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supernaturalscribe67 · 7 months

Text

Sucker

Words: 6,602

POV: 3rd Person

Pairing: Gabriel x Trans!FTM!Winchester!Reader

Warning(s): Fluff, Language (had to tell Dean to shut the fuck up a couple times), brotherly bickering

Summary: The reader is introduced to Gabriel, the famous trickster/archangel, for the first time, much to his brothers' dismay. What the reader didn't expect from their first meeting was to meet a rather handsome man with smooth talk to match. What happens when he starts to get feelings for the person that annoys Sam and Dean the most?

Request:

Do you write for Gabriel as well? If so, could you write something about maybe the reader being Dean and Sam's younger brother (the relationship was really cute in "aginst the grain" and "lucky", i'd also love ftm reader, but it's up to you if you want to make it specific or not) and Gabriel finally meets him, making the other two go kinda protective over that, it's Gabriel after all, he has messed with them a lot in the past. They'd probably go especially uneasy if Gabriel gets kinda flirty or if so does the reader.

Anonymous

A/N: Someone take my computer away from me. Once I start writing, I can't stop. This wasn't supposed to be that long but holy Hell, I guess it's this long. I hope I did your request justice and I hope I wrote Gabriel well! Feedback is greatly appreciated!

~ Much Love!

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(Y/N) loved having the first shower after a hunt.

The water was always hot, the perfect relaxer for his muscles that would undoubtedly ache the next day. Despite how long he had been hunting, certain aspects of the job made him feel like a rookie. Salt and burns were one example. That night, he had been tasked with helping Dean dig out the grave while Sam kept an eye out for security and any apparitions that would make a surprise appearance. For the first thirty minutes of digging the hole, he felt alive, like a rush of adrenaline was coursing through his veins. Perhaps the idea of committing a crime was to blame for that. Near the half-hour mark, he could feel the muscles in his arms beginning to strain, but the job had to be completed.

It took two hours to dig four feet to the coffin - he cursed the dry Southern weather for making the dirt so coarse - and by the end of it, his arms fell limp and weak at his sides. His legs felt some irritation from pushing the shovel into the ground, but they weren’t nearly as affected as his upper arms. He sent a silent prayer to whoever might be listening that the next hunt didn’t involve as much manual labor. If they did run into a ghost, he at least hoped the ghost held an attachment to an object that they could easily burn. Gravedigging was the last thing he wanted to think about.

He showered for forty-five minutes, longer than he had anticipated, but the water had placed him in an exhausted trance. Truth be told, he could have fallen asleep under the shower spray. He just hoped the cheap motel held enough warm water in their tanks for his brothers to experience some relaxation.

Motel towels were always scratchy on the surface of his skin. It was annoying, but there was some relief in knowing that the rough texture would guarantee a more thorough cleaning. Despite the cheap body wash he always snagged from the local dollar store, he never felt dirty leaving a motel bathroom. Once his body was dried, he put on his boxers and an oversized t-shirt, thankful for Walmart’s wide variety of sizes so he could conceal his chest. He placed both hands on either side of the sink, staring into the steam-covered mirror. He reached up, drew a small smiley face in the center of it, and watched as the eyes and mouth dripped. The warmth of the small room was comforting, and he was finding it difficult to leave.

A loud knock rapped on the door. “You gonna spend any more time in there? If I take a cold shower, I swear to God,” Dean’s voice came in muffled through the wooden door.

“I’m coming, I’m coming, don’t get your pretty silk panties in a twist,” he grumbled, and he could practically feel his brother’s eye roll through the door.

A sigh passed his lips as he looked at the smiley face he had drawn, which looked as if it had melted away in the hot sun. He reached a hand up and wiped the remnants of the picture away. As he retracted his hand, he could see his reflection in the opaque glass. Dark circles had begun to form under his eyes, a side effect from hunting. The endless, restless nights seemed to be getting to him and aged him more than he would have liked. He groaned as he straightened up, brought a hand up to his face, and ran his fingers over his eyes, nose, and cheeks.

When he opened his eyes again, instead of staring into a reflection that mirrored his presence, to his left, behind his shoulder, stood a man. Time froze. A playful smirk appeared on the man’s lips. He was short - compared to Sam and Dean, at least - with dark brown hair swept back neatly against his head. Stubble was placed along his jaw, chin, and upper lip. His sideburns were shaped with a slight point on the end of them, facing outward. He had a button-up shirt on, the top two buttons were undone to expose a small puff of his chest hair, and a dark green jacket.

(Y/N)’s eyes widened as he stared at the man in the mirror. The air became heavy. He could feel his presence behind him, but he wouldn’t dare turn around.

“So, you’re the famous baby Winchester?” The man raised a brow.

His voice startled (Y/N). He turned around quickly and came face to face with the stranger.

“I’m a little surprised,” the man scratched his head. “I would have thought that you would look, you know, more like your brothers.”

(Y/N) could feel his heart pounding in his chest as if it was trying to escape. The fear bubbled inside of his gut. He had no weapons on him, yet the man didn’t seem like a threat. Nonetheless, there was a strange man in the motel bathroom with him. One who just appeared out of thin air. That was cause enough for alarm. His eyes glanced towards the closed bathroom door.

The man looked at the door and then back at (Y/N). “Oh, please don’t scream.”

“Sam! Dean!” (Y/N) shouted as he rushed to the door.

The man groaned and rubbed his temples. In the same instant that (Y/N) got the door open, the man vanished. (Y/N) stumbled out of the bathroom and into his eldest brother’s arms. Dean staggered, his back pressed against the wall. Sam stood next to them, a look of worry crossing his face.

“What happened? What happened?” Dean asked with alarm in his voice.

“There’s a guy! He-he,” (Y/N) turned to look behind him, a hand lifted to point in the direction of the bathroom, but stopped himself from talking once he saw that the man was gone.

Dean looked into the bathroom, brows furrowed. He and Sam stepped away from (Y/N) and toward the open door. Dean glanced inside, checking behind the door and in the shower. Dean threw his hands up.

“What guy?” He asked. “There’s no guy here, you almost gave me a heart attack.” Dean placed his hand over his chest as he walked out of the bathroom.

“There was a guy! He just appeared behind me!” (Y/N) said.

“Are you sure, (Y/N)?” Sam asked, doing a sweep of the bathroom from the doorway. “It doesn’t look like anyone besides you has been in here. There aren’t any windows, so no one could have gotten in. Are you sure you’re not just tired?”

“I saw him!”

“Sure you did, kid,” Dean walked up to him and clapped his shoulder. “Maybe you should lay off the horror movies for a while.”

“Now, that’s not very nice, Dean-O. No need to tease him like that,” the voice appeared in the center of the room.

All heads turned toward the sound of the voice. The man, who had been in the bathroom with (Y/N), stood in the center of the room. The playful smirk that had been on his face earlier was ever-present. (Y/N) grabbed Dean’s arm and moved closer to him. He pointed frantically at the stranger.

“That’s him! He was in the bathroom!”

Sam furrowed his brows. “Gabriel?”

Gabriel raised his arms in a presentation-type pose. “The one and only.”

“What the Hell are you doing here?” Dean asked, his tone more irritated than anything.

“Gabriel? As in, the archangel Gabriel?” (Y/N) asked his tense shoulders slouching as his body relaxed.

“Again: the one and only,” Gabriel smiled. “And, to answer your question, Dean, a little birdy told me that you were in town, so I figured I would stop by, and see my favorite Winchesters. Heard the youngest was here, and I thought it was about time we met. Although, I heard that you had a younger sister. Must’ve been a mistake.”

“Yeah, that’s a mistake alright.” Dean placed his hands on his hips. “Alright, you came in, you saw us, now can you please leave?”

“Woah, woah, what happened to hospitality? Why don’t you introduce me to your brother, here?” Gabriel sauntered over towards the three of them.

“No, now get out.”

“Not until an introduction is made.”

“Gabriel, we just got off of a hunt. We need some rest, now can you please leave?” Sam crossed his arms.

“Come on, guys, it’ll get him out of here so we can go to sleep,” (Y/N) mumbled before he turned to Gabriel. He held out a hand. “(Y/N) Winchester,”

“(Y/N),” he said the name as if testing it on his tongue. He reached out, grasped (Y/N)’s hand gently in his own, brought it up to his lips, and gave a small kiss on the back of it. “Gabriel. Nice to finally meet you.”

(Y/N) raised his brows, his cheeks heating up with blush. Dean rolled his eyes and swatted Gabriel’s hand away from (Y/N).

“Alright, alright, none of that,” Dean grumbled, sending a death glare toward Gabriel. “You know his name, now get out.”

Gabriel ignored him, his eyes stuck on (Y/N). “So, (Y/N), aside from being good-looking, what do you do in your free time?”

Dean and Sam both groaned and rolled their eyes, shaking their heads. (Y/N) felt his chest warm up the same as his face. He glanced down and fiddled with his fingers. Gabriel licked his lips, the corner of his mouth curling up into a smirk.

“Cat got your tongue?” He questioned.

“Well, I’m trying to think of something to say, but all I can think about is how cute you are.”

Gabriel looked at him, amused shock crossing his face. He straightened up for a minute, but, before he could say anything, Dean held his hands up.

“That’s enough,” Dean interjected, glancing at (Y/N) and then at Gabriel. “Leave.”

“But I’m having such a nice conversation,”

“Gabriel,” Sam spoke up, moving between (Y/N) and Gabriel, towering over him. His voice was low, intimidating. “Go.”

Gabriel raised his hands in mock surrender. He snapped his fingers and disappeared in front of the brothers. “Okay, okay, I’ll leave,” Gabriel’s voice came from behind the trio.

They all turned around. Gabriel stood right before (Y/N), eyes attached to him. He reached behind his back for a brief moment and pulled it back around. In his hand was a red rose with a short stem, free of prickles. He held it out.

“A parting gift, for you.”

(Y/N) hesitantly took him, a small smile on his face. “Thank you,”

Gabriel shrugged. “I know it’s not as beautiful as you, but it’s the best I can do for now.”

“Gabriel,” Dean warned.

“I’m going, I’m going.” Gabriel shook his head. “I hope to see you again soon, sweetheart,” He pointed at (Y/N).

“We’ll see.”

Gabriel winked before he snapped his fingers and disappeared from the room.

The room was quiet aside from the faint humming of the cheap air conditioner. (Y/N) studied the rose that Gabriel had given him. It appeared freshly in bloom, the red petals curled at the ends, the floral scent evident even from a distance. The stem was slightly wet from being cut. (Y/N) brought the flower to his nose and inhaled the intoxicating smell as he turned around to face his brothers. When he looked up, he immediately noticed the ‘if looks could kill’ gaze in their eyes.

“What?” (Y/N) asked and shrugged.

“Really?” Sam asked.

“What?”

“You know,” Dean began. “I’ve stopped butting in when you flirt with someone at a bar, or when you want to take someone back to a motel. I’ve learned to shut my mouth. But Gabriel?”

“Geez, you two are acting like I’ve slept with him.” (Y/N) scoffed, brushing past them as he walked toward his bed.

“Ooo, all I can think about is how cute you are,” Dean mocked.

“Will you shut up!?”

“He’s an archangel, (Y/N).” Sam nodded. “And you see no problem with flirting with him?”

“What? I can’t flirt with who I want now? It’s not like he’s a bad guy…technically.”

Dean sighed. “He’s off limits, (Y/N).”

“I’m an adult, Dean! I can flirt with whoever I want.”

“Not an angel! I mean…come on. Don’t you remember what he did to us? To Sammy and me?”

“Look, Dean, I get it, trust me, but it was just some comments, okay? Like I said, it’s not like I hooked up with him or anything. He just flirted with me so I flirted back. Took a page out of my Dean Winchester book of flirting.” (Y/N) walked over to the bed and sat down on the side of it. “You don’t have to worry about him, okay? Now, why don’t you guys just take your showers so we can go to bed and head out in the morning.”

Dean opened his mouth to say something but stopped himself. He let out a huff as he turned to look at Sam. They stared at each other, but said nothing, as if they were talking to one another telepathically. Finally, Dean shook his head.

“Fine, but I get the next shower,” Dean mumbled as he sauntered over to the duffel bag that sat beside the queen-sized bed opposite (Y/N).

“Dean, I called the next shower,” Sam frowned.

“Too bad, can’t get next shower if I get there first,”

Sam glanced at the door to the bathroom, his duffel bag which sat at the table, and then Dean. Dean grabbed his night clothes from his bag and began to make his way over to the bathroom. Quickly, Sam rushed to the bathroom. Dean picked up his speed and the two of them wrestled in the doorway for a moment, mumbling to one another. Sam eventually pushed Dean out of the way and slammed the door shut, the cheap wood vibrating against the frame. Dean growled.

“How the Hell are you going to get out of there without your clothes, bitch?” He called through the door.

“I’ll figure it out, jerk,” Sam’s muffled voice replied.

Dean scoffed and rolled his eyes before he sauntered over to his bed and slouched on the edge of it. “Can you believe him?” He gestured to the door dramatically.

(Y/N) snorted. “I think you’re both idiots,” he reached down and pulled the comforter away from his body, pushing his legs underneath. “Now hush while I get some sleep.”

“Yeah, yeah, goodnight,” Dean grumbled.

“Goodnight, Dean,”

*~*

The rumble of the Impala’s engine was silenced over the deafening sound of Led Zeppelin’s “Stairway to Heaven”. Dean sang in an off-key tune as he drove, Sam tried to ignore him in the passenger’s seat, and (Y/N) blocked everything out, deep in thought as he leaned against the back passenger’s window. He was staring off into the distance, at the long line of trees and bushes they passed, but none of it registered. His mind was elsewhere.

He was thinking about Gabriel.

It had been a week since their interaction, and, for the life of him, he couldn’t keep the angel out of his mind. He never had someone who showed as much interest in him as Gabriel, and (Y/N) hadn’t lied. Gabriel was pretty cute. Was it the way the smirk seemed permanently etched on his lips? Perhaps the way his flirtatious remarks flowed out as smoothly as they did. Maybe it was in the look in his eye when he asked to see him again.

Regardless, there seemed to be nothing that could take Gabriel off of his mind.

“(Y/N)!” Dean’s boisterous voice echoed through the car.

(Y/N) jerked his head up to look at his brother in the rearview mirror. He hadn’t even noticed the music had been turned down, now softly playing in the background.

“What?”

“Man, I’ve called your name about ten times. You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, sorry, just…thinking.”

“Yeah, I know that takes a lot out of you.”

“Shut the fuck up,” (Y/N) scrunched his nose as he reached over and lightly kicked the back of Dean’s seat.

“Hey! Be nice to Baby! She didn’t do anything to you.”

“Yeah, well, she was caught in the crossfire.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Anyway, Sam’s pretty sure we have another ghost case.”

(Y/N) groaned. “Another one?”

“Yeah, just a simple salt and burn.” Sam shrugged his shoulders. “Apparently this young couple, who just bought their house, has been reporting paranormal activity at their place. The husband’s mother even came to stay with them for a little while and, while she was there, she claimed that someone pushed her down the stairs when she was going to do laundry in the basement.”

“So? Her son tried to kill her to get the life insurance money. Doesn’t sound like a ghost hunt to me.” (Y/N) said.

“Husband was at work, and so was the wife. They even have alibis and security footage to prove it.”

“Okay, so then the mother’s old and cryptic and just fell down the stairs. Old people fall down the stairs every day, that’s why Life Alert was invented.”

“She’s forty-two.”

“Jesus, how old is her son?”

“Twenty-one. His wife is twenty. High-school sweethearts according to what the newspaper says.”

“Gross.” There was a pause. “I still don’t think it sounds like our thing. Maybe we should check something else out.”

“You’re not getting out of the salt and burn, (Y/N).”

(Y/N) groaned and leaned back in his seat, arms crossed lazily over his chest. “Fine! But I’m not doing the digging. I’ll be on guard duty.”

“No,” Dean said. “I’m going to be on guard duty this time.”

“Why?” He whined childishly.

“Because I helped dig the grave the last two times. We take shifts, remember?”

(Y/N) shook his head. He placed his elbow on the window sill and put his cheek into the palm of his right hand. His forehead leaned against the glass.

He thought back to Gabriel. The carefree attitude he seemed to have, even with the intimidating act that his brothers put on. He was an archangel, of course. Thinking about it, (Y/N) knew that Gabriel could do anything with them - he had proven that when he forced Sam and Dean into the TV universe - yet he did nothing of the sort, even when Dean had slapped his hand away from (Y/N). He seemed like a good person - angel? - and (Y/N) would be lying if he said he didn’t want to see him again. He knew that if anyone could lighten his mood from the sour situation they were driving to, it would be Gabriel.

An arm slowly snaked its way around (Y/N)’s shoulders. He jumped, eyes wide as he turned his head to the side. Sitting next to him, in the back of the Impala, was Gabriel, the same smirk on his face that was present the first night they met.

“Heard someone needed some company,” Gabriel said.

Dean visibly jerked, his hand turning the wheel of the car violently. The Impala lurched to the side, into the oncoming lane, before he corrected himself and straightened the car out. Everyone shifted in their seats with the movement. Dean slammed on the brakes, the rubber screeching against the road as the car halted. Dean and Sam’s heads whipped around, their eyes wide with surprise. Gabriel was leaning back against the leather seats, legs slightly spread, one arm around (Y/N)’s shoulders while the other rested at his side. (Y/N) could feel his heart pounding in his chest from a mixture of the sudden movement of the car and Gabriel’s touch.

“Woah, Dean-O. Gotta be careful. You’re lucky there’s no traffic,” Gabriel chuckled.

“What the Hell are you doing here?” Dean asked, jaw clenched and eyes narrowed.

“A little birdy told me he was lonely. A little stressed,” Gabriel turned his head to look at (Y/N). He leaned closer to him. “Miss me already?”

Dean and Sam’s eyes shifted to their brother. (Y/N) felt the familiar heat appear in his cheeks and spread to his ears. Sam furrowed his brows.

“You prayed to him?” He asked.

“N-No! I didn’t!” (Y/N) defended.

“Wrong,” Gabriel hummed. “You know, every time you say my name in that pretty little head of yours, it comes straight to me,” Gabriel reached over and tapped on (Y/N)’s temple gently. “My prayer line has been buzzing nonstop since I last saw you.”

(Y/N)’s cheeks darkened even more. Gabriel had practically outed him to his brothers, completely contradicting what he had told them back at the motel. That they didn’t need to worry about him. That the flirty comments he made was a natural response. Now his brothers know that Gabriel had been on his mind. Now they knew that they had something to worry about.

Dean’s mouth opened and closed, but no words came out. Eventually, he stopped, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath, undoubtedly trying to clear his mind. When he opened his eyes, he pointed at his brother.

“You. We’ll talk later.” He turned to Gabriel. “You. Get out.”

“Aw, come on, Dean, let me ride for a little bit. Make your brother feel better,” Gabriel rubbed (Y/N)’s arm.

Dean narrowed his eyes. “No. Get out.” His voice was deep, dark.

Gabriel scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Fine. I’ll go. Again.”

“Good,” Dean turned around eyes back to the empty road in front of him. His hands returned to the wheel, clenched tight enough to make his knuckles a ghostly white.

Gabriel glanced at (Y/N) with an apologetic expression before he reached into his pocket. He pulled out his clenched hand and held it towards him. As he opened his hand, (Y/N) could see a small candy heart in the middle of it, colored pink. In the center of the heart Be Mine was printed.

“Another parting gift. A sweetheart for a sweetheart.” Gabriel smirked.

(Y/N) smiled and took the heart. “Thank you.”

“Anything for you, sugar.”

“Leave Gabriel,” Dean bellowed.

“I’m going, I’m going.” He grumbled. He looked back at (Y/N) and winked. “I’ll see you later.”

He snapped and, once more, he was gone.

(Y/N) glanced down towards the candy. It was one of those cheap candies that you got from Walmart when you wanted to give something out to your classmates for Valentine’s Day. Despite the cheap appearance, the message on it was worth more than anything. It validated any emotions that he had for Gabriel. The mere idea that Gabriel felt the same way as he did made his heart soar, the butterflies swarming inside of his stomach. With a small smile, he closed his hand around the heart and placed his hand in his lap.

It was then that he noticed they hadn’t resumed their drive yet. He looked in the front seat to see both of his brothers staring at them, unamused expressions on their faces. The smile (Y/N) had turned into an awkward grin, his shoulders tensed. Sam and Dean looked at one another and conversed in that telepathic communication that they always do before they wordlessly turned back to the road. Dean glanced one more time in the rear-view mirror, shook his head, and then started down the road again.

(Y/N)’s shoulders slumped and he turned to the window. He placed his elbow on the window sill and his cheek in the palm of his hand.

It was going to be a long night.

*~*

I fucking hate ghosts.

His muscles hurt worse than last time. If he didn’t know any better, he would say his arms felt as if they were going to fall off. His calves ached a bit, but not nearly as bad as his biceps.

The hunt took longer than expected - most of the graves in the cemetery they had gone to were unmarked, souls long since forgotten by the people who had buried them. The records in the cemetery’s office weren’t much help, either. The three of them spent two hours trying to find the grave that belonged to the ghost, two more hours digging up the plot with major pushback from the spirit, and an extra hour attempting to leave the cemetery without getting caught - apparently, grave robbers were a common occurrence in that small Maryland town.

Even the morning after, (Y/N)’s entire body ached and was stiff. It felt like every part of him had been put through a meat grinder. When he moved, his muscles tensed and burned as if he were on the surface of a thousand suns. His brothers felt bad for him, in a way. They could see how hurt he was and decided to let him rest while they went out to get some breakfast, some greasy diner food that all of them, even Sam, desperately needed.

As (Y/N) lay in his bed, still clad in his sleepwear from the night before, to ignore the aches and pain, his mind shifted to a familiar thought; Gabriel.

The same thoughts that had been invading his mind for the past two weeks entered his head seamlessly. The thoughts of Gabriel’s words, his flirtatious tone, the way his hair was swept back, the way the corner of his lips curled into a smirk whenever he would look at him, and the glimmer that danced in his irises. While Gabriel took up most of his mind, another thing that (Y/N) couldn’t get out of his mind was Sam and Dean. He thought about their disapproving gazes, the irritation in their tone as they talked to or about Gabriel, and the shake of their heads when Gabriel finally vanished.

His brothers weren’t shy when it came to their objections. When they had gotten into town for the hunt, Sam and Dean made sure to speak out about the situation. (Y/N) felt as if he was a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Dean was the one that was mostly vocal with Sam taking a back seat and butting in now and then. While (Y/N) could appreciate that his brothers were looking out for him, he stood strong on the fact that he was an adult. He could make his own decisions. Gabriel was an angel. It wasn’t as if he was flirting with a demon. He knew his brothers would have a conniption if it was Crowley instead of Gabriel. Still, (Y/N) was their little brother. He had a feeling that they were going to be protective no matter who he showed interest in.

That wouldn’t stop him from trying to pursue Gabriel, though.

In the two instances they met, Sam and Dean had been in the room with them when they talked, leaving little to no time for them to have an actual conversation or get to know one another. Granted, Gabriel must know more about him than anything, considering the lack of privacy he had in his head. That only gave him more of an incentive to learn everything he could about the archangel.

He had to talk to Gabriel alone.

(Y/N) had never prayed before. He always left his brothers to the praying when they needed Castiel involved. It was a new experience, and he didn’t even know how to start.

Slowly, (Y/N) adjusted himself on the bed so that his back was pressed against the wooden headboard. He placed his hands in his lap, slightly folded.

“Um…Gabriel…” he trailed as he tried to think of how he could continue. “Uh…it’s me. (Y/N). I think we need to talk.”

“You know, the last time someone said that to me, it didn’t end well,” Gabriel’s voice came from in front of him, near the end of the bed.

(Y/N) let out an audible gasp, startled. His throbbing muscles tensed for a moment before they relaxed, a shot of pain coursing through his body.

“Jesus, we need to put a bell on you angels,” (Y/N) mumbled.

“I’ve been thinking about that. Do you think it’ll look good on me?” Gabriel pursed his lips and dramatically posed.

(Y/N) snorted and shook his head as he chuckled. Gabriel joined him and walked over to the bed, sitting down. The bed dipped.

“I can see your bodyguards aren’t here.”

“Yeah, they went out to get some breakfast a bit ago.”

“Well, that’s good. Now I can talk to you without getting kicked out. What did you want to talk about anyway?”

“Well-”

“My handsome good looks?” Gabriel smirked.

“Uh-”

“How about my smooth talking?”

“Gabriel-”

“What about the way you get butterflies in your stomach when you’re near me?” Gabriel placed a hand on the bed and leaned closer to him.

(Y/N) could feel his cheeks heat up once again. The butterflies Gabriel referenced swarmed. He looked away for a moment before his eyes shifted down towards his hands in his lap.

“Gabriel.”

“Yes?”

“Do you like me?” He moved his eyes to him.

Gabriel seemed surprised by the question at first, straightening himself up.

“I mean…” (Y/N) paused, attempting to collect his thoughts. “You flirted with me back at the other motel, you had your arm wrapped around me in the car, you’ve been listening to my thoughts, er, prayers, I guess. Is this just…a flirty little thing that you like to do or…are you really interested in me?”

“Of course I am,” Gabriel shrugged. “I mean, you don’t see me flirting with your brothers, do you?”

“No.”

“Casual flirting isn’t normally my thing. When I flirt with someone, I really, really like them, and I really, really like you.” His voice was deep and smooth like velvet.

(Y/N) smiled, his eyes never leaving Gabriel’s face, despite the bashful need to do so. “Well, I hope it helps that I really, really like you, too.”

“Oh, trust me, I can tell,”

(Y/N) rolled his eyes. “Are you going to kiss me or not?”

Gabriel chuckled as he reached over, his hand gently caressing his cheek. Their lips connected without another comment. (Y/N) closed his eyes and, almost immediately, melted into the kiss. He could feel a warm, tingling sensation course through his body, touching down his arms, torso, and legs. Their lips moved in sync. (Y/N) raised his hands, his fingers entangled in Gabriel’s silky hair.

(Y/N) pulled away before he wanted to, the need for air overwhelming. He stared deep into Gabriel’s whiskey eyes. It didn’t take long before that smirk reappeared. (Y/N)’s thumb gently brushed over Gabriel’s scruff.

“Your kiss is even sweeter than you are,” (Y/N) spoke in a soft tone.

“Oh, please, nothing is sweeter than me,”

(Y/N) chuckled. “Kiss me again.”

“With pleasure.”

Gabriel leaned in and kissed him once more. He moved onto the bed so that his legs were on either side of (Y/N)’s body and he hovered over him. (Y/N) took the time to wrap his arms around Gabriel’s neck gently. They tilted their heads to the side, deepening the kiss.

(Y/N) had his fair share of kisses before, a handful of them drunken mishaps at various bars across the country, but never like the one he had with Gabriel. There was something special about it. Something that made him melt into the bed. That attracted him further to Gabriel. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but he wasn’t going to fight it.

Although, someone might.

The door to the motel room opened. The stench of cheap breakfast food wafted into the small space as Sam and Dean entered. They froze for a moment, eyes wide in shock at what they had walked in on. It didn’t take long for them to break the trance.

“Hey!” Dean shouted as he rushed over to the two of them.

Just as they broke the kiss, Dean grabbed the back of Gabriel’s shirt, pulled him off of the bed, and pinned him against the wall. The cheap lights flickered at the force of the impact.

“Dean!” (Y/N) exclaimed as he quickly stood from the bed.

Before he could pull his brother away, Sam grabbed him by the arm, pulled him close, and wrapped his arms around him protectively.

“What did I tell you about leaving my brother alone, huh?” Dean slammed Gabriel against the wall again, though he seemed completely unphased by it.

“Now, Dean, if you haven’t noticed, your brother is more than capable of making his own choices.” Gabriel’s voice was calm, almost playful.

“Yeah, with humans. Not with you.”

“Now what have I ever done to you, Dean?”

“What have you done?” Dean let out a dry laugh. “What have you done?”

“Dean! Stop! You’re gonna get the fucking cops called on us!” (Y/N) hissed between clenched teeth.

“And you!” Dean let go of Gabriel’s shirt and turned around to face (Y/N). “What happened to ‘oh, you don’t have to worry about anything, Dean, it was just for fun’,” he mocked (Y/N)’s voice harshly. “And then Sam and I come in and see you sucking face with an archangel!?”

“First of all,” (Y/N) wiggled his arms out from Sam’s grasp. “Get off me,” he mumbled and pushed firmly on Sam’s chest. Sam’s feet were firmly planted, but he removed his arms from around his brother. (Y/N) backed up a couple of steps and brushed his shirt off. “I told you, Dean, I’m an adult and I can make your own decisions! And who the Hell says ‘sucking face’ anymore, anyway? What is this? 1980?”

“The point is, you told us you weren’t going to do anything and here you are…doing something!” Dean pointed an accusing finger at him.

“Dean’s right, (Y/N),” Sam shook his head. “You know, we support you in everything that you do, but Gabriel?”

“Hey, I take offense to that,” Gabriel appeared behind (Y/N).

“Good, I hope you do,” Dean said.

(Y/N) groaned. “You guys are acting like you walked in on me having sex with him or something! It was a kiss!”

“His tongue was in your mouth, (Y/N),” Dean spoke with a hint of disgust.

“Shut the fuck up, Dean!”

“Alright, alright, hey,” Sam held up his hands. “Look. All we want to do is look out for you, okay? It’s our job to protect you.”

“And I want you guys to keep protecting me,” (Y/N)’s shoulders slouched. “I’m not saying I don’t want you to. I like Gabriel, okay? I really do. And it’s not just some hook-up in-a-bar kind of feeling. It’s feelings-feelings. You know? The things we never talk about? I can’t explain it, but I feel…a connection to him. Like Dean feels with Castiel.”

“Woah, woah, hold on. I don’t feel that way with Cas.”

“Dean, we all know you do,” Gabriel spoke up, shaking his head.

Dean clenched his jaw. “I don’t wanna hear another word out of you.”

“Look,” Gabriel began. “I’d never do anything to hurt your brother. I know I haven’t been the, well, nicest with you two. But I like (Y/N),” Gabriel shrugged. “I’d like to get to know him more, and I know that he would like to do the same.”

Sam and Dean stared at Gabriel, their eyes piercing. They never blinked, as if studying him. Sam leaned over to Dean.

“Dean, I think he’s telling the truth,” Sam spoke in a low voice.

Dean looked at Sam with furrowed brows. “Really?” His tone was defensive. “How do you know he’s not lying?”

“Dean, (Y/N) is right about the fact that he’s an adult, okay? Maybe we should just…take a backseat on this?”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“I hate this just as much as you do, Dean, but you know that even if we disagree with is, (Y/N) is just going to find a way to see him anyway.”

“Not if we handcuff him to one of us,” Dean mumbled.

“I’m right here,” (Y/N) crossed his arms.

“The point is,” Sam said. “If Gabriel is serious, what better person besides us to protect him than an archangel? I mean, we have Cas, yes, but Cas isn’t an archangel.”

Dean opened his mouth to say something but was having a hard time coming up with an argument to shoot back at his brother’s statement. Instead, he sighed as he reached a hand up and ran it down his face. He could feel a headache coming on. Silence flooded the room as the four of them stood there.

“Fine,” Dean grumbled. “I won’t say anything about Gabriel coming around. But I don’t wanna walk in on anymore face sucking.”

“No face sucking or any other kind of sucking while sharing a room, got it.” (Y/N) smiled.

Dean shot him a look of disgust before he turned to Gabriel. “And you. If you hurt him-”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Fire and brimstone and pitchforks and torches. You’ll have the whole Winchester Army after me,” Gabriel waved his hands around dramatically. “I get it. You have my word that I will never hurt your brother.”

“Alright, now get out of here before I change my mind.”

“I won’t fight you on that,” Gabriel turned to (Y/N). He reached down, grabbed his hand, and placed a small kiss on his knuckles. “I’ll see you later, sugarplum.”

(Y/N) snorted. “See you later, Casanova.”

Gabriel winked before he snapped his fingers and vanished.

With a smile still on his face, (Y/N) turned to his brothers. “Thank you guys, really.”

“Well, we trust you, (Y/N),” Sam said. “We don’t trust him, but we trust you. And we trust that, if anything were to happen, you would come to us if you need help.”

“Of course I will. You’re my brothers. I make a mess, you guys clean it up.”

“You know, I’m pretty sure you’ll be the reason why I get gray hairs early in life,” Dean mumbled as he sauntered over to the small table near the motel door, opening the bag of breakfast food which was probably cold by then.

(Y/N) furrowed his brows as he walked over to him. “Oh, you mean, these gray hairs?” He reached up and brushed the back of his brother’s hairline, finger gliding through the sandy blonde hair.

Dean reached back quickly and cupped the back of his head. “What!?” He exclaimed.

Sam snorted and (Y/N) let out a boisterous laugh. Dean’s jaw clenched as he lowered his hand to his side.

“Ha-ha, very funny.”

“I thought so, old man.”

“You better watch it, bitch,”

“Aw, I love you, too, Dean,” (Y/N) wrapped a single arm loosely around Dean’s middle. He then motioned Sam over. When Sam was close enough, (Y/N) wrapped his other arm around him. “And I love you, Sammy.”

“Love you, too, (Y/N),” Sam smiled and returned the hug.

Dean looked down at his brother and mumbled something under his breath before he patted him on the back. “Yeah, yeah, love you too, kid.”

“I couldn’t ask for better brothers than you.”

…

“Alright, enough of the chick-flick moments. Let’s eat.”

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mimisempai · 9 months

Text

Finding a new purpose

Summary

It was one of those days.

Crowley just wanted to sleep and do nothing.

But the appearance of a little bee might just help him find new meaning in his life. Even if it starts with something as simple as explaining how to make tea.

Notes

I'm not familiar with depression. But with the help of a friend who guided me through it, I could made my way to through this story.

On Ao3

Rating G - 1905 words

Crowley felt a gentle pressure on his cheek, followed by Aziraphale's voice softly in his ear, "Crowley, my dear, I must get up. I promised Maggie I'd meet her at 9:00 to discuss ways to make the record store thrive."

Crowley mumbled, "I thought you had an arrangement."

He felt the angel's hand stroke his hair as he replied quietly, "It remains unchanged, but poor Maggie needs to be able to earn enough to live on, too."

"Mmmh."

Aziraphale asked him gently, "Do you have any plans today?"

Crowley turned his head to Aziraphale and sheepishly replied, "No, I... I don't feel like doing anything. I think I'll go back to sleep. I'm sor..."

Aziraphale put a finger to his mouth and shook his head, "Hey, don't be sorry. It's one of those days, and it's fine. Rome wasn't built in a day, we both know that."

Crowley replied, "You're too good to me."

Aziraphale leaned toward him, "Not at all. I want you to get better, and you'll only get better if you give yourself time and don't try to force things. One step at a time."

"'Kay..."

Aziraphalel pressed a kiss to the demon's forehead, tucked him in, and planted a final kiss on his cheek before saying softly, "I'll be back in two hours." Then he rose and walked down the stairs. Crowley listened to the sounds until the tinkling of the shop door told him the Angel had gone out.

So he snuggled down a bit more under the covers and slid over to the side of Aziraphale's bed, burying his face in the still-warm pillow, which was also impregnated with the angel's scent.

He tried to fall back asleep, but he couldn't stop certain thoughts from running through his mind.

Aziraphale looked happy, thriving in his life, now independent.

He no longer needed Crowley.

He'd protected his friends, defeated a demon army, stood up to Metatron. Without Crowley.

He no longer needed Crowley.

But what was Crowley's purpose now?

No more apocalypse.

No more angel to save from himself and others.

What was he good for?

What if Aziraphale grew tired of him?

He was patient with him.

But even an angel's patience could run out, couldn't it?

And he no longer needed Crowley.

Despite all these thoughts, the demon finally fell asleep, only to wake up a few moments later to a noise downstairs in the shop. He looked at the wall clock and realized that it had only been a few minutes since he had fallen asleep, so it couldn't be Aziraphale who was already back. Sighing, he got up, dressed quickly, and walked down the stairs in silence. He heard the same noise again, and it seemed to be coming from the back of the shop, so he went there.

There, to his surprise, Muriel was staring in confusion at an empty cup, the kettle, and the tea box.

They murmured, "A cupperty, a cupperty."

The demon could not suppress a small, amused smile and asked, "How about a hand, little bee?"

Muriel gasped and turned to him, "Oh, Mister Grump- Crowley. I didn't know you were here and I..."

He held up his hand, "Calm down. You have every right to be here and have a 'Cupperty'. So I repeat, do you need help?"

Muriel sighed with relief and sheepishly confessed, "I have no idea how to do this, it's usually Aziraphale who makes me tea."

"Okay, little bee. So tell me what you want. You have a choice. I'll make you tea or I'll show you how to make it and you won't have to depend on anyone else. Your choice. No judgment."

Muriel nodded eagerly, "Show me how."

Crowley nodded. He had no doubt what their answer would be if he was honest with himself.

So he gently showed them how to use the kettle, how to make tea, and a few minutes later they were both sitting at the round table in the back of the shop, enjoying a cup of tea for Muriel and a cup of coffee for Crowley.

Muriel inhaled the smell of their still too hot tea with delight and said to Crowley with a smile, "Thank you for helping me. You're a really nice person."

Crowley was about to open his mouth and protest as usual, but something in the angel's demeanor stopped him. Probably because they exuded this aura of innocence and he didn't want them to lose it too quickly.

He simply nodded in acceptance of the gratitude and praise. It was strange, but not as uncomfortable as he'd thought.

Muriel continued, "I am grateful to you and Aziraphale."

Because... for the first time in millennia I don't feel like a nobody. I mean, there's you two, Maggie, Nina, everybody's nice to me. Nobody talks down to me."

Crowley thought back to the moment he'd accompanied Muriel to heaven, to their oh-so-isolated desk. And of course, he couldn't help but think of how Aziraphale had been treated.

"I don't want to go back up there."

Muriel's sentence snapped Crowley out of his thoughts and he immediately replied, "And you're not going back. Whether it's me or Aziraphale, we'll fight for it if we have to, and more than that, just like with the kettle, I can teach you to defend yourself. But whatever happens, my little bee, we'll protect you."

Muriel nodded and took a sip of tea, "Hm... this human drink is absolutely delicious."

Crowley, now with a mocking expression on his face, said, "For starters, you need to stop putting 'human' everywhere. It's the best way to show that you're weird. Not that you're not."

He snorted slightly.

Muriel, not offended, replied, "I'm glad to see you're doing better than when you came down. I mean, you're still grumpy, but you don't look sad."

Crowley replied, "Sassy and sharp, huh? That's good, it'll help you."

They were right, he was feeling a little better. While he had originally planned to stay in bed all day, he didn't feel like it now. He still didn't really know what to do with himself, but he didn't feel like doing nothing either.

"Do you need help?"

"We'll protect you."

To have a purpose.

Big or small.

"Oh, you're both here?"

Aziraphale's voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

He saw the flash of surprise in Aziraphale's eyes before he leaned over and planted a light kiss on his cheek.

Muriel emptied their cup and stood up, "I stopped by to borrow a book and Crowley helped me make some tea."

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow at Crowley as Muriel continued, "And now I'm off."

As they left, Aziraphale sat down next to Crowley and asked gently, "Are you all right?"

Crowley nodded, "Better."

Aziraphale asked no more questions, went to make himself a cup of tea and returned to sit across from Crowley with his cup

Crowley took a sip of coffee and said, "I... I think I'm starting to realize something. In my darkest moments, what kept me going was you. Knowing that you needed me. But ever since we averted the apocalypse, it's like you've soared, become independent. And believe me, it makes me happy to see you thrive, it really does. But it made me realize that you don't need me anymore. I had made you my sole purpose, you had nothing to do with it, and that's been taken away from me. So why get up in the morning? What is my purpose? These questions went around and around in my head. This morning again. Until a few moments ago. And just now, something as trivial as showing Muriel how to make tea gave me the beginnings of a sense of purpose. That I might still have something to offer."

Aziraphale had listened carefully, and when Crowley had finished, he pulled his chair closer and took his hands.

"You say I had nothing to do with it, but I'm still sorry you feel that way. And I want to make one thing clear to you. I still need you. Not to save me. Not to help me. I just need you. In my life. Not because you can give me anything, but just because you're you. Just you. And yes, you have a lot to offer, I always knew that, you've given me so much from the beginning and I'm glad you're starting to see that for yourself. But know that my love for you, my need for you, will never depend on what you have or don't have to offer."

"Thank you for helping me. You're a really nice person."

Maybe it was starting there.

Crowley said quietly, "I know it's just a start, a very small start, but it's there."

Aziraphale leaned over him and said gently, "That makes me very happy for you. And I hope I don't sound too condescending, but I'm proud of you. Really."

Crowley simply said, "Thank you."

After a few moments of silence, Crowley said in a serious tone, "We have to protect them, no matter what."

"Who? Muriel?"

Crowley nodded and told the angel about his conversation with Muriel.

"You see, I saw their 'desk' up there. Mostly I saw their loneliness. I saw how they were treated. To the point where they saw it as a miracle that Metatron needed them when you and I both know that they would have been just a pawn on his chessboard. I want to help them to know their own worth, to be able to stand up for themself, I-what, angel?"

Aziraphale looked at him and smiled fondly, "It's good to see you all fired up about something. And I think you're just the right person for it. I seem to remember an angel you helped in much the same way. That angel took a while to open his eyes, but that didn't stop you from persisting."

Crowley chuckled, "Well, he was a bit of a pain in the ass at times, but..."

"Crowley!"

"But also incredibly lovable. I had no choice."

Aziraphale chuckled softly, "Idiot."

He reached up and gently stroked the demon's cheek and asked solicitously, "Are you sure you're all right, my dear?"

Crowley nodded and replied quietly, "I think so, yes. Anyway, I'm on the way to."

Aziraphale looked at him in silence for a few moments, then asked, "What do you want to do today? I decree the store is closed today."

Crowley chuckled before replying, "Well... we could go to the park, feed the ducks, and then finish off with brunch at the Ritz."

Aziraphale, whose eyes had brightened at the mention of brunch at the Ritz, replied enthusiastically, "I like that program. But first..."

Crowley raised a questioning eyebrow, "But first...?"

Aziraphale opened his arms and said quietly, "Time for some love."

Crowley laughed lightly, but nonetheless went to snuggle up to his angel, who closed his arms around him.

There, in the comfort of the arms of the one he loved, Crowley began to feel a weight he did not know he carried lift from his shoulders.

There was no doubt that the road was long and had only just begun.

There would be detours and setbacks.

But he knew there would always be someone to help him find his way back.

All he had to do was keep moving forward and never let go of his hand.

_________

Still not beta'd

Still not my native language

Still hoping you'll enjoy this story 🥰

Still thanking you for bearing with me 😝

Ineffable Growing Love series : here (After season 2)

Ineffable Husbands masterlist : here (Before season 2)

#good omens #aziracrow #ineffable husbands #ineffable boyfriends #aziraphale #crowley #good omens fanfiction #aziraphale x crowley #crowley x aziraphale #GOS2Spoilers #muriel good omens

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animasola86 · 2 months

Text

A BLESSING AND A CURSE: Making out in the Undercroft

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!mc Genre: Fluff/Hurt/Comfort // Words: 3.2k

Context: Sebastian had his eyes on the new student from the very beginning. After two tumultuous days full of adventures and slowly getting to know her (and her body), they end up in the Undercroft and things might get a little more heated than before. (But only a little, for the smut version of this prompt, go read A Night in the Undercroft.)

Warnings: Mentions of physical abuse and bullying aka how Nebbia got her scar.

Excerpt from Chapter 8:

He must have fallen asleep somehow, because when he suddenly felt something brush against the back of his head, he flinched badly, his whole body shaking awake with a jerk. He spun around and met two wide green eyes and a hand hanging mid-air, fingers outstretched. For a moment they stared at each other a little awkwardly, then he smirked at her and straightened up, leaning his elbow on the couch beside her, his fingers slipping encouragingly between hers.

“What happened?” was her first question as she shifted slightly on the couch, before her eyes moved past him and around the vast room. “And where are we?”

“This is a very secret place called the Undercroft,” he told her quietly. She listened with interest as he went on telling her about how he used to spend hours in here with Anne and Ominis, yet from the thick dust layers all around them she could probably tell that it had been a long while since that had happened. He didn't dwell on that and simply declared this place a refuge from angry adults and annoying ghosts. “And I brought you here after you fainted...”

“I fainted?” she whispered and slightly tugged at his hand. “Oh...”

“How do you feel now?” he asked and raised his free hand to gently move the back of his finger against her cheek, noticing that her skin felt much warmer.

“Better...” she mumbled and leaned back into the cushions, her eyes wandering away for a moment. “Must have been all too much today...” When she looked back at him, she furrowed her eyebrows slightly. “I'm sorry I got us both detention,” she then added and chewed on her bottom lip nervously. “I thought I could... turn things around...”

“It's okay,” he replied with a warm smile, his thumb moving over her palm in soft circles. “Perhaps I should have warned you about Madam Scribner...”

She gave him a strangled chuckle. “That woman was really scary...” she muttered under her breath and looked down at their joined hands. “Perhaps worse than that poltergeist...”

He exhaled a laugh. “Oh yes, she knows how to protect her precious books,” he said with a shake of his head and a rolling of his eyes. “But don't worry too much about it. What's a little detention, right? At least we can spend it together...” he added quietly and watched her closely.

She blushed slightly as she looked at him. A tiny smile broke from her lips, and he found himself staring at her mouth again. For a moment he just looked at her, lost in thoughts he tried to suppress once more. When she squeezed his hand, he almost flinched and blinked quickly.

“Do you... uh... want me to take you back to your common room?” he then asked abruptly, tempted to lean away and let go of her hand when all he could focus on was her tiny frame lying right in front of him, so close, so warm, so inviting.

She shook her head. “I'd rather... stay here, if that's okay,” she whispered. “My roommates were a little cross with me for sneaking in late yesterday...” she added under her breath.

He looked at her with a frown. “You're welcome to stay here as long as you like,” he replied with a small smile before he pursed his lips and threw a glance through the vast room towards the metal gate. “I might have to talk to Ominis,” he muttered quietly, more to himself, before he noticed Nebbia's interested gaze. “He was the one who discovered this room, you know? It's his secret place and I'm not supposed to share it with others...”

“I won't tell anyone,” she said with earnest, tightening the grip of her fingers around his. “I promise. I mean, I don't know anyone I could tell to begin with, but no matter, I will not tell anyone, I swear!”

Sebastian smirked at her, though her words left him a little conflicted. He still felt responsible for taking up most of her time, though he really enjoyed it as well, and having her all to himself did feel surprisingly nice. Selfishly so. Leaning up on his knees, he wrapped his other hand around their joined fingers and watched her. “Thank you,” he said, not just thanking her for her discretion, but for so much more he couldn't quite fathom still.

She smiled at him, and in that moment, as their eyes locked, something unseen moved between them, before they moved closer to each other. Suddenly his hand was on the back of her neck, and she grabbed the front of his shirt, and fractions of a second later their mouths collided. The kiss was at a slightly awkward angle, but nothing seemed to stop them – and somehow he ended up climbing onto the couch to her, pushing her small body into the back of it, halfway covering her with his broader form.

Their lips remained glued together, hands and limbs entangled, her warmth taking over every rational thought he had still left in the back of his mind. Soon his body acted on its own, his fingers moving over fabric and skin, his knee pushing between her thighs, his breaths ragged and shallow. She squirmed slightly beneath him, but never showed any sign of discomfort. With how she dug her fingers into his hair and held him close, she seemed just as eager as he was.

The kiss became messier by the second, their heavy breathing filling the air as the couch squeaked quietly under their combined writhing. Her tongue danced with his, the grip of her hand tightening, before she eventually leaned back, trying to catch her breath, her green eyes wide and her pupils blown under the intensity of whatever they were doing. His lips were tingling, and when he licked them, she was suddenly back in his face, kissing him almost hungrily again.

He chuckled against her, his arm snaking around her body as he rolled them around so she was halfway covering him now, his free hand holding the back of her head, his fingers digging into her soft hair. In her new position, she cupped his face and held it firmly as she pressed her lips to his, eager to taste every inch of his mouth as she slipped her tongue into it. He was yet again surprised about this rather unassuming girl, cute and innocent by day, but he seemed to be able to tickle her deepest desires out of her.

Quite the powerful revelation.

And despite the heat growing between them, it was him who broke the kiss eventually, gently grabbing her face and leaning her away slightly to look at her. They were both out of breath, their lips swollen, their gazes filled with something he could only describe as lust. But he shouldn't push his luck, shouldn't overdo it, shouldn't take things too far too quickly. Even though his teenage body wanted nothing more.

With a deep inhale, he rolled her off of him and simply held her in his arms, his lips ghosting her forehead until he felt the ragged lines of her scar beneath his sensitive lips. He halted then, curiosity taking over. Giving her scar another firm kiss, he then leaned back and looked at her. She met his gaze, chewing on her lips. Because he still couldn't find the right words to ask what he wanted to ask, he raised a hand and gently traced his finger over her skin, his fingertip running along the slightly protruding lines cutting through her right eyebrow.

She closed her eyes and let him touch her, exhaling loudly as she nestled against him, though a slight frown creased her forehead. “It's ugly, isn't it?” she then whispered barely audible.

“No, it's not,” he said quickly, leaning in to kiss her scar once more. “It's a part of you, so it can't be ugly. I mean... you're...” He cleared his throat, and his fumbling for the right words made her open one eye, a tiny smirk playing around her lips. He met her gaze, feeling his cheeks warming up under it. “You're beautiful, is what I wanted to say,” he said quietly, trying to ignore the blush spreading to his ears. “And no scar can change that.”

She opened both eyes and raised a hand to trace her finger over his jaw as she watched him closely. “You don't have to say that...” she whispered.

“But I mean it,” he declared, holding her gaze, before she looked away. She sighed and lowered her hand to rest on his chest, mindlessly playing with his tie. “How did you get it?” he then asked, eager to find out more and no longer caring to find the right words.

He saw her clenching her jaw, her eyes still fixed on his shirt. “It was... given to me...” she replied after a long pause, making him frown deeply. He encouraged her to go on by pulling her a little closer to him, his arm holding her tightly. “In the orphanage, I had to share a room with five other girls...” she started to explain, her voice feeble, her face a mask, but he could see the turmoil in her green eyes. “And they didn't like me very much...”

He felt something hot gathering in his stomach, a tight coil of anger as he listened to her tale. She told him about the dreary circumstances she had to live under, their tiny quarters, and how she could hide all of her belongings under the old mattress of her bunk bed, how they worked all day in the factory and how they were barely fed afterwards.

“One day,” she said quietly, “at the end of our shift, I was so tired I bumped into a box of buttons, one we had already sorted, and I dropped it, buttons flying everywhere. We were supposed to go back to the orphanage and have dinner, but because of my mistake, all the girls had to stay longer. I was already hated by most of them for whatever reason, I don't even know why really, but after that they all hated me even more and they –”

She took a deep breath, and he saw her closing her eyes as she snuggled against him as if trying to hide from the memory. He gently rubbed her arm, working his jaw as the frown grew on his forehead. He had already heard enough, his mind adding the missing pieces of her story as his eyes travelled over the crooked lines of her scar. The anger boiled beneath his skin at these unknown Muggle girls.

But she needed to get it out, share the horrible experience with someone, even though he wanted to spare her the recounting of it, but perhaps it could help her deal with it better. So he let her continue, even if her shaking voice almost broke his heart.

“One morning they ambushed me in bed and... two held me down, while the others... carved lines into my face with blunt glass shards...” A sob escaped her, and he instinctively hugged her tighter, his breaths quickened as her turmoil added to his rage. “My... screams woke the matron, and the girls... quickly let go of me and ran away, leaving me bleeding all over my bed... I was scolded for my noises and the soiling of my sheets, while they... never saw any consequences...”

He shook his head in disbelief. “I'm so sorry,” he said quietly, trying not to speak his mind immediately. His hatred for those Muggles bubbled right beneath his skin. “What a horrible –” Inhaling deeply, he stopped talking and pressed his lips to her forehead instead, holding her in his tight embrace. She grabbed the front of his shirt and leaned into him, slowly relaxing against him once more. “I am so glad you're here now... away from all of that...” he added quietly.

Nebbia's breath steadied against his neck, and he felt her nodding. “Me too...” she whispered, and for a long moment they just lay together on the couch, holding onto each other, their minds racing for different reasons. He could only imagine what she must be going through right now, having remembered such a horrible experience, or all of her time in that terrible place, so he tried frantically to find ways to distract her, make her feel better, show her that she was safe now.

So he gently grabbed her shoulder and leaned her away to look at her, his eyes on her face before she met his gaze, her lips trembling slightly. His hand found her cheek. As soon as he felt her wet skin beneath his thumb, he inhaled deeply and leaned in, pressing his lips to hers for a kiss that would hopefully convey all those things he wanted to show her. She breathed heavily against him and kissed him back, probably trying to forget what she had just shared with him.

They remained locked like this for a while, caught in their desire to just feel the other, before lack of oxygen made him move his lips along her jaw and down her neck. He shifted against her, rolling her around until she was lying beneath him, and as he focused on kissing along the slender column of her neck, he felt her hands rubbing over his back, her heavy breaths making strands of his hair fly.

His lips pressed against her soft skin, and before he knew it, he started sucking on it gently, coaxing a surprised whimper out of her. Looking up to meet her hooded eyes, her lips parted and trembling, swollen from their kiss, Sebastian smiled at her. He saw her blushing even more as she watched him breathlessly. Without another word, he moved back down and continued kissing her sensitive skin, feeling her squirm slightly beneath him under the sensation as he grazed his teeth carefully over her pulse.

Her fingers dug through his hair, and he shivered under the touch. He could feel her rapid heartbeat against his tongue as he moved its tip along her skin, tasting salt and something sweet, and he would have continued his journey along her neck if it wasn't for the quiet moaning of his name she suddenly issued. “Sebastian...”

He raised his gaze, feeling as flustered as she looked, before he leaned back fully and licked his lips. “Sorry, I... got carried away...” he admitted with his cheeks burning as he rolled off of her.

She gave him a small smile, her hand trailing along his arm. “It's okay...”

“No, I... I shouldn't be so... forward with you... not very gentleman-like, eh?” He cleared his throat and inhaled deeply as he settled next to her, his gaze fixed to the vaulted ceiling above them.

“I thought we were past that,” she whispered quietly, a slight smirk audible in her voice. “We're no saints... no proper people... we're just young and eager...”

He chuckled and turned his head to her. “We sure are...”

Smiling at him, she then rested her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes. He watched her quietly, before he suddenly jumped up and off the couch, causing her to fall deeper into the cushions without his body to support hers any more. She looked at him with surprised eyes.

“I shouldn't – I... I'll sleep on the floor,” he declared then, siting back down on the stone floor in front of the couch.

“Are you sure?” she asked, further tempting him to do the opposite of what was proper.

“Yes,” he said firmly and lay down on his back, crossing his arms behind his head to give him at least a little bit of comfort. “It's... uh... better this way...” He looked along his body then, quickly rolling onto his side, facing away from her, trying to hide the fact that he'd rather take it further with her right away.

Sebastian heard her shift on the couch, and suddenly her hand was on his shoulder. Swallowing hard, he raised one hand to grab hers, gently slipping his fingers between her own. Leaning his head on his other arm, he then closed his eyes, trying to ignore the churning of his stomach and the blood rushing somewhere lower.

“Good night,” she whispered behind him.

“Night,” he muttered, chewing on his swollen lips, squeezing her hand softly. For a long while he listened to her breathing, feeling the warmth of her fingers against his, remembering yet another very eventful day.

And somehow he had fallen asleep, surprised by how easy it had been, and when he woke up again, he felt something brushing against his face. Opening his eyes, he noticed a delicate hand hanging off the edge of the couch, fingertips playing with his messy hair. For a moment he let her, smiling softly to himself, before he turned around and grabbed her wrist, coaxing a surprised yelp out of her.

His tired eyes met hers, and he smiled even wider when he noticed the blush creeping up her pale cheeks. Slowly he sat up, shifting slightly uncomfortably under the state of his body. Before he could get lost in her eyes again, he lowered his gaze and pulled out his pocket watch, then groaned deeply. “Late for breakfast again...” he muttered and rolled his sore shoulders. “How'd you sleep?” he then asked her, his voice a low rumble, looking back to the girl still lying on the soft cushions of the couch, her hair dishevelled and her lips as swollen as his felt.

“Good,” she whispered quietly, her eyes moving over his face. “You?”

“Well, I had worse,” he admitted with a smirk, and it was true. At least the company had been better this time. And weirdly enough there had been no nightmares to keep him awake.

“We should go, hm?” she mused quietly, before she sat up with a soft squeak falling from her lips, stretching as she did so. He stared at her for a moment, mesmerized by the sweet sound. “Sebastian?”

“Huh? Uh, yes! Yes, we should,” he stammered and cleared his throat, then quickly got up and turned away from her, brushing dust off his trousers, trying to ignore the strain against the fabric. Rolling his eyes at his own body's reactions, he pushed a hand through his hair, before he almost flinched when he suddenly felt a hand on his back.

“I'm ready,” she whispered, and he spun around, meeting her gaze, trying to hold it to not guide her attention elsewhere.

He nodded with a smile and quickly grabbed her hand, then pulled her along through the vast space of the Undercroft. There were no words between them when he guided her back to Central Hall, yet it didn't feel awkward to be silent with her. It felt right. When they parted at the bottom of the staircase leading to the Ravenclaw Tower, she simply smiled at him, and he nodded, squeezing her hand as several other students passed them by, keeping him from saying goodbye to her properly.

“See you in Potions,” he called after her, and she waved at him, her cheeks flushed. Inhaling deeply, he turned away and headed to his own common room, eager to tell his body to calm down again.

[ Read the whole story so far on AO3 ]

[ A BLESSING AND A CURSE MASTERLIST ]

#sebastian sallow #hogwarts legacy #sebastian x mc #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow fanfic #sebastian sallow fic #hogwarts legacy fanfic #hogwarts legacy fic #hogwarts legacy mc #sebastian sallow fluff #hogwarts legacy fluff #nebbia deluca #a blessing and a curse #sebbia

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dnangelic · 7 days

Note

" niwa - san , i left notes on your homework listing the answers , " mafuyu hands out the small stack of papers to daisuke , nonchalant . neat and meticulous as always , what more was expected from an honor student like him ? " you can fill it out in your own handwriting .. it looked easy to help you that way since you were resting . "

but it still didn't feel like enough , as mafuyu was no grand sidekick in the scheme of things . what else could he do anyways , except keep up his own act of defiance — sticking close to daisuke and protecting his secrets as best he could . he fiddles with his pencil in thought , " you can always ask me for help , i'd be happy to tutor you .. "

any excuse for extra time with him , even if he couldn't admit it .

@1amsong

' eh ?! really ? ' the drowse of a boy who had just lifted his head vanishes and he checks in an instant ; rifles through the pages with wide eyes and a mouth hung ajar . ' wha ... ' all this while he had accidentally fallen asleep just for a little bit ? mafuyu's done what might have taken him overwhelmed hours in just a few minutes . ' sorry , i didn't mean to fall asleep while you were here like that ... but --- this is really amazing , asahina-san ! '

what was it like to have that sort of focus ? even when daisuke set his mind to things , his thoughts still ended up swamping him . heists , homework , projects , hobbies , his health and trying to put aside a little time for friends ... just thinking about everything once more made him want to put his head down and cover it all up with sleep's black fog again . or maybe the answer was supposed to be right here , next to him , clear as mafuyu's silhouette and notes in the margins ... ?

' i mean , i appreciate everything , but ... ' didn't he still wish he could have easily done it all by himself , too ? sparing others any time or frustration , being worthy of being called reliable , if only for once ... he'd never be able to impress anybody this way , always needing somebody else for every answer . faults that he felt were solely his own , and not anybody else's , especially mafuyu's , who had been kind enough to take up so many of his burdens in the first place . the niwa's eyes note the pencil's tremors as well --- was it eagerness ? anxiety ?

' but ... if --- it's okay , then ... could you tell me a little bit more about this ? '

his finger points to an equation , and he straightens his back a little more as he adjusts his chair , already seeming eager to learn and listen . ' with this i might actually have some free time tonight ... thank you , but --- i still can't believe how fast you did everything for me . someone like you could probably skip a grade or two , right ? ' or maybe even attend and graduate college already , just like hiwatari .

' asahina-san could pretty much do anything ... ' words that end up quickly clipped , a red-flush filling his features . ' i mean , even with all that stuff about your mom , i just feel like ... it's true --- anything , everything , whatever you wanted to , you would be really good at it ! i don't understand why she doesn't understand that , but --- ah ! sorry , i'm getting us distracted ... ' where did the time ever go ? at least , even if he couldn't fill a page up with answers and equations , he could have still watched over mafuyu while he slept . practical applications , and a dreamlike presence to ward off nightmares ...

daisuke still couldn't help but wonder . was that an equal exchange ? there was always warmth and affection too in watching the other peacefully sleep . ' i guess , what i'm trying to say is ... if there's something i can do for you , too --- then i hope that you'll ask me . no matter how big , or even if it's small ... i'd be happy too . because --- i'm always grateful . thank you for still keeping me by your side . ' even as he knew it would have been all to simple and effortless to leave him behind .

#*･ﾟ⊰ ANSWERED. ⊱#CANON.#1amsong #dios mio #smth smth the only thing we can do for each other is love each other n nothin else matters

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zoeykallus · 2 years

Text

Rex – In Love And War 6 – Unspoken Things

Rex x Fem!Reader (FF)

Warnings: Fluff/Angst/Hurt

_____________

Rex learns what it feels like to regret unspoken things.

_____________

What Happened Before:

In Love And War

Part 2 -Noises In The Dark

Part 3 - Sinful Dreams

Part 4 - Mesh'la

Part 5 - Old Friends

Part 6 - Unspoken Things

That very evening, Howzer wants to directly follow his words with action. As soon as you are lying in bed and have fallen asleep, Rex also wants to get up and go to the sofa. Howzer meanwhile had a cot with the two of you standing in the room, next to the sofa where he had been sleeping for a few days. Howzer gently but firmly grabbed his brother's arm.

"Rex," he said quietly so as not to wake you, "can we maybe go outside your door for a moment? I'd like to discuss something with you"

Rex blinked in surprise, but finally nodded and followed Howzer outside, wondering what was going on, why he wanted to discuss this now in your absence.

"Okay, I'm listening" Rex said, leaning wearily against the wall of the house next to the door, making firewood had tired him out quite a bit, more than he would have thought.

"You and Y/N haven't been a couple, right?"

Rex listened up, feeling his pulse quicken.

"Um, no, we're not."

Howzer nodded, putting his hands in the pockets of his civi pants a little uncertainly because he didn't know what to do with them, and said, "Okay, now please be honest with me okay?"

Rex blinked again and nodded, not liking where this seemed to be going.

"Do you want to be with her then? Do you have feelings for her?"

Rex was silent for quite a while, and Howzer frowned.

"I guess that means yes."

Rex shook his head, "No."

Howzer raised his eyebrows in surprise "You sure?"

Rex sighed "I shouldn't have feelings for her"

"That's not what I asked Rex" Howzer said softly.

Rex shrugged, "Why would you even ask that?"

"Well because I really like Y/N and would like to get to know her better, I want to ask her out on a date but you guys have known each other for a while and I didn't want to get in the way if you were interested in her"

Rex felt his pulse racing away. Maybe he should come clean now, but part of him still can't quite shake the fact that you were his superior.

A little unsure, Rex said, "All is fair in love and war. If you like her, tell her that, ask her out."

Howzer raised his eyebrows in surprise, then said, "I already did, I also asked her if there was anything going on between you two and she said to ask you."

Rex eyes got big.

"She wanted you to ask me?"

Howzer nodded.

"Did she say anything else?"

"She said she wouldn't be averse to it, provided you were okay with it."

Rex felt his heart sink to the back of his knees.

"She wants to go out with you?" he asked quietly.

Howzer nodded and added, "But as I said, only if you're okay with it."

Rex sighed and sat down on the old bench on the small porch.

"Does she think I might object?" he wanted to know.

Howzer shrugged and joined him.

"Maybe," Howzer speculated, "she's hoping you'll object."

That would be nice, Rex thought to himself, but unlikely. Why would you hope that? That would only be the case if you were really interested in him. You said you thought his dream was flattering, but that didn't mean you really liked him that way.

Rex finally said, "If you really want to go out with her, I won't stand in your way."

The next day Howzer met you in the kitchen again.

"He said he was okay with it?" you asked quietly.

Howzer nodded.

"You said you wouldn't be averse as long as he didn't mind."

With a nod, you said, "That's right," and gave him a smile.

You were flattered and pleased with Howzer's attention, very much so, but that Rex was okay with it still stung you. But what did you have to gain by being angry or sad about it? Howzer seemed like a great guy, he was good looking, seemed decent to you, and basically Rex was bound to be a lot like him, at least visually.

"Okay, what were you thinking about?" you finally asked with interest.

Howzer smiled and said, "Come with me, I've already prepared something".

He took your hand and pulled you with him, as you crossed the living room Rex looked up from his late dinner, his gaze fell on your hands, then your face and your eyes met. There was a longing in his eyes that you had never seen in them before, a quiet sadness, but his lips smiled as he said, "Have fun."

Howzer took you to a ledge in the woods not too far from your cabin. From here you could look out over a small valley and river and see the next settlement in the distance. He had spread out a blanket and provided fruit, chocolate and a bottle of red wine.

For a while you can't stop thinking about Rex and that look in his eyes, but Howzer snaps you out of you thoughts.

"It's a little crude, I know" he said with a shy smile "But that will change as soon as I have work and can provide for you"

You looked at him with a wry smile.

"Howzer, I was a commander in the arms of the Republic, I don't need anyone to provide for me".

He scratched the back of his head nervously and said apologetically "Of course not, I know"

"But it's nice to know that someone would be willing to take care of me" you added with a warmer smile.

Rex, who was sitting between some trees within earshot, secretly watching you, thought to himself that he could be your provider too, basically you had been supporting and caring for each other all along, wasn't that worth anything?! He sighed softly, he knew he had no right to get upset, he had had more than enough chances to tell you how he felt about you and when Howzer asked him he should have told the truth, but he didn't because he was too cowardly.

He watched you longingly, not sure himself why he was doing this to himself. You laughed a lot, smiled at each other, adored each other. He wanted to be angry but felt only aching longing. Howzer fed you chocolate and fruit and somehow you got closer and closer and Rex felt a burning tingle under his skin. When you closed your eyes and your lips almost touched, he nearly burst. He jumped up ran out from between the trees and shouted, "Imps we got Imps incoming!"

@ttzamara

@chxpsi

@andyoufollowyourheart

@the-sith-in-the-sky-with-diamond

@brynhildrmimi

@nunanuggets

@clone-whore-99

@misogirl828

@tech-deck @rexandechosandwich

@flyingkangaroo

@stardusthuntress

@ladykatakuri

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aliveahahafuck · 1 month

Text

So, random funny things that happened at larp this weekend:

I was NPCing as a crab, and at one point, one of the owners, who was also a crab, got this absolute Cheshire grin and ran OOG towards a light post that has been designated as the portal between cities/places within the different larp guilds (ie between all other games put on by guilds within the Underword universe). As more of us saw that and realised what he was doing as soon as we went down, we joined him. And as Crabs were still joining the group, he just started chanting, "COMING THROUGH THE SKEIN GATE: ONE", a few people join him chanting, "COMING THROUGH THE SKEIN GATE: TWO", and finally there's eight of us yelling the chant and at 3, we all shuffle out of the portal and all I hear from a player is "WHO THE FUCK PAID THE FEE FOR 8 CRABS TO GO THROUGH THE SKEIN GATE!?!?!?! THAT'S SO MUCH GOLD?!?!" (Someone who no longer has a crab problem, obviously. Lmao)

I fell asleep at a picnic table because A: the sun was warm, B: it was peaceful listening to the people chat beside me, and C: it was like 11 am and I'd only been up for two hours but had been exhausted the whole time. Except I wasn't completely sleeping, I was in the half awake state you get where you can hear ahit going on around you, but actually processing basically nothing. Because of that, I heard one of the people who I'd been chatting with say, "Should we wake her? There's demons coming." Only to hear what felt like seconds later:

"Hello there, what have we here?"

"It's a nature's hold. Wild animals can't see us."

"I see. And your friend?"

"Ehhhhh, she might be dead, might be sleeping, we're not too sure."

"Okay then, I'll leave you too whateverthis is." (Footsteps as they walk away)

"I can't believe that worked."

"Me neither."

They did end up waking me up and I chatted with them a bit before I fell asleep again for what felt to me like max 30 seconds, but according to my friend was more like 5-7 minutes and was woken up by a familiar voice saying: "Here. This is for you."

And I raise my head and see a hand placing an orange directly in front of me, I look up to the owner of the hand, and it's my best friends uncle, one of the owners of the guild, dressed as a demon with about 4 others and I just kinda blue screen and just say "thank you???" And they all walk off.

Once they're back in plot camp (a cabin a couple meters away but far enough to be out of earshot), I turned to the people beside me and just go: "he gave me an orange? What the fuck do I do with it? I'm not eating the demon orange?"

The consensus was do not trust the suspicious fruit.

(I found out later that he stole it from the player who runs an alchemy shop and also sells snacks; "he took it as he walked by and at first I was mad, but then I realised that demon just took the cheapest item in my shop; I'm going to take that as a compliment.")

Also, the demons just wanted coffee.

I also found out that while I was sleeping, the bottom of my WOOL cloak had fallen off my lap. I was sitting at a picnic table that had an ever growing puddle around it as the day went on. The fucker wasn't dry by the time I got home a day and a half later.

Lil while later, and I, once again, was fucking exhausted. I ended up going into the tavern and just laid down across one of the pew style benches that lined the walls (10/10 wouldn't recommend. Sitting up at the picnic table was better) and took off my belt, which had a few leather bags attached, to use as a pillow. Partly because I wasn't dumb enough to leave them as easy access and lose my shit, partly because the bench was so thin that I wouldn't have been able to comfortably lay down with the one on my back.

The tavern was FUCKING LOUD. Like, holy shit how did I sleep for 1.5 hours with that racket going on, loud.

I don't remember like 95% of what went on, but the things I do remember are someone saying "shit. There's bears outside." Followed quickly by "HOLY SHIT THE BEARS HAVE MAGIC"

And when, I'm assuming, the battle was over, the shopkeeper player yelling out a window, "I'm selling (healing potions), and they're really cheap~~"

Some time later, about an hour into this nap, I'd sat up, stared into the middle distance for a bit, then walked across the tavern to where I'd left my cloak and over vest above a heater to dry, put on the vest, took my cloak threw it down onto of my "pillow" and immediately went back to sleep for another 30 min.

Sunday, I was chatting with a friend when a npc gnome came over and challenged him to an arm wrestling contest. I was also friends with the person playing the npc. The guy I was originally talking to activated a magic item that made him stronger mid competition, to which the gnome activated a "gnomish device" anti magic field and won the contest. At which point he stopped and looked at me:

"You didn't have any magical items on you, right? Or potions?"

"Uhhhh, yeah. I had a potion of purify in my bag."

"Shit. Well, now you don't. It's just water."

He looked so upset that he'd fucked over my potion and he gave me blacksmithing materials as compensation.

It literally took all of 5 minutes for me to get a new potion, for free, because I knew who'd made them, and he knew I play a healer lmao

vlater i volunteered to go grab someone's staff from our cabin. As I'm walking across the central field, all I hear is: "LOOK OUT BEHIND YOU! CRABS!"

I turned to see the person who was playing the gnome, now a crab, just hauling ass b-lining towards me across the field. As previously stated, I'm a healer, a squishy as fuck, lvl 4 healer. I quickly turned and bolted, unlocked the cabin, flung the door open, slammed it shut behind me, and grabbed the staff I was sent to get in the first place. Seconds later the crab opened the door and saw me, this 5foot fuck all human holding this 7foot long staff grinning like a Cheshire cat: "activate magic item: sigil of the weapons master. 7 MAGIC! 7 MAGIC!-"

I like to call that staff "overkill: the weapon" lmao

The owner of it: "it costs 3 gold to borrow it. Unless you're so tiny that it looks ridiculous, then it's free."

I fell into the "Hilariously tiny" group, but also the "we're playing the same rareish race, and we stick together" group lol

After a huge battle where like 9 people died:

"I'm so not getting that staff back. There's no way it survived."

"That's unfortunate, I liked killing crabs with it."

"Yeah, that's always fun, even if its so overkill for them."

(5 minutes later I come running into the tavern again)

"MORE PEOPLE SURVIVED, THEYRE HEADING BACK NOW! (People start excitedly leaving) also, your staff survived."

"IT WHAT"

"It's coming back! I saw Wolfgreir (who had it before the battle) without it and was happy that at least he survived, and then I saw it being carried through the bush, Jaylin (main healer) has it!"

"No way. I was sure it was gone!"

"I can't believe it either."

#larp #larp shenanigans #the squishiest mother fucker #crab: opens door #immediately gets fucked by a 7ft staff dealing 1/4 of their health

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maybebecomingms · 3 months

Text

take time to contemplate who you are and where you want to go

January 15th, 2024

Last week I was having a really, REALLY bad night. I holed up in my partner's room in the dark, curled up on his bed in the fetal position, popped in some earbuds, and played Don't You Fake It by The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus.

This album is my go-to when I feel like a brooding teenager. It came out in 2006, so I guess it counts - I was 19 - even if it was after high school. I reserve it for the very lowest depths of despair.

I wasn't even listening to it in 2006, though. My earliest memories of Red Jumpsuit Apparatus-fueled angst are from 2015 when I was on a horrible vacation with my ex's family in the wilderness of Ontario. I'm not fit for sitting in a boat fishing and drinking beer for 12 hours at a time without sunscreen, so everyone gave up on me fairly quickly and just left me behind each day. I took to trail running with Don't You Fake It in my ears to pass the time.

"Waiting" might be my favorite track, because it's so relatable.

Void I can't fill The doctor tells me to relax and stand still Prescribes me a new pill to quell my anger Wish I could make her pull herself up off the floor

I spent so many years feeling both like the person who needed pills to quell my anger AND the person who needed to get up off the floor. Just stuck.

It came on a streaming playlist a few years later one cold, dark morning while I drove my ex and myself to work. We carpooled to work for over 9 years, but I was almost never the one driving. He'd fallen asleep, which he always did as a passenger. Aside from long road trips, I've always hated that so much, too. It feels so lonely and disrespectful.

Waiting for this life to change seems like it's taking me forever

I turned it up and sang along, and it felt like a prayer I was afraid to say out loud or even think to myself.

Before that bad night last week, I'd had a pretty good therapy session where I was tasked with writing about what I wish I'd known back then, or what I would want younger women to know based on what I've been through.

And that's easy.

We are NOT meant for a life where we give and give and give endlessly to someone who does nothing but take from us. Losing yourself for someone else's benefit is never the answer.

Do NOT seethe with hidden rage. Do NOT get stuck on the floor.

Get up and DEMAND MORE. Take up space. Allow yourself to be messy and inconvenient and make mistakes. BECAUSE YOU FUCKING DESERVE ALL OF THAT AND MORE!

Stop giving all of yourself to someone and settling for crumbs in return, and please don't ever do it again.

#divorce #mental health recovery #therapy #things i wish i knew #the red jumpsuit apparatus #waiting #don't you fake it

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hello-im-not-a-possum · 1 year

Text

A Secret Leak: A Peeping Tom's Dogtective Work

While Allison was looking for their own room, Tom was looking for the other ink creatures' rooms just to make sure they weren't up to trouble. He was internally grateful that Henry decided to sleep in the room with Joey and Sammy, once all of them were asleep, it would make getting the machine out of that truck easier.

But the wolf knew he was getting ahead of himself. First, he had to figure out what all the ink creatures would do with their first night in the outside world, first he followed the fallen angel carrying the Projector.

Up a flight of stairs, turning a corner to the left, unlocking the door and heading in, it was a short trip for both the angel herself and her unknown follower. But Tom wasn't satisfied with just following, if he was, he probably would've been sated just by knowing what her door's number was.

He pressed his ear against the door and listened closely...

The wolf-killer didn't seem to be very talkative tonight, all he heard was the gentle 'thunk' of the projector being placed on the nightstand and the creaks and groans of the bed's springs. That's it, she just... did nothing except go to bed.

The wolf frowned as he took his ear away from the door, surely it couldn't have been *that* simple, this was a woman who stopped at NOTHING to get what she wanted and right now she didn't have it. She didn't even carry in the unknown parts that she needed to rebuild the Projectionist. It wasn't like what he knew of her to put off something until later unless there was some kind of roadblock.

But he knew better than to go in and ask her, so for now he turned his attention toward The Prophet, the Animator, and the Memory.

He managed to catch up with the trio before they made it to their room and quietly followed the three men to their room at a distance, up two more flights of stairs and down a hall. When he saw them walk into the room, he waited a bit and then put his ear against the door to listen into their conversation.

Once again, he heard a soft 'thunk' and the creaking and groaning of the bedsprings. But unlike what he had heard in the angel's room, he also heard voices.

"...He's already asleep? He hasn't even gotten under the blanket! Hell, he only made it halfway onto his bed!"

"Let him adjust at his own pace, luxuries like blankets and food are hard to adjust to after enduring the Pit for countless years."

"Oh... And what about you? Are you going to at least put something in the bathtub? Like a throw pillow?"

"No, I don't believe the staff would appreciate the ink stains on them. Besides, the night's still young and there's a few things I'd like to do before turning in."

The wolf's ears perked as he heard them talk. bingo. But where was the monster planning on going?

"Mind if I come with you? I could treat you to dinner! You know, since it feels weird that you're the only one not getting anything out of the arranged deal..."

"I desire nothing from this pilgrimage except to ensure that the machine is safe and sound in the hands of the Messiah and the Lord alone."

"I see..."

Thomas rolled his eyes in annoyance. Can't that ink creature think about anything other than his stupid Lord?!

"However, if it helps ease your conscience, you can help me with... a little special project of mine. In fact, you might be the only one I can trust with this. Everyone else directly has my blood on their hands in one form or another and while Henry and I have grown close while we spent time in the Pit, I worry that he might refuse when he learns of what he'd need to do to me for that to work as intended."

'No, you idiot! Joey's the last person you SHOULD trust!' Was what the wolf wanted to shout at the Prophet, but he knew he couldn't risk blowing his cover.

"Well Sammy, you can count on me."

"Thank you..."

"But out of curiosity... just how *close* did you and Henry get while in the Pit?"

"As close as the Keepers could allow."

"...Oh."

Thomas wasn't entirely sure if he wanted to know where the conversation was going, but both luckily and unluckily for him, the door opened and the Prophet walked out of the room, followed by the Memory.

He clung to the back of the door cursing under his breath as he fumbled with the bag of canisters, he couldn't get caught here and now!

"What's this? How odd..."

Thomas felt his heart jump into his throat as he saw the Prophet's fingers tracing the door and a part of his mask peeking directly at him, the grinning cardboard face taunting him. He couldn't move without blowing his cover, but if he stayed, the ink monster would catch him anyway, all he had to hope for was a miracle, but given his track record...

"It's just an unfortunate stain, nothing to worry too hard about."

Sammy shook his head before turning away, prompting the wolf to hold back the biggest sigh of relief he'd ever make, lest accidentally letting it out would prompt the mad songwriter to turn back.

"Alright... where to first, Sammy?"

"Remember how we left the boxes in the truck? I couldn't help but notice some metal in there that could prove itself useful."

"I'm sorry, but that's Alice's, she needs it to rebuild Norman and I *did* promise her..."

"I don't plan on keeping it forever, mind you, only for tonight. And if that bothers her, I can offer her... a trade."

"...What kind of trade? I don't think you have anything she wants."

"True, but I do have something that the Projectionist needs. Follow me, time is of the essence, after all."

The wolf watched them walk a good enough distance and then began to follow them down the hall and down two flights of stairs... ...Down another flight of stairs..? Tom frowned to himself; this wasn't where Alice's room was.

He shook his head and followed them anyway, maybe they just wanted to grab that box of seemingly random metal scraps so they could bring it to the fallen angel as a sign of good faith or something.

The wolf could see Joey's lips moving, but he was whispering too quietly for him to clearly hear from this distance. He strained his ears to hear what those two were saying... Something about a 'rhapsody'? He knew that was a music term, but he didn't understand the context there.

He watched them walk into the parking lot and to the truck, unlike in the motel with its many hiding spots in the forms of potted plants, odd architecture designs, and furniture, all the parking lot had was their truck that was intentionally parked further away from the cluster of other cars, he'd be spotted if he tried to follow them at that point and just sat out of their sight while waiting for them to come back in.

His ears perked when he heard the truck engine and he cursed under his breath as bolted to the parking lot, only to see it driving off with the ink machine and god knows what else in tow.

stupid stupid stupid!

Because of him, an unstable cultist and Joey were unleashed on the world with the ink machine, and he could do nothing but wait and hope that after their rampage on the unsuspecting world, they'd return to get whatever they needed from Alice, ...if they came back...

Thomas muttered under his breath while pacing around the parking lot while questions raced in his mind; 'what were they doing?' 'When did they plan on coming back?' 'Would he have to... "come out of retirement" to get them under control?' He didn't want to go to them, especially if it meant revealing what his machine was fully capable of as well as revealing what it did to him and his wife to Alan Gray... Yet when the fate of countless people was on the line because of him he knew he'd have to do something, but what?

It was risky to call GENT, especially without Allison's two cents on it. But both rooms 202 and 414 were locked and he couldn't just camp out there waiting for them to show up when he didn't even know if they'd show up tonight in the first place...

...But was there a way for him to get in some other way?

Well, it wasn't like he had anything better to try.

The wolf grumbled in annoyance as he used his metal arm to scratch the ink off his neck while walking back to room 414. He hated this form and wished he shifted to his proper one as soon as soon as he got out of the ink world, but he knew better than to raise suspicions among the other ink monsters, even if it meant getting caught by other humans. At least he could tell them it was a costume, they'd believe it over the full truth and to him, it was technically accurate.

Once he was at the door, he looked inside the peephole, the view was blurry, but he could still make out what the inside of the room looked like: Two beds (one had Henry sleeping on top of it), a nightstand, a door that likely led to a bathroom, and a window that led to the outside- Bingo!

...

"Why is scaling a building in the real world so much harder than in the ink world?"

The wolf grumbled in annoyance while climbing up the motel's wall, peering into the windows on his way up and shaking his head every time he didn't see Henry on one of the beds.

Judging by his position when he looked down, he *was* around the fourth floor, climbing straight up was the easy part, but finding where Henry's room was in relation to the others was a lot harder.

Room with one bed and someone sleeping under the covers, room with two beds and nobody in them at first glace, Room with the mattress flipped vertically and someone inside the room cleaning, Room with a pale figure staring out the window directly at him, Room with the window covered up by a bedsheet, Room with two sleeping people in one bed, Room with a sleeping man halfway on one of the two beds- Finally!

Tom breathed a sigh of relief as he cracked open the window and slowly slid it open as to not wake the sleeping animator, climbed in, and slowly closed it behind himself, internally promising himself that he'd collect the rope he used to climb the building before the ink creatures would notice.

Aside from himself and Henry's odd sleeping position, there was nothing unusual about the room, not even a drop of stray ink. However, the mechanic couldn't be deterred at this point, he's done too much to leave empty handed and if he'd have to turn this place upside down to find anything he could use, then he will.

He started with looking under the beds and in the nightstands, finding nothing but dust bunnies, a complimentary bible, and a copy of 'The Illusion of Living' which was put on top of the complimentary bible. Tom rolled his eyes at that and checked the bathroom instead as he should have done earlier knowing that Sammy was using it as a bedroom.

He found a soap bar with a bite taken out of it which confused him, toiletries that weren't bitten into, and most importantly, a journal in the bathtub. At first, he smiled as he opened it, thankful that his long journey up the building wasn't made in vain. But as he read it, he discovered that it was written in two different languages that changed at seemingly random intervals.

It was a journal of the mad Maestro's prayers, lists of items he'd need, illustrations of the Ink Demon, Audrey, the Ink Machine, and what appeared to be ritualistic circles, but he didn't know their significance and the bilingual text did not bring any clarity to him even when he could read the English parts of it.

So, he tore out the pages that Allison had a better chance of deciphering than he did, put the journal back in the bathtub and left through the window, the trip down thankfully being a lot easier than the trip up.

Tom's luck appeared to be truly changing for the better once he noticed the truck back in its proper place in the parking lot. If he was fast enough, he could make it to Alice's room and eavesdrop on the gathering of ink creatures...

Without a second thought or any willingness to lose his chance, he went back inside and trekked up the stairs to Malice's room, noticing that the door was wide open, being propped that way by a half-empty box. He didn't even need to peek inside to know that she was awake, she was cackling so loudly it was a surprise nobody complained yet.

Cautiously, he held his breath and took a peek through it, not wanting to get caught by the devious diva. When he looked inside, he closed his snout with his metal hand to keep himself from speaking out against the sight. Inside he saw the angel's back to him, laughing while holding up an ink-covered metronome while a terrified Joey was holding Sammy up by his wrists, the Prophet's body language was rendered unreadable by his forced position and his face unreadable in general. Thomas couldn't even tell if the ink creature was alive or dead.

The musician's torso was cut open, displaying his organs to the world; pale organs that had black beady eyes and grinning, chewing, long, yellow teeth.

"Look at this!" The angel jeered through her hyena-like laughter as she held up the metronome to the ink creature's mask. "This is what you had for a heart! It's so pathetic, it's as if you only existed to make music, nothing. more." She cooed.

"...Susi- Alice." The Memory corrected himself. "I'm not trying to rush you, but we do have places to be..."

"Just shut up, Joey, you're taking all the fun out of this." Alice rolled her eye while plunging her other hand into Sammy's torso, pulling out a writhing intestine. "And this one... This one has teeth that almost look like piano keys, isn't that just adorable?"

She put the metronome back in his chest and marveled at the entity she just pulled out, pressing down on one of its teeth as if expecting it to make a piano-like noise before putting it into a bucket by her side.

"Three more..." she hummed while digging through his organs like a kid digging through a toy chest and took out what looked like a cartoon bird? Whatever it was, it held completely still when Alice held it and turned it around in her hand, so Tom could only assume it was some sort of stuffed animal or a painted wooden carving. "Huh, never saw you as the type..." She shrugged before putting it back where it belonged and digging again, this time taking out a pair of lungs. "These look a lot healthier than what I was expecting, how long ago did you quit smoking?"

"After the 'no smoking' signs were put up in the music department." Joey answered for him. "But he didn't go cold turkey, he just switched to powders and edibles out of spite."

"Yes, that sounds like how he was back then..." She nodded with a sigh before also putting them in the bucket and going back to digging, occasionally stopping to scrape globs of ink off her fingers and into the bucket. Alice dug out her final organ of choice, picking the teeth out of it. "Now for the rest of what I'm owed." She put the organ in the bucket, took out a hacksaw and-

Thomas left at that point, he definitely wasn't intimidated by the ruthlessness of the fallen angel, he just figured that right now seemed like the perfect time to go and collect that rope he left behind.

Out of a force of habit, he trekked up the two flights of stairs up to room 414, but before he could curse at himself and go back down, he saw Henry leave the room while rubbing his eyes, and to his surprisingly good luck, the animator left the door open a crack!

He waited until the man disappeared from sight before walking in and opening the window to get the rope. He ignored the gurgling noise in the bathroom, that wasn't his problem.

Once it was in his hands, he thought about whether he should cut it and pretend that the part lassoed to the top of the building was already there or just climb it to the roof and untie it.

But he didn't have a lot of time to think about it as his fur stood on end as he felt cold fingers on his back.

"Hello once again, unfortunate stain."

Thomas didn't bother to hold back his yelp of surprise when Sammy spoke up. "How?! I thought she killed you!"

"A lot of things 'kill' me, don't they?" The Prophet mused as he shut the window behind Thomas, trapping him with his arms and the wall. "You know that very well, editor." The Prophet spat with a venomous tone that reminded the mechanic of the real Sammy, he could even feel the man's hateful sneer behind the mask.

"What do you want?"

"I want you to suffer the fates you've subjected my poor sheep to. But I need something from you, Tommy." One of his arms grabbed the strap of his bag.

"Lawrence..." Thomas growled as he took the strap with his metal hand. "I'm not giving a freak like you those things."

"And you're certain of that?" The Prophet sounded so smug that Tom wanted to punch him in the face.

"Yes." the wolf bared his teeth at him and turned to face the window. "Now if you don't mind, I have a rope to retreive."

"I understand, you're a very busy traitorous dog with no sense of accountability or compassion towards others after all..." Sammy took back his arms and shook his head. "Please, don't let little old me stand between you and the fame and glory that will come from betraying everyone in that studio once more. Go ahead, sneak out like a rat in the night and damn us all to whatever fates you and GENT cook up while you lie to yourself about how much blood and tears are on your crooked paw. Just show a single sliver of remaining humanity and grant us inky abominations one final meal on the surface."

Thomas shook his head and opened the window but stopped as he smelt something delicious right behind him. He wiped his watering mouth and looked back at the Prophet, who was opening a large pizza box. The heavenly smell of hot cheese, meats, and garlicky buttery bread clawed at the starving wolf's nostrils. He held his stomach with his gloved hand in an attempt to muffle the loud rumbling growls coming from it.

"You left with the truck to grab pizza?!"

"Well, it had been a long time since Henry and I have had hot food, but it wasn't like we could stop for it with everybody getting antsy back there..." The Prophet crossed his legs using the nightstand as a footrest before taking a slice out of the box.

The dim light of the motel room almost gave the slice a heavenly glow as the prophet ate it slowly.

"...Do you mind? I can hear you whimpering like a common street pooch."

"W-why are you eating it like that?!" The wolf's cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

"Is it not someone's right to enjoy their last meal however they wish?"

Thomas refused to dignify the Prophet's question with an answer as his stomach growled louder, a painful reminder that this form didn't come without its own drawbacks.

"Although, while we were out, I forgot to grab drinks..." The Prophet mused while looking at Thomas's bag and holding up a smaller pizza box. It didn't smell as fresh as the one Sammy was eating out of, but the wolf's empty stomach didn't care, all it saw was food being offered to it. "...Perhaps a trade would solve both of our problems?"

"Why you little-" Tom was just about to punch him for saying that, but his nose and stomach stopped him, the siren call of food was just too strong...

"Now, now, I don't want the *entire* bag, mind you. But surely you still have a canister or two to spare..."

"One." The wolf repeated while digging out the rainbow ink canister from his bag. "And remember to save it for emergencies, we still have a lot of ground to cover before we reach our destination and while I haven't called GENT yet, they could still show up at any moment considering how important this is to them."

"No need to worry, Esau, I will save it for a very important event."

The wolf ignored the Prophet's comment and just shoveled the acquired food down his throat, his overwhelming hunger distracting him from the pizza itself being cold and its cheese's odd, fuzzy texture, all he really noticed that it was gone before it could even touch his hunger.

"Still hungry? Well, it's not pizza, but I hear beef jerky is filling, especially when you take the time to chew it." The Prophet chuckled as he took out the bag of beef jerky.

Thomas made a grab for it, but Sammy yanked it back just as it grazed his fingers, prompting the Mad Maestro to tsk at the wolf while wagging his finger at him.

"Haven't you ever learned how to ask for things with your words?"

"Fine, may I please have the bag of jerky?"

"Yes, but only in exchange for another ink canister."

"What?! But I just gave you one!"

"And I just gave you food despite your many sins against me and my people. Now do you want to make another trade, or do you want to get out of my room?"

His stomach answered before his mouth did and he cursed under his breath while pulling out the second ink canister.

"Here."

"Thank you for your generosity."

Learning from his previous mistake, Thomas ate the beef jerky strips one at a time so that they lasted longer.

They would have tasted normal to someone who wasn't starving, but to Tom, they might as well have been made in heaven. The tough yet flavorful meat was torn by his sharp teeth with ease. Almost too much ease, the bag of meat only lasted ten minutes, which to him seemed closer to two minutes.

Without saying a word, the wolf took out a third canister and put it on the Prophet's nightstand.

"...I think you've had enough."

"Do you want the Ink or not?!" The wolf spat.

"Very well, I'll offer you a final trade..."

He took out the bag of dog treats and Tom swiped it out of his hand without hesitation, his tail wagging like crazy while he crunched through it.

While Tom was distracted by the food, Sammy hid the three acquired canisters and waited for the wolf to finish. While the wolf ate, the Prophet dug a final dog treat out of his pocket, opened the window and tied the treat to the rope.

Just as Tom was finishing the bag and licking the crumbs out of it, Sammy whistled to grab his attention and pointed to the treat.

As the wolf leapt for it, the Prophet shut the window and locked it, leaving the wolf to scramble for the rope for dear life.

He cursed under his breath as he tangled himself in it, slowing his fall enough to *not* turn into an ink splotch on the ground, but still face planting onto the asphalt.

The wolf thought he heard the sound of glass breaking and cursed under his breath while digging through his bag and basically howled in anger at himself, he almost traded away the entire stash of rainbow ink canisters over mediocre food and the only thing that stopped him was the one giving him that mediocre food in the first place!

He sold out a precious resource he needed to study for a goddamned moldy pizza of all things! He almost lost his ink's stability over a dog treat! He was played like a fiddle by that damn Prophet-

Oh, oh god, this was so much worse than he thought...

Running back to his own motel room, he burst open the door and grabbed Allison by the shoulders.

"Allison, we have to shift back right now! Those monsters know us too well like this! We need to call GENT and get them under control imminently!"

"Tom! Tom! Slow down!" His wife grabbed his hands and held them. "What happened while you were out there?"

After recollecting his tales of the motel misadventures to the angel, the wolf slumped down on his bed with a sigh.

"This is going too far, Allison, I never wanted any of them out of there to begin with and now they're planning on running amok and doing god knows what with the ink machine itself. We shouldn't have told Joey in the first place, and we should have taken it back for good when we found out he had it. Trusting him after everything was a mistake."

The wolf shook his head while he was scratching a layer of ink off of his skin, partially revealing a skin-like substance underneath while the demoness looked at him with shock after tucking in her horns.

"But Tom, we agreed that the cycle needed to end for good and that the Ink Machine itself needs to stay out of GENT's hands! Please, just give them a chance..."

"Yes, we did agree that the cycle needed to end. But I was expecting them to stay in there and us to stay out here! I could *partly* justify letting Joey out with us because he knows everything and would know better than to seek out his own grave or anyone who knew him while he was alive, but Malice? The Projectionist? The Artist? And don't even get me started on Sammy Lawrence..." the wolf growled.

"Hey! It's not his fault that you decided to trade him three canisters of colored ink for a pack of beef jerky, a half-eaten bag of dog treats, and a slice of pepperoni pizza he may have taken from a trashcan!"

"Exactly! Allison, I want you to sit back and think about it: He knew about my hunger-"

"Thomas, you're a wolf. Everybody in there knows how hungry wolves are."

"...He did things throughout the trip to make me notice that he had MEATY, relatively fresh, delicious food. Nobody makes eye contact with someone while slowly eating dog treats for no reason! He intentionally waited until I was alone with the canister bag before making that offer and he made that food as tantalizing as possible on purpose. Nobody with good intentions tries to corner someone alone when they have something they want. He called me "Esau" for goodness's sake! He knew what he was doing! And the Prophet's not the only one. Malice is rebuilding the Projectionist's body as we speak, who knows what kind of chaos will happen when she's done, and Henry will do whatever it takes to stay out of the studio! Who knows if..."

"Tom, listen to me, look me in the eyes." The demoness took the wolf's hands. "I know you don't think so, but I am taking this seriously, I know how dangerous those things can be, especially if they find out the whole truth about themselves. That's a big part of why I think it's a bad idea to keep them in the machine and just forget about them. You and I both know that it would have been only a matter of time until they figured out how to break out on their own. And if they did, we'd have no idea until it's too late. It's better to know they're out and where they are than it is to learn on the news that there's "strange monsters" all over the place..."

"You're right and I hate it." The mechanic let out an annoyed sigh. "Either way, what do we do when they want to go their separate ways? Sammy hates both of us and he'd hate us even more if he remembered everything, Norman hates me, Susie hates you, I'm pretty sure Henry wants nothing to do with anyone, the only person in the group that wouldn't get suspicious if we tried to 'keep in touch' with them would be Joey, and even then..." Thomas shook his head. "We're not in a 'we'll cross that bridge when we get there' situation. We're *on* the bridge, it's broken, the river's moving fast, and at any moment someone could either push us in or make a wrong step-"

"Hey, at least we're still crossing it, even if it is hard."

"We're crossing it..." The wolf nodded with a faint smile.

"Good." She smiled back. "Now about those papers you showed me..."

#bendy and the dark revival #a secret leak au #thomas connor #allison pendle #joey drew #sammy lawrence #susie campbell #fanfic #body horror

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foundtherightwords · 1 year

Text

Love in a Mist - Chapter 4

Pairing: Hellcheer Regency AU or Regency!Eddie Munson x OFC (for more info, see A/N of Chapter 1)

Summary: Christine Conyngham, a young debutante whose marital prospects are less than ideal, believes her happiness is secure when she falls in love with Joshua Craven, the handsome future Duke of Hauxwell. However, after her lack of a fortune prevents her and Joshua from marrying, Christine impulsively accepts the proposal of Edward Munson, the eccentric Baron Hurstfield, who is in need of a wife to obtain an inheritance. But with her heart still pining after Joshua, can Christine learn to love her husband and build a life with him?

Series Warnings: sloooooow burn (it's a fucking novel, I'm sorry), angst, suicide attempt, mentions of domestic abuse, some smut in later chapters. Also, my deepest apologies to the people of Yorkshire for the accent and any other details I might have butchered.

Chapter Warnings: angst/depression, more awkward attempt at sex (slight dubcon), blood/bleeding, suicide attempt

A/N: I didn't realize so much happens in this chapter, and all within a single night too! Need to work on my pacing...

Chapter word count: 5k

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Christine blinked awake in the gray light of dawn. She had some dim memories of a maid helping her out of her traveling clothes and into bed, but she had fallen asleep the moment her head hit the pillow, so she hadn't seen much of the room. After the desolation of the drive and the gloom of the hall, she wasn't expecting much, yet a weight still settled on her heart when she looked around. The room was steeped in murkiness - everything, from the oak half-paneling, darkened with age, to the embossed wallpaper, to the heavy mahogany furniture, to the windows with their thick draperies and deep sills, seemed to swallow up the light.

The prospect outside the windows didn't do much to lift her spirit either. A gray mist covered the entire landscape, with only some blurry dark shapes here and there suggesting trees and bushes, like a great empty sea leading all the way to the distant hills. A maid came in to help Christine dressed, and then she went out into a long corridor that ran the whole length of the house, into which the bedrooms opened, and down the stairs. She looked at the tapestries around the front hall, which showed a unicorn hunt, and paused in front of the last one, hanging by the door leading into the dining room. It showed the unicorn in captivity, looking rather pitiful with a collar around its neck and fences surrounding it. Christine knew how it felt.

"Poor thing," Edward's voice said by her ears, making her jump. "I'd always felt sorry for it when I was a kid. Breakfast?"

He seemed quite cheerful this morning and didn't notice, or pretended not to notice, his bride's dejected air. After breakfast, he took her around the house, pointing out how it had been built with stones from the ruins of a nearby abbey, how the hall dated all the way from the Crusades and the rest was renovated during the reign of Queen Elizabeth, explaining every scene depicted on the stained glass windows and the tapestries, all with the proud air of the king of the castle. Christine tried to listen, but the chill, vault-like atmosphere of the house was like a blanket weighing her down, and she couldn't muster up the enthusiasm.

She didn't see Edward much in the days that followed. The lambing season had begun and he was busy, riding out to all the farms to supervise the work. When he was home, he shut himself off in his study, going over the finances of the estate - though the debts were paid off, the accounts were apparently still in disarray and required a lot of attention. Meanwhile, Christine wandered through the gloomy, lonely, possibly haunted rooms of Hurstfield Hall, trying to find something to do, to occupy herself with, and forget the sense of melancholy that had settled on her after the wedding and worsened during the journey from London.

When she first arrived, she had thought Hurstfield Hall a cursed place, but now she wondered if she was the cursed one. She had no place here. Mrs. Wayne was considerate and always deferred to her in the household affairs, but Christine could see that the old woman had everything running like clockwork and had no need of her input. She tried reading, embroidering, painting, but none of them stuck. Writing in her journal only emphasized how empty her days were. She wrote long, incoherent letters to Joshua that she burned immediately afterward. Her mother wrote occasionally, and in the early days, Christine would scour her letters for any gossip about Joshua, but everything was about his engagement to Miss Jennings, which stabbed at her heart so much she had to beg her mother not to mention him anymore. She would try music, though music had never been her strong suit, but there was no musical instrument to be found in the house, which she found rather strange.

One day, while passing through the drawing room, Christine noticed a door left ajar that Edward hadn't shown her. She went in and discovered a little parlor overlooking the garden, spotless, but with even more of an empty, un-lived air than the rest of the house. An embroidery frame stood by the fireplace, with a half-finished piece of needlepoint still in it. Some sheets of paper, yellowed with age, a dry ink bottle, and some quills lay scattered on the escritoire in the corner of the room, as though the occupant had only gotten up and left. A pianoforte stood by the window, its lid shut. The entire room gave the impression of being frozen in time, waiting for someone who would never return. Christine was overcome by an unbearable sadness.

She opened the pianoforte and tentatively struck a chord. A note sang out, surprisingly sweet and clear in the sepulchral quietness. Seemingly summoned by the sound, Edward appeared in the doorway.

"How did you come to be in here?" he asked. He didn't look displeased with her, but there was a stern note in his voice.

"The door was open," she said. "I didn't mean to pry."

Edward's face softened. "Of course not. I didn't say you were. Nancy must've forgotten to close the door after dusting."

"What is this room?" Christine asked, noticing that he still hadn't stepped inside.

"My mother's parlor," he said. Then, crossing to the pianoforte in one long stride, he shut the lid, gently but firmly, and ushered Christine out. "It's very damp in here, you shouldn't stay," he muttered by way of explaining, as if the whole house wasn't dampness itself.

The one thing she thought she wouldn't miss about her former life was London society, but after a while, she began to long for even the dullest of balls or tea parties. For there was no socializing to be had at Hurstfield Hall. The nearest neighbors were twenty miles away, and even if they lived closer, Christine doubted Edward would want to entertain them and vice versa. Edward was not exactly a recluse, but he associated with such odd characters that Christine could hardly consider them guests - a local farmer with a new innovation to winter his stocks, a midwife on her way to Scotland to open a lying-in house, a traveling writer collecting local folklores, and, strangest of all, an itinerant garden hermit, who had been hired by a lord to live on his property for seven years but was sacked after being discovered at a nearby pub. He was now roaming the countryside, looking for another eccentric nobleman in need of an ornamental hermit. "Alas, my friend, my estate is not big enough for a hermitage," Edward said regretfully, though he seemed to be seriously considering it at one point, much to Christine's horror. If she hadn't been so unhappy, she would've laughed at how her mother, Lady Harrington, and other snobby members of the ton would react if they knew this was the extent of society in Hurstfield.

The vicar was the only socially acceptable guest she'd had, having arrived at the Hall one day to make his acquaintance with to the new Lady Hurstfield. However, he was a rather pompous little man, and Edward had argued with him so vehemently over some theological issue that he never visited again, and afterward would cast angry glances in their direction during every Sunday service.

Edward, to be fair, had tried to spend time with her. He told her about a project he was working on - a school for the village children of Hurst (she remembered his argument with Joshua at Lady Harrington's ball). He was having trouble engaging a schoolmaster, someone who could carry out his vision for a modern school, who could teach the children not just basic skills, but also useful and interesting knowledge to broaden their minds. Christine admired his enthusiasm, but in a rather vague, abstract way, as one would admire a person one read about in the papers. He then tried to teach her to ride, hoping it would give her some exercise and get her out of the house, but Christine, who had grown up in London and never been closer to a horse than in a carriage, had stepped back in terror when the horse reared up in front of her. So mostly she just walked, making long, wandering rambles across the Dales like a madwoman, heedless of the mud and mist. If she caught her death of cold, so be it.

She realized everything her mother taught her was only to catch a husband; she had no interest, no knowledge, no skills to prepare herself for life after marriage. What did women like her do to fill their days? They ran the household and raised their children, she supposed. Well, there was none of that for her.

If Edward had been cruel or cold to her, she might have found a strange comfort in it, in having someone to blame her misery on. But he wasn't. He treated her the same way he did the servants and tenants, kind and friendly, though he was a little shyer with her than with those he'd known from childhood. It seemed he had no idea what to do with her. He didn't love her, that much she knew. And he didn't seem to want her either.

Edward's bedroom was next door to hers, separated by a dressing room. Christine kept the door on her side closed every night, and true to his words, he never tried to open it. As the days went by and her shame at their wedding night had dwindled, however, she began to work up her courage to leave the door ajar, preparing herself mentally and physically to fulfill her wifely duties. A child would surely fix everything. If nothing else, it would at least occupy her time and thoughts. But still he didn't come.

Eventually, one night, Christine decided to take matters into her own hands. She knocked on his door and came in without waiting for an answer. Edward was in bed, reading a book by the candlelight. The sight irritated her. Always with his nose in a book, never looking up, never noticing his own wife. She tried to ignore the feeling. It would not do to feel irritated at him, when she was there to seduce him.

"What is it?" he asked, putting the book down.

She came boldly to the side of the bed and sat down. "You said we won't consummate the marriage until I'm ready," she said. "Well, I am ready now. In fact, I've been ready for a few weeks, but perhaps you've been too tired or too busy to notice." She realized she was sounding too cold, too detached. But there was nothing she could do about it.

Edward sat up and scrutinized her. "Are you really?"

"Yes."

He still looked at her, unblinking, his eyes narrowed slightly. She felt those eyes boring into her very soul, laying bare all her inadequacies, and turned away in discomfort. Fumbling, she undid her dressing gown and let it fall to the bed, revealing her thin chemise underneath. She knew how she looked in it. She only hoped that it would distract him and stop him from examining her with those unrelenting eyes.

"Christine, look..." He held out a hand, but before he could say another word, she took that hand, pressed it to her breast, and kissed him. She told herself that if she took the first step, instead of passively waiting for him, it would be better. And for a moment, it seemed to work. His lips remained stubbornly closed at first, but she kept brushing her tongue against them, and finally, they parted. Emboldened, she pushed her body toward him and reached under the covers, where she could feel his arousal through his nightshirt. So he did want her. As she lifted his shirt up, Edward pulled away a little. She heard him say "Christine, slow down," but refused to listen. She reached for the hem of her chemise, rucking it up, trying to find a position...

"Stop." Edward's grip was like iron on her wrists. He pushed her to the end of the bed, his eyes never leaving her face. "Why are you doing this?"

"Really, Edward, what a question to ask your wife..."

"Don't try to be coquettish, it doesn't become you." He sounded annoyed, and Christine dropped the act.

"We must produce an heir," she said.

"What do you think we are, a breeding pair of horses?" His harsh words shocked her. "Tell me, why do you want this? Tell me the truth."

Anger came over her, swift and sudden. "You want the truth?" she said. "The truth is that I want a child so it would give me some sort of purpose, someone to care for, to love, because God knows I'm not getting any of it from my husband!"

"That won't be fair to the child," Edward said. "It will be its own person. You can't rely on it for your own happiness."

If she had been calmer, Christine would have noticed how strange it was that he chose to focus on the hypothetical child instead of the dig at his own shortcomings as a husband, but in her fury, she only saw it as deflection. "Then who can I rely on?" she asked.

"Yourself." Christine laughed mirthlessly. Edward went on, unfazed, "I've told you before we married, I cannot promise you happiness. You know this. I'm only trying to be honest with you."

He was right, of course. She knew it and chose to marry him anyway. She had no one to blame for her misery but herself. At this, her anger rose up, both at him and at herself. "Yes, keep hiding behind that mask of honesty," she said, biting out every word. "But you must be honest with yourself as well, Edward Munson. What are you? You're not a husband. You're no one. You're not even a man." Gathering up her dressing gown, she stormed out.

***

She slammed the door to her bedroom, tears of anger and humiliation streaming down her face. A small part of her hoped, in spite of herself, that Edward would go after her and show her that he was a man, but her door remained intractably closed, taunting her. She wanted to hit someone, to break something, anything to get rid of this helplessness. She took a cushion from her sofa, buried her face in it, and screamed.

When she had screamed herself hoarse, she lifted her tear-stained face from the cushion. It was then that she noticed something white on the floor. Her mother's letter, just arrived that morning, which she had tossed on her dressing table. She had been in no hurry to open it, knowing it would be more of the same mix of gossip and complaint. It must have fallen to the floor when she grabbed the cushion.

To give herself something to do, Christine picked the letter up. It was heavier than usual, and she could feel an odd shape through the layers of folded paper. She broke the seal and saw at once why the letter was heavy - there was another one inside. Her pulse stopped, then quickened when she recognized Joshua's seal on it. Her mother's letter was only a short enclosed note, saying "Lord Craven asked me to forward this letter to you. He was so desperate to see you but didn't want to compromise you by sending it to you directly. How thoughtful it was of him." Her mother's fawning was practically dripping from it.

Christine tore open the letter. Something gold fell out. Her ring. The ring she had thrown at Joshua the last night they were together. What did this mean? With her heart in her throat, she scanned Joshua's elegant handwriting. "My beloved Christine," it said. "It has been two months since I last saw you, and I think about you every day. I hope you are happy in your marriage and do not think too badly of me. I'm writing this to let you know that I'm to be married soon. My father is very ill and I must settle his debts before I inherit the title. So I'm marrying Miss Amelia Jennings on this Saturday. But oh, darling Christine, know that my heart is with you always, and that my love for you shall last 'til life be past. Please let this ring be a reminder of that. Yours for eternity, Joshua C. P/S: I didn't send this to you directly in case someone saw my name on it and started asking questions."

Of course, she had heard the rumors about Joshua and Miss Jennings, but seeing the truth in black and white, in his own handwriting, was a terrible blow. She could hear his voice in every word, so full of love and regret. And as she read the letter again, a thought occurred to her. His father was dying. Afterward, Joshua would be free to do as he pleased. If she could convince him to postpone the wedding... Yes, there was the matter of the debts, but she was sure they could work something out. She could get her marriage to Edward annulled on grounds of impotence... They hadn't even consummated it... But Joshua was getting married this Saturday! She looked at the date on the letter. Three days from now! It would take her nearly that long to get to London.

In a fog of anger and heartache, Christine didn't stop to think how foolish this was. She didn't think at all. She only knew that she had to stop Joshua from getting married, even if she had to drive to London herself.

She got dressed, put all the money she had into a pouch, and put the chain with the ring back on her neck. Its weight felt safe against her heart. Then she went down the back staircase, past the kitchen, where she could hear Mrs. Wayne reprimanding one of the scullery maids of not putting away the rat poison, and toward the stable.

A light was still on in the stable, but inside, she found only one of the stable boys mucking out the stall. "Where's the driver?" she asked.

"They all went to th' pub in Hurst, mum," the boy said. "'Tis their night off." He looked no older than fifteen, with a mop of brown hair framing his face like the thatched roof of a cottage.

Christine bit her lips. She couldn't afford to wait. "Can you drive?" she asked.

"I'm not allowed to, mum," he said, looking alarmed. "I was only hired last month to clean th' stalls. Mr. Wheeler would 'ave my 'ide if I even touched t'orses..."

"Never mind that," she interrupted. "Can you drive?"

"Yes, mum."

"Hitch up the carriage. I have urgent business in London and cannot delay."

The boy dropped his pitchfork in panic. "But I dunno th' way to London..."

Christine wanted to scream. The ring was burning into her skin like a brand. She took a breath, trying to calm herself. "Then drive me to the pub and find Wheeler. He'll take me."

"But..."

"Now!"

Seeing the set of her jaws, the boy quickly got to work. Despite his protest, he proved to be quite handy with the horses and managed to hitch the pair to the carriage in no time. Christine was afraid that there might be someone at the lodge that would try to stop them, but they passed through the gate unhindered.

When the carriage rolled down the lonely stretch of road between Hurstfield Hall and the village, the pounding of Christine's heart started to slow, and the fog in her head cleared. She was able to think more rationally and realized how senseless her plan was. She couldn't possibly get an annulment on grounds of impotence. The wife had to prove her virginity for that. And Joshua couldn't possibly marry her, even when his father was dead. He needed to pay off the family debts. But at the thought of going back to Hurtsfield, she could almost feel that damp, gloomy air settle on her once more like a heavy blanket, smothering her, and her heart started pounding again. No, she would go back to London. Perhaps she could see Joshua again, just once before he married, to tell him how much she'd missed him, and how much she loved him. Perhaps she could get a separation from Edward...

A strange pounding sound in the distance interrupted her thoughts. She opened the window and called out, "Driver!"

The boy twisted in his seat to answer. "Name's Will, mum."

"All right, Will. Did you hear that?"

They both listened. Now it became clear that the pounding was hoof beats.

"Oughtn't I stop, mum?" the boy asked.

"No." Oh God, she hoped it wasn't someone from Hurstfield Hall, coming to take her back. "Drive on."

The hoof beats came closer, gradually but relentlessly.

"I think... I think they're followin' us, mum," Will said, his voice trembling.

Christine peered into the distance, hoping to see the lights of the village, but the dark remained absolute. "Can you outrun them?" she asked.

"Maybe I ought to turn back..."

"No! Try to outrun them!"

She glanced out the window again, and her body went cold. In the faint light from the carriage lamps, she could see the horse and rider coming toward them from across the dale. They were one black mass, the rider looming tall in the saddle, a wide-brimmed hat on his head. Now she was sure it was not someone from Hurstfield Hall. Just as she was thinking this, the rider raised his arm. She tried to shout a warning, but it was too late. There was a flash, followed by a sharp explosion. The horses screamed and the carriage ground to a halt.

Heedless of the danger, Christine jumped out of the carriage. She saw that young Will was thankfully unhurt, but he looked badly shaken. The highwayman, the lower half of his face covered by a handkerchief as black as his clothes, drew his horse next to them, holding them at gunpoint.

"Well, well, well, what 'ave we 'ere?" he said. His voice was gruff, muffled by the handkerchief. "Where ye goin', a pretty little thin' like ye?"

Christine held out her pouch of money with shaking hands. "Here's everything I have. Take it and leave us alone."

The highwayman snatched the pouch from her. Christine had a feeling that all his talk about her being "a pretty little thing" was just for show; he would not risk the trouble of kidnapping her. The thought calmed her a little. "Not bad, not bad," he said, feeling the weight of the pouch. "What's that ye 'ave there?" he pointed at the ring, which had fallen out of the collar of her cloak.

Christine's hand automatically went to her chest, hiding the ring from view. "You have your money. Please, leave us be."

"I'll 'ave that ring too, if ye don't mind."

She shook her head, clutching the ring more tightly. "No."

"Don't be silly now. Th' ring."

Will stepped up, shielding her. "Th' lady said no."

The gun was pointed straight at them. "Stand 'side, whelp," the highwayman said. At that moment, a shout went up in the distance, from the direction of Hurstfield Hall. As the highwayman turned his head toward the noise, Will leaped up, trying to wrestle the gun from him. Another shot rang out, and the boy collapsed. The shout in the distance got louder. The highwayman cursed under his breath, wheeled his horse around, and disappeared into the night, leaving the boy in a pool of blood at Christine's feet.

***

Edward ordered one of the footmen to fetch the doctor, while he and the others take Will back to Hurstfield Hall in the carriage. Christine stayed with the boy, clutching his hand in hers. There was so much blood. She had taken off her cloak and pressed it to his wound, and the blood had soaked through it.

When they reached the Hall, Will was taken to the kitchen. Edward followed them to make sure Will was taken care of, then he stormed over to the kitchen door, where Christine was hanging back helplessly. Grabbing her arm, he dragged her through to the front hall. He had never been so rough with her.

"You know, 'tis no concern of mine what you do wi' your own life," he snarled, his voice low and shaking with anger, the Yorkshire accent coming through more clearly than ever. "But if you ever endanger 'nother life with your foolishness, I swear to God..."

He didn't finish the sentence. A footman informed him that Dr. Sinclair had arrived. Edward flung her arm away in disgust and went out to meet the doctor.

Christine stood in the Hall with her blood-stained cloak, dazed. Everybody was busy with Will; no one even thought to ask if she was all right. After a while, when it became clear that no one was coming for her, she went back to her room like a child knowing it was being punished.

Upon entering her room, the first thing she saw was Joshua's letter, which she had left on the floor, now smoothed out and placed back on the dressing table. Edward must have found it and realized what she had done. She wanted to be angry with him, to blame him for driving her to this, but she couldn't. This was all her fault.

She went to the washstand and washed the blood from her hands. Thoughts went round and round in her head. Her mother didn't want her, her lover didn't want her, and her husband didn't want her. She had possibly caused the death of an innocent boy who had tried to protect her, and no one wanted her. She had no life. She had nothing. That bullet was meant for her. If it had hit her, there wouldn't have been any of this trouble.

Suddenly she remembered what she'd overheard Mrs. Wayne say to the maid about the rat poison while she was on her way to the stable. An idea formed. It grew and grew and grew in her mind, until it took over, like the red swirls from her hands staining the water in the basin. She had made two disastrous decisions in a row that night, what was one more? And this, if she succeeded, would be enough to pay for her previous mistakes. But they were all in the kitchen now, taking care of Will. She would have to wait. Slowly, she took off the ring, the ring that had caused so much pain, and put it away with its chain at the bottom of her jewelry box, and waited.

Another hour gone, the commotion downstairs faded, and she slipped into the kitchen. It was dark and deserted. Only the remnants of a fire in the hearth showed her the table where Will was laid, and a drop of blood on the floor that somebody had missed. She found the poison easily enough. It was on a high shelf in the scullery, clearly labeled. She poured a little of the white powder into her palm and swallowed it before she lost her nerves.

The powder tasted of nothing, which surprised her. She had expected it to be bitter or metallic. It seemed impossible that such an innocuous thing could be so deathly. Somehow, the surprise at its tastelessness jolted her out of her stupor, and she realized, with mounting panic, her mistake. Oh God, what have I done?

She ran up the stairs and into Edward's bedroom, without knocking. He was just getting ready for bed. He scowled when she came in, but he didn't seem as angry as before. Only tired.

"What is it?" he said, not looking at her.

"Please... help me." Her trembling voice made him turn around, and his eyes widened in horror when he saw the bottle in her hand. He threw himself to her side, gripping her wrists so hard it hurt. The bottle clattered out of her hand to the ground.

"How much did you take?"

"Not... not a lot." She didn't feel anything yet. How long would it take for the poison to work its way through her body?

Edward rummaged in a cupboard by his bed and ran over to her with a vial, which he unstoppered and pressed to her lips. "It's syrup of ipecac. It'll make you vomit."

Christine obediently swallowed a gulp. The moment the syrup hit her tongue, the taste of bitter mixed with sickly sweet made her gag, and she threw up unceremoniously on the hearth rug, from nerves almost as much as the medicine. She heard Edward calling out for Mrs. Wayne. What followed was a blur. She kept vomiting until there was nothing left. The doctor, who luckily hadn't gone far from Hurstfield, was summoned back. Hands seized her, a cold towel was pressed to her forehead, more liquid was poured down her throat, and she vomited again, but only brought up burning gall. She felt as though her stomach had been stabbed by a thousand needles and turned inside out, and her throat had been scoured with acid. Then the pain became too much and she sank into a dark pit.

Chapter 5

#hellcheer #hellcheer fic #hellcheer au #regency au #eddie munson #eddie munson au #eddie x chrissy #eddie munson x oc #joseph quinn #joseph quinn fic #grace van dien

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muffinlance · 4 years

Text

Reading through the Salvage Chapter 13 outline. Came across this scene summary:

BATO NO

Sometimes, that's really all the detail you need.

#Bato YES #was not needed #because it is clearly implied #past!me done a good job on this outline #gonna be REAL fun writing this <3 #hoping to officially start tomorrow #pray to the Mini-Muffin #ALSO #found out an hour ago that AzuLance LIKES the sound of a clattering sewing machine #if I'd had more to do he might have fallen asleep listening #GAME CHANGER #*plots sewing projects just because she can*#maybe an isopuppy plushie...?#anyway back to reading this outline

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books-and-catears · 2 years

Note

Hello! You probably won’t see this, but I recently found your account and it’s been my safe space! I’ve been having really bad days and when I read your stuff I feel a lot better, so I would like to thank you. I actually downloaded tumbler because of you! So, here’s my question, how would the brothers react to a Suicidal MC? Or MC saying they don’t want to live? I’m sorry if this is too heavy of a concept or dumb, I just wanted to ask cause I haven’t been doing great. Love your account! :)

Oh dear, I'm so sorry...*hugs tight* I'm so grateful that this could be your safe space, and I'm so sorry about what you're going through. You don't deserve any of it, and I'm sure it'll pass. And this is not a dumb concept at all, I found myself thinking about writing it a few times too.

Thank you for your ask and kind words, I hope this brings you whatever little comfort it can. Wish you nothing but happiness and love. And if the bad thoughts get too much, please reach out to someone near you okay?

Tw: Suicidal tendency mentions, Harsh language

Hold On to Me

It doesn't really go away. That voice at the back of your head, telling you to end it right now. The easiest way out of misery. It'll just be like falling asleep, a little pain and then nothing more.

How long had you been standing on that ledge of thought, simply frozen in place? Not falling, not pushing yourself back to safety. Living with seven more people doesn't help either.

Because who had the time to sit down and talk about it? Atleast that's the excuse you used to never tell them about it.

Until you accidentally let it slip.

They were visiting you in the human world. You were so happy initially. And then things just started going wrong...you didn't know how to stop it. It was all barelling so fast out of control. You were sick of it. Tired. And it reached your eyes.

And one of them noticed. And they followed you to your room only to keep on asking. And you couldn't hold it in anymore.

"I just want to end it. I'm tired. Tired of everything. I don't want to live anymore."

LUCIFER stares at you with wide eyes. Wide scared eyes only for a second before he clears his throat.

"Do you have plans tomorrow, MC?" He asks, his grip tightening on the buttons of his coat.

"Not that I can think of." You said.

"I'd like to take you someplace. Please join me tomorrow afternoon. And get some good rest tonight." He said, before leaving the room.

He took you by the hand to an old garden in Devildom. It was overgrown, dried petals of flowers long dead graced the grey grass.

"This is where..," Lucifer paused and threaded his fingers through yours. "This is where I saw Lilith for the last time."

"...." You listened silently in awe.

"We had lost the war. Whoever joined me had fallen. I was the leader who doomed them all. So this is also where I almost joined Lilith in death." Lucifer said softly.

"I looked at my brothers, in pain and bleeding, their wings and body burnt and figured. It was a long fall. But then something saved me. Saved all of us. Diavolo..he changed everything."

"...."

"If I did go on to end myself, Lilith would never be reborn as human, my brothers might have followed me into death, and I would have never met you."

"Lucifer...I-"

He stands in front of you, placing his arms in your shoulders and pulling you closer.

"I don't know if I can save you from what you're feeling. But you can be certain I'll give my all. You're not alone. Just like I wasn't alone."

_____________________________________

MAMMON shook his head softly, furrowing his eyebrows, like it was a bad nightmare he was trying to wake up from.

"No.. oh no no no, not you MC..." It was like the mere thought of you permanant absence gave him a million ounces of pain at once.

"Mammon... you're shaking!" You help him onto the bed, refusing to take his eyes off you.

He didn't say another word. He simply leaned his head forward and onto your shoulder. Your shoulder felt damp and his breath was unstable.

"If ya end it...I...who am I.. going to protect? No, I have to protect you from this feeling. I'll protect ya from it. I know just what to do! Come with me!"

"Mammon wait- wait, you're not stable! Where are you taking me?!" He was desperate and erratic. Keeping his eyes ahead, he carried you through the skies, taking you someplace you had no idea about yet.

"I've seen it okay?! I've heard humans say this shit and then be gone." His jaw clenched. He was fighting back panicking tears.

"I've seen them jump off buildings and swallow pills and more horrible things. They wanted to end it, they said. And they almost ended up doing it! But there is a way to save them...they need to talk to these 'specialists' who make these thoughts go away, I know it!"

"Mammon..."

"Just talk to them okay? I don't know how long it'll take but it'll go away! I know it will, MC...just please. I don't want to lose you to it."

______________________________________

LEVI dropped the whole pile of manga he was carrying for you. As you sighed and turned around in exhaustion, Levi crept up behind you. He stood closer now looking dead serious.

"It's not worth it, MC. It's really not worth it." Levi said gravely. "The people who hurt you or never cared about you will make a great big show of lies of how much they cared about you. And the people who actually cared will suffer in silence."

"Levi....You almost sound like you-" You cup his face. He hangs his head leaning into your touch.

"Right after the things had gotten peaceful in the Celestial Realm. When there was no need for the Navy or it's Admiral, I-" He paused.

He never planned to tell you this story. What if you think of him as weak? Or weaker than he already was.

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to. It's okay Levi." You insisted. But he saw the same tired look he saw in himself, on you. He had to tell you.

"I went off to the human world. By myself. Hoping to get lost or something. I'd never that useless before."

"...."

"All I did was worry my brothers. The only people who never made me feel like shit for not having anything to do anymore. It didn't feel good you know?"

You stood there in silence still absorbing his story. He blushed deeply realizing how bold he had decided to be suddenly and freaked out. You almost laughed.

"I- I- Did I say all that?! Oh no! I don't know what I was thinking - forget all of that MC, lets just go read the new manga I got!"

__________________________________

SATAN stood there silently for a minute before he sat down on your bed. He looked at you and patted the mattress next to him, asking you to take a seat.

"Would you like to talk about it? It helps more than you realise." He said.

You sigh. "It's... it's a lot. I don't know."

"What would you like to do right now? At this very moment." He asked, nudging your shoulder with his.

"I...I just want to rest, I guess. I can't think of anything else." You said, throwing your hands in the air.

"Then let's rest." He falls back on the bed, holding his hand out to you. You take it and he pulls you down too.

You both lie there, staring at the ceiling in silence, his fingers softly caressing your knuckles. You felt yourself calming down, an odd sense of calm filling the air.

"This feels better?" He asked, looking over at you. You nodded.

"There's always things you'll want to do. And they will give you happiness no matter how much." Satan said, inching closer.

"Please don't deny yourself that happiness, MC. You deserve every bit of it."

"Satan..."

"And if you're feeling overwhelmed, I'm always here. I'll hold your hand and do whatever makes you a little happier. You mean too much to me, MC...I don't want you to feel this way alone."

________________________________

ASMO's eyes brimmed up with tears within seconds. "Don't... don't say things like that, MC..."

"Just leave Asmo. Please, I'm sorry I'm just not in a good state of mind." You said, exasperated.

"That's all the more reason I can't leave you alone, darling." Asmo moved ahead and swiftly put his arms around you, his head resting on top of yours.

"I can't talk right now, Asmo. I need some space okay? I don't any control what I might say to you and hurt you." You prodded. Everything felt unpleasant and suffocating.

"I don't mind MC." Asmo smiled. "You humans have such a self destructive pride - you push others away when you need them most. And hide your sadness with rage. A few of my own brothers do too."

"...."

"You can say whatever you want to me. Be as angry as you can. Curse all you want. I know you won't mean it."

He smiles the prettiest smile, pressing a chaste kiss on the top of your head. And you relax into his hug.

_________________________________

The TWINs had come together and they exchanged horrified glances. Beel moved first and stood right before you. "MC..."

"Not now, Beel...just please, let me be awhile. I'm too tired for this." You try to reason.

He simply cups your face, stroking a stray tear running down your cheek. When did you even start to cry? "You're hurting inside. This is why you haven't been eating?"

"I'm just not hungry, Beel. That all."

"And you haven't been sleeping well either have you?" Belphie reached out a stroked the bags under your eyes. "Stop doing this to yourself, MC."

You move back letting both their hands fall off you. Too much at once. You couldn't take it right now.

"You don't get to tell me what to do or not do with myself. Besides I'm fine. I just need to be alone for a while."

"You need space, we get it. But please don't do anything stupid. We're right on the other side of the door." Belphie tugged at Beel's jacket. "Let's go Beel. MC just needs some alone time."

Beel dashed out only to come back within seconds with a handful of snacks and your favourite ice cream. "Please don't starve yourself."

"....I won't Beel, don't worry. Thank you for all this."

Belphie puffed up your pillow before he left. "I enchanted the pillow. You'll have a good sleep and no nightmaresa. We're right here when you need us."

"Thank you Belphie..."

#obey me #obey me angst #obey me comfort #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me belphie #obey me beel #obey me asmo #obey me imagine #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me asmodeus #obey me Leviathan

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