's ear:

"I want to see your face now, mon beau."

Sniper's eyes snapped open. He turned on his back and saw Spy upside down, bending above his head and smiling.

"What's that mean?" The Australian asked.

"What?" Spy put a bit of oil in the middle of his palm and rubbed his hands together. He put his hands on his friend's collarbones and massaged down.

"Mon beau?" Sniper repeated with a twisted accent.

As Spy pushed his hand down Sniper's chest, his back slowly bent down until his mouth ended up next to the Australian's ear. He whispered:

"Literally, my handsome one."

Sniper's eyes popped wide open and his heart accelerated. His friend's hands on his naked chest didn't help and the Australian turned red as a brick.

"Breathe slowly, I can feel your heart pounding."

Spy's hands were working wonders on Sniper's chest and stomach, such that his entire body had no choice but to indeed relax.

When the Frenchman finished with the torso, his fingers moved to the Australian's face. Sniper looked at him, still seeing him upside down, with questioning eyes.

"Close your eyes." Spy whispered.

"I-I can't."

Their faces were a few inches apart.

"Yes, you can, just trust me."

Sniper took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He felt Spy's fingers on his chin, his cheeks, below his eyes, his temples and his brow. He repeated the motion for entire minutes without tiring, sometimes spending more time on Sniper's cheeks, next to his both hideous and attractive sideburns…

Spy moved around the table and slowed the movements down. Sniper felt that something was going on. He opened his eyes. The Frenchman's face was above the Australian's. Their eyes locked.

Sniper saw Spy's eyes. They were half-closed and blinked very slowly, the long dark eyelashes brushing the air like the wings of a butterfly.

"Thank you." Sniper whispered. He didn't want to break the silence too hard.

"It is my pleasure…" Spy brushed his friend's cheek down and stopped next to his mouth.

"You're the weirdest bloke I've ever met. Stealin' this bed, puttin' on a show with the candles, the smell, and the comedy you played back at my van…"

"Qu'est-ce je ne ferais pas par amour?"

[What wouldn't I do out of love?]

"What's that mean?"

Spy ignored Sniper's question and his fingertips moved closer to his lips. The Australian smiled and lifted his hand to put it on top of the Frenchman's.

"I'm sorry I can't say it in French but uh…"

"If you can't say it, make me understand it… Show me…"

Sniper's fingers laced between his friend's and his heart beat fast. He put his other hand behind the Frenchman's neck and pulled him in closer.

The Frenchman rolled his eyes up when Sniper's lips touched his. All he had wanted was to help the poor man who was too shy to ask for anything. But now the Australian was saying thanks, and maybe something else…?

#tf2 sniper #tf2spy #sniperspy

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rixxy8173571m3w1p3 · 4 years

Text

Sweater Weather

I enjoy the headcanon of Doofus Rick having a variety of sweaters. And after looking at stock photos, I was inspired to write this fic. Hope you guys like it.

In this fic Ricks sweater causes some conflict.

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In the great vastness of space, one could learn the true meaning of loneliness. For miles upon miles, floating upon nothing, you could say it was like sailing across the sea. Yet, unlike the salt or crashing waves of the ocean, you two would navigate across star systems or avoid asteroid fields, while at the same time enjoy the peace which comes from being somewhere uncongested. However, as fascinating as it was to go on intergalactic, space adventures, one of the things you didn't enjoy was the extreme temperature changes; most of the time, you'd stay in the ship or stay home if a planet's climate was too cold for your taste, but on this occasion, Rick needed an extra pair of hands when you two stopped on Mars after spending most of the day at the Jerryboree.

After Zeta-7 had traded a few items of his own to obtain what he came for at a reduced price, you two ran as fast as you could back towards the ship, but by the time the ship was out of the Martian orbit, you were chilled to the bone. Rubbing your arms, you shivered. "I wonder if I'll ever get used to this."

Your breath came out like a cloud of smoke and the cold that had seemed mild at first had numbed your face and extremities. Rick turned up the heat, as well as turned on the seat warmers and offered you a freeze-dried Phytonian branch worm, but you passed on the offer. You knew it would have warned you up straight away, but the last time you tried one of those things, you had a stomach ache for three days. Concerned, he placed the ship on autopilot and did his best to search around in the back seat for anything you could use to warm up, but then as though it struck him on the head he groaned. "Darn it, I-I forgot that I removed the spare blanket to wash it."

"Where is it now?"

"I-I left it in the dryer."

You thought of telling him that it wasn't his fault he forgot it since you had distracted him this morning with a video about ninja cats, but it wouldn't have helped the situation. "Ricky," you tried to ease him with a weak smile but your teeth chattered. "it's not a big deal. Besides, we're not that far from home."

However, he wasn't convinced. You weren't as experienced when it came to space travel, but you knew well enough of the possible dangers associated with extreme body temperature shifts. The chill you had spread deep into your bones until you thought you'd rattle if shaken; a lick of fear traveling down your spine but otherwise you didn't feel too bad. Nonetheless, Rick was concerned for your well-being, and knowing you two were hundreds of thousands of miles away from your dimension's version of Earth, he made a decisive decision and started removing articles of his own clothing. "Whoa, what are you doing?"

With a blush, he handed you not only his knitted Jerry sweater but also his labcoat; leaving him in a thin t-shirt which had a snoopy patch on the right shoulder; how cute. "I hope it'll s-suffice until we get home."

"But what about you? What are you going to wear?"

Flashing you a stern look which left little room for argument, you slipped on his sweater and lab coat, and was delighted to feel a little more like yourself and relaxed by its scent; it was his essence; that of vanilla, of his home, and something you couldn't quite think of; chemicals perhaps. "Hmm, your clothes are a lot more comfortable than I expected them to be. How um…..how do I look?"

Turning down the lights and switching back to manual, he nodded. "It suits you m-mi corazón."

You admired its softness and passed your hand over the tight, twisted knit. It was a lovely shade of light sage green, and had a picture of a smiling Jerry holding a titanic ship model; you thought it was sweet that it was a picture of his friend. So many things this man-made or owned had a purpose or a story; this piece was most likely made to brighten up the day that the Jerrys in his care were having. Your Rick really was a good man; better yet because he saw the value in regular folk who probably didn't see it in themselves. "I like your clothes, Rick," you commented; your heart warmed by his goodness. "they seem to carry bits of you in them."

"Th-that could be said about any piece of clothing that's been worn. They carry bits of our DNA." he stated matter of factly.

"Eh….that's... I mean I get that, but that's not where I was going with this. I meant that they're soft and warm like you Ricky. You enjoy dressing comfortably, don't you? You own a variety of sweaters."

"Wh-who doesn't? I've sort of been dressing th-the same way for the last twenty or so years but when I met you, I had more opportunities to dress up. However, the older I get, the more often I'm in need of something a-a bit warmer and gentler on my skin. Actually, some of my clothes are locked to my particular genetic signature so that they'll or adjust according to the weather or climate. That way, I'll have less t-to carry on certain excursions."

"Incredible, that'll certainly come in handy, but can I ask you something?"

"Y-yes?"

"I know you're focused on driving," you started, wondering if your assumptions were correct. "but is there a reason why you haven't looked me in the eyes since we left Mars, or am I just thinking too much?"

He visibly stiffened, but he still didn't face you. Rick seemed troubled, for he tightened his grip on the wheel. Maybe this hadn't been the best time to ask, but what else could you have done? If you didn't ask, how else would you have known? Still, if you had waited, you would've noticed the red light blinking on the control panel sooner. It was a caution light, but you weren't so concerned, but you should've been.

Rick had opened his mouth to answer, with a faraway look in his eyes, but in the blink of an eye he made a sharp left turn around some space junk; jostling you two as well as the cargo. That was another thing you hated about space was Earth's contribution to its pollution. Unknowingly, you two had deviated from the usual course by a few miles, leading you two into a dangerous situation. Whether it was the fault of his navigation equipment or his lack of focus you didn't know, but it took a couple of minutes of evading space junk before you two could breathe a sigh of relief. And at the first opportunity, he switched the ship back to autopilot. "I'm s-sorry about that. I'm usually a better driver." he started, scratching the back of his neck as he glanced out the window in search of an answer in the emptiness of space. You couldn't see anything except for a few stars and the Earth straight ahead, but you had a feeling that where he was looking was somewhere you couldn't see. When he was ready, he turned around in his seat to glance at you, but then quickly turned back to face the steering wheel. How odd. "T-t-to answer your question," he stammered. "y-you're not thinking too much. I've just been distracted."

"Oh, okay."

"Are y-you alright? Nothing hurts does it?"

"I mean, other than feeling wide awake now, no harm was done I guess, but what happened? It isn't like you to let your mind wander while we're out here. Rick, would you like me to take over the wheel so you can straighten out your thoughts?"

"No, it's not - I can do it. I got this."

"Are you sure?"

"Mhm, as long as I-I focus on the wheel."

He hadn't really answered your original question, but since you guys nearly avoided death, it probably wasn't a good time.

________

He parked the ship in his garage, and since it wasn't that late, you two walked over to your home. Rick hadn't said much since earlier, but you figured he'd let you know what was bothering him later. As soon as you crossed the threshold of your home, you started a pot of coffee for Rick to drink when it was ready. Then, you got a blanket from the closet and offered it to him just in case he was cold, but he didn't care for one. He was still in a mood, and you wondered if the reason you'd upset him was that you were still wearing his sweater. "You probably want this back right?"

Slipping out of his sweater and labcoat, you felt the temperature difference immediately and took up the blanket you had taken out and wrapped it around yourself. "Thanks for letting me borrow them. I'll be sure to pack something with me next time."

"I'm n-not sure if that's such a-a good idea." he said with seriousness.

"What do you mean?"

The lines around his eyes deepened, as well as the creases of his forehead, and there was a pensive cloudiness of his usually electric blues. Frustrated, he bit down on his lip almost hard enough to make it bleed. "B-because it's distracting."

"What?"

He continued. "I-I should've brought you home first or gotten the parts a different time."

"But I thought you wanted help." you sniffled.

"Y-you don't understand."

"What's there to understand?" you retorted; sinking into the couch as tears stung the back of your eyes, and threatened to come out. "You...you don't want me to help you anymore? I thought we were a team."

Your saddened state shifted his sour mood, and he apologized. "Gosh, please don't cry mi corazón, I-I didn't mean it."

"But you sai-"

"I'm not upset at you," he reassured you. "I'm disappointed in myself for allowing this to happen. I've become complacent and I-I should've been prepared. You could've gotten sick, hurt, or worse just because I got distracted. Next time I'll bring you your own sweater and snacks or whatever you want."

"Is it because you don't want me wearing yours? Did I ruin it or something?"

"No, it's because," he swallowed, unsure how to broach the subject. "cuando lo usas, es… es apretado."

What? You understood the part where he said you used it, but not the rest. Pulling out your phone from your pocket, you asked Google what all of that just meant, but the answer you got didn't help. "Rick, should I be offended?"

"I-I hope not. I promise it's not what you're thinking."

"Then what is it? I'm not getting any clear answers here."

"I um - I'm sorry if I offended you. It's not what I intended to do. I know what I'm about t-to tell you sounds silly since I had hoped I'd outgrow this, but I still feel shy around you."

This much you did know. He was overly conscious of himself, his actions, and how he might disappoint or be lacking, but most of all was hateful of his own inadequacies. Yet, for where he found fault, you found virtue and you would remind him of that, but in this case, you simply needed to listen. "That's okay, I already knew that."

"I don't feel like that all the time, but today I got embarrassed all of a sudden. I-I don't know what happened. Y-you were wearing my clothes and I saw your silhouette in the starlight and I got nervous."

Huh? That's what was bothering him?

"Why?"

"It um - it made me wonder what it'd be like if we lived together and…oh, it's embarrassing."

The hand which he had resting on the couch gripped the fabric tightly, and he was mortified because he had been distracted by you; which under normal circumstances he'd be able to remain calm. Covering his hand with yours, you gave him a squeeze."No, I would like to hear what you were thinking about very much."

Lacing his fingers with yours, you two sat there for a matter of minutes as he gathered his thoughts together. When he calmed a little, he confessed. "I thought about what it'd be like t-to wake up right next t-to you and not be alone anymore. I-I think about it a lot."

"Oh." That hadn't been what you expected. However, was it really so strange? He had intended to propose months ago, but ever since the moment had been spoiled he hadn't attempted to try again; if it had gone well, you two might've been married by now. Though, who was to say he didn't dream of it? Of what he'd always wanted, of a family or of the life in which he needed? Perhaps gentle encouragement wouldn't hurt.

"You know," you responded with a serious, but gentle candor. "you're not the only one who thinks about us living together. I'm very happy here and I love what we do together. And although we've had times where we respected one another's space, I don't mind if that changes. However, there are things that aren't so simple. For example, if I would've known that I could borrow your clothes whenever I liked I would've done so more often. Though, only if you hadn't been concerned about me getting accidentally poisoned by chemicals or radiation. Remember that time you literally fought with the laundry?"

"I do remember," he answered wistfully. "it's what prompted me t-to teach you how to use the freeze ray and laser gun correctly."

"I think the longer we're together, the more our lives will intertwine. Meaning, the more we move forward, the more training I'm going to need to fit into this lifestyle of ours. I think I'm going to need a portable scanner that'll allow me to check your clothes before I think of putting them on."

With serious, but tender eyes, he studied you. Then, he picked up his sweater which sat between you two and wondered. "Y-you want to wear my clothes? A great deal of them have seen better days. Are y-you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure," you brightened. "because I love the way your clothes smell. If you were away, it'd make me think of you and it...I don't know, makes us seem more domestic. Is that along the lines of what you were thinking?"

"Y-yeah."

"Cool. Glad to know we're on the same page."

Relieved, he pressed a kiss to your temple and seemed ready for that cup of coffee. And as you stood, ready to head to the kitchen to prepare it for him, you mentioned. "And by the way, I gotta tell you something important."

"Gee, what is that?"

Striking a pose, you made him chuckle; that was a good sign. "That it's totally cool to be into me and check me out. I don't mind, and it makes me happy that I know what it takes to catch your eye. However, there's an exception: when we're driving around in space, where anything could kill us, we gotta keep our eyes on the space around us unless on autopilot. Only then," you winked. "might it be okay to be a little distracted."

Fin

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peachybowen · 4 years

Text

stupid • r.b

series masterlist

pt.1 pt.2

pairing: ricky bowen x reader

warnings: none

songs: Falling For U by Peachy! and mxmtoon, Wondering by Julia Lester and Olivia Rodrigo

words: 3.6k

AND ALSO I’M HAPPY TO ANNOUNCE THAT I HAVE A MASTERLIST 🤪 YOU CAN SEE WHAT I’M WORKING ON AND YEAHHH

A/N: feedback is always appreciated 🥺 I’m sorry if you find any grammar mistakes. Enjoy xx

I have dreamed of playing the lead since 5th grade. Of course I didn't tell anyone besides my brother and Cousin. When I got home last night, my brother and I talked. He was happy for me. Ej also said that he was really proud of me but he also added that he thinks that Nini deserved better.

,,Yo, what's up? I'm trading in my East High Leopards gear to be a Wildcat, starting today, because it's the day of the read-through! Blessed to be playing Chad. Swipe up for a link to tickets.'' EJ said holding his phone up, smiling the whole time.

,,Hi!'' Ash and I exclaimed simultaneously, walking up to EJ.

,,Say hi to my cousin and my little sister and bye to my cousin and sister.'' he turned his phone off and put it in his jeans pocket.

,,You're in a good mood.'' I mentioned and continued walking beside him, with Ash on his other side.

,,That's just for the fans, Y/N. Inside I'm a bucket of sad.'' he stated and I looked at Ash and then at him.

,,You still not over the not-getting Troy thing?'' Ash asked.

,,I put 3 years into this drama department and now I have to understudy my girlfriend's ex?'' he turned to me.

,,No offense Y/N.” he added and I just laughed and waved it off.

,,I know it sucks. But, I mean; Y/N is Gabriella and I don't think we would want an incest couple in our play, you know.'' Ash explained and I cringed at the thought.

,,Ash is 100% right.'' I agreed and started walking faster, Ash right behind me.

When we arrived at the rehearsal room, I saw Ej putting the Chad Danford card next to the Gabriella one. Ricky and I didn't talk much since the auditions and maybe, just maybe, that was my fault. I have been avoiding him, which was actually pretty hard considering I had almost all my classes with him. He tried to talk to me here and there but I just hummed in response most of the time. Honestly I was just trying to get over my crush on him. He still wasn't over Nini and he actually wanted to take part in the musical for her and I kinda ruined his chances because she did not get the lead. I also didn't want to ruin our friendship. We were friends since kindergarten and I wanted to keep him as a friend. After the auditions, Ash came over. She actually told me not to avoid Ricky but I just thought it was a good idea. Of course Ej agreed with me.

,,Could everyone take their assigned seats?'' Ms.Jenn asked loud enough for everone to hear. I walked to my seat and noticed that Ej put the cards back to how they were. I sat down with a sigh. Soon after Miss Jenn actually asked Big Red to read the stage directions because Natalie, the stage director, wasn't there. And like 5 seconds after that Ricky took the seat next to me. I looked at Ash, who was sitting across from me. She smiled and turned her attention to the blonde drama teacher.

,,I realize that you all walked in here as strangers.'' she started looking at us.

,,Actually, I'm Y/N and EJ’s, cousin!'' Ashlyn corrected. I could see Ricky looking at me out of the corner of my eye but I just ignored him.

,,But after today, you're a family. Please take your neighbors' hand.'' she finished and everyone did what the teacher said. I took Gina's hand and turned my head to Ricky, who was holding his hand out for me. I took his hand but avoided eye contact.

,,Hand.'' Ms.Jenn said as soon as she saw that Ej and Ricky weren't holding hands. Their heads shot in my direction when they heard me giggle. I stopped immediately.

,,Feel each other's energy. Let the silence speak volumes. In a world full of no, this is a space full of yes.'' the drama teacher preached.

,,Nice. Did you just come up with that?'' Carlos whispered to the middle-aged woman.

,,I did.'' she replied, smiling at him. It was silent. Nobody said anything and I could feel Ricky staring again and I just turned my head to Gina and smiled at her. Seconds later Ms.Jenn started singing ''We're all in this together.''. I let go of Ricky and Gina's hand and looked at the script on my table, highlighting my lines. Ash started to clap after Ms.Jenn finished singing. Nobody clapped beside her so she stopped and everyone looked at her.

,,"Sharpay heads for class, hears singing," "opens the door to the biology lab." "She finds Gabriella and Taylor washing their hands." "They turn to find there are no paper towels in the dispenser. They-'''' Big Red was disrupted by Miss Jenn before he could continue reading.

,,Try to read the punctuation.'' she instructed and smiled at the redhead.

,,"Sharpay comma heads for class period.'''' he said and I grinned. He was so oblivious sometimes it was cute.

We took a break after reading act one. I was talking to Ash but I also kinda watched my brother and Nini talking. And, yes, Ricky looked at them too. Nini got a text, she laughed, and Ricky was on his phone so it was kinda obvious that he sent her a meme or something like that. Ej glared at him and sat down again.

,,Cool glasses.'' I turned my head to see Seb taking a seat next to Ashlyn. She smiled.

,,Thanks. They're my grandmas.'' she acknowledged.

,,I have the same ones at home.'' he laughed.

,,Really? Why?'' I asked, trying to join the conversation again.

,,So, I can see when I'm milking.'' he replied and I was confused.

Milking?

Before I had the chance to ask what he meant by that, Miss Jenn said that we were gonna continue.

I was on stage waiting for Ricky. Ms.Jenn wanted us to start rehearsing early and I wasn't really thrilled. When he came running in, he said that he was sorry for being late.

,,We're diving into page 97.'' Ms.Jenn directed and handed us the script.

,,You mean the last scene?'' Ricky asked just as confused as I was. The teacher just hummed in response.

,,You wanna rehearse this? It's just one line.'' I also asked.

,,Yeah, I've got one, too.'' Ricky stated turning to me.

,,And then there's the kiss.'' Ms.Jenn exclaimed. I looked at her and started to panic.

,,There was no-. I don't remember a kiss in what we read yesterday.'' I stuttered trying to reason with her.

,,It was very much in the original movie.''

,,I only remember a hug.'' I augmented further. I wasn't really in the mood to kiss my best friend. It would just make things more awkward between us.

,,The kiss ended up being cut. Little racy for its time.'' she explained looking at me with a smile.

Later that day I sat in Miss Jenn's office, explaining to her that I just couldn't kiss Ricky.

°Ej's POV°

I was standing outside Ms.Jenn's office, waiting for Y/N when Ashlyn walked up to me.

,,Hi!'' she greeted cheerfully.

,,Go away.'' I simply said.

,,No, you go away. You're standing in front of my locker.''

I stepped away and she opened the locker.

,,I can't believe this. She's around Ricky's finger.''

,,Who?'' Ash asked and looked at me.

,,Miss Jenn! She added a kiss.'' I explained and Ashlyn rolled her eyes.

,,Ej, stop. He's not bribing our director.'' she interrupted.

,,Y/N doesn't want to kiss him, Ash. And I don't want that either.''

,,Being her big brother doesn't mean you own her.'' she commented. I rolled my eyes and changed the subject.

,,I need you to do me a favor.''

,,What kind of favor?'' she asked with a raised brow.

,,I need you to borrow Nini's phone.'' I explained and she looked at me like I was crazy.

,,Borrow? As in steal?''

I just nodded. I needed to be 100% sure that Ricky wasn't in the way of my relationship. Nini was different. She wasn't like other girls. The girl helped me be a better person.

,,Okay, you've just gone up 3 levels of scary!'' the girl stressed, shocked by my words. She tried to reason with me for a bit but then she left, leaving me standing alone in front of the office, waiting for my sister.

°Y/N’s pov°

,,I'm kinda lost. If the play is over, why would we still be dancing?'' Ricky asked beside me. We were back in the rehearsing room. Just as I was about to answer, Carlos came up from behind us.

,,It's a certain call. You're the last two to come out. We want to bring the audience to their feet!'' he explained snickering.

,,Teach them the dance.'' Ricky joked.

,,Carlos? Can we wait for Miss Jenn?'' I pleaded kinda just wanting the director there.

,,Miss Jenn is busy tracking down a prop. She's asked me to create a crescendo, people, so let's stop swirling and let's start twirling.'' Carlos directed calmly.

,,But why are we practicing the bows when we haven't even practiced the play?'' Ricky asked still confused.

,,Because you start with the hardest dance that takes the longest to learn. It's in the Big Book of Broadway.'' Carlos started. Gina came up behind him.

,,Page 374.'' they both finished at the same time. Gina walked away after they both high-fived each other.

Shortly after we started practicing the dance. Ricky was terrible. I mean he tried but he did not succeed. Kinda embarrassing.

,,What is he doing?'' Nini asked from the side as soon as the music stopped. I turned to look at her. She stepped forward and looked at Carlos.

,,Why you're talking to him? I'm right here.''

And that was when I took a step back. I wasn't in the mood to be in the middle of Nini and Ricky drama. I had enough of that over the summer.

,,'Cause you're not here. Not for the right reasons.'' Nini snapped.

,,What's that supposed to mean?'' Ricky asked standing right in front of her. Everyone was silent. Nobody wanted to interrupt that conversation.

,,What I said, Ricky. You hate musicals. You're doing this so we're in each other's grills.''

Carlos took a step forward to break the two apart but they kept on going.

,,Now you're rubbing some weird cologne on your neck.''

,,Hey, you love Throb!''

,,And wasting everybody's time by making fun of something that the rest of us take seriously.'' the brown-haired girl ranted. After the words left her mouth, Carlos told everyone to take a five-minute break and to get out. I stayed just being moral support for Carlos and Ricky. He and Nini argued for a few more seconds, my brother's name was mentioned and Ricky left. Just as Miss Jenn came back, Ricky walked through the door.

,,We're you going Troy?'' she asked, confused as to why he was leaving in the middle of rehearsals.

,,It's Ricky.'' he mumbled before exiting the room. I sighed, looked at Nini, who looked at her hands, grabbed my things and went after him.

,,Why are my leads leaving?'' Miss Jenn asked again.

Ricky was way faster than me.

I mean have you seen him? He's way taller than me!

However, when I saw Big Red outside talking to him, I decided to let them talk. My mind just told me to leave him alone to cool off, you know? So I decided to talk to Nini instead. On the way back, Carlos asked me where Ricky went and I told him that he went outside. Not so sure if that was a good idea because it would just put more pressure on Ricky. When I arrived at the rehearsal room again, Miss Jenn was talking to Nini and she still stood by the piano, looking at her hands.

,,Nini can I talk to you for a second?'' I asked and walked in her direction. Miss Jenn turned to look at me and left the room without another word. I think she knew that it was better to let teenagers sort their problems out alone sometimes.

,,I really don't want to talk to you right now. Ricky probably send you and I'm really not in the mood to-''

,,Ricky did not 'send' me. I'm here because I chose to talk to you. I know that you probably don't even want that because I basically stole the role you wanted to play but listen. Miss Jenn is working really hard on this musical and so is everyone else and I know it's hard being in a musical with your ex- and current boyfriend but please, for the sake of this musical, get along with Ricky.''

,,Y/N you don't even understand the situation. You never had an ex before!''

,,That may be true but I'm not on good terms with Ricky either! Do you see me causing a scene? No! So please Nini, at least consider, not ripping Ricky's face off.'' and with that, I left.

The first thing I did when I arrived at home was eat. I always ate when I was frustrated. Not my best habit. While waiting for my pizza to be done, I decided to post something on Instagram

y/ncaswell

Salt Lake City, Utah

liked by ejcaswell, dancingcarlos and 67 more

y/ncaswell you're looking at your Gabriella Montez baby 🤪

view all 23 comments

dancingcarlos and that's on actually auditioning for Taylor

yourgirlash u rocked that audition tho! So proud of u :))

I smiled at all the supporting comments and began eating my pizza, which I got out of the oven without burning my hands.

what? I'm proud of me. I always burn my hands while getting the pizza out of the oven. That's why Ej is normally doing it when... I want pizza.

After eating half of the pizza, leaving the other half for Ej, I went upstairs. I threw my bag into a corner and threw myself on bed. I sighed and grabbed my ukulele. The next thing I knew was that I started playing some chords that popped into my head.

I was hangin' with you and then I realized

I didn't think it was true, I was surprised

When I found out I've fallen for you

I didn't wanna believe my feelings for you

I didn't wanna believe that I could lose you

If I told you just how I felt

But I can't help it

I'm falling for you

And I can't quit it

'Cause I'm stuck on you

And it might be pathetic and you might be skeptical

But I just want to be with you

Please tell me, boy

Can you get a clue?

Or come through 'cause I just want to be with you

,,The song is for him right?''

I gasped in surprise and turned my head to the door to see EJ leaning against my door frame, eating the pizza I left for him.

,,When did you come home?'' I asked while placing the ukulele on the floor. He walked towards me and sat on the edge of my mattress.

,,5 minutes ago but stop trying to change the subject. The song is for Ricky right?''

I just nodded, looking at my hands.

,,It's cute.''

,,What?'' I asked and looked up.

,,The song. It's cute. I mean I don't really support the idea of you and him together, you know that but I like the song.''

,,Thank you and don't worry EJ, him and me? That won't happen. He's still in love with Nini.'' I responded with a sad smile.

,,I know this may sound really awful but maybe it's just not meant to be.''

Maybe he was right. Maybe the universe wanted to show me that it just wasn't meant to be. That I was chasing a dream. Ricky was so in love with Nini and to be honest I wasn't surprised. Nini was such a sweet and gorgeous girl, always have been. It's so easy to fall in love with her. No wonder my brother did.

I nodded and the only word that left my mouth was:,,Maybe.''

EJ flashed me a smile, patted my shoulder and left the bedroom. I sighed and my head hit the pillow.

The next day was pretty much uneventful.

Ok maybe that's a lie. I did catch Nini spying on Carlos and Ricky in the library. That's a good thing right?

When I opened the door to the auditorium, everything was silent. But as soon as the door closed and I leaned my back on the wall, someone started playing the piano. The curiosity got the best of me and I walked up the stage to see who was playing the wonderful melody. I was quite surprised to discover Ashlyn sitting in front of the piano, pressing the keys softly.

,,Oh hi.'' was the first thing she said when she noticed my presence.

,,Hi. I didn't know anyone was in here.'' I answered looking at my cousin, who took her hands off the piano keys.

,,I can be gone in like 7 seconds. Six if I don't zip my bag.'' She replied as she started to throw her things into her bag.

,,No, Ash. Don't go. What was that?''

,,What was what?'' she asked and stopped packing her things.

,,The song you were just playing.''

,,Oh that. Miss Jenn asked me to compose a song for my character. It's probably way too much.'' she explained and grabbed the notes out of her bag again. I just nodded and listen to her ramble. I didn't really know why she was so nervous.

,,Why don't you play me some more of your song?'' I asked and sat down beside her. Ashlyn nodded and started playing the same melody I heard when the door closed.

,,Seems like a part of me will always have to lose.'' She began, her eyes watching her fingers which were pressing down the piano keys.

,,Every single time I have to choose

Swore that it felt right, but was I wrong?

Is this where I'm supposed to be at all?

I don't have the answers, not today

It's like nothing makes the questions go away

What I'd give to see If the grass was greener

On the other side

Of all I've had and lost

Would it be enough

Or would I still be wondering?'' she sang, her eyes still trained on the piano.

,,If I could go back and change the past

Be a little braver than I had

And bet against the odds

Would I still be lost?

Even if I woke up in my dreams

Would there still be something I'm missing?

If I had everything Would it mean anything?''

I looked at her in awe. I never really heard Ashlyn sing like that before and she had so much talent. She turned her gaze to me for a second, implying to sing with her. I smiled and turned my attention to the little sheet of paper in front of me.

,,Maybe I should turn around and take the other road

Or maybe I'm just looking for what I already know.'' we sang together, smiling after realizing that we hit every note in perfect harmony.

,,I'm just wondering...

It feels like I might have broke the best thing that I had.'' I sang alone and at that exact moment, Ricky slowly walked in. We didn't notice though. We were to caught up in our own little moment.

,,I said too much to ever take it back

I'm scared I'll never find something as good

And would I even know it if I could?'' I vocalized the verse Ashlyn wrote so flawlessly.

,,If I could go back and change the past

Be a little braver than I had

And bet against the odds

Would I still be lost?

Even if I woke up in my dreams

Would there still be something I'm missing

If I had everything

Would it mean anything.'' we both sang again.

,,To me?'' I finished and smiled. My smile fell as soon as I saw Ricky standing in the room.

,,Uh...We're back.'' he stuttered and looked at us with semi-wide eyes.

,,What?'' I asked quietly.

,,Downstairs.'' the curly-haired boy answered and shook his head slightly which made his curls bounce a little.

,,Miss Jenn wants to see everyone in the bomb shelter.'' he finished and left without saying another word. I looked at Ashlyn and she just shrugged before she got up and packed her things. Me being the incredible cousin I am, I waited for her.

When we arrived downstairs the whole theater group was building a small circle around the blonde drama teacher who had a huge carton in front of her.

,,Here it is, people.'' Miss Jenn breathed out, holding a small device in her hands.

,,Is that a garage-door opener?'' Seb asked as he looked at the small object in front of him.

,,No, Seb. This is Gabriella's Phone. From the film.''

A few students gasped.

,,I plan on creating a time-capsule display in our lobby. If they can have 40 sports-ball trophies, we deserve a little movie museum.'' the teacher explained, holding up the phone so everyone could see.

,,Okay, people, enough dazzle. Fetch your scripts please. Places for the top of the ski lodge!''

91 notes · View notes

boy-blu3 · 4 years

Text

Fallen Cupid- Part two

Author: nerdymoose

A/N: Feedback and reblogs are always welcome! Please don't repost or copy my work! I hope you enjoy! ❤❤

Summary: Due to Madison's injured wing she can't go home, when she's given the opportunity she declines. She just wants to spend more time with the handsome stranger she just met...

Warnings: None

Madison woke up to a delightful smell, she has never smelled anything like it.

She got up off the couch and followed the smell into the kitchen. She found Anthony standing over the stove cooking pancakes.

"What smells so amazing?" She asked, leaning on a nearby counter.

He chuckled, "good morning beautiful." He said making her cheeks turn a light pink. "What you're smelling is pancakes. I figured since I have a guest over I should make some breakfast."

She looked over his shoulder at the food. "I've never had pancakes." She stated.

He turned around, looking at her in disbelief, "really?" She nodded as an answer.

"What do you normally eat?"

"Fruits and vegetables. Those who live in forests aren't usually carnivorous." She said leaning on the counter next to him. "We believe that animals are friends, not food."

"Wow. What a way to make me feel horrible." He pouted. Madison found it quite adorable, but she didn't know why.

"Don't. We don't have anything against people who eat animals, that's just how nature is."

"Well good thing I didn't have bacon." He mumbled. He put the last pancake onto a plate and turned off the stove. "Let's eat."

The held a conversation as they were eating getting to know each other. Laughs echoed throughout the house, their plates empty but neither of them made no move to get up.

"Wait. So the timer on your wrist tells you when the next time you have to break someone up?" He asked.

"Mhmm" She looked down at her wrist, the time reading '15 days' .

"Do you guys have dragons?" He asked randomly. His curiosity getting the best of him.

"Yeah we do. They're like dogs with wings, they may look scary but in reality they're so lovable." She said, smiling.

"That's so cool." She giggled at his response.

"Madison? Are you okay?" A voice called from inside of the house, she immediately recognized it as her sister's. Anthony confused and worried as he got up and followed the voice, Madison not far behind him.

"Amara? What the hell are you doing here?" She exclaimed.

"I should ask you the same thing. You didn't come home last night, I was worried sick, especially after the storm." She said, pulling her into a hug.

"Yeah, sorry about that." Madison apologized. Anthony cleared his throat waiting for an explanation as to who just broke into his house.

"Oh right. Anthony this is my older sister Amara, she kinda gets protective when she doesn't know where I am. Amara this is Anthony, he helped me because I kinda injured my wing-"

"You what?!" Amara looked towards Anthony, "Hi, nice to meet you. I'm just gonna borrow my sister for a little." She said grabbing onto Madison's ear and pulling her into a different room.

"Ow. Would you stop that, I'm not 10 anymore." She said rubbing her ear as her sister let go.

"You injured your wing and didn't think to tell me? And you told a human what you are? Who else knows besides me?" Amara scolded.

"Just him, I swear. And he's not like other humans, he's nice and understanding."

"That's what you said the last time. Come on, we're leaving." She demanded.

"No. I think I'm gonna stay for a while. You know where I am so you don't have to worry."

Her sister sighed, " Fine. But here just in case you want to come home early." She said handing her a crystal.

"Thanks." She smiled.

"I'll see you later." Amara walked towards the door and left.

Madison walked back to the kitchen and found Anthony washing the dishes from breakfast. "I'm sorry about that."

He laughed. "Don't be, I think it's sweet that your sister broke into my house to see if you were okay." He turned off the tap and dried his hands facing her.

"Yeah, that's my sister."

"I just want to know how she got into the house. The door was still locked when I checked."

"Like this." I put my hand through a wall.

His eyes widened, "woah"

•• •• •• •• ••

The two of them found themselves seated on the couch finishing the Harry Potter movies, chatting away. Quickly becoming more and more comfortable with each other.

"Can I see your wings?" Anthony ended up asking, he only had caught a glimpse of them the night prior. "How badly injured are they?"

"Yeah. Not too badly hurt, it just makes it difficult to fly." She answered getting off the couch. "We have to step outside, I don't want them to damage anything."

He nodded. Getting up and following her to the back door. She stepped into the middle of the fenced yard.

She made her wings visible and expanded them to their full length, one of them looked like it was missing feathers. But they were still gorgeous, a dark blue that faded into black at the tips.

Some of the feathers looked tangled, and she noticed that. "Ever since that night I haven't had time to groom them, my sister usually does it, she says I don't do it right."

"They're gorgeous." He was in awe, no matter if they were injured or tangled he thought that they were beautiful, just like her. " Can I- can I touch them?"

She was surprised by his question, but nodded nonetheless. He walked over to her and gently ran his hand through her feathers.

They were soft like silk, he found himself in this sort of trance as he continuously running his hands through them.

He was pulled back to reality when he heard her make a noise that sounded like a moan. He soon fell in love with the sound but he pulled his hands away regardless.

She looked towards her wing and noticed that there were no more tangles. "You did a better job than my sister, thanks." She let out a breathy laugh.

He rubbed the back of his neck, not liking the awkward tension that engulfed the two of them, for the first time since they've met. "No problem, they're really soft."

A bark was heard behind them, they turned and saw the dog holding a leash in his mouth, Madison chuckled. "I guess he wants to go for a walk."

"I guess so. Come on buddy."

•• •• •• •• •• •• •• ••

Madison had no idea what was happening, she had only met him five days ago. Yet, she could tell you his favorite color; lime green. His favorite food; chicken parmesan. But isn't normal to know those things? Like any person could answer about their friends.

But she could still easily answer the hard questions that only childhood friends and family can answer. She knows what breaks his heart; someone ignoring him because he has a fear of being forgotten. She knows what makes him instantly smile; appreciating the little things he does. She knows how he got a scar on his eyebrow, falling off of a slide.

She also knows that he bites his lip when he's concentrated, or that he cracks his knuckles when he's anxious.

And it's only been five days.

She can feel it.

The tugs of her heart strings when he smiles.

She can feel herself slowly falling.

She scared.

Terrified.

#supernatural #mythology #mythical monsters #mythical character #mythical creature #writers #writing #written #writeaway #dean winchester #sam winchester

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artandteaandstuff-blog · 7 years

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Can u write a prompt where person A and person B like each other but they are too scared to admit it but then person A discovers they have the power to travel back in time so person A makes a move on person B and it doesn't go well, so person A continues to redo it until they realize that in every situation person B is just shocked but after letting one time play out they are both happy?

I HAD SO MUCH FUN WRITING THIS OMG. Thank you so much for the wonderful prompt, it gave me so many ideas!

Also thank you for @irishswanff for your on-point beta duties. I’m blowing many kisses your way

Also, I was so proud of this one, I popped it on FF.NET. So let me know what you think!

Third Time’s a Charm

Captain Hook was not afraid of anything.

He had faced beasts beyond imagination, pierced their scaly grey skin and slimy green tentacles until they’d fallen at his feet. He’d sailed through storms where waves towered to the top of his masts, and spray made it almost impossible to see. He had felt the icy chill of the sea air. He had killed a man. He had killed many men, good and bad. Not many things could turn his stomach after seeing his own severed hand on the deck below him.

Killian Jones, however, was an entirely different matter altogether.

Just ask her out, he told himself. What was the worst that could happen? And isn’t that what modern people did - asked out those who caught their attention? It was much simpler than the ways in his own realm. Usually a lengthy courting would take place. Or, if one was a pirate, a drink and a good old shag in the Captain’s quarters would do it.

But he suspected Emma Swan would want to be treated properly. And she deserved it. God knows, she deserved it. If he had his way, he’d treat her like the princess she was. He wouldn’t mind courting her at all, even if it took months. Years, even. As long as she was his in the end.

But according to a good old book he’d borrowed from the library so named, “How to pick up that chick you really want”, courting wasn’t the style anymore. Dinners were deemed more more appropriate.

According to the book, he’d done everything all wrong. Dinners always came before kissing. Yet, he and Emma had shared a brief but passionate kiss in Neverland when they were trying to save her boy. It was true that he hasn’t instigated the kiss, but he still should have put a stop to it. He should have pushed her away with his hand and hook (gently, of course) and insisted they begin the courting period immediately.

The only thing was, he couldn’t exactly work up the courage to ask Emma out to dinner.

He’d had many chances of course. He saw her all the time, either chasing after some sort of monster with her faithful crew behind her, or on her own, running errands. He often caught her in Granny’s. He’d open the door to the delectable scent of coffee and doughnuts, basking in the wave of warmth the place admitted. But then he’d spot her. She was always sat at the bar with her back to him, her ruby leather jacket stretching around the curves of her body. Her golden hair falling in soft waves around her shoulders. She’d flip it behind her, so casually, and it would stun him.

And then he’d run for it.

Now, Captain Hook had never run away from anything. Not anything. But Emma Swan could send Killian dancing all the way across Storybrooke.

That was until he’d think of her again. Missing her would come in waves, then stronger, and soon missing her was like a storm he couldn’t best. He’d find himself thinking about her smile, and the curves of her cheeks and the light in her eyes. He’d just want to hold her and protect her.

Not that Swan needed protecting.

One particularly frosty Sunday morning he’d ran all the way back to his ship. He threw himself up the stairs to the deck, collapsing on one of the wooden crates, letting himself deflate. He was sweating, the leather sticking to him. He shredded off his coat and wiped his forehead.

God, she was going to be the death of him.

“Running from the Swan girl again, Captain?”

Killian gave a start, almost falling off his wooden box. His heart beat wildly in his chest. He drew his sword and slashed it in the air. Smee ducked to avoid the fatal blow that would deem him headless.

“You!” he yelled when he saw who it was. “What do you think you’re doing, bloody sneaking up on me?”

“Not sneaking up, Captain, never sneaking up,” said Smee, removing his red hat, mopping his forehead with it. He turned it in his hands. “Just scrubbing the deck, as you asked me to do this morning.”

“Get to it, then!”

“Certainly. But uh… Captain?”

Killian glanced over at his second in command. Smee looked more nervous than usual. Ever since Killian had found a way to turn him back into a human after Gold magicked him into a rat, he’d been more twitchy than ever. Killian noticed he never killed the rats he found on deck anymore. He let them scurry free.

“Think carefully about what you’re going to say.” The warning in his voice was enough to make anyone quiver. He had to admire Smee’s bravery.

“Of course. Yes. Always.” He swallowed and nodded, still twisting that hat in his hands, twisting until it became a deformed lump. “It’s just… I think I may have a way to help you.”

Killian’s gaze snapped to his. “Help me?” he asked, sharply. “How could you possibly help me?”

“With the- with the Swan girl, Captain.”

Killian couldn’t help it, his face flamed. He’d never been particularly careful when it came to Emma, but he hadn’t expected Smee to say anything. Smee should have learned after all those years together that the Captain could do many things and be sure the crew wouldn’t speak of them.

There was only one thing Killian could do now. Deny, deny, deny!

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I don’t need your help.”

“Of course.” Smee ducked his head. “But Captain, I really think this could help.”

Killian sighed. Was Emma really such a hopeless case that his own crew were offering their assistance? As stupid as Smee was, perhaps he did have something that could help. He’d been useful over the years. And he seemed determined that Killian should hear what he had to say.

“Right then,” he sighed. “Out with it.”

Smee drew in a breath, averting his eyes to the wooden deck. “Well, I couldn’t help but notice the book in your cabin. The book about women.” He cowered under the look Killian gave him. “And- and I don’t think it’s very helpful, Captain. But I- I have something that might help. It’s a time pod-”

“A what?”

“A time pod, Captain. I found it in the Dark One’s office.”

“You’ve been in the crocodile’s office?” Killian didn’t think he had it in him. The crocodile was dangerous at the best of times, let alone when people tried to steal his things.

“Aye, Captain. I noticed you haven’t really been yourself, so I just wanted to help you. I knew that the Dark One must have something. And then I found this time pod left out over an open book. The book said it can help you go back in time.”

Killian froze. “Go back in time? How would that help me?”

“You can only go back for a few hours at a time. It works like a magic bean. You throw it and you get a portal, but it doesn’t go away. You pick it back up and you can use it again and again. I just thought-” He paused, colour rising to his cheeks. “You could use it. Court the Swan girl. And if it doesn’t go to plan, or if she doesn’t return your affections…”

“I can go back in time and pretend it never happened,” he murmured.

He’d never have to go through the embarrassment and humiliation of being turned down by her. He could try and if it should fail, he could go back in time and Emma wouldn’t have to know a thing. It was brilliant. Ingenious.

He accepted the time pod from Smee almost gleefully and shoved it in his coat pocket, which he’d left strewn across the deck. He was going to do it. He was going to win the affections of Emma.

After he bathed, of course.

A few hours later he stood outside the door of the Charmings’ residence, smelling as fresh as a daisy. Though he’d washed and combed his hair, it stuck to his forehead and the back of his neck, where he felt the hottest. If he were honest with himself, he felt hot all over.

And his heart. After Milah died, he had to question whether he still had one. But God, how it raced, like it was trying to jump out of his chest. He could feel it in his ears and his neck. The relentless beat filled his head. He wiped his hands on his leather coat but they slipped off as easily as if he’d coated his hands in butter.

Bloody hell, he was a mess.

And she was a Goddess.

He was just about to turn and run again when the door swung open. It was Emma - and it would be, wouldn’t it - eyes widening slightly in surprise. Her eyes were so beautiful, with flecks of green and yellow. He could spend hours gazing into them.

“Oh. It’s you,” she said. “What do you want?”

The indifference in her voice gave him cause to turn around. But he didn’t. He leaned against the doorway, assuming the position of smooth pirate, and looked at her through hooded eyes. The hooded eyes always worked on women. That was, if the leaning hadn’t already entranced them.

“Swan,” he said. “I must say, you look divine.” Did she notice the slight tremble in his voice?

“Hook. Tell me what you want and make it quick. I’m busy.”

That was it. The moment. All he had to do was get the words past his lips, even though his tongue felt thick in his mouth and her perfume was intoxicating him. He had the strange, overwhelming desire to pull her close and kiss her into an oblivion, like he had in Neverland. Or had she kissed him into an oblivion?

Perhaps doing so would have been a smarter move than what he actually did.

“Well, love, I was wondering if you were free - and by free, I mean available - I think that’s what you modern people call it, available, in the sense that you’re doing absolutely nothing and by absolutely nothing, I mean-

Her eyes widened, just a touch, and then she narrowed them. “Just spit it out.”

“I was simply thinking that perhaps, if you are indeed available that perhaps we could spend a night together-”

Her eyebrows flew up. “A night together?”

Oh, shit.

“Not in that sense!” he rushed out. “Though you are very beautiful, very very beautiful and a night with you- well, darling, let’s just say I wouldn’t forget it in a hurry. And I have been with plenty of wenches-”

“Wenches?” she asked, voice sharp.

His eyes widened. “Bloody hell. I’m not implying you’re a wench.”

She folded her arms and leant against the doorframe herself so she was inches from him, lips curling into a smirk. Was she mocking him? “What are you implying?”

“I’m not implying anything. I’m just trying to- I’m trying-”

Just say the words, he screamed at himself. How hard was it? He’d faced krakens and dragons and yet, here he was. Emma Swan had managed to turn him into a stuttering, blushing mess in a matter of seconds, and she hadn’t even done anything.

“Are you trying to ask me out?” Her tone was nonchalant, though her eyes were mysterious and that smirk was still playing around those gorgeous lips of hers.

She was definitely making fun of him. Back when he was a pirate, he would have took her head off for that. Instead, he had to fight the urge to kiss the smirk away.

“No!” he all but shouted. “Yes. Bloody hell. Goodbye.”

He turned and bolted down the stairs, leather coat swishing behind him. He heard her call his name, but he ignored her, jumping down the stairs three at a time.

Only when he was outside, could he breathe again. He gulped in generous amounts of fresh air, thankful for the breeze. It cooled his forehead and his neck. He could think clearly without that flowery smell penetrating his nose and turning his head to mush.

That couldn’t have gone any worse. He couldn’t have messed it up any more than he had. It would have been fine if he’d simply asked her out, and she turned him down. He could live with that. But he’d humiliated himself completely and utterly.

Captain Hook, a name which once struck fear into the hearts of men and women, a bumbling buffoon.

He was on his way back to his ship, red faced and ashamed, when he remembered the time pod. He slipped his hand into his pocket and pulled it out. It was bigger than a bean, more like the size of a peach stone, though it was a vibrant red.

What harm could it do, he asked himself. He could throw the pod down, disappear into the past, and try again. No-one would have to know. Not Emma or the rest of the heroes, who would probably try and stop him if they knew what he was about to do. Even he knew messing with time could be dangerous.

But all for a good cause…

Before he could change his mind, Killian threw the pod down onto the ground. A purple whirl appeared in the middle of the dusty pavement, full of stars and light. Here goes it, he thought and jumped down into the darkness.

After the sensation of being pulled through a tight rubber tube, Killian hit the same spot he jumped from, gasping for breath, palms scraping against the concrete. He already knew it was a few hours earlier. The ground was wet from a fresh shower of rain, the scent of mud filling his nose.

The portal disappeared, leaving the pod in its place. Gathering his bearings, Killian jumped to his feet and swiped dust from his leather coat. He was amazed. He wasn’t sure if it would actually work, being property of the crocodile, yet there he was. It must be his lucky day, he thought as he scooped the pod from the pavement and dropped it back into his pocket.

It was time to woo Emma, far more successfully than he’d done a few moments ago.

He climbed up the chipped stairs to Emma’s flat a second time. He was so elated from his journey through time, he didn’t even stop to consider what he was doing. Instead, he rapped his hook against the wood. The door opened almost immediately.

She looked exactly the same as she had a few moments ago, her hair cascading down over the cream jumper she wore. He had to stop himself from leaning in when he caught a whiff of her perfume again.

“Huh, it’s you,” she said. “What do you want?”

He found himself frozen again. Why? Why? What had this woman done to him? Was she some sort of enchantress, able to bewitch him with every movement? No-one had affected him like this, not even Milah, whom he had shared years of his life with.

“Hook?” she asked, raising a perfectly arched brow. “I haven’t got all day.”

“I WISH TO COURT YOU.” He didn’t realise he’d shouted the words until they’d escaped his lips and by that time, it was too late.

With one last panicked look thrown in her direction, he found himself running down the stairs again.

“Hook!” she called. “Hook, wait!”

When he got outside, he didn’t even consider it, he just threw the pod down onto the ground and jumped into the portal. Going back a few more hours wouldn’t do serious harm.

He made his way back to her flat again, but it was her same-age mother, Snow White come Mary Margaret, who answered. She told him that Emma was probably at Granny’s, getting her usual lunch of coffee and grilled cheese, whatever that was. He shuffled under her gaze, which seemed a little too understanding. When she offered to “call” Emma, and pulled a rectangle box-like thing from her pocket, he slowly backed away. When it started beeping rudely, he told her he’d just check Granny’s and if she wasn’t there, he’d call it a day.

As it turned out, she was at Granny’s, though she was just leaving. He caught her in the doorway, holding a paper bag in one hand and a coffee in the other.

“Hook,” she greeted, with a nod of her head.

And then she did something he hadn’t seen in so long. Something that made his heart ache and his stomach flip. She smiled at him. Genuinely smiled at him. God, if it wasn’t the most beautiful thing he’d ever witnessed, he didn’t know what was.

So he took her by her shoulders and pressed his mouth to hers. Her lips were soft, just like they had been in Nerverland, and her perfume was even stronger when he was this close. He had all of two seconds to bask in the feeling before she pushed him off her.

He expected to see a look of true love (or, more realistically, uncontrollable lust) but instead she looked- she looked-

Well, she looked pissed off, to say the least.

“What the hell was that?” she yelled at him. Her hair whipped around her face, which was lined with anger. He’d never seen her forehead pucker like that.

Without hesitation, he disappeared through the portal.

It continued much like that.

He’d either kiss her, and she’d push him away and shout (in some cases, obscene curses) at him, or he’d try and ask her to dinner, but he’d mess up his words. Sometimes he’d accidentally call her a wench again, or a slag, or another thing which didn’t mean the same in Storybrooke as it did in the Enchanted Forest.

So he knew it was time to come up with a different plan.

He didn’t need to be Killian. He needed to be Hook. Instead of kissing her outright, he needed to make her want to kiss him. And if there was anything he was truly talented at, it was the art of seduction.

The next time he made his way to her flat, he’d stepped into his alter ego. Killian Jones was abandoned at the bottom of the stairs. Killian wouldn’t mess it up for him this time. Hook would prevail.

She was alone that time. The Charmings had taken Henry out to the park for ice cream. He asked Emma if he could come in, because he had something incredibly important to discuss with her. To his utter amazement, she disappeared into her home, leaving the door wide open.

He sauntered into the room.

“So, what's so important you had to come all the way here for?” she asked, as she made her way into the middle of the room. She turned to face him, arms folded.

He closed the door behind him. “I’m not sure you could handle it,” he said slowly, looking at her through his hooded eyes.

She froze. “Huh.”

He took a slow step towards her. “It’s a… delicate situation.” Then another. And another. And another until he was only inches away from her. She didn’t move but became incredibly still, looking up at him. The light cast shadows under her eyelashes. He’d never noticed how incredibly long they were. “I want to talk.”

“Talk?”

“About us.”

“There is no us,” she said at once, but she averted her eyes to the floor.

“Oh Emma,” he began, lowering his voice just right. He found if he could get it at the right octave, it would become as smooth as honey. He’d used it on her at the beanstalk, to see if she’d flirt back with him, as many women have. Of course, she didn’t. But that was then. She didn’t even know him back then. This was now. “You can’t deny that we have a connection.”

“We don’t have-” But her voice faltered. She swallowed. Then, hardly a whisper, “A connection.”

He’d never seen her like that before. Usually she looked him straight in the eyes, feet planted firmly on the floor, arms crossed. But the way she moved her eyes away from his was almost shy. He knew he was treading dangerous water, but he had to know. He had to try.

“Emma,” he murmured. “Darling,” he purred. That made her blush. He’d never seen her blush before, not even when she spoke about being in love that one time. His stomach did that weird flippy thing again. He fought to remain composed. “I admit, I have been quite immoral-”

“A villain.”

“- in the past. But I believe that I can change.”

“I don’t believe you can change.” But her voice was soft, almost pleading.

“Is that why you’re going to let me kiss you?”

“I’m not going to let you kiss me,” she scoffed.

He pressed his lips gently to hers. This time instead of taking her by the shoulders, he took her into his arms, holding her with the softest of touches, as if she might break. She seemed to melt as he kissed her softly, tenderly.

It was everything he imagined it would be and so much more. It was embarrassing how many times he’d imagined this moment, how many times he’d played it over and over in his head. When he brought his hand up to her head, her hair was softer than he’d ever thought it would be. He hadn’t really took in the softness of her hair during their intimate moment in Neverland.

Neverland wasn’t like this. Neverland was passionate and quick. This was slow and sweet.

And the soft noise that she made when he pulled her closer still. God, he could get used to this. He’d never heard anything like that from her before, but he might die if he never heard it again. Yes! God bless Smee and that pod. He’d never say another bad thing about Smee again.

BANG.

The door flew open.

They jumped apart. Killian felt her leave like she’d been ripped from him. Embarrassingly, he reached for her but she was halfway across the room, not looking at him.

David stood in the doorway, his expression murderous.

“PIRATE,” he yelled.

Killian was already pulling the pod from his pocket.

…

“Have you ever been kissed by a pirate before?” Killian asked between feverish kisses.

“No,” Emma murmured against his lips. Her hands were in his hair, her fingers dragged along his head, making him feel like he was losing his mind. “But I thought you were-” Kiss. “-not real-” Kiss. “-a fairytale.”

“I assure you darling, I am very much real. Would you like me to prove it?”

“If you think- Oh God,” she gasped when he gently bit a particularly sensitive spot on her neck.

He couldn’t believe his luck. He’d been worrying about how he could ask her out and yet there she was, liquefying in his arms as he’d imagined so many times. He only dreamed he could have this effect on her. Yet, she seemed to respond to his every touch. It was a bloody miracle.

They shifted so they were lying down on the sofa, her hands still in his hair.

“How long have you felt this way?”

“Kiss now, talk later,” she rushed out. He pressed a kiss to her throat. He could do that forever; press kisses to her skin and wait for her to respond to them. It was the most glorious-

BANG.

“PIRATE.”

…

Killian knocked on the door a little too desperately and breathlessly, but God, he needed to get back to that place where she was under him and she was whispering things he never thought he’d hear her whisper.

“Hook?” she asked, when she opened the door.

“Use my God-given name.”

The look on her face was enough to find that pod again.

“This is just- it’s, uh-” He chuckled nervously, shaking his head. “I apologise for my stunted words, it’s just that I’ve never… done this before.” That much was true. He’d never asked Milah out. She’d practically begged him to come away on his ship.

He scratched the back of his head. “I just think you’re the most beautiful creature I have ever seen. I have never been so entranced in all my life. I am unaware of what spell you’ve cast over me, but I’m not sure I want it to end. I know that perhaps this may seem all too sudden, which is why I propose we go slow. I shall go at your pace. You cannot deny that we have a connection.”

Silence.

“Come on, love. It’s bad form to make a man wait like this. Please. Say something.”

David stepped into view, wearing a very confused expression on his face.

“I’m, uh, sorry Hook, but I’m a married man! And you’re- well, a pirate.”

Bloody hell.

The next time Killian made sure that he wouldn’t run into David. He avoided him at all costs. He actually liked his head where it was, and he wouldn’t be surprised if David took it clean off. Thank God for the pod, he thought as he skipped back up the stairs to Emma’s apartment. At least David wouldn’t remember their conversations, even if Killian knew he’d never forget them.

But he didn’t run into David. Or Emma, for that matter.

It was Mary Margaret who answered. She looked at him with her eyebrows raised, and it was so like Emma, he felt his heart pick up at the image. Or perhaps his heart was picking up because he knew she wasn’t too taken with him.

Alas, he couldn’t blame her. He was still struggling the whole villain-hero thing. Perhaps there was a group for that.

“Emma’s not here,” she said, with a small smile.

“Oh,” he said. “Right. I see.” He nodded.

“Why do I feel like we’ve done this before?” she asked with a thoughtful head tilt.

“We haven’t!” he said too quickly.

The time pod felt heavy in his pocket. He expected it to jump out and reveal him. Magic had always seemed alive somehow, like it had a mind of its own. Afterall, didn’t magic always come with a price? He wondered what his price was.

“Should I give her a message for you?”

“No, love. I suppose I’ll just find her.” He scratched behind his head. “Thank you anyway.”

He turned, his coat flapping behind him in the self-made breeze. He’d only just reached the top of the stairs when-

“Keep trying, Hook.”

He turned, forehead crinkling. “Sorry, what?”

“With Emma,” she said. Then she lowered her voice. “She’s not the type of person to kiss someone on a whim. Not someone she knows, at least. I think… something’s there. I’m not sure what, but there’s something. Between both of you, I mean.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking-”

“Oh, I think you do,” she said, with a sparkle in her eyes. “And… you’re not a villain anymore. Are you?”

“I-” He looked away, abashed. “I suppose I-” He shakes his head. “I’ve always been a Pirate.”

“We’ll see.”

Without any further explanation or comment, she closed the door. Hook was left to stand there, looking around, not really sure he believed his ears. Was this because he saved the prince’s life? Perhaps being a hero really did have it’s perks.

He found Emma stood outside Granny’s, a coffee in her gloved hands. She looked as beautiful as ever, with her hair rippling gently in the breeze. Her leather jacket was zipped up to her throat. She flipped her hair over her shoulder and surveyed the street around her with a calculating expression. His heart fluttered in his chest.

This time, he knew what he was going to say to her.

He was going to be honest with her. And if she said no, he was going to tell her he would fight for her. Until his dying breath.

He started walking towards her.

Henry got there first. She smiled and draped her arm around his shoulders, pulling him closer to her. Killian would have kept walking -afterall, he liked the boy- if it wasn’t for Baelfire. He seemed to come out of nowhere, walking straight for Emma. Her face lit up when she saw him.

The expression, which would have usually made him smile, pierced him. It was like he’d had the breath knocked out of him.

It was all too like that damn cave in Neverland. He had felt happy that Baelfire wasn’t dead. After what happened between them when he was a boy, he couldn’t deny he owed him something. Anything. And yet…

And yet, the selfish part of him ached to see his return. The way his arms curled around Emma in that cave, how he held her close and how she hugged him like she’d never be able to breathe if she let go. She had never held Killian like that.

Hell, she hadn’t even held Killian. She’d never smiled at him like she smiled at Baelfire. Watching them walk off together, he knew where her true affections laid.

Feeling ashamed, he drew the pod from his pocket. He held it in the palm of his hand for a moment. It was almost like he could feel its heart ticking away. Or was that his? He didn’t know. All he knew was that the pod was dangerous. It had to go.

With a heavy sigh, he threw it into the pavement. He watched as it bounced and rolled, eventually tumbling down the drain.

There. Now he would never be tempted to go after Emma again. He’d never be tempted to get back into that cycle of asking her to be his over and over and over. Not when he knew she was happy elsewhere.

Perhaps that was the price. Perhaps it was for the best.

Shaking his head, he turned around and headed back to his ship.

It wasn’t until years later, after the time portal, after Camelot and after the Underworld, when Emma was lying so soft and sweet in his arms, that Killian recounted the time pod and his antics to win her affections. He stroked his fingertips down her back, murmuring into her hair that when he saw her with Neal, he just ran.

He would never be worthy.

Of course, Emma told him that he was stupid. Of course he was worthy. Look at everything he’d done for her! Look at everything she’d done for him. They were worthy of each other. He’d suspected she’d say that.

But what he didn’t expect was her telling him that if he asked her out to dinner, as he’d planned, simple and plain, she would have said yes. She might have cancelled a few times, screamed at herself that he was a Pirate, but she would have said yes. Because deep in her heart of hearts, she knew.

Satisfied with that answer, Killian pulled her close.

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