#my whole life it’d always be my job to clean my brothers room and even now I’m the one that keeps others shit clean instead of themselves | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

xpeachesncream · 3 years

Text

bands | sixteen

[ series masterlist ]

summary: jeon jungkook has it all: the looks, the fame, the money, the women. being considered the sexiest man in the industry, he finds no complaints about the way his life is going nor does he find any reason to apologize for the way he approaches it. he is a force to be reckoned with - until he meets you.

pairing: stripper!reader x idol!jjk

genre: (18+) strip club/nightlife au, post grad au | fluff, angst, smut

words: 5.0k

warnings: cussing, mature language/implied sexual content, angst, anxiety, alcohol consumption, slight intoxication, physical abuse, slight verbal abuse, belittling, mentions of cuts/wounds but nothing too graphic, mentions of coke

tags: @brightcolorsoffendme @min-nicoleee @eggbutnotyolk @ra-mun-e @miinoongi @jimidol @ppeachyttae @thebeebi @bluesharksandfish @kooafraid @liriaus @thisartemisnevermisses @ggukkieland @preciouschimine @sunniejinnie @cypheruby @cyb3rbab3 @masterlists101 @awhnamjoon @redhedhoseok @wooya1224 @taeismydeath @jikookiekosmos @un2-verse @aynsx @wearenot7withu @knjeuphoria @bringitseijoh (closed!)

Jungkook laid on the dorm couch, legs sprawled out as he wore his hood and covered his face as much as possible. He shut his eyes, trying to make sense of the cryptic texts you had sent him.

"We shouldn't do this anymore."

"I can't do this, Jungkook."

"You don't deserve this."

"I'm only trouble."

"We aren't going to work."

He repeatedly called you, asking for an explanation, a way to help make things better because none of this should have been the reason for you to want to call it 'quits' like that. He asked for you to talk to him. He'd call and after two rings, it'd bring him straight to voicemail. It never failed. Indeed, there was much more to the text but he only fixated on a few lines, and those few lines seem to be circling his head time and time again with no sign of leaving him alone.

"I think I'm falling in too deep and I need to stop this while I can. You hear them, you hear the shit they say. I would never let them ruin you, I don't want them to. You deserve better. Maybe it's true that I don't fit into this."

It frustrates him, every single time. Where the hell did he go wrong? Why was there a sudden change? Something was off, and god forbid if his assumptions were right. But, everything was leading right back to it. The way you called in sick, the way you shut everyone out. The way you texted him these things, wouldn't pick up his calls just to tell him you're busy or whatever the hell it was. It didn't sound like you. It didn't seem like you at all.

All things led right back to the club. To Bigs. Where you felt high and mighty. Wanted. Like no one could ever hurt you the way they did outside of the club because they worshipped you in there. They knelt down to you. The way you were so fucking tough there. He knew this is where you would fall back if things got rough. He couldn't help but think that you had been forced into it though, because he knew you didn't give a shit about that anymore. Ah well, forced or not, it just felt so off. Unusual.

"Hey." Namjoon sits on the floor near Jungkook's head. "You good?" He asks even though he's fully aware he's not. Joon hates those people who ask if something's wrong when clearly, something is wrong — however, he wasn't really sure how else to open up this conversation without coming off too pushy or forward. Too insensitive, even.

"Nope."

"What's going on?" Jungkook sighs as he tries to lower his hood even more, although there's no more of his hood to lower. He keeps his hand on his face, trying his hardest to keep himself together.

"I don't know." Now, going back to earlier — everyone can tell Jungkook isn't happy. They've tried to butter him up and make him feel better even though they knew you were the only person who could truly make him happy again. They've tried to talk to him in one way or another, but they never forced him if he didn't want to. The only person that really hasn't said much was Jimin, and that also pisses him off because if he had anything to do with this, he will surely fuck him up for ruining his happiness.

"You hear from Y/N? She still sick? Does she need anything?"

"She's not sick."

"Hm?" Joon slightly turns back, confused.

"Something else is wrong."

"Like what?"

"She's not picking up my calls. Not answering my texts the way she normally does. When she does, it's super blunt or one worded."

"Maybe she's really not feeling well, or just caught up with things—"

"No, hyung. I know her, she always has her priorities straight. Even if she was sick, she wouldn't do this. She wouldn't go as far as to shutting her own brother out."

"Idol life too overwhelming? I get it." Jimin jokes as he walks into the kitchen, making Jungkook shoot his head up to glare at him.

"The fuck, can you not? I don't see why you feel the need to joke around right now."

"Jeez, sorry. I just thought I'd lighten up the mood somehow."

"Come on, dude." Namjoon looks at him with disappointment, Jimin only returning the gesture by rolling his eyes and walking away. "How can I help you?" Joon asks, returning his attention back to Jungkook.

"Maybe I was being selfish bringing her into all of this. These people— they're fucking mean, and she's already had her fair share of dealing with mean people. How am I supposed to protect her all while not feeling selfish about it?"

"You're not selfish, who told you that?"

"Jimin." That's like strike.. whatever to Namjoon at this point. Why the hell was Jimin being so fucking weird?

"Look, I know it's not easy in this industry. But I think what you can do is prove to her that you won't hurt her, especially with everyone around her doing nothing but hurting her. You need to show her that you're different from the rest of them, that she can fully trust you. If I were in her shoes, to be honest, it would be scary for me. You got a whole lot of shit going on in your life. You're expected to provide a lot, and on top of that, you haven't had the best reputation with women."

"Yeah, I hear you."

"Then, nothing else matters. You keep fighting for her if she really matters to you. Does she?"

"Of course she does, I mean, can't you tell? I've never been this way over someone." Joon nods.

"You sure as fuck haven't. It still catches me and the guys by surprise. But, I'm happy to see someone helping you become a better person. She's been nothing but genuinely sweet, and I know she already does a hell of a job taking care of you."

"She's— I don't know. She's become so important to me."

"I know she has, and I'm happy to hear that. I really am." Joon sighs. "So tell me, what can I do? I hate seeing you like this."

"Well, I'm sure as hell not allowed at the club. Bigs will do anything to get back at me for what I did to him. He won't hesitate."

"I won't let him. We won't. You really think she went back?" Jungkook nods.

"Positive. Something doesn't feel right. It feels weird. And I feel like she was egged into this. I don't like it one bit."

"Want me to go check out the club tonight?"

"Yeah, please?" Jungkook says. "But don't be too obvious. Bring Jin hyung or someone who could use a lap dance or two."

"Sooo Jin hyung?" They chuckle.

"Yeah, exactly."

"And if she's there?"

"Then I'm going straight to her tomorrow night. I just need to make sure I do this right because I don't want her or Kai to get hurt. I'll stay out there if I have to just to make sure she doesn't go back. What else do I have to do—" Jungkook pauses to stop himself because this clearly wasn't you. He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. "Who the fuck made her do this?"

"Bigs, who else?"

"No, she wouldn't listen to just Bigs. He's definitely working with someone and using shit against her."

"Okay, let's just not assume the worst. I'll head there tonight and drag Jin hyung with me."

"Thanks hyung, I really appreciate it."

"No problem." Joon gently massages his shoulder before getting up from his spot to make his way back to his room.

All Jungkook can think about doing is sleeping more right now. He'll send the occasional text to check on Kai and see how he was doing, but they both worried too much about you and Jungkook would hate to tell him that you ended up going back to the club. He didn't think he would tell him, he didn't think he'd have to because he was gonna make sure to get you out of there before shit hit the roof again. If it hasn't already, and he's hoping it hasn't.

And so when Namjoon and Jin hyung [obviously in need of that lap dance or two] head out to the club, Jungkook stays in his dorm room, suddenly feeling the adrenaline rushing through his body even though he can't do shit besides sit here and wait. He goes through the random pictures he's taken of you - the cute, candid photos he had of you, the cute candid photo of you as his lock screen. He deletes all the texts in his inbox even though he knows it might have been a little late. It honestly hasn't mattered to him in such a long time, but he just never got around to wiping his inbox clean since he was so caught up with you - his baby.

"Is this going to turn into some kind of action movie? We bust through the doors, take down all the guards and steal Y/N?"

"No, hyung. Jesus. Do you forget you're an idol? That's probably the very last thing we should do."

"So, what do we do?"

"We just walk in there like we normally do?"

"Boring."

"Plus, we can't have Bigs onto us like that. We have to act like we don't know anything."

"Do you really think he's using something against her?"

"I don't know. I have to be honest though, I think Jimin's involved."

"W-what?" Jin says, furrowing his brows. "No, he can't be."

"Trust me. He always acts so weird around her, and he's probably the one person who hasn't taken this as seriously. He hasn't said anything to Jungkook."

"But why though?"

"I don't know, beats me. I just don't think he respects her. Or, likes her. Whatever it is."

"She hasn't done anything to him though."

"That makes it worse, doesn't it?"

"How could you be so sure?"

"Look hyung, I'm not. I just think he's involved. My gut says so. We'll find out whether I'm right or not, right?"

"I hope you aren't. That'll really mess Kookie up."

"Well. I love him, but he'll have to learn the hard way for butting into someone else's business like that. No matter what the reason is." Namjoon parks the car and fixes his rolled up sleeves before adjusting the Rolex on his wrist. He looks at Jin once more, nodding in approval once they both feel like they've fixed themselves enough to look presentable, not questionable.

Meanwhile, you had just finished up your time on stage so you headed to the back to take a break. Bigs hadn't given you the option to secure private bookings knowing damn well there would be opportunity for Jungkook and some of his boys to slip through and try to work their magic in private. As much as possible, you were just trying to protect Jungkook, even though you knew he wouldn't back down without a fight. You knew Bigs wasn't all that tough, but right now, he seemed to hold a lot of power with Jimin being on his team. And you knew damn well it was Jimin all along. Did you have concrete evidence? No. But your gut feeling might as well be enough with the way he talks to you. Why else would Bigs all of a sudden feel all mighty? Bigs had threatened Jungkook and your brother enough to keep your mouth shut. Enough to keep your attitude level at a 0.

The scene played in your head over and over again—

"I gave you a better life, you ungrateful piece of shit. You do as I say and your little Jungkook and your little Kai won't get hurt. You think I'm scared of them, sweetie? You think I'm scared of you? Your stepfather don't give a damn about you two. I can easily send my men down to do their magic, especially after how Jungkook treated me. Is that how he repays me after all the special treatment I've given him?" Mr. Bigs hunched over you. "You two wanna play me like a fool, I'll show you two what it's like to be played like a fool." He pulled on your hair before aggressively releasing and spitting to the side.

There was no way they would get dragged into this. Not anymore. They didn't deserve to be included in this no matter what it was.

Boy, did you miss Jungkook. Everything about him. It took everything in you not to come running back. It took everything in you not to answer those calls or texts like you normally would.

You chose him, every single time. You wish he knew that. Him and Kai.

You sighed, sipping on the flask you snuck in. The alcohol relieving you of any pain, helping you feel numb as the night goes on. You didn't want to feel tonight, you just didn't. Why would you, when everything had just been hurting you lately?

You had just finished dancing out on the main stage, throwing your ass back to some Megan and Cardi. A few other dancers were gathered at a vanity, sneakily sniffing lines of coke while Bigs and his men were busy paroling the main stage.

"You want some of this, sis? In celebration of you coming back?" One of the other dancers smirks at you. You simply shake your head no and return to the flask in your hand.

"I'm good, thank you."

"Alright, well it's here if you want it. Just let me know, babe." Her and the other dancers go back to their business on the vanity. However, another dancer continues to eye you, sympathy filling her expression as she approaches you while you sip on your flask once more. You were starting to feel pretty tipsy again, hoping you could just hide out in the back 'till the very end of your shift.

"Y/N." She says, her hand gently on your arm. "You okay?"

"I'm good." You purse your lips together to prevent yourself from tearing up. Those words were triggering for you because you were not okay, whatsoever.

"Why did you come back, babe?" She genuinely asks, worried about you. "Did Bigs do something?"

"No." You lied. "Things just didn't work out elsewhere I guess, and I need money."

"Didn't work out? I saw the way Jungkook handled Bigs that night." If anything, she was probably the one dancer who paid attention to the environment around her. Everyone else was oblivious to the shit that's been happening and that's because they didn't give a fuck about anyone else. Her stage name was Trixie, but her real name was Miki. She too didn't really enjoy being here but her parents talked so much about how she was useless and couldn't make it out in the world, especially as a vlogger. She loved it. She loved being in front of the camera and talking to the world thru the lens. But her parents thought it was dumb— that she was dumb for even wanting to grow a career online like that. Besides all of it, she remained sweet, and she was always super nice to you. You wouldn't be surprised if she knew about you and Jungkook, and you honestly wouldn't have a problem with it. She never treated you wrong. She knew Bigs had a tendency to overstep and abuse the power he had with his status and his money. However, she knew he was a big coward and that he was all talk, no play — especially if it was outside of the club. He may be a big honcho here, but outside, he had no chance. And she couldn't wait until the day he'd get his for all the mess he's caused.

"Yeah well, things happen." She shakes her head.

"Y/N, you can talk to me. Look, as much as I love seeing your face, you have so much potential. You don't deserve to be stuck here. Let me help you figure this out."

"I'm okay, Miki. Thank you, though." She nods, not wanting to press you any further.

"Well, I'm here for you." She gives your arm one good squeeze before walking off.

Eventually, the rest of the dancers retreat back out onto the floor, leaving you to hide away in the back room as long as possible — which is why Namjoon can't get a glimpse of you anywhere out in the main area. Bigs is actually a little taken aback to see both him and Jin walking through the club, even after everything that has gone down. But hey, business is business— and if they weren't gonna cause any trouble, so be it. He knows though, he knows full well there's a possibility they're here for you.

"Boys! Long time no see!" He greets them, Joon and Jin giving him a toothless smile in return. "How've you been? What brings you in?"

"Mr. Bigs." Namjoon says, smoothing down his shirt. "Ah, we're good, just getting busy prepping for the tour. Wanted to take a little breather tonight."

"Well, I'm glad you guys came here to do so. Can I get you two anything to drink?" The both of them shake their heads. "Anything to help relieve that stress?"

"We're good, thanks. Just gonna sit out on the floor for a bit."

"You two let me know if there's anything I can do for you, at all." Bigs smiles at them as he begins to watch them walk away. "Make sure she's covered." Bigs slightly turns his head to speak through the headset mic, alerting his men to keep an eye out. He thinks he's said it low enough so that Jin and Namjoon don't hear, but Jin catches the movement in his peripherals, causing him to pinch Joon's bicep.

"Back room." Jin says, subtly nodding towards the backroom as he keeps his gaze out on the main stage and adjusts his tie. Namjoon looks around to see Bigs has welcomed himself to the other side of the club, speaking to a few customers, looking distracted.

"I'm gonna go see if I can talk to her."

"Talk?! You said we were just scoping her out. Don't cause any trouble, Namjoon-ah. Please."

"Oh, now you suddenly don't want this action movie to come alive?! You sure were talking a whole lot about it in the car."

"Since when do you even take me seriously?!"

"I always take you seriously, hyung!"

"How about you just sneak towards the back door and get her attention? You said we can't go all out like that!"

"There's guards there too."

"Look, I just don't want you or Y/N to get hurt. Maybe we should just lay low and figure out how we can approach this better."

"Hey, can I get you two anything?" Miki interrupts, fully aware of who they are and what they're here for.

"No, sweetie. Thank you." Jin responds, flashing his 100-watt smile.

"You looking for Y/N?"

"Depends who's asking?" Namjoon says, trying to keep his guard up.

"Look, I'm not gonna rat you out if that's what you think." She puts her hand on her hip, tray still balancing on her free hand. "She's in the backroom. But there's no way you can get to her. Bigs is watching her for whatever reason."

"Yeah, we're aware. Can you send her a message for me?"

"Sure. You have 10 seconds though or else Bigs is gonna be onto you." She points towards Bigs slowly making his way back.

"Just tell her that Jungkook is worried about her and wants to help. Or, we want to help. We just wanna know what's going on."

"I'll try, but she didn't let up when I asked earlier."

"Thanks." Joon sighs.

"Shoo, I'll find you guys around." She says, sneakily walking off towards the bar with her empty tray as Bigs starts to eye the main floor. Jin and Namjoon welcome themselves to a seat on the side of the stage, acting normal as possible by throwing bills onto the stage for the dancers. Miki tends to her customers before she's setting her tray down and pretending to take a cigarette from her bra to take a quick "break." She heads to the back to see you still sitting at your vanity, head resting against the palm of your hand.

"Babe." You turn to look at her, eyes slightly glossed over.

"Hm?"

"RM and Jin are here. They said they want to help you, and if you can tell them anything, that's all they'd want."

"Miki—"

"Girl, look. Don't let this man keep running your life like this. I don't care what he said or did, this isn't you. You need to get out of here and you need to let people in. People who genuinely care about you." You sigh.

"How is that possible when Jungkook's own bestfriend doesn't even like me? And ontop of that, Bigs even dragged my little brother and my evil ass stepfather into this. I can't let anything happen to him, he's the only thing I have."

"I get that, and I'm sure Jungkook will do whatever it takes to protect you both. Why are RM and Jin here then? Whatever Jungkook's other friend's issue is, he needs to figure it out. It's obviously his own problem, something he created himself for no reason."

"I know he's helping Bigs keep me away from Jungkook. All the hurtful shit in the media, all the shit he's been tossing in my face. Whatever, I get it. He wins. I don't belong."

"Don't say that."

"It's true, and I know even if I chose Jungkook, he'd choose his bestfriend over me. Why would he go against that? They've been together for so long. I'm a fucking nobody." Miki knows this is all the alcohol running through your veins, but at least now, she knows Bigs isn't doing this on his own [as she assumed, he's a fucking pussy for the most part - he's a pussy who got handsy with the dancers cause that's all he can do to feed his ego].

"I don't think that's true, and I don't think it's a fair assumption when he's stayed by your side, hasn't he? He hasn't given up on you." She says before walking out. Really, things were just completely scrambled in your head. Just fucked up. Your questions, your uncertainty was strong enough to pull you towards the negative - the what if's, the assumptions, the rumors, the shit-talking. After all that, the positives were dim.

Miki grabs her tray and serves the first couple of customers in dire need of their drinks before she heads over to Jin and Namjoon to spill the information she received from that conversation.

"She won't budge. It sounds like a lot of this shit talking got to her head, so she came back to make herself feel better but then Bigs ended up turning this around on her, threatening Jungkook and her brother. If I were you, I'd get Jungkook to her before she can even come back here. Make sure her brother is with him too. Bigs is all talk but being the guys that you are — I wouldn't take any chances to ruin your reputation and all that." She smacks on her gum. "And I hate to tell you this, but one of your little friends has been working with Bigs. I don't know who, but you better let that little shit know he was wrong for getting in her head like that. She deserves way better." She says with a punch of attitude before walking away.

"Jimin?" Jin mouths out to Namjoon, who only shrugs in response.

"Let's go." Namjoon tosses a couple of more bills before they head out.

"Have a good evening, boys." Bigs yells out, causing the two of them to return a tight-lipped smile.

"Are we going to tell Kookie about Jimin?"

"No? Because we don't even know ourselves. His name was never dropped, and we'll look dumb if we acted on assumptions."

"This is so fucked up." Jin sighs, looking out the window.

"You're telling me."

When they finally arrive back at the dorm, Namjoon and Jin find Jungkook pacing around in his room, tossing a rubber ball against the wall to keep himself occupied. His doe eyes dart over to them, letting the ball drop to the floor while he nervously walks closer to them.

"So?"

"I'm sorry, dude." Joon sighed. "From what it sounds like, all this mess just got to her head so she went back to the club to make herself feel better. But Bigs ended up bringing you and her brother into the situation so, I'm assuming she's distancing herself to protect you in some way?" Namjoon runs his hand through his hair. "Honestly, I really don't know, that's as much as we got."

"We didn't even talk to her or see her, some other dancer helped us out. I guess she's a friend of hers? Or maybe she just likes Y/N. She wanted to help." Jin says.

"Fuck!" Jungkook groans, slamming his hand down onto his bed. "Why couldn't she just talk to me? We could have figured this out."

"Look, I'm sure there's a lot more to it and I'm sure it's difficult for her. Promise me you'll hear her out when you see her."

"I mean, yeah I know, I will. But, how did this get to her head so easily? I really can't wrap my head around it, I—" He catches how tense Joon and Jin suddenly get. He watches them nervously looking at each other, making him cock his head to the side and furrow his brows. "Wait, what is it? You know something else, don't you?"

"I mean there's really no concrete facts behind it so we can't necessarily say it's true."

"Well?" Jungkook asks, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles are turning white. But, before they could go any further, Jungkook's ringtone echos in the room. He quickly turns in case it's you calling, but he picks up anyway because it's someone equally as important.

"Kai?"

"C-can you come pick me up? My sister isn't picking up. I'll send you Eric's address." Jungkook worries when he hears the shakiness in his voice, his tone low to a whisper.

"Yeah, sit tight. I'll be right there." He hangs up, darting out of his room, Namjoon and Jin following after him.

"Where are you going?"

"I need to get to Kai."

"Let us come with!"

"Look, it'll be quicker if I go myself—"

"Jungkook-ah, stop. We're not gonna let you go alone." Joon and Jin make it just in time to join him in the elevator, heading straight for his car even if it's nearing 1am. Jungkook pulls up Kai's location, pressing on the gas to rush over there just in case Kai was hurt. And yes, Jungkook was going to give it to your fucking stepfather if he sees anything on Kai. He will fucking destroy him, he promises.

Jungkook, Namjoon and Jin walk into the house quietly, seeing Kai putting his finger up to his lips when he meets them near the kitchen.

"What happened?" Jungkook whispers, handing his bags over to Namjoon and Jin. Jungkook looks at the small hint of blood pooling near his nostrils and the cut near his eyebrow.

"I'll explain in the car, can you just take me to—"

"Really? Calling your sister's boyfriend and his friends over to save you? You really are a helpless little shit." Namjoon, Jin and Jungkook are all shielding each other and Kai from Eric, Jungkook's blood boiling seeing him standing there, clearly very drunk and not in the right state of mind.

"Aye, don't fucking talking to him like that." Jungkook's spits out, making Eric laugh.

"First you fall for my slut of a daughter, now you help rescue him? I thought you were so much better than that, Jungkook. You aren't the person people portrayed you to be. Shittiest idol I know. All of you."

"You don't know me." Eric snorts.

"You guys do know I help sponsor your shit right? I play a big role for you, don't come into my house acting like—" He slurs his words.

"Yeah, well fuck the contract." Namjoon's jaw clenches. "Better yet, don't fucking worry about it, I'll make sure to take care of it for you."

"You need me." Eric says, almost at a growl. "You need me and Bigs—"

"Since when?" Namjoon responds in a mocking manner as he begins to usher Jin, Jungkook and Kai towards the front door. "If you wanna send your people over, you can let them know I'm free tomorrow in the late afternoon. I'll be more than happy to tell 'em what kind of sick person you are."

"You can't just take him—" Eric tries to flip the script, obviously unaware that Kai has already turned 18. He grips onto Kai's arm and tries to pull him back, except he's intoxicated, so Jungkook easily pushes him off. He watches as Eric hits a bar stool, stumbling over himself before he drunkily falls on his ass.

"You're such a sad excuse of a stepfather, you aren't even aware he's 18 already. He doesn't need you." Jungkook scoffs. "I'm gonna send people for the rest of Kai's shit tomorrow. And let's get this straight - we never needed you or Bigs. You both aren't shit without us and yout fucking empire thrives because of us. And if you do anything to Y/N, if you even think about working with Bigs on doing anything to her, I fucking promise you I will bury you alive. I won't stop until you have nothing left. Don't underestimate me."

youtube

everybody's angry and they're coming for me, but i can't give them energy that i won't receive; so i brush 'em off, i got a lot on my sleeve, like i'm moving backwards, but it's all on repeat; this place is getting crowded, i got no room to breathe

track twelve: hundred - khalid

406 notes · View notes

teletraan-meets-jarvis · 3 years

Text

What I Want - Part 2

AO3 Link

Chapter Title: What I Need

Pairing: Crosshair x fem!Jedi Reader

Summary: Following the awkwardness of the night before, you go to an old friend to try and process your feelings for Crosshair.

Click here for Part 1

Warnings: 18+, a bit more frisky business but not full on so rated 18 just to be safe. Swearing.

Word Count: 2.6k

Author’s Notes: You ask, you get!! Thanks so much for all the support and love for part 1 ❤️. As a thank you, I bring you part 2, I hope you enjoy! If this one takes off a bit as well, I do have an idea for a little bonus chapter around the Bad Batches' reaction. As always, feedback/comments are massively appreciated along with reblogs. Fic is below the cut off, thanks for reading!!

Taglist: @aerynwrites @shannon-lynn-21 @saltywintersoldat @tired-night-owl @wille-zarr

A comm alarm beeped softly, slowly pulling you out your slumber. Giving the device a sleepy glare, you shut it off and huffed back onto your bunk. Wrecker’s snores were echoing off the small ship barracks, you rolled your eyes at his sleeping form across the room as you swung your legs over the side of your top bunk. Below you, Tech slept soundly, he managed to fall asleep with his goggles on which were now sitting wonky on his relaxed face. He also had a datapad clutched to his chest, almost like a teddy bear, which made you chuckle to yourself.

You’d barely slept after getting back from the mission but being a General stopping over on Coruscant meant rest would be a pipe dream. Your alarm was set to get you out of bed and ready for the first of what you were sure would be a hundred and ten briefings today. You were always happy to shoulder the politics for the team, removing that burden from Hunter so they could keep to themselves. But today, you could really do without it.

You looked over at Hunter and Crosshair’s bunks, the former sleeping up top with an arm over his eyes. Probably to block out the few small coloured lights on the ship that shone from critical systems, preventing the room from being truly pitch black. You didn’t envy Hunter’s enhanced senses, they seemed to cause him quite a bit of discomfort when they weren’t on missions. You should probably pick him up an eye mask one of these days.

Below him, Crosshair slept with his back to the open room. One of the few times you ever saw his body relaxed was when he slept. You cringed as you remembered yesterday’s awkwardness with the sniper and mentally cursed at yourself for causing, what was, an easily avoidable situation.

Shaking your head you jumped silently off of your bunk, mindful to not wake any of the batch. You gently removed Tech’s goggles, placing them in their usual spot before moving over to grab some fresh robes and head for the fresher. Today was going to be a real drag.

—————————————————

“Hey! Look what the Lothcat dragged in” someone called after you as you trudged up the steps to the GAR Headquarters. You turned around to see none other than Anakin Skywalker jogging up behind you.

“Nice to see you too Skyguy” he chuckled at the nickname as he threw an arm around your shoulders.

You fell into companionable chatter as you made your way to your first meeting, the dark halls of the military headquarters looking indistinguishable as you attempted to find the correct room. Members of the Coruscant Guard patrolled the halls, nodding politely to you both as you strolled past.

Eventually you found the room where Mace, Plo and Luminara were waiting, along with some clone and human high command. You stood outside the door for a moment, readying yourself to seal your fate of being talked at for a solid eight standard hours.

Eventually you caved, mostly as you were on the verge of being late if you debated standing outside any longer. Begrudgingly, you sat through briefing after briefing. All the voices and different rooms blending into one grey blur as you tried to take in what information you could, but your tired and stressed mind was having none of it.

While it was nice to catch up with some of the other Jedi, you always felt a bit out of place among the perfect members of the council. More so now than ever.

You ended up wandering back to the temple with Anakin where you both retired to his room and you flopped down onto his simple bed with a whine.

“Okay, what’s going on? You’ve been off all day” Anakin was the closest thing you had to a brother, you trained as Padawans together and due to your similar age you became fast friends. You knew about his marriage to Padme and decided that if you could offload your dilemma on anyone, it’d be him.

“I fucked up” you groaned out from behind your hands.

“What’d you do?” Anakin replied in a playful tone.

“I might’ve got a bit hot and heavy with one of the clones in my squad, led him on and then cut it off” Anakin raised an eyebrow at your confession. “And now he’s pissed at me”

“Why?” You weren’t entirely sure which part of that entire thing he was questioning.

“Because I started the whole thing, I wanted it. Then all of a sudden I did that whole guilty Jedi, must follow every word of the order thing, gave him some pathetic look which said really sorry I can’t have attachments mate, hope you understand. He called me out on it before I could even utter the banthashit excuse and then he stomped off and hasn’t spoken to me since.”

“In his defence, seems like he was probably wound a little tight” Anakin replied with a chuckle which you just groaned at.

“He has every right to be pissed. Hells, I would be if the roles were reversed. Whats with this whole self-righteous act us Jedi have going on?”

“Look, it’s hard being a Jedi at the best of times. It takes an inhumane amount of self-control, which is why its not a path for the weak. But being a Jedi while at war… it’s a lot. You’re emotions are running high, you’re forming bonds with soldiers on the battlefield that you shouldn’t be, but none of us can help it because it’s uncharted territory. Maker knows I’d hunt down anyone who hurt Obi-Wan or my Captain. Yes, It’s not the Jedi way, but neither is fighting a grand-scale war.” Anakin’s eyes were alive with emotion as he spoke, be he quickly caught himself and then it was gone.

“My point is, don’t beat yourself up so much. No one is getting kicked out the order or in his case reconditioned if that’s what you’re worried about. Figure out what it is you want, and then just be discreet about it” you looked at Anakin like he’d grown two heads, he just winked at your confused stare.

“Okay let’s keep it simple. Are you attracted to him?” You thought back to the night before and firmly nodded in response.

“Do you like him as a person?” You pondered his question.

“Well, it’s Cross. I wasn’t sure if he even liked me for a long time. He’s closed off, anti-social, but he’s also a good guy, cares about his brothers, has saved my ass multiple times, and he is kinda funny in his own, snide way” you rattled off with fondness in your words.

“Well then I suggest you go and talk to him.” Anakin replied, giving you a knowing look when he spotted the small smile on your lips as you spoke about the sniper.

You took a deep breath, glad to have finally gotten that off your chest and feeling content that you now knew what to do next. “Thanks, Ani”

“Ugh please don’t call me that” he moaned back, apparently only Padme was allowed to get away with that one.

————————————————

Your walk back to the Marauder felt like it dragged on and on. Your brain ran over a thousand scenarios of what to say, how he’d react and you were about to short circuit. There was so much risk, so much possibility, that you did your best to shut your mind off and let yourself handle it in the moment. These things never went as planned anyway, it was best not to guess.

The large door to the ship hissed open, your boots clanking on the metal surface as you cautiously walked into your home. It didn’t take you long to find Crosshair, he was sat in the main hull methodically cleaning his hand blaster. Everyone else must’ve been asleep. He was just in his blacks, the material hugging him in the most wonderful way, it’s like whoever designed those things was trying to trip you up. The contours of his arm muscles flexing as he worked, his strong chest looked practically chiselled at the heart of his lean frame. You had to force yourself to calm down a little bit.

“Uh, hey” you greeted awkwardly. “Mind if I join you?”

You took his silence as a well he’s not saying no. He didn’t spare you a glance as you walked in and took a seat opposite him. As a General in the GAR, you rarely got nervous. War, as a concept, was simple. You knew your purpose, your objective, you had a job to get done and you’d do it. The risks never stopped you, rather they fuelled you. Probably why you’re such a good fit for the bad batch.

But this right now, personal feelings, not knowing where you stand with someone you care about. Because if you were honest, you really did care about Crosshair, the same as you did the rest of the team. You’d only been with the squad just under a year but you’d gladly lay down your life for any of them in a heartbeat. If you could at least get back to where you were before the other night, you’d be over the moon.

You weren’t used to being so nervous, you let your hands fiddle with you dark Jedi robes as you readied yourself to speak again.

“Look, I’m not here to throw some crap about being a Jedi at you, I promise. And I’m sorry for trying it before” he still didn’t look at you, finding his blaster much more interesting. But you could tell he was listening, you had his attention. Might as well keep babbling.

“In terms of an explanation for what happened yesterday, well I guess I panicked.” You sighed as you tried to find the next words “The way you made me feel that night, I… I’ve never felt like that before and everything i’d been taught over the years screamed at me that what I was doing was dangerous and wrong. I now realise that I’m just an idiot. I make my own decisions and I… uh -well, I stick by that one, starting something that is.” Still nothing.

“I know this is probably a long shot. But in the interest of being transparent” you rambled “uh… if you want to go down that road again, I’m up for seeing what happens, can be as casual as we like. I promise I won’t freak out on you again.” You chuckled and thought you almost spotted a slight pull in the corner of Crosshair’s lips “But if you want to go back to how we were before, I’d also really like that.” You watched him for a while as he gave no acknowledgement of your words, his cleaning finished as he now gave the weapon a once over in his hands. Having said everything you needed, you got up from your seat, looking away from him.

“Well, if I can do anything else, let me know” you turned on your heel to leave, feeling slightly defeated but glad you’d at least made the first step.

“I could think of a few things” he finally spoke as he leaned back into his seat and continued to stare at his blaster, still not meeting your gaze.

Well that caught your attention, you turned back around to face him as he carried on ignoring you. While his tone was unbothered as he spoke, you knew him just enough to know his words held a meaning. He was playing with you, back to his usual teasing and you could’ve laughed at the relief that washed over you. This you could work with. A cheeky idea popped into your head and you’d decided to run with it.

“Oh really?” Throwing caution to the wind, you strode over to the sniper slowly. His gaze finally meeting yours after all this time, watching you as you got closer and closer. Practically drawing you in with his amber eyes. You pushed him back by his chest, creating enough room so you could straddle his lap. “Care to elaborate?”

He huffed out a short laugh at your words, his face overall unbothered but his eyes, they were burning into you. “You’re a smart girl, I’m sure you’ll figure it out”.

You hummed in response, deciding to kick things up a notch you wrapped your arms around his neck, bringing your faces just breaths apart. “Something like this?” You asked, pausing for another second before bringing your lips to his in a surprisingly soft and gentle kiss. You felt his hands come up to rest on your back, pulling you closer as you continued your slow dance. This was so different from the other night, where before there was desperation and lust, now there was something more… tender, passionate. You were quite glad you weren’t standing as the way he moved against you would’ve definitely made your knees weak.

Dragging yourself away from his lips, you searched his face. His mouth pulled into a barely there smirk “That’s a start.”

“Who said I was finished?” And just like that, the last few strands of tension between you both snapped and you relaxed in his arms. You fisted your hands into the front of his blacks and pulled him back to you, his tongue slipped between your lips, curious and demanding. He was everywhere again, filling your nose with the scent of the standard cheap GAR soap but mixed with something earthy, something so distinctly Crosshair and you couldn’t get enough.

You could tell why the Jedi order frowned upon such activities, kissing Crosshair was intoxicating. You couldn’t think of anything else other than the handsome clone in front of you and just how much you wanted him in that moment.

His hands wandered lower and lower down you back until they rested comfortably on your backside, pulling you further up his lap. Feeling mischievous, you started trailing kisses along his jaw. Setting a teasing, languid pace as you mapped out the spots that made him squirm. Crosshair was never a man of many words, so you made it your mission to see just how vocal you could make him.

As your lips met his pulse point, he gave a loud exhale and you smirked in victory against his skin as you continued the onslaught on his senses. You definitely seemed to be doing something right as his hands found themselves in your hair, clutching slightly and you couldn’t help the soft moan that escaped you. Even while trying to gain the upper hand in the situation, he always had some control over you. It was maddening in the best way, setting your veins alight with desire.

Determined to get another victory you traced your tongue against the base of the side of his neck and trailed it all the way up to the bottom of his ear, which you teasingly took into your mouth, teeth grazing the soft skin. A strangled moan escaped the clone and that was the moment where you knew you were hopelessly and utterly gone. Your mind filled with nothing other than wanting to be closer to Crosshair.

“Not very Jedi of you” he commented, slightly breathless when you finally stopped teasing him and came back up to meet his eyes. Looking down at where your bodies were pressed against one another, you chuckled.

“What exactly about this situation led you to believe I was ever a model Jedi?” You smirked, though it was only visible for a second before his mouth was back on yours, devouring you as his hands greedily roamed your body.

You continued making out like teenagers for most of the evening, taking the time to explore each other, enjoying the closeness. Contentment settled over your body, almost as if this was were you were meant to be. If Crosshair’s arms were where you belonged, well, you could think of worse places to be.

Back to Part 1

Back to Masterlist

153 notes · View notes

dumdumsun · 3 years

Text

And Dusk

A/N: I just wrote the penultimate chapter and oh my, is it long

Warnings: racial discrimination

Word Count: 3131

—————————————

Chapter 5: The Swedish Job

(Y/N) wheezed as the coral dress she had just slipped into squeezed her ribcage so tight, she was beginning to see stars. Grace nodded in acknowledgement before shaking her head at the tailor. The woman at the girl’s side frowned slightly. “Are you sure, ma’am? I can touch it up so that it wouldn’t squeeze her so much.”

“I’m quite sure. It isn’t a good color for her.” Grace waved her hand in dismissal. Once the dress had been removed, (Y/N) greedily inhaled as much oxygen as she could into her lungs. When the tailor walked away to retrieve another dress from the hanger rack, the girl leaned over, bracing her hands on her knees.

“Mom, this is the… fifth dress now,” She breathed. “How many more of these do I need to try on?”

“Hun, I just want you to look perfect. Preston already has his suit picked out and it’d be nice if you two would match-”

“Wait,” The girl waved her hands in the air. “Preston?”

Grace frowned. “Yes, Preston.”

“But I just went on a date with him! I have to see him all the time?!”

“If you’re gonna marry him, then yes!”

(Y/N) groaned and rubbed her face with both her hands as the tailor returned to her side with a baby blue dress. Grace shook her head in distaste before it could even be tried on and motioned for another one to be picked out. Huffing, (Y/N) crossed her arms over her chest and grumbled to herself, eliciting a soft laugh from her mother. “You’ll be fine, (Y/N), the four of us are arrivin’ at the gala together. Now, doesn’t that sound a little better?”

The girl hesitated at first, but nodded. “Yeah, I guess it does…” She whispered before the tailor was slipping her into another dress. This one was chiffon and orange, flower designs starting from the torso and spreading up the chest, and out to the see-through sleeves. Grace squealed and circled her index finger in the air.

“Go ‘head and twirl for me, darlin’.” She clapped as (Y/N) bashfully smiled and spun in a circle for her mother. “It’s beautiful! Perfect! We’ll have this one!” She vigorously nodded, the tailor visibly sagging in relief. (Y/N) let out a sigh and chuckled at her mother’s excitement. She had to admit, though, it was a beautiful dress. Perhaps not one she would wear if she was in her actual body, but it was fitting for her physical age. Once the tailor packed up and left their home, Grace let (Y/N) change back into her casual clothing before guiding her downstairs. “Time for dancin’ lessons.”

Entering the parlor, (Y/N) was greeted by her dance instructor and Preston. Smiling tightly, she stepped lightly into the middle of the floor with the boy.

“Let’s pick up where we left off, children.” The instructor’s flowy voice sounded as he put on a record for the music. In preparation of the gala, Reginald insisted they practice with Mariachi music, much to Preston’s distaste. The boy rolled his eyes behind their instructor’s back as the music began to flow throughout the house. He slyly slipped his arm around (Y/N)’s waist and took one of her hands in his. With a sigh, the girl placed her free hand on his shoulder. “And… one, two, three, one, two, three, one- No,” The instructor cut himself off and marched up to the two. “Ms Hargreeves, you do not lead. Mr Hildebrand must lead.”

“Sorry.” She whispered as he stepped back. Preston quietly chuckled at her in a mocking manner that had her clenching her jaw. If he had known the first thing about dancing, I wouldn’t need to lead, she thought to herself as their feet began moving again.

“One, two, three, one, two, three, one, two- Mr Hildebrand, focus on your partner! Dance is about the emotion, do not stare at your feet. Are you going to the gala with your feet?”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes. Diego was a better partner than him…

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

“Number Four, on my count!” Reginald clapped his hands, alerting thirteen-year-olds Klaus and (Y/N). The two nearly fell over at the abrupt stop Klaus came to, causing them to snort and hold onto each other for dear life. “If you two will not cooperate, then Number Eight will exchange partners! Again!”

As the music started up again, Klaus led their dance in long strides and animated sways that had them nearly knocking into Allison and Ben. The incorrect footing the two had been using the entire time eventually caught up to them when (Y/N) accidentally stepped on her brother’s toes, the boy yelping out and stumbling to the ground, dragging her down with him. Their laughs filled the room, too loud to hear the scratching stop of the record.

“Number Four! Number Eight! This is unacceptable behavior!”

Their laughter subsided at their father’s scolding. They scrambled to their feet as he stomped over, hands behind his back. “Number Four, to your seat. Number Two, you are now Number Eight’s partner!”

(Y/N) squeezed Klaus’s arm as the boy covered his smile with his hand and did as he was told. She smiled at Diego as he stiffly approached her, fists clenching and unclenching. Once he was close enough, he placed a hand on his sister’s waist and held her hand in his other one, her free hand taking position on his shoulder. The entire time they danced, Diego was rigid. He didn’t flow with the music and always let (Y/N) take the lead, much to Reginald’s annoyance. No matter how many times they were stopped, no matter how many times (Y/N) tried to reassure him that he was fine, the boy was as stiff as a board. Shaking his head, Reginald stopped the music again.

“Number Five, take Number Two’s place.” He demanded. Diego deflated and quickly detached himself from (Y/N) before returning to his seat beside Klaus. Five smirked as he hopped up from his seat, approaching (Y/N) and swiftly bringing her into position, heat rushing to her cheeks at their proximity. Reginald was much more pleased with this partnership, and it was no wonder why. The two moved perfectly, they were on count, and refused to falter for even a second. (Y/N) was easily impressed by Five’s suave manners, the way he smugly smirked at her the entire time. She could only shake her head in amusement at this new demeanor. Five was becoming cockier the older he got.

(Y/N) felt the fire of their dance as they spun, twisted and twirled all around. They were the perfect team gliding past the other two pairs that were Allison and Ben, and Luther and Vanya. They were an unstoppable force, and not just on the dancefloor. To their father, mainly because he couldn’t have imagined it any other way, he assumed the giddy smiles on his children’s faces were due to the excitement of their accomplishment. But their siblings knew all too well that those looks were only reserved for each other. Reginald couldn’t clean his monocle enough to see such a relationship blossoming between them. Not even when Five ended the dance with expertly dipping (Y/N) slowly, their eyes latched onto each other as he slowly brought her back up. They were grinning widely at each other as they separated, feeling their burning cheeks as they tried to catch their breath from the intensity of the dance. When they turned to Reginald, he simply nodded in approval.

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

So, as (Y/N) waltzed with Preston, perfectly in time with the music and gliding along the floor with grace, she felt nothing and did not smile in exhilaration.

Once the lesson concluded and the instructor took his leave, Preston turned to (Y/N) and gently lifted her hand to his lips, pressing a wet kiss to her knuckles. Inwardly grimacing, the girl forced a thin-lipped smile that didn’t reach her eyes to stretch across her face. She watched him with a scowl as he swaggered his way out of the parlor and to the front door, just as Grace walked in with a mischievous grin. “My, my, you really don’t like him, do you?”

“Not a whole lot, no…” (Y/N) sighed and crossed her arms. Her mother cooed and gently rubbed her shoulder.

“Well, let’s go shoe shoppin’ to make ya feel better.”

The hustle and bustle of the town as the two walked down the sidewalk was somewhat therapeutic for them. Reginald always advised that they use the car to get any and everywhere to save time, but they didn’t see a need to rush anything. They had all of the time in the world. Or at least they had until the store closed, but it was still early in the afternoon. With linked arms, and Mr Pennycrumb in (Y/N)’s other arm, the two approached the doors to the local shoe store with breezy smiles.

<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<

The look the shopkeeper gave (Y/N) was nothing new for her as he opened the door for them. As they entered, he stared at Grace as if she had grown a head on each of her shoulders and began a trio singing group with them. “Uh… ma’am?”

“Yes?” Grace turned to him with raised brows. The shopkeeper cleared his throat nervously and motioned towards the young girl.

“She isn’t allowed in here. No colored folk in my store.”

(Y/N) was used to this treatment. She was grateful that she had her parents to shelter her when they could, but she knew her place in this timeline. So, to avoid any conflict, she began out the door. But Grace quickly grabbed her by the shoulder, all warmth from her face gone as she stepped forward. “I’m sorry? I didn’t see a ‘Whites Only’ sign on your door.”

“W-Well, yes, but it’s this entire side of the street that doesn’t allow-”

“And we could tell by the signs that so very clearly exclude my daughter simply because of the color of her skin. But you, sir, do not have a ‘Whites Only’ sign. So, I believe my baby girl is allowed to shop for a pretty pair of shoes from your establishment. Am I wrong?”

The man sighed as his expression dropped into a defeated frown. He risked a glance over at (Y/N), who was wearing a shit-eating grin. Rolling his eyes, he shook his head. “No, ma’am, you are not wrong.”

“I thought not. Now if you excuse us, we’re just goin’ to look for some shoes.”

Turning the girl around, Grace guided the two towards the back wall of the store, soothingly rubbing her arms. “I’m so sorry about that, hun…”

“It’s okay, Mom. Thank you for sticking up for me.”

“Of course, sweetheart. We need to fight back or else times will never change.” She squeezed the girl close in a hug, and (Y/N) couldn’t help but immediately latch onto her mother as tears welled up in her eyes.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

After they found the perfect pair of white heels, they were on their way out of the store and back on the sidewalk. They quietly giggled to each other at the memory of the shopkeeper’s glare as they paid for the very expensive shoes. Because of this, (Y/N) didn’t notice the woman walking towards them near the pet shop. When their shoulders came into contact, (Y/N)’s bag fell to the ground due to her iron grip on her puppy, shoes forgotten. “I’m so sorry!” She quickly apologized, her head snapping up to the woman, marveling at her sense of fashion. The woman was decked out in a beautiful blue dress, accompanied by the largest white pearls she had even seen. She wore long, fingerless white gloves and a white hat with a birdcage veil attached to it. Her earrings were to die for and her sunglasses gave the outfit a hint of chic. Her eyes moved past the matching white purse to the brilliantly red heels on her feet. (Y/N) was in total awe.

“Ugh, watch where you’re going!” The woman barked and snapped her head up to the young girl. “Do you have any idea- Oh! Oh… my. Hello, dear.” At the sudden change of tone, both (Y/N) and Grace frowned in confusion. “I’m so sorry, I just… you are a very beautiful young lady…”

“Uh… thank you.” She nodded as Grace stooped to pick up the bag from the ground.

“Even with the scars! Gives you a bit of an edge. What is your name, dear?”

Her slight smile faltered at the mention of her scars. “(Y/N)... (Y/N) Hargreeves.”

“And a beautiful name to match.” She grinned and turned her head to Grace. “Are you Mom?”

“I am.” Grace nodded and tugged her daughter closer.

“Keep her young and beautiful. It doesn’t usually last by the age of thirty,” She placed her cigarette holder between her lips. “Well… Ms (Y/N) Hargreeves… Perhaps I will see you around.”

A tiny growl from the girl’s arms had the woman’s eyeless smile dropping faster than anything (Y/N)’s ever seen. Mr Pennycrumb had been growling at the woman, teeth baring. The woman lifted her sunglasses and sent the dog a blue-eyed glare that had him shying away and whimpering into his owner’s arms. (Y/N) widened her eyes and stared down at her puppy in concern. The woman set her sunglasses back on her face and gained her smile yet again. “Cute dog.” She deadpanned before walking into the store.

“What a strange woman…” Grace muttered as the two watched The Handler stroll about the pet store.

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

Five watched in calm delight as the waitress poured him a fresh cup of coffee, filling it to the brim. Just as she was about to walk away, he glanced up at her. “Leave the pot, dear. Thank you.” He smiled. The woman set it down before walking away, muttering a ‘lippy little shit’ to herself. Vanya, who the boy found running from the same three gunmen as before, sat beside him with a lost look on her face.

“You gonna tell me what the hell’s going on?”

Five turned to her and decided to lay it all on her in one go, “When you were a baby, you were bought by an eccentric billionaire. He raised you in an elite academy with seven other siblings with extraordinary powers, but in the year 2019, in order to avoid the apocalypse, we jumped into a vortex and ended up scattered throughout the timeline in Dallas, Texas.” He watched patiently as Vanya slowly looked away in deep thought. “Any questions?”

“What do you mean, ‘the apocalypse’?”

Five inhaled to ready himself for another explanation. “I mean the end of the world as we know it.”

“Yeah, but how?”

His mind jumped back to the day it all happened. With he and his brothers suspended in the air, getting their literal lives sucked out of them. He thought of Vanya, blinded by her rage towards (Y/N) for some reason he didn’t even know, attacking his love directly in the face relentlessly with her bow. How she cried on the ground as her shaking limbs desperately tried to lift her body from the ground. How he could do nothing but watch. He could have turned Vanya away, could have hated her for it. But he knew deep down that he could never hate his siblings, he could never hate Vanya. Not for the life of him. Especially not when (Y/N)’s words rang in his head.

“It’s just that we’ve hurt her so much already…”

“You really don’t remember anything?” He asked instead.

“No, nothing before a month ago.” She shook her head.

“Then what do you remember?”

Vanya’s eyes strayed away from her brother in thought. “I remember… I landed in, like, a… back alley. Got hit by a car. My head was ringing like crazy. I had no idea how I got there, where I came from,” When Five didn’t respond, she asked her question again. “What causes the apocalypse?”

Vanya was unpredictable to Five at his point. She knew of her powers this time and he didn’t want to upset her. Not only because he didn’t like to upset her, but for the obvious reason that her rage ended the world in the first place. So, he lied.

“Asteroid impact. The big kaboom ends everything… Just like the one that got the dinosaurs, except way worse,” He picked up his coffee mug and stared forward. “Bad news is, it followed us here.”

Vanya stared at her brother in confusion. “What do you mean, ‘followed us’?”

“Eight days from now, the world ends in a nuclear doomsday. It’s a different disease, but… same result.” He watched as Vanya’s lips desperately tried to curl into a smile as she tilted her head.

“That can’t be right.”

“I saw it. With my own eyes,” He sighed and stared down at the counter in despair. “You were there. We all were…”

“Shit,” Vanya whispered and jumped out of her chair. “I need to make a phone call.”

“Vanya.” Five softly called as he watched her rush to the phone on the wall, dialing a number. He decided to give her the time she needed and sipped his coffee. But the cup drained faster than he expected and time was running out. Standing from his chair, he walked over to Vanya and hung up the phone. She turned to him with widened eyes.

“What the hell?!” She whispered.

“We don’t have time for this.”

“That’s my friend you just hung up on!”

Grabbing her by the shoulders, Five stared into her frightened eyes. “Listen to me. Those people from the field are coming after us. They are never going to stop. Do you understand me?” He whispered sternly and watched as she swallowed, expression softening. “We need to stick together, find the others, figure out how to stop doomsday. Whoever this person is, they can’t be more important than the end of the world.”

He immediately regretted those words. He knew it the second Vanya’s face tightened again. When she slammed the phone back onto the wall and stormed past him, he knew there were six other people he thought far more important than the end of the world. It’s why he hauled all of them along with him rather than doing the job himself. And he knew there was one of them who mattered in a whole different light. With a heavy sigh, he followed after his sister out of the diner.

—————————————

Taglist: @unfortu-nate-ly @sapphicsyn @m00n-sh @starcurrent @alexander-hamilhoe @youcandalekmyballs @wonderlandfandomkingdom @yrdadjstcallsmekatya @a-t-h-r-e-e-n-a @moatsnow @bubblegumflamingos @starstormssymphony @meowiemari @magicalgothpandamaker @sm0kingcrack @simping-4-fictional-men @hehehehannahthings @harrystylescherrie @rhain3 @himikaphoo @zerocanonlywriteshit @xxeiraxx @camerondiaz48104 @isawachickeninatree @theyaremorethanjustfictional @that-can-of-fizz

#the umbrella academy #umbrella academy #umbrella academy x reader #tua #tua fanfic #tua x reader #tua five #five hargreeves #five hargreeves x reader #number five #number five x reader #five x reader #of starlight #and dusk

110 notes · View notes

mammonshuman92 · 3 years

Text

- Watched - Pt.4

(Mammon x GN!MC)

** TW: swearing, kidnapping, religion, abuse, blood, death (if I missed any I do apologize!)

He smiled wickedly as he turned around, going back to the table he’d been at earlier and picked up the same knife he’d held to you when he kidnapped you. The only other weapons you could see on the table were a baton and a taser. There was also a thick book you could only assume was a bible and a large jar of water. The most concerning however, was the gas can, thick work gloves, and what looked a lot like a body bag.

“This may call for a more extensive purification.”

Your heartbeat quickened, breathing becoming slightly erratic. Your eyes widened at the scene laid out before you, but you tried your best to hold your resolve.

Whatever he plans to do, even if this is where your time on this Earth comes to an end, you didn’t plan to give him the satisfaction of conforming to his insane, backwoods ideologies. For your most beloved demons, and the love of your life, you were ready to fight until the bitter end.

After leaving the coffee shop, Mammon made his way back to your house to come up with a plan. As he rushed back, he got a brilliant idea and immediately made a phone call.

Given their status and connections, he was sure that at least a few of his brothers would be able to dig up info on this Alex dude and the ATA, however he couldn’t risk any of them finding out what was going on, for fear it’d get back to Lucifer, so he had to be extremely careful.

“Ugh, what do you want, Mammon? I’m in the middle of a raid right now.”

Levi seemed like the least likely to get too curious and ask questions, especially since Mammon was the one asking. No way would Levi want to end up being part of one of his usual schemes. And since he rarely comes out of his room or socializes with others, Levi was definitely the best one for the job.

“I need a favor.” Mammon could hear the slight clacking sound of Levi’s controller in the background.

“Nope. No way. Your “favors” always end badly; for everyone involved. Goodbye.” He declined immediately, wanting to hang up and get back to his raid.

“Wait, Levi! It’s real important!” The second born begged. Levi could hear the desperation; the emotion in his brothers voice. His interest was piqued now, along with an uneasy feeling in his stomach.

“What is it?” He asked with a sigh, casting his controller aside.

“I need ya to dig into a group called the ATA.”

“ATA?”

“Yeah, it’s the “Anti Treaty Association”, they’re in the human world. And see if ya can find anythin’ on a guy named Alex who might be associated with ‘em.”

“Anti Treaty..? As in the peace treaty? Mammon, what did you-”

“I’ll explain everythin’ later, okay? Just.. please, Levi? I need ya to look into it.” The level of sheer desperation in Mammon’s voice was concerning, but he didn’t push the issue.

“Okay, okay. Hang on..”

The sound of Levi’s fingers rapidly clicking across his keyboard flooded Mammon’s ears for the next few minutes.

“Okay, so the group was founded not long after the Devildom exchange program was formally announced. They started small but grew in number quickly; looks like mostly religious extremists. They hold protests at any event involving relations between our world and the human world. Let’s see..” Levi went quiet for a few seconds as he scanned his monitor.

“It looks like some of the members have a clean record, aside from a couple parking tickets, but there are a few bad apples. Most of the charges consist of harassment, disorderly conduct and destruction of property, all of the incidents taking place at protests. All of them were first time offenders, and have stayed out of trouble since then.”

“Anythin’ about an Alex?”

“Hmm, nope. Do you have a last name maybe? Or literally any other info? I can’t do much with just a first name, especially a common one.”

“Umm, he drives a really old car and he works at a take out place as a delivery driver.” Mammon proceeded to give him the name of the restaurant.

Levi began tapping away on his keyboard again, scanning all the social medias and websites associated with the group and the take out place, looking for anything related to the clues Mammon gave him. Without much to go on, he wasn’t very hopeful and began to lose courage, then he finally got something.

“I got a hit on a few social media accounts related to the ATA. I was able to find some pictures with a crappy older model car in them that were taken at some of their protests a few months back, one of the pictures had a shot of the license plate. After doing a quick search of public record, the car came back as registered to a John A. Smith, who actually died a few years back..”

Mammon sighed, feeling dejected. That information was all he had, and it may not have even been enough to be helpful.

“Wait..” Levi suddenly said, pulling Mammon from his thoughts.

“His obituary says he had one child; a son named John Smith Jr. I can’t find him on social media under that name, but if we assume the middle initial “A” stands for say, Alexander, then I may have something. I found an Alex Smith, and it’s honestly gotta be him. He’s a member of the official ATA group page, and several others like it. His profile picture has a crappy looking car in it, granted it’s mostly cropped out, but it looks a lot like the one I ran the license plate number on. I’m confident that this is your guy.”

Mammon felt like he could breathe a little easier. Another piece of the puzzle had, hopefully, come together.

“Where do I find him?”

“Not sure. His last location was near the middle of nowhere, but it hasn’t pinged anything for quite some time. I’ll send you the coordinates.”

“Thanks, Levi. I owe ya big time.”

“Yeah. Uh, Mammon? I know you said you’d tell me later, but is everything alright? You’ve never asked me to do something like this before. It kinda feels like you’re looking for someone..”

He waited for his brother to stutter out some kind of excuse to explain it away like he always did when he got himself into some kind of trouble, but he didn’t. Which only made more red flags pop up for Levi.

“If anyone asks, especially Lucifer, this never happened and ya haven’t heard from me, okay?”

“Yeah. Okay, Mammon..”

He didn’t like the feeling he had, the gut instinct and the hair that stood up on the back of his neck that told him something was seriously wrong.

After he hung up with his brother, he decided to dig a little deeper. He traced Mammon’s phone and found him at a location nearby the restaurant he’d had him research. His awful, suspicious feeling was confirmed when his brother’s location came back as one in the human world. A little extra digging of public land records and it pinged as your house. His heart sank as he thought about the urgency and desperation in his brother’s voice.

He traced your phone, but it just showed the same location as Mammon. But, if you were there, why would he be so frantic? His stomach churned when he realized that there were only a few things that would cause Mammon such distress, and seeing as how he was apparently in the human world, at your house, desperate to find some random dude, it couldn’t be good. Whatever was going on definitely involved you. That thought alone made him sick to his stomach.

“I hope I’m wrong. Please be okay, MC.”

*bzzz* *bzzz*

Mammon opened the new text message from Levi, which contained the coordinates to Alex’s last known location.

“MC has gotta be somewhere near this location. If not, maybe I’ll be able to pick up their trail.”

He was pacing around the living room, going over possible plans for his next move. Thankfully it would be dark soon and there was also a pretty big storm rolling in, which would provide the perfect cover for him to scout from the skies. Heavy wind and rain would make it nearly impossible to pick up your scent though.

He went into your bedroom to retrieve something of yours that would be heavy with your scent, like your favorite jacket or maybe a pillowcase. As he looked around the room, he spotted a strip of pictures shoved in the frame of the mirror on your dresser. A warm smile spread across his face.

It was of the two of you, not too long after you’d officially started dating. He remembered that particular day very well. You’d decided to walk the cobblestone streets of the Devildom, much like you often did together, but this was different. There wasn’t anymore of that “trying to pretend neither one of you had feelings for the other” junk. It was just..real. You were actually his. He reminisced about how warm your hand felt in his, the way his stomach erupted in butterflies when you looked at him with pure excitement after you’d stumbled upon the photo booth. The way you threw yourself at him, locking your lips onto his for the last picture; the shade of red your cheeks turned when you pulled apart.

That day was one of his favorite memories of you. You were so happy and full of life; looking at him with such excitement and love.

The haunting reality came creeping back in on him, sending his beautiful trip down memory lane, spiraling into despair. There he stood, alone in your bedroom, while you were gone. Taken, by some psychopath. His whole world, snatched right from underneath him as he sat down the hall.

The more he thought about it, the worse he felt. How could he? He should’ve been there. He shouldn’t have let you answer the door. He should’ve done something, anything.

“I knew somethin’ didn’t feel right, and I should’ve listened to what my gut was tryin’ to tell me. This is all my fault..” He ran his finger over the pictures on the mirror, letting a few tears escape before aggressively wiping them away.

“I will find ya, MC. And I promise that I’ll make ya safe again, I swear it.”

He felt a sudden vibration in the floor followed quickly by a deep rumble from outside.

The storm’s comin’. It’s time to move.

He grabbed the shirt you had worn the day before from the hamper and quickly smelled it to make sure your scent was strong enough. From the way it made his heart twist in agony, he was sure it would do just fine.

He shifted into demon form and headed straight for the door. With the approaching storm, it was dark enough now that he could fly and remain unseen. Since he was by himself and up against the unknown, having the element of surprise would come in handy.

“When I find that piece of shit, he’ll understand why I hold the rank of the second strongest of the Avatars.” He growled into the dark of the night as he stepped out onto the front porch.

With that, he shot up into the night sky, stealthy and silent.

“Extensive purification? Is that what the body bag is for?” You asked audaciously.

Naturally, you were scared. This mad man kidnapped you at your own damn house in broad daylight and drug you to what you could only assume was the middle of nowhere to tie you up and torture you. So yeah, you were pretty fucking wigged out to say the least.

But, did that mean you would back down? Let him know you were scared so he had the extra control over you? Make him feel like he was winning?

Absolutely not. You’d never give him the satisfaction. On the inside you were shaking, writhing in terror; begging for Mammon to come and save you. But on the outside? You were taking none of his shit, and playing zero games. If you were going to die here, you planned on going out as uncooperative as you could. Fuck him.

“Hopefully it won’t come to that.” He turned around to face you from where he’d been at his make shift work table, with the taser in his hand. He closed the gap between you, keeping his eyes locked on yours, and leaned down until he was just inches from your face. “The night is still young though.”

“Then why not just kill me now? Get it over with.”

“I want to cleanse you; save your soul.” He said, as if you were crazy for not grasping that concept.

“But why? Why are you so worried about my soul? You prodded.

“Because you have chosen to lay with demons and abandon your humanity.”

“And? Who I choose to love and spend time with isn’t yours, or anyone else’s business.” You snapped back.

“You see, that’s where you’re wrong. Your part in all this; the exchange program, being close with a bunch of high ranking demons; you as a human are committing the highest level of treason by aiding in the progression of uniting the realms. You are opening the door for corruption, chaos and sin to pollute our world.”

You laughed lightly in disbelief.

“When has our world ever been free of any of those things? Do you honestly think the Celestial Realm would be part of the treaty if He wasn’t on board with it? Stop blaming others because you’re close minded. Your blatant hatred for others is your fault, your sin. No one else’s.”

His face turned red and his expression changed into one of anger at the mention of Him. He stormed off toward the work table.

“And by the way, none of this-” You wiggled your fingers around as best as you could in an attempt to gesture around you, “is free of sin. Pretty sure He would frown upon this. Maybe even more so than my relationship with his sons.” You couldn’t help but smirk at your own jab.

He turned back to face you, bible in hand and quickly walked back to where you were hanging, and knelt down into your face again.

“It’s time to begin.” He said with sick, sadistic smile on his face; ignoring what you’d said.

With one quick movement, he lifted you off the giant hook your hand restraints hung from; letting go of you when you were a few feet from the ground, slightly knocking the wind out of you. Although you were being a little mouthy, you still felt pretty weak from being trapped inside that trunk. Not to mention that your shoulders were killing you from being suspended for so long.

He pulled you across the concrete floor by the hand restraint, stopping once he reached the stock tank. He opened up his bible and laid it on a little table near the side of the tank. He picked you up easily and climbed into the water. Even with as hot as it is, the water was frigid. It was only about four feet deep, but being restrained and unable to move freely, you would easily drown if Alex didn’t keep hold of you.

He stood at your side, facing you with his hands firmly grasping your arms right below your shoulders. He started reciting scripture from memory, glancing back at the open bible a few times for reference. He began to repeatedly dunk your head below the surface of the icy water. He recited the same passages over and over again, making it easier for you to figure out when to hold your breath. Although, a few times he seemed to hold you under a little too long, leaving you gasping for air when you returned to the surface.

When the never-ending baptizing finally did come to an end, he plucked from the water and returned you back to where you had been suspended. You were shivering uncontrollably and your head was pounding. No doubt from lack of oxygen after having to hold your breath, then gasp for air more times than you could possibly count. The added weight of your dripping wet clothes added to the searing pain in your shoulders.

He went over to the work table and grabbed the big jar of water you’d seen earlier. He dipped his fingers in it and flicked it at you whole reciting scripture. You assumed that it was holy water.

As you listened to him drone on and on, you found it hard to stay conscious. You haven’t really felt right since getting out of that scorching trunk; you most likely had heat exhaustion.

“Does being saved from eternal damnation bore you?”

“No, just you.” You replied weakly, looking up at him and trying to muster a smirk.

“Is that so?” He challenged.

He abruptly turned around and went back to the work table, returning a moment later sporting the thick work gloves you’d seen earlier, carrying the taser in his hand.

“Then I suppose we need to take it up a notch.”

Mammon went straight to the coordinates Levi sent him, but found nothing except dirt roads and cow pastures. Even from an aerial point of view there wasn’t much to see. After circling the area several times, he landed atop a tree in a densely wooded area. Although it was pretty dark out here in the middle of nowhere, far from civilization, he still couldn’t risk being seen as Alex could be watching; waiting for him to come for you.

“Where are ya, MC?” He quietly asked aloud, eyes continuing to scan the darkness that enveloped his surroundings.

With every passing minute his heart grew heavier, his chest tighter. It felt as if he couldn’t breathe properly. As cliche as it sounded, you were his literal heart; his entire world.

Before you came to the Devildom, he thought he had it all figured out. Stealing and gambling, partying every night, spending money like there was no tomorrow, making shady deals with witches. He was living what he considered the luxurious life of a high roller and he couldn’t get enough of it.

Then you came along, and he was forced to be your guardian or sorts and look after you. It was such a pain. You made it harder for him to give Lucifer the slip so he could go on gambling binges and live up to his title. But, being the weak, magic-less human you were, you needed constant protection.

It didn’t take long before being your protector became something more than what he was ordered to do. He needed to be the one to watch over you, the poor helpless human. His human. As soon as he got a taste of what it felt like to be around you, he couldn’t get enough. He was hooked.

Your smile and the sound of your laughter, the face you make when you’re concentrating or how you pooch your lips out when you’re getting irritated. The never ending kindness you showed him, especially when he was less than friendly at first. Even during those early days, just simply being near you brought him a sense of peace and warmth. The energy you radiated was intoxicating. Before he realized what was happening, he was a lost cause; completely wrapped around your finger.

If someone were to have told him he’d end up completely smitten with a human, he would’ve called them crazy. The Great Mammon would never waste his precious time on something that didn’t involve Grimm and how to obtain and/or spend it, much less a human. Smitten is precisely what he was though, to say the least. Not that it bothered him in the slightest.

He’s been around for thousands of years, and never once has his heart beat the way it does now. He’d always known love because of his siblings, and even the great loss of a loved one when Lilith died. While he would move mountains and do anything for his family, and even lay his life down for them, the way he felt about you was completely different. He would do all those things for you as well, and so much more. You knew him on a different level, a way no one else ever had in all his existence.

Relationships were never really his thing. Sure, he’d had plenty of flings, but most of them only cared about what they could get out of being with the Avatar of Greed, not that it really bothered him. He pretty much only got involved with people when the bitter loneliness became too much to bear. Love isn’t typically something that happens for demons, not that he was looking for it anyway. But, sometimes it was nice to have someone to hold, to feel the warmth of another. Even if he didn’t remember their name. Not that they, or he for that matter, really cared.

Which is why he was so perplexed by the feelings you stirred up inside him. He was one of the strongest rulers of the underworld, who could probably have any succubus he wanted, so why was he becoming increasingly enthralled by you? A completely ordinary human. Or so he thought, anyway. No ordinary human would’ve been able to knock him off his feet the way you had. You were special. You made him feel.

You were kind, warm, headstrong and funny. You’d even put your own life in danger to save those who were much stronger than you, like that time with Beel and Luke in the underground tomb; not because you thought you would win the fight, but because it was the right thing to do. He’d never witnessed such bravery, such selflessness in a human. Especially not when it came to protecting a demon, someone who would be deemed unworthy of such an act simply because of what he was. This once weak, irrelevant human, was now one of the people he respected most. You’re undying love and kindness for others was one of the infinite things that made him fall for you.

He clutched your shirt tightly in his hand, bringing it up to his face and burying his nose into the fabric. He breathed in your scent, filling his lungs as much as he could. He needed to keep the smell fresh in his mind, in hopes of picking up your trail. Tears began to prick his eyes. All the memories of you were nearly too much to handle. He couldn’t lose you. He wouldn’t.

He had no idea what this freak had planned, but he knew it couldn’t be good. The clock was ticking. The more time that passed, the harder it would be to find you. He looked out into the night again, hoping to see anything that might point him in your direction, but there was nothing. The only sounds came from the cows in all the pastures around the area, and a very faint humming noise off in the distance. He couldn’t see any signs of the car or any other clues, but he refused to give up.

“Alright, MC. C’mon, talk to me. Where are ya?” He said, getting ready to take to the skies once more to scan the area. Then it hit him, sending a shiver down his spine. He whipped his head to the right, and breathed in deeply.

MC!!

He took another long breath in, to make sure he wasn’t imagining it. It was definitely your scent. It was very faint, and muddled with something else, iron maybe? But there was no doubt it was yours. Like a shot, he flew in the direction your scent was coming from. The incoming storm was making it hard to stay on the trail, but he was not going to lose it now. He was almost there. Almost to you. There’s no way he was backing down.

A minute or so later he could see the faint glow of a light in the distance. It looked like it was coming from a barn or something. Your scent was getting stronger and stronger as he closed in on the building.

That’s gotta be it!

He landed on top of the building with a thud; coming in a little faster than he intended thanks to the increasing intensity of the storm. He paused a moment, waiting to see if his brilliant entrance had caused any kind of movement. When he didn’t hear anything, he moved to the edge of the roof to have a look around. There was a lot of overgrowth around most of the building, and some spots in the roof seemed to give a little. If he wasn’t careful he might end up crashing through the ceiling. It wasn’t a barn, but more like a warehouse or something.

He walked the perimeter of the roof, looking over the side for any kind of clues. There was nothing out front, and the sides of the building were all overgrown with vines and other greenery. He peaked over the side of the roof near the back of the building and tensed. He could see the car that matched the description of Alex’s, hidden underneath loose foliage in what looked like a poor attempt to conceal it.

I knew it He thought, his heart beginning to race.

He remembered seeing an industrial ventilation fan on the side of the building before he landed, and quietly rushed over to it, crouching down slightly on the maintenance access platform.

By now, the storm was raging full force. The rain was coming down in sheets, the thunder booming as lightning lit up the night sky. The fan was pretty rusted but thanks to the thunder, he was able to crack open the slats slightly without being heard. The sight he was met with made his blood boil, prompting him to let out a guttural animalistic growl that rumbled deep in his chest. The iron smell mixed with your scent he’d smelled earlier, was blood.

Anger like he’d never felt before burned deep inside his very being worse than the raging storm around him, truly making his demon side come out. He never had any intentions of letting this psycho walk away from this, but now it was going to be a lot less humane. The witch’s words came rushing back to him.

‘Bring me the heart of a mammal, not of our world, that thrives on malice and sadism. If you cannot fulfill your end of the deal, I will place a curse on you until the ends of eternity that will make everything of value you come in contact with turn to ash.’

Mammon smiled viciously. Looks like he’d be able to fulfill his end of the bargain with the witch after all.

The “cleansing” quickly shifted from that of something considered somewhat normal, to something very far from it. Nothing about it could be considered holy anymore.

“Are you going to denounce your demonic pacts and sinful ways and conform?”

You lifted your head weakly to glare at him, “Never.” You snarled between staggered breaths. His face twisted in anger.

Blow after blow landed on your weak, fragile body. You spit out yet another mouthful of blood, the wet sounds echoing in the large room as it splattered onto the floor. Needless to say, you were in pretty bad shape.

Blood ran down your face from a laceration on your brow bone. Your lip was busted pretty bad and you had at least a few cuts inside your mouth from your teeth puncturing the skin on your cheeks and lips. You assumed you had some ribs that were at least cracked seeing as it had become pretty painful to breathe. All the spots he tased you in burned like fire, no doubt blistering up badly. He’d held it in the same spot for so long that you could smell your own hair and flesh burning.

There wasn’t much you could do in the way of fighting back, but you sure tried like hell in the beginning. But now you were way too weak, barely even able to scream out in pain. You’d already come to terms with the fact that you probably wouldn’t make it out of here. The reality of never seeing Mammon again swarmed you, tearing away the last bit of resolve you had left. You forced yourself to remember all the time you’d spent with him, making sure he was the only thing you thought of as you began to slowly depart from this world.

You would forever be grateful for the time you had with him and all the amazing memories you were able to make. Movie nights, staying up too late talking and laughing, trying and failing to hide from Lucifer after pranking him.

The way his too big of a hand completely engulfed yours, the way he looked at you when you were both all dressed up for some fancy party at the Demon Lord’s castle and how much he tried to hide his face so you couldn’t see his blush while he held you close on the dance floor.

Sneaking into each other’s beds when one of you had a nightmare, the way his body felt against yours when he cuddled you; his warmth and smell. The way he tried to hide his enormous smile and pink cheeks when you’d gush like a groupie over his newest spread in a magazine.

The time he was a flustered, stuttering mess for three entire days in the beginning of your relationship, unable to hear your name or see you without turning various shades of red because every time he did, flashbacks of loving you for the first time just days before came rushing back to him.

Those intimate moments were your favorite, for more reasons than the obvious. You got to see him in a different light. He was still his usual goofy, lighthearted, prankster self, but he was so much more than that too. He was so sweet it could make your teeth rot. He was gentle, slow. You could feel the love leave him, his heart pouring over into yours. There were always stars in his eyes; pure adoration. Something you could never quite grasp; how someone who had seen the literal heavens could look at a normal human like you in such a way; with such breathtaking awe.

You always felt like you didn’t deserve to be loved by someone as amazing as Mammon, but you would always be eternally thankful. In such a short time he’d brought so much happiness and light to your life. As happy as those memories were, you wished more than anything that you’d get the chance to make more, but sadly it didn’t look that way.

As Alex was coming in to land another blow, a loud thump could be heard from above you; his fist stopped in the air a few feet from your face.

“What was that?” He questioned to himself quietly. He stayed silent for a moment as he listened for more noise, but there was nothing. “Must’ve been thunder.” He shrugged his shoulders and turned his attention back to you, pulling the taser from his pocket.

“It really is a shame that you refuse to comply.” He said as he jabbed it into your ribs, causing you to use what little fire was left in you to cry out in pain. “You really were a fine specimen, until you wasted yourself on demons.” Another jab of the taser, this time on your thigh.

You choked out a weak, raspy laugh. “And I’d do it again, a million times over you sadistic, psychotic freak.” You spat, voice breaking. He reared his hand back to hit you, but was interrupted by another loud noise, this time near the entrance.

He turned toward the sound and decided to check it out this time, picking the knife up from the table on his way. He was only gone for a few minutes, but you were grateful for the break. As much as you didn’t want to give up, your body just couldn’t take much more.

He slithered back through the entrance, soaked from the down pouring rain and complaining about hearing things.

“If you didn’t have a guilty conscience, you wouldn’t be so paranoid.” You said between several pained breaths. Your voice was small and frail, but you still managed to lace some venom in your words. He snarled, storming toward you and sticking the knife under your chin, lifting your head up to look at him. You used what energy you had left to glare at him.

“It’s too bad really, that even in your darkest moments, your last moments, what’s-his-name wasn’t here to save you.” He snickered, tracing the knife from your chin to your jugular, applying just enough pressure along the way to coax out a small line of blood.

“That’d be The Great Mammon to you, human.”

Alex whipped around toward the entrance at the sudden voice, the color draining from his face as a look of sheer terror washed over him.

“M-Mammon?” You choked out, a massive lump forming in your throat. You looked around Alex, the most beautiful yet terrifying thing coming into your field of vision.

It really was him.

Seeing him in demon form was nothing new to you by now. However, the look on his face was something you’d definitely never seen before. It almost looked as if there was an aura around him; a definite shift in atmosphere at his presence. His natural sin was Greed, but right now he embodied Wrath.

It was so easy for you to forget that he really was a demon, as you’d never seen him in such a state before. The sight of him now; raw, malevolent power seeping from him, the low guttural growl, emitting such a heavy, nightmarish presence. He was scary. Even to you.

“MC..” There was pain in his voice; his face distorting in agony when he looked at you.

He charged forward, only making it a few steps before Alex swooped in. He got behind you, reaching around and keeping the knife at your throat; Mammon froze.

“Not another step.” Alex warned. “I have no qualms with spilling the blood of a traitorous demon whore that turned their back on the human race.”

Mammon stared at him blankly for a moment, then burst into laughter. It wasn’t his normal, happy laugh. It was dark, and oozed ill intent. He turned his attention to you once more, his expression softening just enough to not utterly terrify you.

“MC, do you trust me?”

“Since my first day in the Devildom.” You smiled fragilely, noticing the way his mouth briefly tugged up at the corner when your words reached him. He locked his eyes on Alex once again, dark expression returning.

“Close your eyes. No matter what you hear, don’t open them.” He instructed as he slightly crouched, getting into an attack stance; you nodded in agreement, doing as he said.

You could hear Alex huff behind you. “I will slit their throat, or did you hear what I said you filthy, abomina-”

He was silenced mid sentence by a sudden impact that jostled you slightly where you hung. You could hear gasping breaths and Mammon’s same sadistic laughter as earlier, followed by several ear splitting cracks and tearing sounds as Alex screamed out in pain; wet, squelching noises and heavy thuds rang through the room as several things hit the floor. It went on like this for several minutes, until the screams finally ceased.

You pretty well knew just by the sounds, that you were finally free; that psycho would never be able to hurt you again.

Moments later, you were lifted off the large hook and being cradled gently in arms that you knew all too well. Mammon sank to the floor, his wings wrapping around you protectively, shielding you from the gore you didn’t need to see.

“MC..” He whispered, tears running down his cheeks as his eyes scanned over your frail, broken body.

As much as you wanted to savor the moment of finally being safe, once again in the arms of your demon, the reunion would have to wait. You had been through so much and your body couldn’t take any more. You began to fade in and out of consciousness, no longer able to hold on.

“MC..? MC! Stay with me! Please, please hold on just a little longer.” He begged, his voice cracking as he patted his hand against your cheek gently. You tired to put a hand on his cheek to soothe him, but your arm fell limp halfway to his face as you lost the fight to stay awake. You heard him yell your name a few times as you drifted, his voice fading away slowly.

What is that infernal noise?

You had suddenly become hyper aware of an out-of-the-ordinary noise somewhere close by. An alarm clock perhaps? No, it was more of a beeping sound than a shrill ringing.

You lazily opened your eyes, immediately regretting it and squinting them shut because of a blinding white light that was shining in your face. You blinked several times as you tried to adjust.

As you scanned the room slowly, it started to look as if you were in one of the rooms in the Demon Lord’s castle, but it appeared to be set up as a hospital room of sorts. The blinding light was coming from one of the big lights they use at the dentist office. You soon discovered that the beeping noise you’d been hearing was actually one of several monitors you were hooked up to.

Everything started to fall into place and make sense, memories coming back of the events that brought you here. The monitor closest to you started to sound an alarm, indicating your heart rate had picked up and your blood pressure was rising. Seconds later the door flew open, a figure rushing into the room.

“MC.” He said, breathing a sigh of relief.

Barbatos moved to your bedside and silenced the alarms, opting to check your vitals himself.

“How do you feel?” He asked, pressing his index and middle fingers to the underside of your wrist, checking your heart rate.

“Fine, I guess?”

“You guess?” He repeated, taking a small light from his pocket and shining it in your eyes, checking the dilation of your pupils.

If you remembered correctly, which you’re very sure you did, your injuries were extensive. There’s no way you could forget that level of pain. You felt tired, kind of groggy from sleep, but there was no pain.

“How long have I been asleep?”

“About three days.”

Three days?! You thought to yourself, a little shocked.

That’s still not nearly enough time for your wounds to heal. You must have looked as confused as you felt, prompting and explanation from Barbatos.

“Your injuries were rather extensive, so Mammon brought you here after rescuing you. Lord Diavolo had the best doctors in the Devildom tend to you with magic. Although they healed you perfectly, you weren’t showing any signs of waking up just yet, so we decided to keep you here to monitor your condition.” You nodded along in understanding as he spoke.

He placed the light back in his pocket and moved away from the bed. “I shall notify Lord Diavolo and the others that you have awakened. Please excuse me.” He said as he bowed, then left the room.

You sat up in the bed and criss crossed your legs, careful not pull out your IV or tangle any of the wires to the other monitors. You let out a long, heavy sigh. Before you could be consumed by your thoughts of all the memories of the last few days, the door to your room flung open once more. This time, it was the one person you wanted to see most.

“MC!” He shouted, voice cracking with emotion. Mammon crossed the room in an instant and sat in front of you on the bed.

“Are you okay? Do ya feel any pain?” He asked frantically, his eyes scanning your face then darting to the monitors, hands hovering over you as if he wanted to help but was unsure how. You grabbed his hand, intertwining your fingers in his. It seemed to calm him a little.

“I’m okay.” You assured him. Although you’d been put through the wringer, you felt so at peace. Not only were you in the safest place in the entire Devildom, but the one thing that threatened your peace of mind, was now no longer a problem.

“I-I uh, I was scared.. that I was too late. That ya weren’t gonna wake up, that I’d...that I’d lost ya..” He confessed, voice catching in his throat as tears fell from his eyes. He carefully scooped you up and held you in his lap, holding you as close as he was able to with all the wires and such. You sat up a little and snaked your arms around his neck, pressing your lips firmly to his.

While you were held captive, you had been so sure that you’d never get a moment like this with Mammon ever again. You were happy beyond words to be back in his embrace once again with his lips on yours. Smelling his wonderful scent, and feeling his warmth on your skin.

After a few minutes of your lips moving in synchronization, he broke the kiss, and pulled back to look you in the eye. A serious expression washing over his face. “MC, I’m sorry I didn’t-”

You held up your hand to stop him, “No, Mammon. You’re not going to blame yourself. I won’t let you. Everything that happened was his fault, not yours or anyone else’s. He was sick in the head, with a twisted ideology.”

He nodded, “I know, I know. It’s just..” He shook his head as he tried to choke back more tears that threatened to spill. You knew exactly what was running through his mind.

“Mammon, there is no one else in the three realms I’d rather trust with my protection, than you. As a matter of fact, there’s no else that can even compare to you in my eyes. As I already said, none of this, none of it, is your fault and I’ve never once thought it was. I love you, Mammon and there’s no one else I’d rather entrust my life with, or spend it with for that matter.” You placed your hand on his cheek and smiled at him, tears now streaking your cheeks. He leaned into your touch, his hand resting lightly on top of yours for a moment before pulling your hand away and placing several light kisses on your palm.

Barbatos returned soon after, with a doctor in tow. Once they unhooked you from all the monitors and removed your IV, Mammon took you back to the House of Lamentation where everyone was awaiting your return.

It felt so good to be back. The HOL was technically your second home, but nowhere has ever felt more like home than here in the Devildom, surrounded by all your favorite people. And thanks to Lord Diavolo extending your stay until further notice, you were on cloud nine.

Although all your physical wounds were gone, the mental ones were sure to stick around for awhile. You expected as much though, having gone though quite a traumatic experience. Although, it made it a little easier knowing that Alex would never again be an issue.

It was clear that his soul wouldn’t be fit for the Celestial Realm, and you had fears of him being reincarnated in the Devildom and finding you once again. But, Mammon quickly laid those fears to rest, informing you of what he’d done that night after getting you safely to the Demon Lord’s castle.

He said he preformed some kind of ritual that ensured Alex wouldn’t be reincarnated anywhere; his soul having been wiped from the worlds. As if he’d never existed. He also mentioned something about Alex helping him to fulfill his end of a bargain with a witch. He didn’t really go into detail about the whole thing, but assured you that everything would be fine, so you didn’t push the issue. He’s a high ranking demon, after all. This surely isn’t his first rodeo. You were just ready to start the healing process and put an end to this awful chapter in life.

And with Mammon by your side; loving you, protecting you, helping you heal; you couldn’t think of a better way to begin such a beautiful new chapter.

~ fin ~

#obey me #obey me shall we date #mammon x mc #gn!mc #obey me angst #trigger warning #potentially triggering #gender neutral mc #angst #finale #mammon #obey me mammon

83 notes · View notes

petersasteria · 3 years

Text

Marriage - Tom Holland

Pairing: Doctor!Tom x Lawyer!Reader Requested? Nah 7,630 words TW; character death, very angsty as usual, an unusual ending

The one is bold is the question from the activity.

* * * *

It was 7 o’clock in the morning and everyone in your house was busy. Tom, your husband, was checking your kids’ backpacks while you made sure your kids ate breakfast. They were invited by Mr. and Mrs. Bergstein on a camping trip with their kids. Of course, you and Tom happily agreed. It’d be nice to take a break from the kids just this once. You and Tom didn’t worry too much about them because your kids are 10 and 8 years old. Both of them are boys and you wanted to try for a little girl this time. Only, there was one problem.

“Okay, Mr. and Mrs. Bergstein are here! It’s time to go!” Tom shouted from the living room after checking from the window. Your sons, Jacob and Mason, immediately got up from their seats and ran out of the house.

“You didn’t drink anything, Jacob!” You shouted from the dining area. Jacob quickly came back and finished his full glass of orange juice. You smiled at him as you wiped his mouth. You kissed the top of his head and said, “Behave, okay? Take care of your little brother, but most of all, have fun! I’ll call you guys every night.”

“Okay, mum. I love you!” Jacob smiled before leaving again. You and Tom followed behind him as you waved at them from the front door.

“Bye, kids!” Tom shouted with a smile on his face as he waved with his other arm wrapped around your shoulder. You and Tom watched as the kids waved from inside the car.

“I can’t believe you didn’t have the decency to pack their things last night. Do you know how tired I am?!” Tom quietly said while smiling at the kids.

“I can’t believe you’re complaining! You don’t even help around the house and the one time I ask you to do something, you’re pissed? How fucking dare you!” You said, the same way as Tom. You didn’t want the kids to see you fighting.

The Bergsteins drove away and as soon as they did, you shrugged off Tom’s arm around your shoulder and went inside without another word. Tom followed and slammed the door when he got in.

“You’re such a bitch, you know that?” Tom said angrily.

“You’re such an asshole, you know that?” You mimicked. “I fucking hate you! The only good things you gave me were Jacob and Mason! Other than those two, all you gave me were headaches and your whining! News flash: when you whine and complain, NOTHING CHANGES AND NOTHING GETS DONE.”

“Well, I’m sorry for making you so fucking upset! I’m sorry that I have a job that’s always stressing me out and I’m sorry that I don’t have time for everything and everyone in this house!” Tom shouted.

“Oh, please! I know how you fucking feel because I’m a lawyer and the cases I handle are so out of this fucking world and it adds to my problems! You and I aren’t so different in terms of having a busy work life, but I make time to do my part as a wife and a mother!” You hissed.

That was the problem. Both of you hated each other’s guts. You don’t know when it started and despite everything, you and Tom agreed that Mason was definitely the result of angry sex. In fact, that was the last intimate moment you had together. After having Mason, yours and Tom’s love life just went downhill. You loved your kids, but you weren’t sure if you loved each other anymore. For the first time in 14 years, you and Tom questioned your relationship.

You and Tom have been together since you were 16. You got married at 23, had Jacob at 24 and had Mason at 26. Now you and Tom are 34 years old and both of you can’t be bothered to make a third child. In Tom’s words, ‘FUCK THAT SHIT.’

“Are you saying that I’m not doing my part as a husband and as a father?!” Tom shouted.

“Yeah!”

“I provide for this family!”

“I provide for this family too and I’m so tired goddammit!” You yelled before retreating to your shared bedroom. Tom watched in anger and shouted, “I hate you!”

“The feeling’s mutual!” You shouted back before grabbing your work clothes and entering your en suite bathroom.

Tom scoffed and asked the maid to clean up in the dining room. It was his day off today and he didn’t want to do anything for the whole day. He just wanted to relax, but that was ruined when you asked him to pack the kids’ bags for a camping trip with the Bergsteins.

Half an hour later, you went down already ready for work. You were putting an earring on when you looked at Tom to find him watching golf on TV.

“I’m off to work now.” You said.

“Good riddance! At least no one’s going to boss me around.” Tom rolled his eyes as he said that without leaving his gaze from the television. What he said made your blood boil, but you didn’t say anything. You had to go to court today and you refused to let your emotions and personal problems get in the way of an important case. So you put your heels on, grabbed your things, and left without another word.

When you left, Tom looked at the door and sighed. Regardless of the constant arguing, Tom hated it when you argued. He hated all the fights, he hated the fact that you slept next to each other but turned on opposite sides, he hated not exchanging I love you’s anymore, he hated being angry all the time, but most of all, he hated not being partners in crime anymore. A few weeks ago, you told him to just leave. He didn’t because he made a vow to stay with you through thick and thin.

You hated fighting too and if you were being honest, you didn’t know what happened. It just started going downhill. There was no doubt that you loved Tom and he loved you, but sometimes things just don’t work out between two people who loved each other since they were 16.

Work was tiring as always and as if work wasn’t tiring enough, Tom texted you and said that your parents were trying to contact you, but for some reason couldn’t get a hold of you so they called Tom instead. Apparently, your parents made reservations at a restaurant for dinner and they realized that they couldn’t make it. They didn’t want to cancel because they would be asked to pay a cancellation fee. Your parents want you and Tom to take the reservation instead.

Upon reading Tom’s message, you called him and he answered immediately. “What did you tell them?” You asked Tom as soon as he answered. You were walking to your car while trying to find your car keys.

“Hello to you too, darling.” He said sarcastically and you could imagine him rolling his eyes. “I told them that we’d go. I’m already dressed and I’m literally on my way out the house.”

You found your keys and sighed before unlocking your car. “Fine. How will you go there? Do you want me to pick you up? Or will you take a cab?”

“I’ll just take a cab. I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you, Y/N. I’m sure having dinner with me is at the bottom of your list, but I love your parents too much to say no.” Tom hissed as he walked out of the house.

“I didn’t mean it that way, alright?! I’m just tired. I’ll see you at the restaurant.” You said as you put your things in the backseat of your car.

“Bye.” Tom said before hanging up. You tossed your phone on the passenger seat before getting in and driving to the restaurant. When you parked the car, you quickly fixed your appearance and practiced a smile before grabbing your phone and bag before getting out of the car and locking it.

Tom got there first and he was already munching on the free bread and sipping wine. He saw you and lazily waved you over. You walked towards him and sat across.

“Have you ordered?” You asked and he shook his head.

“I was waiting for you.” He replied with his mouthful which made you roll your eyes. “Can you stop being a pig for once?” You whispered.

Tom rolled his eyes, took a sip of wine, and swallowed his food. “Can you give me a break? Today’s the day when I don’t handle a patient’s death or sickness or check up or anything else. Let me be human and forget a few manners, alright? It’s not like I’ll die if I talk with my mouth full.”

“Yeah, but you could choke on it.” You explained.

“Oooh, kinky.” Tom said sarcastically.

The waitress came and handed your menus before leaving again. The waitress was your saving grace and you were happy that you could pay attention to the menu and not Tom. You honestly couldn’t deal with him at the moment. After five minutes of scanning the menu, both of you called for the waitress and gave her your orders. The waitress immediately left after taking your orders and you and Tom were silent.

Tom coughed awkwardly, “How was work?”

“Stressful and I have to be in court again tomorrow.” You told him.

“The pro bono case?” Tom asked.

You nodded, “The pro bono case. I genuinely feel bad for my client and I hope I win this one for him.”

“What’s his case?” Tom asked. For the first time in forever, both of you were normal, functioning human beings.

“His daughter got taken away from him simply because everyone said that he has the mental capacity of a 7-year-old and that his daughter is already becoming smarter than him. His daughter’s teacher also said that they think she’s holding back from learning all because of her father. They’re bullshitting, I swear.” You answered before grabbing a piece of bread and scarfing down on it as if you haven’t eaten in days.

“Well, do you?”

“Do I what?” You asked after swallowing the bread.

“Do you think he has the mental capacity of a 7-year-old?” Tom asked. The waitress arrived with your food and you thanked her. Tom poured you a glass of wine for you to drink and you took a sip before answering.

“No.” You shook your head. “He has autism, but I think he’s very capable of being a parent. Hell, he’s been raising the kid alone for seven years, so why do they all doubt him now? It just makes me so angry that they think that way.”

The dinner went surprisingly well and Tom even offered to pay for the bill. You were happy that both of you were functional human beings again and you didn’t fight anymore even when you arrived home. You even got to cuddle up to him when you laid in bed and he kissed the top of your head.

“Oh shit.” You said suddenly.

“What?”

“We forgot to call the kids.”

“Oh shit.” Tom sighed. “Let’s just give them a quick call now. I’m sure they’re tired.”

You grabbed your phone from the nightstand and quickly pressed Jacob’s contact to call him. His phone rang as you put it on speaker and he answered after the third ring.

“Hi, mum!” Jacob said from the other line. “Mason, come say hi to mum.”

“Hi, mum!” Mason greeted.

“Hey kids!” You smiled. “Your dad’s here too. Say hi to your dad.”

“Hi, dad!” The two said at the same time.

“Hey, boys! We miss you already.” Tom said. “What did you guys do today?”

“We went fishing!” Mason said cheerfully. “Yeah, and we had smores. It was delicious!” Jacob added with a small giggle which made your heart swell and forget your problems. You really loved your kids and you would do anything and everything for them.

You spent the rest of the night talking to your kids and it felt like nothing was wrong anymore. But of course, you knew it was temporary. You knew better than to keep your hopes up. You knew that when you wake up in the morning, Tom would already be ready for work and say the coldest ‘goodbye’ to you as if you didn’t cuddle at all the night before.

You were right. Except this time, he added a small ‘good luck in court today’ which made you smile a bit before waving goodbye to him.

You sighed to yourself as soon as he left before getting ready for the day. You wished you could go back in time to where this coldness and the arguments began because you had no clue how to fix it now. You couldn’t blame Tom and you didn’t blame yourself and you most certainly didn’t blame your kids. It’s hard to solve a case when you can’t even solve your own problems at home.

Two days later, Jacob and Mason are finally back from the camping trip and you can’t wait to spend time with them. You missed them dearly. You took a day off to be with them and as much as Tom wanted to go, he had an emergency to tend to at the hospital.

“Hi!” You greeted as soon as you saw your kids get out of the car. They ran up to you and you hugged them tightly as you kissed the top of their heads. Your sons were yours and Tom’s pride and joy. They were your angels.

You pulled away from them and thanked the Bergsteins for the camping trip before waving them goodbye as they drove away. You three went inside and helped them unpack their things as they told you stories of what happened.

Since you didn’t go to work today, you knew you had to make up for it. So after dinner and after readying the kids for bed, you went to your home office and started working. Tom came home an hour later. He took off his coat and took his shoes off as the maid reheated the dinner that was left for him. He went into the dining room and thanked her before loosening his tie and eating.

No one noticed it, but he was tired. He wished he could quit his job, but he knew that if he did that, he’d be very unhappy. Being a doctor has been his dream for so long and he wasn’t going to give that up. It was his passion and he loved it. He loved seeing happy patients getting out of the hospital, he loved seeing his fellow doctors telling patients that they’re cancer free, he loved seeing a patient’s loved ones visiting with balloons and flowers. It’s true what people say, you really see true emotions in either a hospital or airport. Mostly in a hospital.

Tom rubbed the sleep off his eyes before quickly finishing his food. He just remembered Jacob and Mason were already home and he wanted to see them. Tom loved his sons and he would do everything to make them happy and protected. He loved his little family and he wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.

He got out of his seat, washed the plate and utensils he used, dried and put them back before going to his sons’ shared room. He gently knocked on the door before entering. He silently hoped that they were awake so he could hear about the things they did in their trip because he knew that he’d have to wake up at 4AM and do the same routine again. He wanted to catch up with his kids because he feels like he’s been missing out a lot and he hated that. He swore to himself that he’d become the best father for them and that included hearing them out no matter what it was they wanted to say.

He opened the door and saw them half-asleep watching something on Netflix. He smiled at the sight and said softly, “Hey, guys.”

Jacob and Mason turned to face the door and smiled brightly when they saw their father. Tom grinned as he walked in and quietly closed the door. The kids ran up to him and gave him a big hug which Tom returned. His sorrows were washed away and it hurts to admit that when his two boys will be teenagers, they wouldn’t want to hug their dad anymore. Right now, he’s cherishing it before they turn into monstrous rebels that sneak out to party. Although, he hoped his boys wouldn’t be like that.

Tom kissed their foreheads before sitting on the large beanbag as the kids sat on his lap. “Tell me all about your camping trip. Was it fun? Did you see bears?”

“I saw an eel and Eli caught a fish!” Mason exclaimed as he excitedly told the story. Eli was the Bergsteins’ youngest son. He’s the same age as Mason.

“Wow! Really? Did you catch a fish?” Tom asked him and Mason shook his head. Mason didn’t seem bothered about it, though. “I saw a butterfly and a caterpillar. They were beautiful like mum.” Mason smiled as Tom nodded and brushed the hair off of Mason’s face.

“Yes, your mum is very beautiful.” Tom smiled. Jacob watched the interaction between his little brother and his father and he was slightly jealous that Mason got his parents’ attention. He knew that the love was equal, but he just didn’t see it that way. Jacob loved his brother and he would do anything to protect him, but sometimes he wished his parents would realize that he’s their son too and he needed attention just as much as Mason.

Mason is the exact definition of a ball of sunshine. He always saw the good in people and he stopped fights in school because he hated it when people fight. It pained him to see you and Tom fighting even though you hid it from him and Jacob, he could still hear it and he could sense when something’s wrong. He was a peacemaker and he loved nature. In fact, you and Tom decided to have a small garden corner for Mason in the backyard. Mason was often teased in school for being effeminate and Jacob would always defend him. It broke Jacob’s heart to see that his precious little brother is being teased for being who he is.

Mason loved flowers. He didn’t have a favorite and if you ask him, his answer changes every time. Despite his different answers, you, Tom, and Jacob thought each thought about different flowers that suit him. To Jacob, the flower that suited Mason best is zinnia because it means goodness and to him, it definitely described Mason. To Tom, Mason suited a chrysanthemum because it means cheerfulness and positivity and it truly defined Mason. To you, he suited a baby’s breath because it means innocence, love, purity, and sincerity.

In truth, all of those flowers suited Mason. That’s why you and Tom fought when trying to decide the kind of flowers to get for Mason’s funeral.

It all happened so fast.

Knowing his love for nature, you and Tom took the kids to a nature park for Mason’s 9th birthday. You knew he would appreciate it and you knew he wanted to spend time with his family on his special day. So, you and Tom organized it, surprisingly, without fighting.

You went to the park and there was a lake there where everyone could swim. It was a little pricey, but you and Tom thought that it was okay to spend a little over the budget for the kids to swim. So, you all swam.

When it was time to get out of the water, you noticed that only Jacob got out. Mason was nowhere to be found. That made you panic.

“Jake,” You called your eldest son. Jake was his nickname. “Where’s your brother?” Upon hearing your question, Tom stopped packing your things and went over to you and Jacob.

“What’s going on?” Tom asked as he dried his hair with a towel.

“Mason’s missing.” You said in panic. You had a bad feeling and you guessed that it was your maternal instincts kicking in. “I don’t like this one bit, T. I feel like something bad just happened.”

Tom turned to Jacob and asked, “Where’s Mason?”

“I don’t know.” Jacob shrugged. “We were playing and I never saw him again. Should I go back in the wa-”

“No!” You said loudly, cutting him off. “Don’t go back in there. It’s dangerous.”

“I’ll go look for a lifeguard or something. Stay here.” Tom said sternly, going into full dad mode before running to immediately find someone who could help. Not even a minute later, he comes back with the nature park’s rescue team as they search for Mason in the lake. Tom went with them as you stayed with Jacob.

“Will Mason be okay?” Jacob asked, his eyes full of worry as they stared back at you. You gave him a small smile and said, “Yes, he’ll be okay. They’ll find him. I know they will.” Jacob nodded and you engulfed him in an embrace as he sat on your lap. In truth, you didn’t know what to do. Your mind was thinking of so many things at once and your heart was racing.

An hour later, Tom and the rescue team come back with Mason’s cold body. His lips were pale and judging by the look on Tom’s face, Mason needs to be in the hospital as soon as possible.

“They called an ambulance already and they should be here by now.” Tom told you. “I’ll go with them and you and Jacob can follow.”

“Okay.” You cried. The three of you quickly changed into dry clothing, grabbed your things and went to the front of the nature park where the ambulance was waiting. Mason was quickly brought inside the ambulance while Tom followed suit.

“Just follow the ambulance!” Tom called out to you before the paramedic got in and closed the door. Your body ran on autopilot. You hurriedly stuffed your things in the backseat of your car before getting in with Jacob. You pulled out the parking lot and quickly drove to catch up with the ambulance.

Tom arrived at the hospital first and Mason was brought to the emergency room. Tom waited outside and after a few minutes, a doctor told Tom that Mason was dead on arrival. It was heartbreaking. As a doctor himself, Tom had his fair share of telling families that their loved one has passed. He just didn’t expect that he’d be the receiving end of it and it shattered him. When you and Jacob arrived, Tom broke the news to you and you let out the most painful cry. Jacob cried too. Jacob blamed himself for Mason’s death, but you and Tom assured him that it was no one’s fault.

Today’s the funeral and you were arguing with Tom. You were in the anger stage of grieving and it broke Jacob’s heart seeing you two fight.

“I want the baby’s breath flowers for him to hold in the coffin!” You shouted.

“Well, I want the chrysanthemum!” Tom yelled. “That’s final!”

“You can’t just decide what’s final and what isn’t! I’m his parent too, in case you forgot!” You angrily shouted as you stood in front of Tom. Tom was about to yell, but Jacob beat him to it.

“Stop fighting!” Jacob cried, causing both of you to face him. “Mason would hate both of you for fighting right now! He seriously would! Can you guys just compromise? I understand that you guys are very sad and I’m sad too. But we have to go now and let’s just agree that Mason can hold all of the flowers we got him. He loves them all, anyway.”

Yours and Tom’s heart broke seeing Jacob cry and you felt so bad that you forgot all about him. You knew Tom forgot about him too. Tom looked at you and nodded, “He’s right.”

You nodded and said, “Okay. Jake, we’re sorry.”

“Let’s just go.” Jacob said as he walked out of the house.

The funeral was short and simple. You three got to see Mason one last time as you all put the flowers in Mason’s hands. They closed the coffin and lowered it down six feet under. You will never get over the pain of burying your son; your youngest. Things will never be the same again.

After the funeral, you and Tom were back to your fighting routines. Jacob didn’t have the energy to stop you guys anymore. In fact, you were so busy fighting and working that you didn’t notice Jacob anymore. You never went to his room because it hurts too much knowing that Mason stayed there too. What you didn’t realize was Jacob’s pain. It hurt him to sleep in the room he once shared with his brother. It hurt him to not hear Mason’s voice not calling his attention when he wanted a midnight snack. It hurt him to lose his number one partner in crime.

A few months later, it’s Tom’s parents’ wedding anniversary party. Things have already been downhill by that time and Jacob wasn’t talking to both of you at all and that worried you and Tom.

You arrived at Tom’s childhood home because that’s where the party was being held and after Tom parked the car, all of you got out of the car. Tom locked it and entered the house first with you and Jacob behind him.

“Tom!” Nikki smiled as she walked towards him and kissed his cheek before giving him a warm embrace. She turned to you and did the same. “How are you?” She asked.

“I’m doing better.” You smiled as you put your hands on Jacob’s shoulders. Nikki smiled and turned to Jacob, “How are you, young man?”

“Fine.” Jacob said.

“How’s football?” Nikki asked him again, hoping to get an elaborate answer. She missed the 10-year-old boy who resembled Tom.

“I quit a few weeks ago.” Jacob said as he shrugged off your hands and went to his uncles. You sighed and Tom shook his head upon seeing that.

“I’m sorry about that, Nikki.” You apologized and she waved you off saying it was nothing. She said that Jacob was probably just upset about something and that he’ll come around soon. “I hope that’s true.” You told her.

“It’ll pass. Don’t worry about it.” Nikki assured you.

The party began and everyone was having fun. You went to the kitchen to get yourself a drink and on the way there, you saw Tom and his ex talking and laughing. You knew it meant nothing and you knew it was ridiculous to be jealous of his ex especially because he chose you in the end, but you couldn’t help it.

Forgetting about your drink, you walked up to them and cleared your throat. “Tom, can you help me with the drinks in the kitchen?” You asked sweetly.

“Okay.” He said, before excusing himself from his ex. They were still friends and their breakup was mutual. Tom didn’t have feelings for her anymore and he loved you despite the hardships and fights.

You went to the kitchen and Tom trailed behind you. You turned to face him and he immediately asked, “Okay, what’s wrong? I know you don’t need help with drinks.”

He knew you too well.

“How’s your ex?” You asked with your arms crossed. Tom groaned. “No, tell me. How is she? What did she tell you that was so funny? If you find her so amusing, why don’t you just date her? Oh, no you can’t because you’re married to me!”

“I fucking knew it!” Tom raised his voice, causing the people in the house to look at both of you. “You know, you’re so jealous! I was literally catching up with her and you’re making an issue! That’s what’s wrong with you!”

“Oh, wow!” You chuckled. “So if I were to talk to my ex and laugh with him, would you be jealous?”

“Yes, I would! But I wouldn’t make a scene and I wouldn’t worry too much about it because I know that at the end of the day, you come home TO ME; your husband. I trust you, but you don’t fucking trust me and it’s insane!” Tom shrieked.

“Oh, so now I’m insane?!”

“Yeah, you are! How can you get it through your thick head? Nothing’s going on between me and her! We’re just friends and there’s nothing to worry about!”

“That’s where it all starts.” You said. “You become friends and then you hang out again and then before you know it, you’re going on secret dates and then you’re cheating.”

Tom laughed bitterly, “See what I’m talking about?! You already made some shit up! I can’t believe your spewing random stories out of your fucking mouth! God, you’re so irritating sometimes!”

“IF YOU FIND ME SO IRRITATING, WHY ARE YOU STILL WITH ME?!”

“IF YOU DON’T FUCKING TRUST ME, WHY ARE WE STILL FUCKING MARRIED?!”

At this point, you and Tom were loudly and shamelessly arguing in the kitchen. You forgot about the guests and you forgot about the party. Dom, Tom’s father, had to tell everyone the party was over, so that they could all leave and not witness your fight.

Jacob shook his head at the sight and said, “They do this all the time. I’m used to it now. I bought myself headphones to keep myself company. Those headphones are my best friends now.”

Taking pity on Jacob, Paddy said, “What music do you listen to? The speaker’s still in the garden and we can plug in your phone there, so we can listen together.”

Sam heard and nodded, “Yeah, I’ll join in too. What’re you into?”

“Count me in. Shit is heated here and I need a break.” Harry sighed before earning a nudge from Sam. “Ouch, what was that for?”

“Watch your mouth.” Sam said.

“That’s fine. I’ve heard so many curse words now. Let’s just go to the garden.” Jacob said as he led the way.

Nikki closed the backdoor after all of them went to the garden and she quickly went back to the kitchen to stop you guys from fighting.

“Hey!” She shouted, causing you and Tom to stop. “Let’s talk in the living room.”

Now, here you were in the living room with Tom, Nikki, and Dom. You never thought that you would ever receive an intervention of some kind.

“Why are you fighting?” Dom asked.

“She was jealous because I was talking to my ex and she was being super unreasonable. It’s so irritating.” Tom answered as he rolled his eyes.

“Have you ever hit each other?” nikki asked and you shook your head. “We would never hit each other.” You cleared up, earning a nod from her.

“Have you ever thought about marriage counseling?” Dom asked and you and Tom shook your heads.

“We don’t need it.” Tom said. “We’re just having a rough patch at the moment.”

Dom laughed, “That’s a funny way of saying it. Son, you’ve been fighting for YEARS. I think it’s time for both of you to get some help and sort out everything.”

“You need to fix this. If not for both of you, then do it for Jacob and Mason. We all know that Mason hates fighting. Imagine how Mason would feel about all this.” Nikki said softly.

“That’s not fair.” Tom shook his head. “You can’t just use my dead son against me.”

“I’m not using him against you. I’m just saying that he would be disappointed in both of you for fighting and for forgetting Jacob.” Nikki snapped.

“Let’s go.” You said quietly.

“What?” Tom turned to you.

“Let’s go to a marriage counselor. Tom, they’re right. We need help. I thought fighting was just in court. I don’t want to experience it at home too. We’re tired from our jobs and I think that’s the reason why we’re snapping at each other. I want us to talk about this before we do or say anything stupid.” You explained as you rubbed your temple with your left hand.

Tom looked down and nodded, “Fine. I don’t want to fight forever.”

You looked at each other and gave him a small smile as you grabbed his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. With that small gesture, Tom hoped that everything would be alright.

Today’s the day for yours and Tom’s first marriage counseling session. Both of you were extremely nervous, but you both knew it had to be done. The drive there was quiet and if you were being honest, you had to admit that being quiet was strange for you and Tom.

When you arrived, you two still hadn't spoken to each other in fear that it might lead to another fight. Both of you were asked to wait in the waiting room until your names were called and when it was, both of you nervously walked in the marriage counselor’s office.

They asked you to take a seat in front of their desk and you did as you were told. They smiled at you and said, “Mr. and Mrs. Holland, am I correct?”

“Yes.” You answered at the same time.

“Alright. Tell me about your relationship. How did it start?” They asked.

You chuckled at the memory and so did Tom. “Well, I was in a relationship when I met her and she had an attitude.” Tom said with a grin.

“That’s true.” You chuckled. “I was a new student in his school and I was just mean because I hated being new and I hated starting over. You see, my family kept moving around but this time, we stayed.”

“So anyway, when my girlfriend and I broke up, I was upset. I was 15 at the time and I thought that she was the one. Of course, I was wrong because I got to know Y/N after that. Something told me that Y/N was someone special. I just didn’t know that she was the one. Of course, I found that out years later. Heck, that’s why I proposed.” Tom admitted.

“Tom was my first boyfriend and I honestly thought we wouldn’t last because we were 16 when we started dating and that’s so young. So, I really didn’t give my all in the relationship because why would I give my all if we weren’t going to last, anyway?” You said, biting your lip.

“I just knew that now.” Tom confessed and then there was silence, but you quickly broke it.

“Of course, I changed my mind.” You said.

“What made you change your mind?” The counselor asked.

“I changed my mind when I met his family. I just felt really special that time and we were already dating for about 5 months. I felt really happy and I felt as if something good is about to happen. I was right.” You smiled as you looked at Tom. “He was the best boyfriend I could ever ask for and I couldn’t imagine being with anyone else.”

The counselor nodded, “Okay and what was your marriage like before?”

“Oh, it was spectacular! We got married when we were 23 years old and we traveled from to time because at that time, we weren’t super busy.” Tom answered. “Then, we had our son, Jacob, the year after that. It was quick and definitely a surprise, but we were excited to be parents. I knew that Y/N would be an excellent mother and she is. I never doubted her, not once and not ever.”

“Everyone said we were crazy for getting married so young, but why should we wait for a long time, y’know? We already know that we’re it for each other. Love is different for everyone and people failed to think about that during those times.” You answered. “A month into our marriage, I still couldn’t get over the fact that I’m his wife. It felt so surreal and I felt like I was on cloud nine. It felt so good.”

“That was before, right?” The counselor asked and both of you nodded. “What do you think changed? What happened?”

“I think it’s because we got busier at work and we had no time for each other. Then, we still had Jacob to take care of and it was just tiring. I guess that’s why we kept snapping at each other. That’s where it all began. The snapping and then it moved to the raising of voices-”

“Then the shouting and yelling, the saying things we don’t mean, and the not talking to each other for days. I honestly thought our marriage was done, but we vowed to each other that we would be there for each other through good times and in bad. Why would I give up on Y/N after a bump on the road? So, I stayed.” Tom continued.

“Does one person feel the need to win whenever you argue?”

“I don’t feel the need to win.” You said.

“I don’t feel the need to win either. I think we argue because we think we’re right and we don’t agree with things.” Tom answered.

“That’s true. We can’t even talk to each other properly without it leading to yet another heated argument. I think this is the longest conversation we have without shouting and yelling and saying things we don’t mean.” You said.

“Why are you here? What made you come here?”

“We came here because we realized that after years of fighting, we need help. After years of fighting, we finally admitted to ourselves that we need help from a professional.” You said.

“What are you hoping to learn from counseling?”

“I want to learn how to deal with our problems without yelling and getting angry about it.” Tom said.

“Okay, and you?”

“I want to learn how to learn the same thing. I can’t go on fighting anymore. We’re supposed to be teammates and we can’t do that if we’re always arguing.” You answered.

“Where would you like to see your marriage by the end of counseling?”

“A strong and healthier marriage, definitely.” You nodded. “I want that for us.”

“By the end of counseling, I want us to still be together. I want us to be better than who we are now especially for Jacob because I feel like our fights are rubbing off on him. He barely talks to us and I hate that.” Tom said and you agreed.

“Okay, thank you for that. That’s all I need for now and I’ll see you in our next session.” The counselor said.

Counseling helped greatly and it made you learn more about yourselves. You learned about your new strengths and weaknesses. Life at home slowly changed too. There were a few fights, but they weren’t as bad as before. Jacob still wouldn’t talk to both of you, though and that scared both of you.

Today was your last day of marriage counseling and the counselor said that there will be a last activity before they can conclude anything.

“I have a set of questions here that I want you both to answer, alright?” The counselor asked and both of you nodded.

Do you trust each other?

Tom: Yes, I trust her with everything in me.

You: I do.

Is there anything you feel you can’t trust each other with?

Both: No.

Have you ever felt the need to check the other person’s phone when they leave it unattended?

Tom: No.

You: Yes, but that was before we were married.

Tom looked at you and you just shrugged, “I’m just being honest.”

Have you ever done anything to lose the trust of the other person?

Tom: No, but I’m sure she had her doubts at some point.

You: No, and he’s right.

What makes you both happy?

Tom: Seeing my family happy.

You: Same answer.

When was the happiest period of time in your marriage, and what about it did you enjoy the most?

Tom: Our wedding day because I finally got to marry the girl of my dreams. I finally had my dream come true.

You: Our one year wedding anniversary because we’ve been together for 8 years in total and married for a year. It blew my mind that we lasted so long and we’re having our first born on the way.

Is there anything the other does that brings you down?

Tom: When she accuses me of not making time for our family. I try to make time, I do. It’s just that I’m always the doctor they call whenever they need something and I can’t help it. I know I promised I’d be there, but I took an oath to be there for patients too. It’s my duty to serve the public and I don’t want to abandon that and aside from being a husband and father, I dreamt about being a doctor too. It would break my heart to not do what I’m supposed to do.

You: When he would blame me for things that aren’t my fault.

Do you feel that you care about each other’s happiness?

Tom: Yes! Last year, she got me golf clubs for my birthday.

You: Yeah and he got me tickets to a concert that I want to go to.

What can you do to share each other’s happiness?

Tom: Go golfing with me.

You: Have a relaxing day together; just me and him.

Do you stress each other out?

Tom: I guess so. We wouldn’t be fighting if we don’t stress each other out.

You: True.

What do you find the most stressful?

Tom: When she doesn’t understand me.

You: When he forgets his role at home.

Do you feel you can come home to each other after a special day and feel better?

Tom: If I was asked this before, I’d say no because I always come home late and she’d be asleep. So, we couldn’t fix our problems. But now, yes.

You: I agree with him.

What do you feel are the biggest stressors in your marriage?

Tom: My job, but I can’t quit.

You: Our schedules because they always clash.

Do you feel like you can talk to each other about everything?

Both:: Yes.

Do you feel like the other listens when you speak?

Both:: Yes.

Do you make love as often as the other would like?

The question made you and Tom giggle causing the counselor to look at both of you. “I’m guessing, you do it more often now than before?”

“No comment.” Tom said, trying to hide a grin on his face.

“Alright, moving on.” The counselor chuckled.

Do you fulfill each other’s needs physically?

Tom: Definitely.

You: Absolutely.

Have you ever thought about seeing someone else?

Tom: No.

You: Never in a million years.

Have you ever seen someone else while you’ve been together?

Both:: No.

Do you still communicate with others you’ve been with intimately?

Tom: No.

You: I’ve never been with anyone else prior to Tom.

Is there anything in the past that the other has done that still bothers you?

Tom: I don’t think so; no.

You: The way he laughed with his ex at his parents’ wedding anniversary party. This is completely on my part now; it’s not his fault.

If you could change one thing about the past, what would it be?

Tom: The thing that got us into this whole mess. I would like to completely remove that.

You: Same here.

Would you say your relationship has been mostly good, mostly bad, or something in between?

Tom: Something in between.

You: Yes. No relationship is perfect.

Are there any conflicts in the past that you feel have not been resolved?

Both:: No.

What are some fond memories you have about the past?

Tom: When we first started dating, blissfully unaware of what our future will hold.

You: When we still had Mason.

Tom looked at you with a sad smile and grabbed your hand.

Do you want to remain married?

Both: Yes.

Where would you like to see each other a year from now?

Tom: Hopefully having a daughter.

You: True. I would like that.

What about five years from now?

Tom: New and improved.

You: Better at handling our stress.

What is one thing you’ve always loved about the other?

Tom: She’s caring and loving.

You: His passion for the things he loves.

If you could take a vacation, just the two of you, where would you go?

Both: To where we had our honeymoon.

What is something the other does that makes you smile?

Tom: When I see her with Jacob

You: When I see him being in his natural element.

What is your most cherished memory of the two of you?

Tom: When we first bought our house.

You: When we officially became parents.

What is something about your marriage that you wouldn’t change for anything?

Tom: Everything despite the fighting and crying.

You: Same here.

“This is now your last day for marriage counseling. On our first meeting, I asked you where you see yourselves at the end of marriage counseling. Did it happen?” The counselor asked as they looked at the two of you seriously.

You thought about it for a while before looking at each other.

"I think so." You answered. "I'm not really sure."

Tom nodded, "Yes, I'm not sure too."

* * * *

lmao cliffhanger bc there'll be two endings

this took me DAYS to write and i hope you guys enjoyed it! feedback would be lovely x

𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐓𝐎𝐌 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @blueleatherbag @cocoamoonmalfoy @thatforgottenangel @parkerpeter24 @turtoix @slutforsr @givebuckyhisplumsnow @buckys-little-hoe @runawayolives @chewymoustachio @hollandsrecs @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @yourstrulyamour @juliediggory @lharrietg @alexx-stancati @rumplebutterbaby @dummiesshort @spideyspeaches @thevelvetseries @buckymylove @quxxnxfhxll @marvelsimps @dreamy-clousds @bora-world @hunnybunimdun @supred12

𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @holland-styles @trustfundparker @calltothewild @felicityparkers @hufflepuffprincess24 @tommysparker @justasmisunderstoodasloki @quaksonhehe @call-me-baby-gir1 @itstaskeen @theonly1outof-a-billion @lost-in-the-stars03 @justafangirlduh @piscesparker @speedymaximoff @miraclesoflove @lexirv @blairscott @getbywithasmile @pqrkerr @lavender-writer @blackbat2020 @hoodpankow

#tom holland #tom holland one shots #tom holland imagines #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland angst #in-a-lot-of-fandoms-tbh

106 notes · View notes

silence-burns · 3 years

Text

Please Hate Me //part 50

Fandom: Marvel

Summary: Based on: “Imagine having a love/hate relationship with Loki.” by @thefandomimagine Who would have thought that babysitting a god could be so much fun?

Genre: slow-burn, enemies to lovers, banter, smut

Living in an apartment so full of various enchantments that you couldn't move without bumping into one certainly had its perks, but your favourite was the space enhancement that made sure the apartment could actually fit everything you wanted it to.

In their original state, both floors of the apartment weren't small on their own, but as your moving in progressed, you quickly realized that the amount of both your and Loki's belongings overran the space you'd been given.

The solution was pretty standard and required bending only a few minor laws of physics and logic.

Whoever dared venture into your apartment now would get quite the surprise in the form of rooms that felt a little too big for the kind of space indicated by the building's construction, and doors leading to places that absolutely shouldn't be able to fit so close together and yet stubbornly did. But however much you loved the whole apartment in general, you couldn't deny that your absolute favourite part of it was the giant monstrosity of a bathtub that Loki was absolutely uncompromising about.

Laying in it now, you couldn't blame him.

The passage of time was forgotten as the two of you soaked in the scented water, kept warm for what felt like hours, and might've actually been that long. If it was up to you, you would've stayed there forever and enjoyed Loki's firm, warm body, the pleasantly dimmed lights and the few bottles of whatever Loki had hidden for special occasions.

Well, the bottles weren't there originally, but as your clean up progressed and both of you started to feel like something other than a walking biological disaster, a need for celebration rose. You weren't sure how the things progressed from the first bottle to the small pile of them on the floor by the bathtub, but you found yourself straddling Loki's lap, completely drunk and unable to move despite one of your legs going completely numb.

"Remind me to never drink with you again," you mumbled into Loki's neck.

"I did."

"Then be more convincing…"

With your cheek plastered to him, you felt rather than heard Loki's chuckle. The rumble did unruly things to the contents of your stomach.

"I'm gonna puke."

"Please save the last of my dignity and at least aim away from me." Despite Loki's words, he didn't move a bit and if you didn't know him any better, you'd guess he was feeling similar sensations.

With his head leaning on the tub's edge and his eyes closed, Loki was indeed fighting against the world spinning around him. The warm embrace of your body pressed into his and the water scented with jasmine were his only anchors in the chaotic mess his head tried to sort out. Truth be told, he had forgotten the full potential of the Asgardian alcohol, and especially the type he had stored for a perfect occasion. It was like a blow to all his senses, and as much as it was fun, Loki was starting to worry about his ability to ever walk out of that bathtub again. He certainly wouldn't attempt such an insanity now, with you weighing him down, so comfortably settled on his lap that you felt like an integral part of him.

Loki tried, and failed, to convince himself it wasn't an excuse, and a pathetic one too.

"Do you think we're gonna get in trouble?" You asked, as if you knew you were on his mind.

"As petty as Odin is, I don't think he's going to execute us for stealing some alcohol…"

"I meant the stuff Thor was talking about. We kinda messed up the Moon, didn’t we?"

Loki hummed in a way that was definitely not an answer. One of his hands roamed over your exposed back, enjoying the soft curve and warm skin. The other stirred the water, making the soap bubble again and the temperature stay unchanged. Loki had to concentrate more than usual, which was partly because of the amount of alcohol consumed, and partly because his mind was slowly drifting away on soft tendrils of sleep.

"No one knows you there, and I wore my brother's face," Loki finally murmured, leaning his head back. "It'll be fine."

It, unfortunately, didn't know about those predictions, which was why It was interrupted by a certain boy's voice.

"Hey guys, are you okay?" Peter asked from the other side of the door, having let himself into the apartment. Again.

Loki groaned, even as he could feel your smile pressed to his chest.

"We're fine," he said, louder than necessary. He winced as the sound seemed to erode his skull.

"What about Barbara, though?" Peter was insistent. "She's scratching at the window from the outside… and I think she wants those pickles from the table?"

"You locked her outside?" You hissed, trying to look at Loki's completely innocent face, but the sudden movement only resulted in the world tilting to the side dangerously fast.

"I have no idea what you're talking about. I love that bird dearly." Louder, he said to the boy, "She's only allowed to eat them outside!"

"Okay!" The answer was quick and cheerful and mercifully moving away as the boy grabbed the open jar and went outside.

Loki took a deep breath. The blessed silence once again enveloped the apartment. Through the cloud pressing on his hazy thoughts, Loki considered locking the apartment altogether.

Another chilled bottle appeared in his hand, delightfully full and heavy. As much as he had tried to get drunk on Earth's alcohol, only the Asgardian kind seemed to do the job.

The drink burned his throat in precisely the manner he needed. It'd been so long since the two of you had a moment to yourself and could just relax without worrying about a thousand responsibilities. On most days, Loki enjoyed the kind of life he had somehow managed to secure himself. If he decided to be honest, Loki was still rather uncertain how it had happened.

The long, curvy, and annoyingly labyrinthine road that started on the day the Avengers had decided to put him under your wing somehow ended up leading him to where he was now. Not literally, of course - as much as he loved the grand bathtub he had insisted on, Loki had in mind something grander spiritually. A place of comfort, but without the boundaries of a physical space bound to certain conditions and limitations.

A home, but only if it could be a person.

Loki supposed it could. Even as he drank again from the bottle, mudding his thoughts further, the philosophical conclusions he came to still felt right.

Revelations such as these were worthy of sharing, lest they might be forever lost in one's memory. Loki wanted to share the wisdom granted to him by the unholy amount of Asgardian cider, but he had found you plastered to his chest, asleep. And drooling.

Loki made sure the water didn't run cold as he too decided to join you in the dreams' escape. The quiet popping of the soap bubbles and the lavender scent hanging in the air lulled him quickly into a state of complete and utter comfort…

"Brother, where are you hiding?

…from which a rather brutish, and definitely unwelcome voice dragged him away.

Loki started. The contents of a forgotten bottle escaped into the water.

As the heavy steps sounded outside of the bathroom, it was clear the apartment was being searched through again.

You swore. Loki agreed.

"I'm going to," he hiccuped, "change him into a frog."

"Barbara would devour him whole."

"Let them fight. He always prided himself to be a warrior."

Fortunately for Thor, even though he was not aware of the small mercy of the universe, Loki found himself too drunk to act on his words, despite his best attempts at conjuring the transformative spell.

But when his brother's thudding steps neared the bathroom again, with clear intent of dragging Loki out in whatever state he was, Loki was forced to make a very dire decision very quickly, or lest his quiet evening suffer a bitter end.

So Loki did what he had always done best, and spiced the world up with a tiny little trick.

You heard Thor approach the door, but you didn't have it in you to move and at least cover yourself up. The doorknob twisted and you heard it very well through the slight creak it always gave. Then you heard the door open - but it didn't.

Living in an apartment complex had its perks, and being able to hear your neighbors on occasion certainly wasn't one. Still, your gaze turned up when you heard a high-pitched scream and Thor's booming voice coming from the apartment above yours.

"He's going to kill you for that," you said.

"Given the vigor with which he was looking for me, I think he had a hefty list of reasons prepared already."

"That's fair."

As all good things have in common, they always come to a saddening end when you least expect them to. The conclusion that life was utterly unfair in its precipice was a natural one to come up with, even in the state of drunkenness.

"I think it's time for us to go," Loki sighed.

A groan escaped you when the world tilted to the side. Getting out of the bathtub while completely, embarrassingly drunk was a feat that almost resulted in one broken neck and three broken limbs, but somehow both of you managed to scramble your way out. While you searched for clothes that had an annoying habit of duplicating right in front of your eyes, Thor's roars of fury sounded clear through the many walls separating you.

You wondered if any of the neighbours would connect their unexpected guest to you.

You gave up on your search for the other sock and decided to only wear one. Trying to put it on was already hard as it was. "If you spelled all the doors in the building to lead astray, how are we getting out?"

"Don't worry," Loki hiccuped. "My brother dearest is too stupid to notice I didn't touch the windows."

You had never loved anything as much as you loved the walls in your apartment, their quiet support helping you get through the endless expanse of the living room. For reasons you elected to ignore, the swaying of the world only increased as you progressed, bumping into every single piece of furniture some idiot (most likely you the day before) had decided to put there.

"I don't think this is a good idea," you slurred when Loki opened the window, pickleless, owlless and impossibly high.

"Your intuition, my love, is right as always."

Loki managed to put his leg over the windowsill on the second try, which he deemed a great success. He also managed to get down on the other side with no life-threatening injuries, which was just as surprising.

His pride was short-lived when you tumbled down, knocking him off feet.

The few half-melted snowmen seemed to have a good laugh. The little garden was still winter-bare, and no grass cushioned the fall. Barbara, perched on top of Peter's head, hissed with obvious joy.

The boy blinked. "Are you...sneaking out?"

"No," Loki grunted in the same moment you said, "Yes."

Barbara ripped another pickle from the boy's hand. Life was short, especially after you died once, and there was only so much time she deemed worth looking at the two of you. She had far more pressing issues, like the impossibly narrow jar into which her head just wouldn't fit, and so left her reliant on the boy's nimble (and tasty) fingers.

"...are you sure?" The boy watched the two drunkards scramble to stand up.

"We're just out for a walk."

"A long one."

Glass broke upstairs, followed by raised voices and what was undeniably a string of curses.

Loki looked at you. You looked at Loki. Another Loki looked at you. Unable to choose which to make eye contact with, you squinted and the two Lokis merged together—damn you were never drinking again. There was no way all of you would sneak out in time.

Barbara ripped another pickle to shreds.

"Hey, Peter," you cooed sweetly. "Do you happen to know a quiet little place to lay low for a while, my darling?"

Peter, the darling, did.

*****

A/N: Hi! I'm sorry for no chapter last week, my university is going to kill me with that graduation paper I have to work on and reasearch and realize how little do I actually know about the subject I have to get a 70-pages long paper done. Heh.

But don't worry, this story is slowly nearing its end, and even though I have little time to work on new chapters, I'm doing my best and hope you'll enjoy them. Well, my life's pretty busy right now, and it stresses me out, so I'm not sure how regular the updates will be, but I promise, I'm not giving up on this story. I'm so happy about all the support I have received for this story, and grateful for all the comments it got! Hope you enjoyed this chapter too!

#please hate me #loki x reader #loki x you #loki imagine #Loki Laufeyson x Reader #loki laufeyson x you #loki #loki marvel #loki mcu #loki laufeyson #loki fanfiction #marvel loki #I Love Loki #marvel #loki series

39 notes · View notes

kitkat1003 · 3 years

Text

For the Love of, and Full of Hope

Wakko isn’t book smart, or social smart, not by any means, but even he isn’t dumb enough not to know that his family is worn thin. Threadbare and dying. They need more.

So he goes to get it.

Or: A 12 year old spends a year getting a single hay penny. Wonder what happened there.

Warnings: Death, Violence

Edit: this is part of a series, here is the Ao3 link

@asilcorner here

The decision to leave isn’t an easy one, and he can tell Yakko wants to argue. Of anyone in their family, Yakko is the one least likely to mention a want, but Wakko can tell that there’s one on the tip of his tongue.

I don’t want you to go.

If Yakko said that, Wakko would stay, because Yakko works so hard, Yakko deserves his wants. But Wakko knows, and Yakko knows, that they both want Dot to be alive far more than Yakko doesn’t want him to leave. So he thanks the world that train fare is practically free and buys himself a ticket.

“Why do you have to go?” Dot asks, the night before he leaves. He’s resting right next to her, and her voice sounds hoarse. Tight. Weak. The reason he’s going, to make her better, cements in further.

“We need money,” He tells her, honest. “Besides, the ticket’s already paid for. It’d be a shame to waste it now,” he shrugs, smiling despite the ever present ache, from starvation and exhaustion and the chill.

“I wish I could go with you,” She whispers, and he sighs.

“I wish you could too,” Because if she could, he wouldn’t need to leave in the first place.

The next day is joyously morose affair. He leaves with the hopes of everyone on his shoulders. Yakko hugs him tight, and Wakko can feel Yakko’s hands tremble against Wakko’s back, balled up in fistfuls of his sweater.

“Stay safe,” It’s phrased more like a plead than a simple farewell, and Wakko would like to be able to make promises, but...

“I’ll try,” he says, and he means it.

“See you in a year, sis,” He ruffles Dot’s hair, and she smacks at his hands, but she’s smiling.

“Not a day late or early,” She orders, and he grins.

“You got it.”

And the train departs, and Wakko sits all by himself as the place he knew as his home for all his life gets smaller and smaller as he gets farther and farther away.

He lets himself cry when it disappears, because he’s young, and alone, and afraid. But he has to do this. He has to try. Dot and Yakko need him.

It’s not hard to fall asleep. Compared to the abandoned orphanage they live in, the train seats are far more comfortable.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He wakes up a town over, and the train offers hot food, but he declines. He doesn’t have the money for it, even though his stomach screams for food. He nibbles on the jerky Yakko bought for him before he left. Wakko knows just how long he can not eat for before his body rebels against him-earlier than most people. Yakko says he has what one would call a ‘Chronic illness.’ All Wakko knows is that it makes him more of a deadweight for Yakko to carry, because despite Yakko trying to be slick, he could see at home that his older brother was giving him bigger servings while Yakko got less.

Hopefully, now that Wakko is gone, Yakko can actually eat like a normal person. With how Yakko is, though, Wakko expects he’ll take that extra food and give it all to Dot.

People come off and on the train at every random stop, but Wakko’s ticket is for a long ways away. Five towns over. He’s heard stories there, about how there are always jobs open. He’s going to do them all. He’ll work himself down to the bone, and come back with a fortune, and Dot will get better and everyone will be happy.

Days pass. He gets up, on occasion, to stretch his legs, because the last thing he needs are his muscles atrophying because he couldn’t be bothered to move. He loses his seat once or twice, but he is very adept at annoying people into moving, so he never loses it for long. He makes the piece of jerky last, so that even on the last night before he gets off of the train he still has a quarter of a piece left. It’s easy to not be hungry when you don’t move much. That must be why Dot hardly has an appetite.

He’s asleep when he reaches his destination, practically thrown from the train by a conductor who holds no pity for a half starved child. This town is prosperous, due to it’s industrious mining community. He can see the ‘Help Wanted’ signs plastered on certain storefronts, and tries to figure out what to do.

Yakko had told him that under no circumstances was he to even think about going into the mines. The mines are where people go to die, and Yakko told him it was better if Wakko came home empty handed than not at all.

They’d had the conversation far away from the house, where Dot couldn’t hear. She was already near bedridden most days, looking half dead. She didn’t need to hear about how dire things were, when part of the reason things were that is because she was so sick. It isn’t her fault, but she wouldn’t see it that way.

He tries first, at the bakery. He’s young, spry, and wiling to do whatever they need him to. He’s made to be the janitor, because he doesn’t know how to bake and they don’t need anyone to learn. When things go in the oven, he clears the work space, sweeps the floor of the spilt flour, wipes down trays, cleans dishes. It’s not easy work, but Wakko would like to say he works well.

He does not, in fact, work well.

It was probably a bad choice to pick a place filled with food for his first job when he’s been half starved for most of his life, but it seemed a good option at the time. He can’t help but try and sample some of the goods, so hungry it hurts, and the owner of the bakery doesn’t have time for charity cases.

He gets caught on his third day, and after getting yelled at so loud that his hands shake and his ears ring, he’s unceremoniously thrown out, sliding across cobblestone so hard his skin scrapes and he’s glad that black fur doesn’t show off blood well. Three day’s pay is a pittance, but it’s enough to get him some food for the night. He sleeps outside, in an alley, by the dumpsters.

The next day he goes to the general store. It doesn’t sell food more so than it sells equipment. A lot of its sales comes from supplying the mining sector with its equipment, and the rest is from the random items the townspeople need.

Wakko is a stocker. It suits him fine. He’s always been almost abnormally strong for his age, and he works hard not to mess this up. It’s a nice routine, though his brain gets ever so slightly bored. He’s someone who craves unpredictability, who loves chaos. The doldrum does very little for him, mentally, but he shoves it down and keeps working. He takes a breath every moment even though the cold air makes his lungs wince and puts his personality on the shelf and works and works and works.

He manages well for about four months.

And then, one night, he gets cornered in an alley.

“Hey, kid,” There are three men surrounding him, tall and lean. Men is a strong word-they’re teenagers, older than Yakko but nowhere near and adult. “Heard you’re the new stocker at the general store,” Wakko has no idea why this guy cares, but he just nods, because it seems polite.

The response he receives is having his sweater be grabbed before he is slammed into the wall, head knocking against stone.

“You think you can step in on my job while I’m out of town? Huh?” He shakes Wakko, as if Wakko can reply when he’s still dazed from having his head knocked around. “I own that job. I can come and go as I please, and make money when I want. That’s how it works here.”

And Wakko hates that. Hates the cavalier that this teen holds, to be able to come and go as he pleases, to always have a job waiting for him. Has this guy ever had to wonder if his sibling was going to survive the night? Has he ever even gone hungry?

It’s the same entitlement Plotz has, and it brings out a fire Wakko didn’t know he had.

“It said help wanted,” he responds, shrugging nonchalantly. “Not my fault that you were gone.”

That is, apparently, the wrong thing to say. Wakko has never been good with his words, and that’s why Yakko always did the talking. He gets a fist to his jaw, dropping to the ground.

“What a smartmouth,” The leader sneers. “Why don’t we teach this kid a lesson?”

“Well, I’ve never been to school before,” Wakko wheezes, grinning like nothing’s wrong, and he gets a kick to his ribs for that.

He should really stop trying to be Yakko.

“Shut up,” One of the teens say, and he does.

It doesn’t stop them.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

When he goes to work the next day, he has a black eye he can’t see out of and a limp. Black fur doesn’t show off bruises, but he’s pretty sure one of his fingers is broken with how purple it is. He shows up to work anyway.

When he does, the owner looks over him appraisingly.

“I see you met the town boys,” He says. “The leader is the mayor’s son,” Wakko frowns-of course he is.

Wakko gets to work, but the owner follows him.

“I thought he was staying out of town for another week, figured I’d fire you then,” Wakko freezes, holding three boxes of pickaxes. “But I can’t have the mayor down my neck. Find somewhere else to work.”

And Wakko isn’t vindictive, not by any means, but he feels a little too good when he says “Okay,” and lets the pickaxes all drop to the floor, hearing the crash and running out before the owner can catch him.

From there, he goes through jobs like they’re candy. He trips at the candlemaker’s and nearly burns the whole place down. Tries the printing press, but he can’t really read well, so he can’t tell if there’s any errors, and makes too many mistakes. Works at a family farm, but one of the animals kicks him into the fence and the family says that it’s a sign that this isn’t his place to work.

No wonder this town has so many help wanted signs , if these are the guys hiring.

His favorite job of the bunch is the inn, because they let him sleep in a spare room so long as he cleans it before he goes to work, and it doesn’t count towards his paycheck. However, the mayor’s kid comes in one day, sees him, says something to the owner, and Wakko is back on the streets again.

He wants to break down and cry and go home. He’s trying so hard, he’s doing what he’s supposed to. It’s been eight months and he never has more than enough to buy dinner because he can’t save when he’s losing jobs a couple months in.

He needs something stable. Something no one would fire him from.

He looks toward the mines.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He remembers the promise he made to Yakko, to not work there. Knows he shouldn’t. But he’s out of jobs, and he’s out of options.

He promised, but Yakko’s broken promises too. When Dot first got sick, Wakko was nearly in tears with worry. That’s his little sister, why can’t she play? Why does she keep coughing? What’s wrong with her?

“It’s just a cold,” Yakko had said. “She’ll get better soon. Promise.”

But she hadn’t, and that’s why he’s here, so if Yakko can lie to make Wakko feel better than Wakko can break a promise too, to make sure that when he comes home he’ll have something to give. Because, as much as it would break Yakko’s heart if Wakko never came back, Wakko would rather that happen then come back with nothing and watch Dot wither away.

He goes to the mines, and puts on a hard hat, and gets to work.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The mines are a grueling place, and Wakko understands very quickly why Yakko never wanted him to work in such an environment. Half of the time he has to stop and cough, because every breath is coal ash in his lungs, every time he moves he feels like he’s going to drop dead. Lunch time is fifteen minutes and he doesn’t have anywhere to prepare a lunch so typically he buys some salted meats or preserved vegetables the night before and sticks it in his sweater pocket so he doesn’t starve to death. He supposes the upside to having been poor all your life is that you’re good at eating quickly.

You never know when the food you have could be taken away.

They get coal, and then they lug it to the minecarts to be taken out of the mine. Rinse and repeat. He doesn’t even have time to be zany when he’s so exhausted, so he’s just as dead eyed as the rest of the toons and men around him.

Every once in a while, there will be a rumble from above, and the whole cave will shake, and they will all freeze and hold their breath, because one wrong move could mean collapse.

One of the older men asks him, one day, “Why are you here, son?” in the soft, kind way that brings back a far faded memory, more a feeling, of a warm crackling fire, and someone large and familiar holding him, of feeling safe and full.

“I need the money,” he responds, and the older man’s eyes go soft and sympathetic.

“Don’t we all, son,” He tells him, patting him on the shoulder, and Wakko half smiles, because kindness is rare like gold and he’s dreaming of diamonds. “Don’t we all.”

Three months in, and he’s gotten the hang of it. Nearly made three hay pennies, because the older man, who asks him to just call him Sir, tells him about the safer tunnels, directs him to the areas least likely to collapse. He takes Wakko under his wing, and if he finds something exemplary, he lets Wakko take the credit for it.

Sir is here because he sends the money back home to his grandkids. His daughter’s husband ran out on them, and she’s getting ill from the stress and work.

“Don’t have much left in this world,” He says, heaving the pickaxe down against stone. He teaches Wakko how to hit it just right, and Wakko copies his movements and wonders if this is what it’s like to have a father who is more than a few years older than you. “But I ain’t losing them.”

“Yeah,” Wakko agrees, thinking of the small shack that is his home, five towns away, with the two people there that are his entire world, that he’s spending his days suffering and working for.

It’s nice, though, to have company. Sir listens to Wakko’s crazy antics, claps when Wakko has the energy to sing him a song during lunch, and says “you remind me of my grandkids” one day, and Wakko doesn’t want to admit how happy that makes him.

Four months in, and Wakko is venturing into an older tunnel, with a bunch of experienced miners. That’s the only reason Sir says that Wakko could come with, because he knows this is Wakko’s last month and a big pay off from a new mine would be really helpful.

They get to work, and an hour or so in the ever familiar, paralyzing rumble from above starts. Only this time, the floor starts to shake, and the ceiling cracks, and rocks start to fall from above as the whole mineshaft collapses. Wakko is jumping out of the way of debris, letting his pickaxe drop as he moves towards somewhere safe, so focused on the different falling pieces and the people running around him he misses the rock falling above him.

“Kid!” He hears Sir shout, and he’s slammed into by denim overalls and flesh and bone and hits the floor. There’s the sound of a crack, and then he feels, hears, sees nothing at all.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Wakko wakes up to the feeling of something on top of him, covered in dust and soot and something wet and sticky. He blinks out the dizziness and realizes the thing on top of him is someone, someone he recognizes.

“Sir?” he says, asks, hopes. Carefully, he crawls out from under the man, and looks around.

The cave is dark, and he hears groans from the other men, but he looks back at Sir, and shakes him. A slab of stone falls to the floor with a loud thud, from Sir’s back, and neck.

Something is dripping from Sir’s mouth. It looks suspiciously like blood, but Wakko won’t think it is, no.

“Sir?” he tries again, and he shakes him harder. The older man drops, limp, laying face first on the ground.

Wakko. Stares.

“Is that the kid?” One of the other men says.

“Sounds like it. The old man must have got on top of him to save him from the rocks.”

“Poor guy,” The first one says. “Hey, kid, c’mere,” Wakko stands, on trembling legs, and walks toward the sound of the voices.

A hand rests on his shoulder, and he flinches, and the hand disappears.

“Hey, it’s just me, kid,” He hears. “The old man told us about you. There’s been a cave in,” As if that wasn’t obvious. “We’re seasoned, so they’ll look for us. They don’t always for the newer guys.”

“Okay,” Wakko says, instead of anything else, because he can feel the wet and sticky on his cheek and it isn’t his blood, and he can’t turn around because if he does he’ll be facing it.

He can’t. He just can’t

A hand leads him to a spot to sit, and Wakko does.

Time slips through his fingertips, and all Wakko can do is wait and breathe.

They consider making a fire, but it would waste their oxygen. The find a miraculously non broken flashlight, and Wakko can finally see. The cave is about half the size it was before it collapsed. There’s a pile of rocks at the entrance, and some of the men take their pickaxes and try to hit it, but it makes the walls shake so they stop. Wakko walks around the room, and stays away from one area.

He misses Sir.

A day passes. He nibbles on the old, near moldy piece of jerky he has, offering it to the other men. They rebuff him.

“You look like skin and bones, kid,” One of the guys says. “This isn’t our first cave in,” Wakko wonders when he became their kid, but he supposes it could be worse.

It’s two days and they’re running out of air. Wakko wheezes in thin, shallow breaths through chapped lips, and tries not to cry because he’s dehydrated enough. He doesn’t want to die. He has Dot and Yakko to go home to, he can’t leave them now.

Eventually, he just starts humming, because the silence hurts and he doesn’t want to think anymore. Isn’t this whole movie supposed to be a musical? Maybe it hasn’t started yet.

“There's always tomorrow,” It comes out wispy and small, like a a breath, but it sounds unbearably loud, in the small space, “For dreams to come true. Believe in your dreams, come what may,” His voice cracks on the final word, and he coughs, but the men are all staring at him, a tiny shrimp of a kid way in over his head, singing because there’s nothing else he can think to do.

“There's always tomorrow,” He mumbles out the words, barely keeping up the tune, because he’s so tired. “With so much to do,”

“And so little time in a day,” One of the men finishes the line with him, and Wakko blinks.

It seems that one joining in spurs on the others, because one by one they’re all singing too.

“We all pretend the rainbow has an end,” Wakko sees some of the miners leaning on each other. A couple of them have broken a bone of some sort, but that’s all forgotten in the ever thinning air, singing because what else is there to do, in times of despair.

“And you’ll be there, my friend, some day,” Wakko’s eyes flick to Sir, the still body looking pale and the blood dried on the ground, and he forces himself not to cry again.

“There’s always tomorrow, for dreams to come true,” Wakko leans his head back against the stone, coughing a little. There’s thudding in his ears, he thinks his heartbeat, growing ever louder.

“Tomorrow is not far away...,” They trail off, and then there’s a crack, from the wall behind him. He jumps, stumbling back from the wall, and he can see light peeking through the rock wall.

Standing was a bad idea. His legs shake, weak, and while he can see the light as he hears men from the other side calling for him there’s darkness at the edges of his vision, and before the the wall breaks he starts to fall and everything goes black to the sound of the men shouting for someone to catch him.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He wakes up at the local hospital. The mine is paying for the stay, so he gets to eat. He’s given 10 hay pennies for his trouble-the three he’d already made were lost in the collapse, but he doesn’t care too much because he lost far more important things there, too-, with the incentive not to take legal action against the mining company. As if he could. He asks around, asks if Sir’s family will be getting anything.

“Likely not,” One of the men from the cave says. “He didn’t have enough tenure for that, and his family lives far enough away and are poor enough that the mine won’t bother.”

“Do you know where he lives?” He asks, and he finds out.

He places 9 hay pennies into the envelope. He is not good at writing, but he knows how to write ‘I’m sorry,’ and ‘he was a good man’, and ‘he protected me’, and the sentences hardly make sense with how his hands shake but that doesn’t matter. He has one of the older men write out the address and sends it off.

It’s not enough, he thinks. But it’s something.

He tries to go back to work for a little more money, but every time he looks into the yawning pit of the entrance to the mines he can’t breathe and he thinks of the sticky and wet and red that stained his fur until he washed it off two days later.

He knows how to get it out of his clothes, too. Now. He knows now.

He didn’t think he would ever need to know, but the past year has been full of learning experiences, he’s sure.

A week and a half later, he walks out of town to that same train, and like the end of a circle heads back to where he started, sitting on that same seat. The taste of jerky as he chews makes him want to vomit, too familiar, too entrenched in memory to be anything other than unpleasant.

He comes home, and when he arrives he sees the smiling faces of his family and town, and they don’t need the depressing tale of cruelty and hardship, so he smiles and dances on aching feet and sings about silly jobs that seem more fun than difficult and shows off his earnings and lets himself feel hope because even if it hurt it was enough, because Dot is going to be happy and healthy.

Later, when he is playing a mournful tune on a makeshift harp, he wonders if there was even a point to trying. If he should have stayed, should have just taken his time with his sister before she was gone, because regardless of everything that happened he’s right where he started. Except, someone is dead and he’s the reason, and his lungs ache and will spend months to get close to normal and he has to pretend because he can’t let Yakko know he lied, and he was beaten and his youth has been stolen and Dot is still dying anyway.

He’s tired of the cyclical, he needs change, and he looks up the stars and searches for something, anything, to make the hurt worth something.

The Wishing Star gives him a reply to his song, like beams of light through the rocks, like hope in the center of a blackhole of despair that refuses to be swallowed whole, and when Wakko makes the homestretch he asks for the people to get what they deserve, what is fair, what is right, and hopes the mother miles away with two kids and no father or grandfather gets something, too.

#animaniacs #wakko's wish #yakko wakko and dot #wakko warner #yakko warner #dot warner #kitkat1003 #Listen its medieval times do you think people were nice to kids #i will pepper in the fact that wakko nearly vaguely remembers their parents #i will create a side character and kill him off because I think it'd funny to be mean #haha

48 notes · View notes

themrsdeanwinchester · 3 years

Text

Choices

Author’s note: Hello! This is my entry for @deanwanddamons’ 1st Blogiversary & 2K Follower Celebration! The quote I chose to use is bolded within my entry. I have to say, I found this challenging. I’ve just been struggling to write lately and I hope you enjoy this. I did love writing this though because I loved the quote/prompt so much. I went back and forth on *semi spoiler* a happy or sad ending, so I wrote two. This one has the happy ending put there is a link at the bottom to take you to the sad, alternate ending. I hope you enjoy and feedback is welcome! Happy reading!

Warnings: spoiler-is for season 15, violence, hurt, demon, major character death, language

Pairing: Dean x reader (Sam is platonically in this as well)

Word count: 2,290

Six months ago, Dean Winchester had come through your line at the Gilbert’s Grocery in Lawrence, Kansas. You’d been crushing on him for much longer than that though; it had really been ever since he and his brother had shown up in town. Or, back to town you figured, since Dean had told you they were both born and raised here but had been away for work. It did seem odd to you, a little part of your brain screamed “red flag” at his explanation. He had simply stated it was a family business and that he and his brother had inherited a home here so they had decided to come back. The fact you’d go weeks without seeing him was explained away by Dean as again, work related. You ignored every sensation that your body gave you that said none of what he said lined up or made sense. But he was so handsome, and nice. His smile sparkled and his green eyes hypnotized you.

“Hey, Y/N.” Dean set his groceries on the conveyer belt. “How’s it going?”

“Hi, Dean,” you breathed. You knew there were hearts in your eyes, you just couldn’t help it. “It’s going good. Almost done for the day so that makes it even better. You?”

“Good, good. Did you say you were almost off?” Dean questioned.

“Yup.” You scanned his last item, beer. “$65.10 today.”

He handed you cash, as always, and said, “I’d love to take you out to dinner tonight. If you’re available?”

Your hand was still midair, clutching the money you’d just taken from him. Had you heard him correctly? Did he just ask you out to dinner? “I’m - I’m available,” you stuttered.

“Fantastic. What’s your number? I’ll text you and then you can send me your address.”

You gave Dean you number and felt your phone buzz in your back pocket. You pulled it out to see Dean’s text. “Got it.” You flashed your phone at him and smiled.

“Pick you up at 7?” Dean asked, grabbing his bag.

“Sounds good.”

“See you then, sweetheart.” Dean started to walk away but spun back around, “oh, keep the change.” He winked and walked out the door.

It was only then you realized your hand was still holding the cash he’d given you for his groceries.

Six months, you were living in the bunker with Sam and Dean, helping with research and a “rookie hunter” as Dean had dubbed you.

“You ready?” Dean asked, popping his head into your shared bedroom.

You zipped up your duffle. “Yup! Let’s go.”

You slowly opened your eyes. Your eyelids were heavy, so heavy they felt cemented shut. You closed then again and squeezed them, trying to shake off the sensation. You opened them again, blinking hard a few times as your eyes adjusted. You were lying flat on your back, your left arm up over your head and your right in excruciating pain. You tried to sit up and yelped in pain. Your entire body hurt. You slowly shifted your head, trying to look around. Your eyes landed on the door of the room. It was wide open. Where were Sam and Dean?

Footsteps behind you made your ears perked up. The footsteps quickened and Dean was kneeling beside you.

“Y/N!” He hissed.

“Yes, don’t yell. I can hear you,” you mumbled. Your mouth felt thick; you needed water. “What happened?”

“Christo,” Dean spat. Then he dumped holy water on your forehead. When you didn’t react he sighed, letting his head fall, his chin resting against his chest. “A demon possessed you. We’ve been looking for you for hours. I thought we’d lost you for good.” He looked up as Sam came into the room.

“Oh, good,” Sam said, breathless from running. “Let’s get out of here. Y/N, can you walk?”

“My whole fucking body hurts. I can’t even sit up,” you whined. Your eyes welled with tears as you attempted to sit up again.

Sam came along the other side of you and pushed his hand under your right shoulder to try and help you up. You screamed in pain.

“I think her shoulder is dislocated,” Sam said to Dean.

“We have to get you up, sweetheart. It’s going to hurt but we have to get you out of here.”

You nodded, swallowing hard, knowing you were in for a rough ride in the Impala.

Back at the Bunker, Dean gave you whiskey, a lot of whiskey, so Sam could put your shoulder back into place.

“I think,” you slurred, “I’m ready.” You set your empty glass in the table. “Hold my hand.” You stretched your left hand out to Dean and he took it, giving you a little squeeze.

“Take a deep breath,” Sam said. He placed a palm between your shoulder blades and the other on the front of your right shoulder. “Let it out.”

As you let out air in your lungs, Sam quickly shoved your shoulder into place. You squeezed Dean’s hand as you screamed, pain searing throughout your body.

“All done!” Sam said, taking a step back, arms raised. “I’m done! You’re good!” He was trying to reassure you but fuck, that hurt.

Later that night, as you lay propped up in bed, Dean shuffled into the room, his hair spiky and wet from his shower. You watched as he pulled clean pajamas from the dresser.

“If I had any dollars, I’d throw them at you,” you said. You were still a little drunk from the whiskey earlier.

Dean chuckled and shook his head. “Easy tiger. You maybe be feeling pretty good right now but if you get too frisky with me tonight, you will regret it in the morning.” Dean pulled back the covers and nestled into the bed next to you.

“Wanna bet?” You teased, your voice low as you started to move closer to Dean.

“Hey, I’m serious, Y/N.” Dean’s tone changed. “We’re not doing... that tonight.” He sighed and ran his hand through his wet hair. He looked over and saw the look on your face, a mix of hurt and anger. “I’m sorry.”

Part of you knew you didn’t need to feel hurt or mad. Dean was right, your body was still hurting badly. “No, it’s okay. You’re totally right. Think we can at least cuddle?”

“Of course, sweetheart.” Dean raised his arm, your cue to settle your head on his chest, his arm coming down around you once you did.

“Goodnight. I love you, Dean,” you said quietly, sleep already overcoming you.

“Love you, too, sweetheart.”

The next morning you woke up in the same spot; Dean’s arm around you and your head on his chest. You shifted slightly and were immediately met with searing pain throughout your body. Your movement and hissing of pain woke Dean up. After you assuring him multiple times you were fine, he got up to get the two of you coffee and some breakfast.

He reappeared 20 minutes later with a tray of coffee, eggs, toast, and bacon. He watched you struggle to eat with your left hand, laughing with you because you’d dropped eggs down your shirt and were trying to fish them out from between your cleavage.

Again his tone changed, his face became somber. “Y/N, we need to talk about something.”

His words made you freeze and you just nodded your head.

“Yesterday really scared me. I … we, thought you were gone. Thought we’d lost you.” Dean took in a shaky breath. “This life is not meant for everyone. And most of us were born into it. But you,” he looked up at you, his green eyes glistening with tears. “I’m going to give you the choice I never had.”

“What... what do you mean ‘give me a choice?’” You asked.

“I mean you have a choice here. To stay or go. You still have a shot at a normal life. You can go back, find a guy with a real job, and have a family, Y/N. And I want that for you. I want you to be happy. I would prefer it be with me but I can’t give you what you deserve. And I won’t let you put yourself in danger.” Tears were now sliding down Dean’s cheeks and you watched them, watched them slide down the curve of his jaw onto his neck.

“Are you...” your mouth was so dry. “Are you breaking up with me?”

“I’m telling you to break up with me,” Dean choked.

“That doesn’t even make sense.”

“It doesn’t have to. I just need you to be safe. Goddamit, Y/N.” Dean put his head in his hands.

“What did I do?” You asked, defensive now.

“Nothing. I didn’t mean anything by that,” Dean mumbled into his hands.

The two of you sat in silence. You knew Dean was right. This job, this life, it was hard. Really fucking hard. And dangerous. You loved Dean and you had to admit that it was hard to be in this life with him. Day in and day out, wondering what was going to happen to him, or you, or Sam.

And so, Dean helped you packed your things. Slowly, stopping every so often to exchange a glance and exchange assurances that this was what was best for the both of you.

You hugged Sam with tears in your eyes. “I can still help with research from my house,” you whispered to him.

Sam smiled, pulled away from you and shook his head. “Dean doesn’t want you involved at all. It’s for your safety.”

“I knew that was a long shot,” you shrugged, a small laugh escaping your lips. “I’ll miss you, Sam.”

“I’ll miss you, too, Y/N.” He leaned down and kissed the top of your head.

Dean appeared in the doorway. “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” you said through a sigh.

The ride to your house was silent other than the purr of the Impala. You glanced at Dean, his green eyes in the road, left hand griping the wheel and his right holding your hand, fingers laced together. He was holding it firmer than he ever had, all because he worried it’d be the last time. You understood, you really did. You tossed it all up to right person, wrong time. In another world without monsters, demons, angels, and Chuck, maybe you and Dean could be together. But this was Chuck’s world and you were being written out.

On the porch of your house, you caught Dean staring at you, concern in his eyes.

“What?” You asked.

“You’ll call me if you need anything, right?” His eyes searched yours.

“Yes. And you me?”

“Of course, sweetheart.” But Dean knew he wouldn’t. He wasn’t going to contact you while still living the hunter life style. He wouldn’t risk it. He pulled you into a kiss. His body tense as he held back the urge to fling the door open and carry you straight to the bedroom, the one he grew accustomed to over the last six months when you two wanted to get away.

“I’ll wait for you, Dean,” you whispered against his lips.

“If you don’t that’s okay,” he mumbled, his forehead pressed against yours, eyes closed.

4 Years Later

You pulled into your drive way around 6 as the sun was just starting to set. You had been able to get your job back at the grocery store and move up to manager. You had hoped and prayed you’d seen Sam and Dean but you never did. You started wondering if they’d moved away, to another place, and your heart ached at the thought. But it also didn’t surprise you.

You trudged up your steps, balancing a pizza on one hand and a 6 pack of beer in the other. After a shower, you settled into the couch in your pajamas and one of Dean’s flannel shirts you’d “accidentally” packed when you moved out.

Just as you went to take your first bite, there was a knock at your door. You heaved a sigh as you threw the pizza back into the box.

You opened the door and Dean was standing there. Your Dean. You stared at him, shocked. It couldn’t be real.

“Hey, sweetheart.” He smiled, his eyes crinkling a little more than they used to, laugh lines more prominent.

“Christo,” you stuttered, the first thing to come to your mind, and Dean laughed.

“It’s me.”

You threw yourself at him then, tears streaming down your face. “Dean!” You cried into his shoulder.

Dean lifted you up, feet off the ground, and walked you both inside, closing the door with his foot. He set you down as he looked you over. “I wondered what happened to this shirt,” he chuckled, his hands stopping at the buttons on your chest. He popped one open, smirking at you.

“Wait,” you pushed his hands away. “What are you doing here?”

“We’re finished. Me and Sam. We rendered Chuck human and... we’re free.” Dean’s voice caught in his throat, the last two words coming out as a whisper of relief.

You grabbed Dean, hands in whether side of his face and pulled him into a kiss. His arms wrapped around your waist and you both relaxed into each other. You could feel how much lighter he felt, the weight of literally the entire world was now off his shoulders and he could just be himself. He could work on Baby, have movie marathons whenever he wanted, work a real job, and love. He could have his apple pie life and he wanted it with you.

Dean broke the kiss, eyes locked with yours. “I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you, too.”

Ready the sad, alternate ending here.

Masterlist

Feedback is amazing :)

Taglist: @akshi8278, @notan-applepielife, @mynightmaresstuff, @vicmc624, @smokeychu, @supernatural-bellawinchester

21 notes · View notes

airesgay · 4 years

Text

from horror films to sugar highs

relationship: jennifer jareau/emily prentiss

words: 3,723

summary: a brief history of Emily Prentiss's intimate relationship with Halloween.

Read on ao3

Halloween was a holiday you’d immediately associate with Emily Prentiss just looking at her - even more so if you’d been lucky enough to see her high school days. Of course the Goth had to be obsessed with Halloween, right? The aesthetic was all there (plus it was her favourite season, not too cold, but cold enough that black turtlenecks were suitable attire).

Except she hadn’t had the kind of parents to take their kid trick or treating – hell, she never had a suburban neighbourhood to facilitate anything of the kind.

Some might have thought she’d partaken in the odd Halloween shenanigan at college, but she was too focused on her studies to degrade herself in such activities. She did have a love for horror films, maybe because her ability to handle them better than her peers gave her a bit of a god complex – she was big enough to admit that. In all honesty, she liked Halloween because it meant her roommate was out for the night, almost guaranteed not to return until morning, and she got a quiet night to herself, to watch whatever scary films she fancied. Depending on how she was feeling she’d invite one of her (two) friends over and she’d laugh at how they cowered behind a pillow.

Halloween and Emily had a somewhat intimate relationship - a low-key affair -but it was certainly her favourite holiday: one where watching scary films by yourself was an acceptable way to celebrate, especially as an adult. It wasn’t wrapped up with the mandatory family time that Christmas or thanksgiving were, didn’t ask for fake displays of love and good will. Her mother had certainly never asked her to attend a Halloween dinner with her fellow diplomats, that required she wear a ghastly dress and make small talk with the latest prick deemed a fine young man. People said Halloween was about dressing up as someone you weren’t; for Emily it let her be who she was. Just Emily.

The past decade had gifted her many new memories. In a lot of ways it had healed old wounds; the scars would always be there, but she felt like she’d been given a second chance. To experience things in life the way normal people did.

On her first Halloween with the team she made her feeling towards all the more commercial festivities known. It took a few years, and some breaking down of walls, before she let herself be fully dragged into their shenanigans. And so she’d found herself dressed up in an itchy orange turtleneck far more block-like than she was used to, similarly blocky glasses, and an itchy brown wig that she kept trying to remove. It was all very itchy and blocky.

‘Hey, you’ll ruin the illusion!’ JJ had protested, swatting her hand away from the wig.

Emily pouted in a way that some would think exaggerated, but JJ knew her disdain was completely genuine. She laughed at the older woman as she leaned down close to her face, eyeliner poised.

‘Okay, now hold still,’ she instructed.

Emily felt her lips twitch at the feeling of hot breath on her face, pout faltering. She straightened up as JJ applied freckles to her cheeks. The blonde finished her work, but lingered just a moment, catching Emily’s eye, who’d stopped breathing a minute ago. Or rather, she wasn’t blonde at all - not right now anyway. She was currently wearing a ginger wig that looked even itchier than Emily’s, but she wore it like it was her own. In fact she wore the whole outfit like it was every-day wear. Naturally JJ would suit even a hideous wig and the most ghastly colour of purple.

She’d grown closer to the media liaison in the past year, but she still found herself watching her for too long, cursing herself for fear of making her uncomfortable. She knew nothing was ever going to happen, she just didn’t want to ruin the friendship they’d been steadily building. She wasn’t in any position to throw those away.

‘I think you should keep these,’ JJ said, breaking Emily out of her thoughts.

When she didn’t respond, JJ applied one last freckle, making Emily scoff and bat her hand away. JJ let out a hearty laugh, which only made Emily’s heart clench more. She was saved by Spencer coming bundling into the room, in a baggy green t-shirt and his natural hair sticking out in every direction. Emily didn’t think he’d needed to go quite so hard on the hair gel.

‘Oh you guys look great!’ he exclaimed, beaming brightly.

JJ gave her thanks and gestured back to Emily. ‘She’s just so cute don’t you think?’

Emily rolled her eyes, trying to hide her blush. She knew she was teasing her, but the comment still made her feel weak and she hated herself for it.

‘Okay, let’s get this show on the road,’ she declared as she tried to muster enthusiasm. ‘Garcia got her head out of Morgan’s ass yet?’

Spencer choked. ‘Well, if you mean Penelope’s fixed the back end of their costume, then I think so.’

Emily and JJ shared an amused look, shaking their heads. Of course if they were going as the Scooby gang, Penelope and Derek were doing a couples costume; the tech goddess insisting on being the front part of the beloved great dane, while Derek was left being the ass, as she put it. He didn’t complain. Hey if you’ve got it flaunt it, babygirl. Those exchanges lasted for another two minutes before any real planning took place.

Their unit chief had resigned himself to wearing a white shirt with blue collar and blonde wig, which everyone else enjoyed immensely. His excuse of taking Jack out had been quickly ripped to shreds. Nice try, Halloween isn’t until tomorrow! Penelope had fired back with glee. The oldest of their team had announced he was taking off for the weekend for a solitary fishing trip. In October? Penelope had questioned, eyes narrowed in a way that was frightening. Rossi hadn’t responded and with that he was gone, not to be seen until Monday morning.

‘Well, we better get going,’ JJ sighed, and offered Emily a hand up off the stool she’d been sat on. ‘Don’t want to give HR anything more to talk about.’

‘Oh no I’m not going to another one of those seminars.’

Emily shuddered at the thought as she took the other woman’s hand. She forced down the butterflies in her stomach.

* * *

A decade later and Emily truly felt like a kid again. Or rather, the kid she’d never got to be, like this was her first ever Halloween. Of course it wasn’t. But this was Emily’s first Halloween with the boys. Tonight felt like the start of a new tradition, something special.

Her costume choice of the night was, of course, Morticia Addams. The boys had followed suit, which was why Henry was currently decked out in a striped shirt, dyed black hair slicked back, while his little brother stood beside him with the detached end of a mop over his head, sunglasses over that. He’d desperately wanted to let his hair grow for a year in preparation but this idea had been firmly stamped out by an exasperated JJ.

She was a good mother, she let her kids express themselves however they wanted; Henry himself had worn his hair past his shoulders for many years, claiming he looked like Thor, god of thunder. However Michael’s wish was less of an expression of personal style and more a desire to look like a literal mop for Halloween. She’d caught him rolling around the floor before it’d been cleaned to achieve this effect. For hygiene and fear of head injuries, she asked him to please wait until Halloween and I will make you a costume. She was at the end of her rope when Emily then suggested he inhale helium to replicate the voice.

The whole ensemble costume had been JJ’s idea - admittedly after watching the film together the year before and not being able to think of anything other than Emily in that particular get up. It had actually worked out pretty well. The boys said it was perfect, because that’s what they were - a family. JJ definitely didn’t have to give Emily a hug when her eyes started to well with tears.

Everything was perfect. The house covered in cobwebs and skeletons and spiders, the pumpkins they’d carved together sitting out on the porch. Henry was proving to be quite the artist, and JJ had to stop herself from getting too carried away with ideas for his future. They’d made their way through all their favourite Halloween films the week before. Everything was perfect, except they were missing one family member.

JJ had been held up on a case - one of the few that had recently taken them out of state. They tried not to make that a habit these days. They were older, and as the boys so proudly declared, a family. It wasn’t that they felt the obligation to be stay at home mums now they’d reached a certain age; in fact they were anything but, still working full time at the office, and on cases in state. But they both came to a point where they didn’t want to step on that jet what felt like every single week, not knowing how long it would be until they returned.

After so many years of reading Henry bedtime stories over the phone, JJ wanted to read to Michael in person, and with Emily by her side. The mere fact that this was the first Halloween they got to spend together, when her and JJ had been dating for years now, living together for the past three and their one year wedding anniversary coming up – well it was a sign that something needed to change. Emily asked her wife if she had regrets about how she’d lived her life up until now. JJ just smiled and brought a hand up to her cheek. No, she replied, assuring her partner, I just know how I want the rest of my days to go.

And so, after over a decade of no resemblance of a real sleep schedule, they were semi-retired (which in their line of work just meant specialised desk jobs). Honestly, it was the right time; they couldn’t keep running around after psychopaths the rest of their days. Their bodies thanked them for it. Although Emily still insisted on giving JJ massages every other night. Something JJ thanked her for in kind. They’d fallen happily into their new routine, them and Garcia having their own little team on the ground.

But JJ was still as committed to the job as ever - specifically committed to the families. Which was why she wasn’t at home right now getting ready for their first real Halloween as a family.

The case they’d been working had been a hard one. Of course they were all hard, but this one hit JJ personally. She didn’t talk about her sister much, but of course Emily knew; she was one of the few people she felt comfortable talking about her with - talking about her in a way that almost didn’t hurt. So of course Emily knew as soon as she opened the case file, that JJ wouldn’t be coming home on time at the end of this case. And that was the way it was always going to go.

She’d stayed behind an extra day to sort things out with the family. It might have seemed overstepping but she’d grown a bond with them over the past week, and she would never have left when she felt someone still needed her help. She was due to be back tomorrow morning, the first flight she could get back. She was absolutely torn up about missing it. But Emily told her, as she had once before, you’re too good. It was something of a tension breaker to make JJ smile at the memory. But Emily also knew it was what JJ needed. It was moments like these that helped her.

Emily was fixing the mop atop Michael’s very bouncy head when the doorbell rang. Giving up – it would either stay on his head or it wouldn’t – she made her way to the door. And there was Penelope, holding an ever-disgruntled Sergio, who was just thankful he was not required to wear a costume. Penelope on the other hand was decked out in full witches gear.

Emily couldn’t help the laugh that came out, more like a cackle.

‘I thought you were meant to be Sabrina? Not looking very modern day teen witch there PG.’

She continued to laugh at Penelope’s trademark scowl.

‘Well that’s no fun is it!’ she shot back. ‘Besides she dressed up as a classic witch for a Halloween episode so ha! And I have this!’ She swivelled around to show off her glitter-covered vacuum cleaner. ‘Sergio is just lucky I left him be, isn’t that right Salem?’

Sergio looked up at his owner of the past nine years and Emily could have sworn she saw an eye roll. If only he could really talk, she was sure he’d have a few choice words. But she knew he loved her, so much that he made it clear who he wanted to stay with when Emily had returned from her faking her own death holiday. She didn’t take offence; who could say no to Penelope Garcia?

‘Where are my precious godsons?’ Penelope all but sang, standing up on her tiptoes to see into the kitchen.

‘We’re not precious!’

‘Oh no you are very scary!’ Penelope fake screamed and recoiled in horror as the two boys attacked her in a hug.

Penelope gave them both kisses on the cheek before looking back up to Emily. ‘Our girl not back yet huh?’

Emily sighed. ‘Pen you know she’s not flying in until tomorrow morning.’

‘Yeah’ Penelope pouted, but didn’t let herself be sad for more than a second. She immediately straightened up and placed her hands on her hips resolutely. ‘Well we’ll just have to get enough candy for your mum too won’t we? What do we save for her?’

She smiled down at the boys as they screamed their answer: ‘Cheetos!’ They then went tumbling out the door with Penelope looking after them in adoration.

Emily might have one day hoped to be in her shoes, with godsons to spoil, but never in the ones she found herself in today, with the two boys calling out into the night ‘hurry up mum we have a lot of ground to cover!’ Penelope looked back at her friend of over a decade knowingly, letting her have a moment to collect herself before she hurried after the two. Emily felt the ache in her chest at her wife’s absence subside a little watching their best friend stumble after the boys in an even higher pair of heels than usual. She considered taking a video to send to Luke but knew the wrath of Garcia was not worth it.

They made it round half their houses for the night before reaching Derek and Savannah’s. Hank answered the door in a full Black Panther outfit. Emily could have sworn he’d doubled in size since seeing him last. Though she supposed Derek would say the same of her boys. It was only because she saw them everyday.

They had settled in for evening drinks after finishing the circuit with Hank when the doorbell rang. Emily frowned. Bit too late now isn’t it? Their own boys had passed out on the couch after their sugar high. Derek and Penelope shared a knowing look. Emily eyed them suspiciously.

‘Hey Em could you get that one for me?’

Emily raised an eyebrow at him as if to say ‘get it your damn self Action Man’ (which was literally his costume choice of the night).

When he just kept smiling at her she huffed, careful not to wake the boys, and refrained from stomping towards the door. ‘His own damn house’ she grumbled as she reached the door and plastered on a fake smile she’d run out of energy for an hour ago. But she didn’t need a fake smile. No, the beaming smile she found herself wearing as she flung the door open was very much real.

‘Jen,’ she breathed, feeling somewhat winded.

‘Trick or treat?’

Standing in the doorway was her wife, wearing a full pinstripe suit and eyeliner moustache, her long blonde locks tucked underneath a fedora.

Emily felt her mouth go dry and JJ smirked, swiftly pulling her in for a kiss.

Emily broke away, catching her breath. ‘I didn’t think -’

‘Would you believe the jet suddenly became available?’

‘Really?’

‘Flew it here myself.’

Emily shook her head with a laugh and wrapped her up into a hug.

JJ nuzzled into her neck. ‘If I’d seen you in this I would have been home hours ago,’ she whispered into her ear, making Emily lose her footing.

‘Likewise,’ she returned, before pulling back and playfully stealing her wife’s hat to sit upon her own head. As she did, blonde hair was set free, somewhat breaking the illusion.

JJ cringed. ‘Didn’t really have time to do my hair as well.’

‘Not a problem,’ Emily replied as she took in the sight of her wife. JJ did the same.

‘How come everything suits you?’ JJ shook her head, just a hint of annoyance.

Emily winked and threw a glance behind them. Derek and Penelope quickly turned away, pretending to not have been listening in to the entire exchange. Emily rolled her eyes for what felt like the hundredth time that night.

‘Ready for the chaos?’ she asked.

JJ took a deep breath, steeling herself, but couldn’t help the look of sheer affection that won out. ‘Absolutely.’

‘Boys!’ Emily yelled at full volume, making Penelope all but fall off the couch, Sergio clinging to her tights. ‘You’ve got a request for your dance! Word must have really gotten out!’

Spencer had wanted them to do the periodic table song as their bit. After tripping over the first two elements it was swiftly scrapped, being replaced by the classic Adams family song. Henry and Michael had made up their own dance routine to go along with it, which Emily and JJ had been taught, and made to practice for the better part of two weeks. This was after they said no to their idea of a display similar to the one in the film, which included buckets of fake blood and decapitated fake limbs, as well as the dance with swords. Well, maybe one of them had said no.

The four of them made their way round the last few houses that still had their lights on, reveling in the feeling of finally being together. Emily and JJ walked either side of Michael, swinging him by the arms while Henry ran ahead. They knew how important it was to cherish this time; he would be a teenager before they knew it. They both shared a knowing look when Henry turned around to shout his pick for the film they’d watch when they got back. Michael protested, shouting his own pick, and they thanked the universe for assuring them in that moment that not yet.

They were cuddled up together on the couch, boys carried to bed an hour ago after crashing from their second sugar high. Thank god, JJ had whispered over the top of her youngest son’s head, and through a mouthful of Cheetos.

They’d put on the latest horror film of the year, which they always saved for this night. JJ knew the genre was something of a comfort for Emily. She knew by now the reason stemmed deeper than the one Emily had first given her: who doesn’t want a hot blonde cuddled into her shoulder for protection? Not long into their relationship, after countless nights of talking and letting each other in, she’d gotten the real reason out of her: that it represented a time that belonged to her, where she wasn’t having to please other people, and wasn’t forced to put on a mask, so to speak. Still, JJ couldn’t resist the charming eye waggle her wife gave her every year.

JJ’s favourite Halloween film was Practical Magic. The first time they’d watched it together Emily had spent the majority of the film stating how Sally was clearly gay and how horrifyingly heteronormative it all was. JJ was a smart, bisexual woman and she didn’t disagree with the critique. And yet Emily couldn’t complain whenever JJ asked if they could watch it; she would never question JJ’s love of a film about sisters. If she was honest she was glad JJ felt comfortable enough to watch something of the sort with her. The next morning when Emily made cactus shaped pancakes, JJ wondered how it was possible to fall even more in love with her. And how thankful she was that someone as impossible as Emily Prentiss did in fact exist.

‘So,’ Emily let out a breath, twirling long strands of her wife’s hair around her finger, ‘This the best outfit I’ve ever worn?’

JJ leaned her head back to meet her eyes, and narrowed her own as if in deep thought.

‘Hmmm, I don’t know, Velma really had it going on.’

Emily gasped and shoved her playfully, which reminding her of the first Halloween they’d spent together - except there was no need for her to hold anything back now. Not here, on their couch, in their home, with their boys upstairs, sleeping off a sugar high soundly.

‘Huh.’ Emily was now the one looking quizzical. She looked down at her dress. ‘Well maybe I should just take it off?’

She arched a perfectly sculpted eyebrow and JJ didn’t waste a second before leaping on top of her. ‘You should definitely take those nails off,’ the words were muffled into Emily’s neck, and earned a hearty laugh. After a deep kiss JJ pulled back to watch brown eyes flutter open slowly.

‘You bewitch me Emily Prentiss.’ she proclaimed, words that weren’t her own, but every bit true.

It was that night that Emily thought maybe Halloween was a family holiday after all.

#jemily #criminal minds #Jennifer Jareau #emily prentiss #so the pandemic has finally forced me into this #anyway please your comments are very welcome!#mine

49 notes · View notes

aureumjeon · 5 years

Text

while you’re at it (m) || pjm

pairing; poolboy!jimin x noona!reader.

genre; smut, fluff, tiny angst.

summary; After finalizing your divorce papers, there was still one thing that had to be taken care of. That stupid swimming pool. Over there course of a few days, you ended up harboring feelings for one of your pool boys. Will things go as planned? Or will everything be flushed down the drain?

warnings; brief mentions of divorce, infidelity and toxic relationship, sub!jimin, dom!reader, barely there bondage, exhibitionism, female masturbation, voyeurism, oral sex (both receiving), body worship, tit fucking, noona kink, praise kink(its jimin ofc), mild degradation, impreg kink, its basically jimin being a whiny soft baby for noona, unprotected sex, multiple orgasm, creampies, cum eating

word count; 11K+ (this was supposed to be around 7-8K only, iduno what happened really)

a/n; ahhhhhh! three minutes late but who careeees. im done, i want to sleep. the smut feels so rushed butill fix it... eventually... lmao, unedited as hell, dont mind the errors... will fix someday. bye

@m0chilattae @ruinedbyjin <33

。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°

Breaking away and cutting ties from your previous and definitely toxic marriage was the best decision you've made bar none. You could no longer stomach the abuse that your now ex-husband had put you through. It was a complete and utter living hell being bound to a man who wasn't who you initially thought he was. Having him crossed out of your life (legally, too) made it a million times easier. It has been exactly seven weeks since you chucked out all of his belongings through the front door. No regrets. And you still didn't want to take notice of the huge elephant in the room — or in the backyard per se. There it sat in the middle of the unkempt grassy area surrounded by leaves and trash, in all of its filthy, disgusting, bacteria and algae infested glory. Your dreaded swimming pool.

You had put-off cleaning it the first week after your separation, saying you're too busy doing this or too preoccupied taking care of that. When in all honesty, you just didn't want to deal with it. You had no goddamn idea how to maintain it. Heck, you didn't even know how to swim. Wonwoo was the main reason why the two of you bought a house that came with it after your wedding. He said he wanted to keep his hobby of swimming alive, understandable since that's where it all began. The two of you met at a university swim meet. You were the designated journalist for that event, assigned to interview all the winners after the competition for the school's paper. Wonwoo bagged the gold medal for the two hundred-meter freestyle, and you interviewed interviewed him and that's where it took off. Everything was running smoothly. One by one every item on your life's checklist got checked-off. After five years of dating, he proposed. A year later you got married and purchased a house together and planned on having children. You even put-off your job as a columnist writer for a high-end magazine company to play out the role of a perfect wife who'd soon take care of her children. You had the ideal life with the ideal husband in an ideal house that any married woman could wish for. You had everything, and in your own little world it was perfect. Until two years into your marriage, everything went into turmoil. Wonwoo suddenly grew cold and insensitive. He didn't answer your calls and text messages whenever he was away. He didn't make love to you the way he used to during your honeymoon phase. And sometimes he would just downright refuse, saying he's too tired and that he wants to sleep instead. You endured and tolerated his behavior for another year, giving him a chance to change his ways. But we all know what happens to second chances, they're wasted. One day, Jihyo sent you a picture of Wonwoo sucking faces with a female swim trainer at the city's public pool. You could not believe it at first, you refused to. Until she sent another image, this one clear as day. It was Wonwoo, positively Wonwoo. You called your older brother Yoongi and told him everything that had happened starting from the day your relationship spiraled into disaster. Like any brother would be; he was furious. He didn't kill the guy though, only gave him a black eye and a broken nose before you threw his belongings out on the pavement. To cut the story short, you found love beside a swimming pool and ultimately gotten your heart broken because of it. When people fall out of love, heart breaks are inevitable. All the more reason as to why you just shoved the idea of cleaning the pool under the rug like small particles of dust and dirt. You just wanted to forget about it, pretend like it didn't exist. If you could only haul that thing out of the ground and throw it out like you did to him, it'd be more painless for you. You took your phone out of your handbag and texted Namjoon. You asked if he still had the number to that all around cleaning service, to which he did, thank god. After saving the number, you called it immediately. Wanting no time to be wasted. "Hello, Good morning! This is Mr. Park of Mr. Park's Cleaning Service, how can we help you?" The bubbly old man chanted his spiel. "Ah, yes, um. This is Y/n Y/l/n, I was wondering if I can avail your services?" "Of course, ma'am!" He chimed, the sound of rustling papers can be heard in the background "What will we have the pleasure of cleaning for you, Ms. Y/l/n?" His tone never changed, still enthusiastic. "Well I have this pool..." You replied quite hesitantly, "And It's been sitting here uncleaned for almost two months." You let out a breathy laugh, fairly embarrassed at your confession. "No problem, Ms. Y/l/n! We've handled worse cases. Two months is nothing! Is it just the pool or would you like us to give your whole yard a fixer-upper?" You sighed in relief. "Y-yes, that would be great! My backyard could use the help, too." "Alrighty then! You don't need to worry about anything! Can I get your contact number and full address Ms. Y/l/n?" Mr. Park sounded like a charming old man, he never judged or asked unnecessary questions, only the ones that needed to be answered. "My number's xxx-xxx-xx and my full address is xxx street, corner xxx at xxx village. When can I expect you to visit, Mr. Park?" "I'll get the boys ready and will be there in about an hour or two to check on the conditions and come up with the most effective strategy. The duration of the process usually takes about three days to a week depending on the situation. It's always better to asses the area first. We'll do the best we can do, Ms. Y/l/n!" You can hear the smile in his voice, never have you encountered someone who's this passionate about his job as much as Mr. Park. "Great! That sounds excellent! Thank you so much Mr. Park! I'll see you later!" "Thank you, too, Ms. Y/l/n! Good bye!" The call ended and you checked the clock. It was a quarter to nine, still a lot of time left before they arrive. You decided to tidy up the place, picking up dirty laundry, washing the dishes, and anything that demanded to be put in its proper place. You accomplished everything in under an hour and decided to lounge around on your couch, still in your black silk nightwear dress that rested a good five inches above your knee. To be fair, you did wake up too early for your liking, and it made you thrice as sluggish than usual. 'Only ten minutes' you reminded yourself because you still needed to shower. Your eyelids felt heavy and the softness of the pillow you were resting your head on didn't help either. 'five more minutes, then it's time to shower, I swear.' Things didn't always go according to plan, of course. You fell asleep.

Your little nap was interrupted by the sound of your doorbell ringing multiple times, "Ms. Y/l/n?! Is anybody home? This is Mr.Park's Cleaning Service." The man on the other side of the door yelled. Oh shit oh shit oh shit. You scramble about you couch only to fall on the floor with a loud thud, "W-wait! Just a minute!" You squealed, heading out to the nearest bathroom to grab your bathrobe and wrap it around your frame. You chugged down and gargled a cup full of mouthwash before spitting it out. "Shit..." You hissed, taming out the fly-aways of your hair and tying it up in a loose bun. Your bangs rested messily on your forehead but you didn't have the pleasure of curling it. So you opted for just sweeping it to the side, making yourself more presentable. "I'm coming!" You yelped, treading to your front door and opening it. The three boys who stood at your doorstep gave you a courteous ninety degree bow. They were wearing those baggy grey work jumpsuits but the sleeveless kind. The boys looked fairly young, with glowing skin and youthful dispositions. They moved back to their upright position and the one in the center greeted, "Good day Ms.---" his eyes widened like saucers, he looked like he had encountered a ghost, and suddenly you were extremely conscious about your disheveled appearance, tucking in stray hairs that dangled around the frame of your face behind your ears. "Ms--" he knew what he wanted to say, it was waiting for its turn to spill out from his suddenly parched mouth. But he couldn't because he was too awe struck at the image of this lovely woman standing before him. They'd done this job a couple hundred times and it was all professional, but this was the first time his heart was completely enamored by a female client. His tongue was undoubtedly caught at the back of his throat and an elbow to his rib by his friend snapped him out of it and transferred him back to reality. "Y/l/n.." He continued, shades of pink trickling his face. "My name is Park Jimin..." "You're Mr. Park?" You giggled, the way your cheeks rounded when you smile matched with your cute dimple almost sent him into the ER due to a cardiac arrest, "You sounded older on the phone." "Uh.. That was my father. I'm just Jimin." He smiled, flustered like a little boy confessing his love for his crush. You beamed at him once more after discovering his name, eyes twinkling more that ever and he caught that. He freaking caught the way your eyes glimmered at him. "If you're just Jimin, then I'm just Y/n." What the hell was that?! You internally screamed at your choice of words, pulling out the non-existent life plug in your head because you wanted to shrivel up like a dehydrated grape desiring to be a raisin and just die. "O-okay, Ms. Y/n.." the way your name rolled so sweetly out of his lips made you shudder, a feeling you hadn't felt in a long, long time spark a flame in the deepest pit of your stomach. You shouldn't be experiencing this urgent sense of infatuation towards a person you only just met, not to mention to someone this young. You reckoned that he was likely five or six years your junior, probably even more. It was a weird sensation. You had no idea where it came from but you were kinda skeptical about the concept of it and where it might lead. Did you hate it? I mean, no, not at all. Were you confused? Most definitely. "This is Jungkook," he gestured to the lad on his left. Jet-black hair, doe eyes, piercings and tattoos, okaaay he's attractive "and this is Taehyung." Your gaze moved to the left, honey brown hair, sultry stare, sharp nose and a chiseled jaw, woah he's attractive too. No wonder Mr. Park's acquiring all the deals in town! His cleaning team is total eye candy. "My dad-- I mean Mr. Park's rheumatoid started acting up a little while ago, that's why he wasn't able to come with us. I hope that's alright with you, Ms. Y/n." There it is again, he said your name again but his voice a little softer this time. He was hoping his father's absence wouldn’t upset you too much. And didn't leave a bad first impression on you. Your name slipping past his lips sent another shock wave throughout your body, faintly stirring up your insides. It took you a good second to reply because you were too busy staring at the way his tongue prodded out of mouth to wet his pink and plump lips. Shit “I-it’s fine..” You gulped, drifting your gaze to your backyard assuming he didn’t see what you just did. “I hope your father feels well soon.” You stepped back a few feet letting the boys with their big tool kits in hand enter. “May we look at the pool, Ms. Y/l/n?” The black haired boy spoke, opening his box of tools and pulling out a smaller black container. “Taehyung and I will do the water testing and everything else while Jimin-hyung here will walk you through the whole process.” “The sooner we start, the sooner we’ll finish!” Taehyung beamed, boxy smile and all. They all did what they said they’d do. Jungkook and Taehyung were handling all sorts of gadgets and gizmo to test the pH balance, chlorine levels and whatever they need to test. Jimin explained everything in meticulous detail, from the tools that they were using to how they’d clean it. You tried listening intently. You really did! But the addictive saccharine tone of his voice had gotten you too worked up. “And that’s about it,” Jimin happily concluded. “We can start cleaning tomorrow if it’s okay with you,” “Y/n?” He asked reluctantly, watching you stare vacuously at him. “Ah-- Yes. You guys can start tomorrow.” You smiled, flustered and red on the face. He was worried for a moment, he thought you found everything he said was boring. Because all honestly, he knew it was. Jimin dropped out of college to support his father with their family business, being the sole son and successor. It was a gamble, most of his friends would say. "Why'd you give up having an education?" or "What if it goes bankrupt?". Those words were frequently thrown around, but he stuck to his gut. Jimin never wanted anything more than maintaining his father's legacy alive. The one that his father and late-mother created and grew from the ground up. "Great! Kook, Tae, how's everything going?" He hollered to his friends who were still tinkering with their devices at the edge of the pool. "Will be done soon! Give us a minute," Taehyung replied, signaling a thumbs-up to his hyung. "Ahhh! That reminds me," You teetered blithely straight to your equally neglected shed that Wonwoo kept all his tools in. "If you need any tools, feel free to--" You tried to pry the door handle open but it wouldn't budge. "Let me get that for you, Ms. Y/n." Jimin insisted, worrying you might hurt yourself. "I'm okay," You assured the boy, solidifying your grip on the handle, and giving one last firm pull that just might do the trick. Jimin was right. Because the moment you exerted more effort into opening the door, the slim strip of metal that was affixed on the wooden surface snapped off and sent you stumbling back a few steps. You shielded your eyes with your hand and just when you thought your sorry ass was about to hit the grass, you felt something or someone, cradle your fall. A small groan from behind startled you, "W-what?" You removed your hands from your face and saw Jimin lying beneath you, hold on to you by your waist."Oh shit!" You shrieked, promptly scooting away from his lap to check if he's hurt somewhere. "J-jimin! Are you okay?!" concern laced your voice. You scanned every inch of his body for any cuts or bruises. While your face unintentionally came too close to his, he felt your warm minty breath dancing on the tip of his cupid's bow, tickling his lips that were mere centimeters away from yours. And the way his left cheek was conveniently purchased in your hand made him feel the heat blossom under his skin, and presumably creep up to his ears too. Wide-eyed and totally red in the face, Jimin hurriedly stood up from where he was planted, not forgetting to help you as well stand up as well. “I’m fine, Ms. Y/n. You don’t have to worry about--” Before the boy could barely finish his sentence, you were already pulling him by the wrist and ushering him back inside the house. He was trying so hard to resist the blush that had been wanting to be set free. “Jungkook, Taehyung!” You waved, calling out their attention. “You can come inside if you’re finished. I’ll tend to Jimin and see if he has any injuries.” “Yes ma’am!” The two boys chuckled, giving Jimin a playful smirk. “Sit down. I’ll go get my first aid kit.” You spoke before scooting towards the direction of your bathroom. The moment you’ve found yourself looking in the mirror in what seems to be the safest place you could’ve been at this moment, you allow all the accumulated steam out. “F-fuck.” You breathe out a sigh of relief. Finally being able to inhale and exhale enough air with your lungs. Every single moment with Jimin feels like there’s something constricting your chest, blocking all possible airways and cutting off the oxygen in your body. “Get it together, Y/n” You scold yourself, looking at the reflection in the bathroom mirror “You are an adult. An adult who will not let a young man fracture the little sanity you have left.”

On your tiptoes, you reached for the small plastic box on the shelf of your bathroom, taking one last determined look in the mirror and declaring, “You got this.” With that, you step out of the enclosed space with your recovered confidence, not looking back. And there he is again, puppy dog eyes lighting up when he saw your figure reappear in his line of vision. “Ms. Y/n.” He smiled, and there you knew how truly fucked up you were. “God, give please give me the strength.” You chanted in your head, “I got the first aid kit. Let’s get you cleaned up.” Was all that you could say.

It has been exactly five days, eight hours and forty-five minutes since Jimin started working on your backyard. Why do you know that? Well, that boy with those galaxies induced eyes, impossible plump lips and unbelievable muscular body had been lurking and finding his way through the deep recesses of your mind, desperately searching for that imaginary finish line.

Every cell in your body was hyper-aware of your surroundings whenever he was near. You’d get chills when you feel his hot breath fanning against the skin of your nape when he’s behind you asking for some kind of permission. A jolt would run down your spine when he says your name like it’s the only name he’d known besides his. And the way an innocent stare from him would ignite a flame in your core, burning like coal inside a furnace during those cold winter nights. You know of his presence; you know how he makes you feel even when you don’t want it and that scares you.

And now you’re here with your overly eager friend who's ready to lay down all her life savings and then some, just to see you finally get laid after that hideous tragedy.

“Gosh, what do I do?” You groaned, massaging your temples. The headache that you experienced the first time you encountered the boy only tripled in magnitude. It was like the soft tissues of your brain decided that it would be best to act like tectonic plates and tear each other apart. No matter how many pain killers you’ve ingested or how early you slept at night, it always comes back the next day, with a vengeance.

“Give in,” she shrugged, taking a sip from her warm cup of tea. “you’ve got nothing to lose.”

“The only thing I’m losing right now is my sanity.” You grovelled, wanting to pull out all of your hair from its follicles. “I–” You sighed, voice cracking and tear attempting to fall.“I honestly don’t know what to do.”

She offered you a sympathetic look, consoling you with a hand gently stroking your back. “I know, hun. Wonwoo was a douche bag and your divorce was the absolute worst. But… Look at the bright side,” She nudged you on the shoulder and points a finger westward.

“Now that he’s out of the picture, you’re a free woman now, y/n.” Your friend stated as-a-matter-of-fact, wriggling her perfectly done brows at you. She was right, though. There was nothing holding you back except yourself. The two of you looked beyond the glass sliding doors of your patio and watched the group of young men pull every bone and flex every inch of muscles in their bodies trying to make your backyard look like the way it was before.

“I don’t see anything wrong with flirting with your pool boy now that the ring on you finger is gone,” a small tug of her lips went unseen by you as your gaze was still attached to the blond haired boy whose dusting of sweat seemed to reflect and shimmer under the blazing sunlight like those vampire characters from that teen movie. God, how can someone look that ethereal while raking up the pile leaves in your backyard?

“While you’re at it, seeing that you’re too invested in watching him, play with piles of dead leaves,” your head snapped toward her direction as your cheeks turned pink from embarrassment, “might as well fuck him too.” she grins from ear to ear.

Day eight came faster than you had imagined. The boiling of your insides has simmered down immensely since you've accepted all your feelings like the grown adult that you are. You didn't confess, though, there will be a time for that. Also, you can say you've gotten used to Jimin's presence in the short time you've spent with him. He was kind, sweet, caring and considerate to you 24/7 and you've considered every bit of it endearing. You friend was right. "Give in," she says, so you did and you hope everything will eventually fall into place at the right time. Like usual, jimin and his bunch were outside. They were eighty percent done with the pool and all that's left was the landscaping. One by one, bags of dirt, rocks, sand and all the likes were carried by unfamiliar faces to the back yard through your house. Trails of sand were left on the floor akin to a snail's. "We're really sorry for the mess, miss y/n. Don't worry, we'll clean it up." A new face stood beside Jimin. This one looked more mature than the three boys you're already acquainted with. This was your first time seeing him. Raven hair, brown eyes, a attractive face and shoulders broader than the horizon. Wow. Mr. Park's boys just keep getting hotter and hotter. But there's something oddly familiar about him. Maybe you've met him before? Casually crossed paths as strangers? You can't quite wrap a finger around it. "Y/n, this is Jin-hyung." The fair-haired boy stated. "He's Jungkook's older brother." You gasp, finally it connects "R-really?! No wonder you looked familiar!" You heard the boisterous laugh of the younger brother draw closer and then draped an arm around his brother's shoulder. You habitually thought Jungkook was the tallest in the bunch but now that you've seen his older brother and the way he stands a good two or three inches taller says otherwise. "Sooo, who's more good looking, Noona?" Jungkook asked cheerfully, arching his brows as if coaxing you to choose him. "Hmmm..." You hummed dramatically, crossing your arms with one hand cupping your chin. "I really can't say, Jungkook. Your hyung's pretty handsome." You teased. "Nooooona~!" The youngest whined, flailing his arms around like a child. If you hadn't known their ages, you'd assume that Jungkook's an eighteen year old boy with a baby's face attached to an adult man's body. +Flashback+ You learned that over the course of yesterday's dinner. That day marked the seventh day since the boys worked on you backyard. You decided to treat them to a special samgyupsal dinner since they had been working so hard all day and all afternoon. It was a quarter to five, and the boys were about to call it a day when you call them over enthusiastically. Gesturing them to come inside "Jimin, Taehyung and Jungkook!" Their mouths hung wide open when their eyes met with the dining table. A dazzling array of meats, soups, vegetables and side dishes were gloriously scattered on the surface. "Wow, Ms. Y/n!" Taehyung beamed, his boxy smile seemed like it was engraved on his face. "What's the occasion?” "Well, since you boys have been working so hard I decided to arrange a little party for you guys. It's the least I can do." You smile. Taehyung and Jungkook looked like they were about to combust. The fragrance of the food delighted their every senses. You hear a faint growl in the background. "Sorry. That was me." Jungkook confessed, his stomach was now hungrier than before. You all laugh. "What are you waiting for? Dig in!" It was like a gun was shot and the race to eat the most food began. You watched them eat heartily, wishing that you had done this sooner to express your gratitude for all the effort the exert. "Aren't you gonna eat, y/n?" You were startled by Jimin voice. You turn to him and receive the look of concern on his face. "I've had my fair share while cooking, if I eat more I feel like I'll throw up." You softly giggled, a shade of pink dusting your cheeks. "And this is all for you." For every little thing he does whether it was deliberately or not, Jimin feels like he's simply digging his own grave. The sound of metal rutting against soil, just a few more digs and he's sure he'll be six feet under. "Ms. Y/n, Ms. Y/n!" Jungkook called, outstretching his hand like a student asking for his teacher's attention. "Yes, Jungkook? Oh, and you can call me y/n, by the way. No need for 'miss'." Jungkook scratched the back of his neck before answering, "Uhm, I dont think I'm in the position to call you that, ms. Y/n " "What about noona?" Taehyung who sits across Jungkook suggested. "Ms. Y/n really been nice to us, like a big sister. Always making sure we're okay." Sister. You practically forgot about your age gap with these kids. With the five-year difference for Jimin and Taehyung, seven for Jungkook, you really felt like an older sister. It wasn't bad, it was lovely actually. Knowing they see you more than just an ordinary client pinched at your heart. And you perceive them as little brother's you never had. One of them, you wished went beyond that. "Yeah!" The black haired boy exclaimed,"Can we call you noona, ms. y/n???" Jungkook looked like a dog, with his eyes all round and tail raised and wagging about. It must feel so great to be young. "Of-- Of course! You can call me noona!" The two boys cheered in unison. The only one quiet was jimin who sat parallel to you.

"Are you okay jimin?" You asked meekly. "I'm fine." He didn't sound like he was fine. "Is there something wrong?" "Ahh, I--" he was stuttering, "Is it okay if I call you y/n instead?" Your eyes widened, you haven't even drank anything alcohol but your face already feels hotter. "S-sure, Jimin." You tried to change the topic by standing up walking over to the refrigerator. "Since all of you are of legal age." You gradually push open metal door and pull out bottles of soju. "You're the best, noona!" The youngest howled, eager to get his hands on the alcoholic drink. "Just promise me you guys won't drink too much. You still have work tomorrow" Like twins, Jungkook and Taehyung held their hands over their heart and recited, "We promise, noona!" With the magic liquid, conversation started flowing more naturally. You promised not to drink but they insisted, nothing worse than your friends peer-pressuring you. "So, noona, where do you work?" Taehyung questioned. He probably noticed you were always at home. "I'm a writer for Seoul Life Magazine, but I do all my work here at home. I rarely have to go to the office." "Really???!!!" His eyes blew up, Taehyung told you he was a fashion design graduate. You expected this reaction from him so you felt pride in telling him where you work. "Wow, noona!" Jungkook said, "My dad said only those who were absolutely good got to work there." "Stop flattering me," You shyly dismiss his praise. "I was an intern there during my concluding year of college. I worked for about three or four years before I got married." Taehyung did a spit take, spraying water all over poor Jungkook who almost choked on a lettuce leaf. Jimin just sat there, watching you laugh at the two comical boys. He didn't know how to react, his hands suddenly went clammy and he couldn't stop shaking his leg under the table. "M-married?" Jungkook said, still not believing what he's hearing "w-where the h-husband?" He felt out of breath due to that damn piece of leaf. "Are you really married, noona?" Taehyung poked, looking at your ringless finger. "I was," Your smile grew weaker, talking about something it always felt weighty. But they deserved to know, they're helping you heal by dealing with something you'd rather not face. "We got divorced." The room went silent. The sound of the crickets outside and leaves swaying with the wind that were previous white noise behind your chattering and laughter seemed like the were obscenely amplified by huge bass speakers. "Can I ask why, noo--" "Jungkook!" Jimin scolded his junior, and this was the first time you've heard/seen him raise his voice to anyone. "Apologize." He stated sternly, not breaking eye contact with Jungkook. "I'm sorry, noona." His head hung low, hair covering his eyes. "J-jimin, I'm sure Jungkook didn't meant to." You reached out to to hold his hand that was resting on the table. "I'm not mad or upset." You looked over Jungkook's direction and continued, "It's okay, I promise." Jimin squeezed your hand tighter, comforting you. "You don't have to talk about it if it makes you uncomfortable, y/n." "Y-yeah, noona." Taehyung added, "You don't have to. It's none of our business." Jungkook sat still, eyes glassy and mouth pouty. He absolutely looked like a puppy that had been punished for chewing up its human's shoe. "It's alright," You giggle, extremely touched. "It's been months, I can talk about it." "We met during sophomore year. I was a journalist for the university paper and he was on the swim team." The three boys listened intently, like toddlers during story time. "After five years of dating, he proposed. We got married a year later and moved in here. That," you pointed to the pool outside "belongs to him." "It was his idea to get a house with one, I agreed of course. Only two years after getting married, I found out he was cheating on me." Jimin's features softened at your words. He knows it wasn't easy for anyone to talk about their past heartbreak and traumas. He made sure you weren't alone, he took his free hand and placed it over your hand that he was already holding with the other. He held it tight. "It broke my heart, I really thought he was the one, you know? Almost eight years together thrown in the garbage disposal and shredded to pieces." "He doesn't deserve you, noona." Jungkook finally spoke. "He was an asshole and he doesnt deserve you." "Yeah!" Taehyung agreed, "I kinda don't want to finish the work now." Out of nowhere, you burst out laughing. An invisible weight, sort of a thick blanket was lifted and the atmosphere brightened. "No, no, no!" You can't stop your laughter at this point, what Taehyung said tickled a funny bone. "I still plan on living here, Taehyung! Even if I dislike the pool, it's still part of this home. And the make over was sort of a therapy, you know. Out with the old, in with the new, right?" You ended it with a smile, lips curved beautifully. It was a smile Jimin has seen never seen before. It was light and airy, bright and transparent. There was no pain or distress, just carefreeness. He wished you would smile like this more often, and he also wished he'd someday be the reason for it.

"Just kidding, Jungkook! You're the most handsome." You assured the boy, patting his back. "Sorry, Jin. Your brother's grown on me." "Kook one, Jin zero." The youngest boast over to his brother. "Alright, alright!" Jin interrupted, "Unlike you, some of us need to work. How 'bout you and Taehyung get the transport van back to the office and let Jimin, Hoseok, Yugyeom and I get things done, yeah?" Jungkook clicked his tongue, "Whatever." Their sibling banter has got you missing your brother, mentally reminding yourself to call him later. "Hey, Yugs." You hear Jungkook faintly speak. Two more new faces stood beside Jin. "This is Hoseok and Yugyeom. We'll be responsible for landscaping." Another attractive guy with a million-dollar smile on his face and a tall man with the physique of a runway model. Curse, Mr. Park!! Where does he get all these boys?! "Thank you for having us!" The pair recited. "Oh, no! Thank you for helping out with the renovation." "Ms. Y/n, The boys and I will be outside. We'll be mapping out a plan for the design," Jin announced. "Oh, sure." You answer back, "Take all the time that you need." "Great! We'll report to you once we've finished the draft design. So you can the necessary make changes and adjustments." He beamed, walking towards the back yard. Jimin stood silently beside you, "You do landscaping?" You randomly asked, seeing that Jimin was the only one left from their bunch. Jungkook and Taehyung had long gone. "No," he chuckled, "I just need to watch over these guys. Make sure everything goes well." "That's nice, you're very involved with the work you do." His cheeks blossomed pink, he didn't expect a compliment since he was just doing his job. "I try." He shyly replied, bowing then heading for the glass door. "If you need me, I'll be outside." You waved him goodbye and went about your own business. There were still some articles in your workload that needed to be finished and those emails weren't gonna answer themselves. ++ By the time you were done, it was half past two in the afternoon. You noticed as the days progressed, so did the temperature. You check your phone, only to see that today is the hottest reading yet. Since everything has been taken care of, you decided to take a shower. Appreciating the cold refreshing water on you warm skin. After that, you put on your favorite robe and wrapped it around your damp body. As you were about to step out of the bathroom, you noticed Jimin leaning against one of the pillars of your patio, shirtless. Have your eyes been deceived? They say that seeing believes, but you didn't expect Jimin to be this fit. You offered yourself some slack, since the only part of Jimin body's you've oh so graciously seen are his muscular arms. It wasn't as big as those of a body builder, but the amount of muscle in them has already got you mouth watering. But being blessed with the site of his bare skin and taut abdominal muscles has got you feeling wetter than being in the shower. You couldn't keep your gaze off of him. It was an image that you want to engrave at the back of your head. Your eyes roamed his entire body. Face, neck, shoulders, chest and abs. You wanted to memorize every detail. Every mole, every freckle, every scar that adorned his ivory skin. Just as you were taking your time scanning his entire figure, you were startled when you saw him looking at you staring at him. Your heart began to race inside your chest and you almost forgot you were standing in the middle of your house with only a robe covering your very naked body. You scanned around the area of the yard and Jin and the others we're not in plain sight. You assumed they were working on the farthest side of the lot, where your small garden used to be before you abandoned it all together with the pool. You lock eyes with Jimin again, but this time there was something odd at the way he ogles at you. His gaze was lustful and burning with flames devouring your entirety. His were pupils blown out at the display of your skin. He looked pained, his teeth biting harshly at his bottom lip as if he wanted to draw blood. At that point it dawned on you. You know why he seemed so agitated, squirming in his seat. He wanted to see more, see more of you. A wave of unknown confidence washed over you. You didn't know where the hell it came from. Maybe it was from his deadly stare, maybe it was just you. Either way, you were so totally taking advantage of it. Without breaking eye contact, you found purchase at the same seat from which you watched the boys worked while having a chat with your friend. Sensually lifting the hem of your robe up your thighs and spreading your legs open for Jimin to see. "F-fuck," He groaned, hands balling into fists. He glimpsed over to the other men who were still occupied with what they were accomplishing. His attention was back on you, giving you a small nod. The fervor that coursed through your body was incomparable to anything you've experienced before. The Adrenaline was starting to kick in, and you felt hot-blooded. You temperature went up ten degrees higher and you felt delirious. You knew there was a possibility that you were gonna get caught, but screw it. You've never felt like this in your whole twenty-nine year of life. You're gonna enjoy it, basked in it. Jimin's eyes were plastered at your dripping core, lump in his throat and completely mesmerized at its beauty. Your juices sinfully coating you slit. He swore if there wasn't anybody else around, he would have ravished you pussy like an animal. Since you're out here giving him a show that he'll never forget, might as well savour it. He thought things couldn't get any better with you sex on display for him, you open up your legs even more in a whole new different angle. Putting all those gymnastics training to good use. He can virtually see your pink walls with the position your in. He couldn't stop imagining him burying his hard cock inside your tight cunt. Sucking him in when every thrust he made. You left hand slithered its way down to your soaked core, playfully stroking your folds. If Jimin was beside you, he could no doubt hear the way your cream coated skin squelched with every motion you made. Your idle hand managed to loosen the knot of your robe, allowing it fall from your shoulders exposing your round, supple breasts. Nipples instantly hardening at the sudden exposure to the air. Shit, he'd kill just to have his lips around those perky little nipples, sucking on then voraciously until you moan out his name. You could not take all this self-teasing anymore. Jimin's eyes gauges out of its socket as you dip a finger into your damp hole. Jimin thought the heat from the sun was bearable. He'd worked for long hours under it and never complain. But this, you fingering yourself with one hand while the other pulls and twists on your abused nipple was unbearable! The ache between his legs was excruciating he had to casually palm himself. Slightly shifting and bending this leg so that he wasn't noticeable. Another finger goes in, and he's cupping himself harder. He observed your face contort with pleasure at the way you're plunging and curling your two fingers inside of you. Your arousal spilling at the edge of you battered hole, streaming down and accumulating just above your puckered hole. That should be him, he mumbled to himself. Your slender fingers wouldn't be able to satisfy you, unlike his throbbing cock caged inside his boxers, wanting to be set free. Jimin's practically squeezing his dick at this point now, he just wants nothing but to release his ropes cum on you breast while you pleasure yourself. You felt your walls clench around your digits, signalling you that you were nearing climax. You gotta make this quick, Jin, Hoseok or Yugyeom can walk in on you anytime. Adding one last finger, hoping the stretch will help you jump over the edge, you pummeled your cunt with all the strength that you had left. A small moan left your lips and your release came squirting. Coating the marble floor beneath you. Jimim was just as wrecked as you were. His chest was heaving heavily up and down. The only difference was you reached climax, and he didn't, he couldn't. You were steadying you breathing just when you hear Jin yell, "Yo! Jimin! I need you to--" his voice was getting louder and closer. Wide-eyed, you look at Jimin. Mouthing him "Do something!" While you pull yourself together and grab a piece of tissue to wipe your juices off the floor. When you looked up, Jimim wasn't there anymore. He somehow managed to stop Jin from coming any closer to the house from how faintly you hear his voice outside. You sighed and went back to your room. “We’ve done everything we could do today, Ms. Y/n,” Jin happily announces, standing in front of you with his million dollar smile adorning his equally valued face. “We’ll continue everything tomorrow!” “G-great!’ You croaked, substantially tilting your head to see what’s going on behind the tall man’s back. Hoping to catch a glimpse of Jimin. “Ms. Y/n?” he waved his hand in your face, snapping you out of it. “Are you okay?” “Yeah.” You barely reply. Before he could turn his back on you, you managed to pull on his sleeve. “W-where’s Jimin by the way?” He looked surprised, pondering why you’re asking for the boy. “He went back first,” Jin witnessed your facial expression drop, “He said he wasn’t feeling too good.” “O-oh,” you frowned once more, your browns knitting together at the center of your forehead. “Please tell him to get well soon.” “Of course,” He bowed and bid farewell.

Tomorrow comes and Jimin was nowhere to be seen. Jin said Jimin was still feeling under the weather and took the whole day off from work. While that may seem plausible, it didn’t sit well in your gut. You felt like there was something off with Jimin. Never has he been absent since the first day he worked for you. What is that little stunt you pulled off yesterday, you thought to yourself. Were you really that repulsive to the point that it had gotten him sick? Did you ruin your chances of having something more than just a short time fling with the most charming boy you’ve ever met? What if he never wanted to see you anymore, what would you do then. Those kinds of thoughts were inevitable, of course. It was all you could think of the entire day. So that night, you decided to send him a text message, the first one too. From you: Hi Jimin. Jin told me that you fell ill. Try not to over work yourself next time. I hope you get well soon. -yn Jimin stared stupidly at the screen. Thinking of what to reply or if he should reply at all. Several words typed then deleted. He genuinely didn’t know what to say to you. He was ashamed of what he’s shown and with his lack of self-control. He felt appalled with himself. How could he disrespect you like that? You were a client. A client and worker relationship weren’t prohibited, not at all. It was just his work ethics that wanted everything to be strictly professional, he knew how important your role is to their business. The last thing he wanted was to tarnish what his father built from the ground up with a scandal. So he decided to not let his personal life get involved with his work life. It just makes things complicated, like it is right now. The ‘can’t go to work, feeling sick’ wasn’t wholly a lie. The pain wasn’t physical, it was abstract. And no medicine can induce the pain go away, until he saw your following message. From you: Also, I wanted to talk to you about something. It doesn’t have to be right away, you should rest first and get your health back up. Just message me whenever. Goodnight, Jimin.

There really was no way out, huh. The next day comes and still no Jimin. That was when you confirmed it. You’ve completely and utterly ruined everything. He did not reply to your messages and didn't even want to see your face. It felt like the ground underneath you cracked opened and devoured you whole. That was the very first time in your life that you’ve acted so venturesomely, look what is has cost you. You blame yourself because there was no one else you could point a finger at. Things wouldn't end up the way they are now if you just stayed in your fucking lane. All of this was your fault. You looked back at all the events that happened to you and realized, maybe it was inevitably your fault. Wonwoo wouldn’t have you left if he saw a reason not to. Jimin wouldn’t be ignoring you if he had a reason no to. The course of the entire day was spent with you cooped up inside your room, wallowing away in your own self-pity. You politely told Jin that you needed some time to be alone and he can decide whatever is best for the landscaping. It was around seven in the evening, Jin bid farewell and suggested that if you needed anything, you could call him up. That was extremely thoughtful of him, you think. Another hour passed and the doorbell rings. You weren't expecting anyone though, so you were quite puzzled as to who it might be. The front door open and you see Jimin. He was wearing a navy blue dress shirt that was folded up to his elbows, wow. Sleek black slacks for pants that cinched his slim waist and leather dress shoes to put everything together. What's the occasion, you thought. "Oh, Jimin" you hid the nervous of your voice by pulling him into a hug "I-its good to see you again, what brings you here? Are you feeling better?" "Ah, yes. I'm sorry for being absent these past few days." His head was hanging low and his eyes were looking elsewhere just to avoid yours. "I wanted to apologize." He finally looked at you with his brown orbs that were displaying sincerity. You ushered him to come inside and take a seat on your couch. "Apologize?" You asked, a little bit perplexed "For what exactly?" "For what I did," his voice grew feebler "I shouldn't have done what I did. I shouldn't have disrespected you like that. I shouldn't have taken advantage of you just because I felt the heat of that moment. I'm sorry, y/n. I swear I'm better than that." "Oh, Jimin." You smiled tenderly, cupping his plump cheeks with your hand. "I think it's the other way around. I should be the one apologizing. Back then, I couldn't control myself when I should have. After seeing you, all the emotions I've put aside unexpectedly erupted." With your unoccupied hand, you tightly held his. "The truth is, you really have grown on me in all the best way possible. Initially, I thought it was just the backlash of my divorce egging me. I thought maybe my mind was looking for a rebound to dull the ache. But..." Your eyes started becoming glassy. You felt him clutch you hand tighten spurring you to continue "I think that's not it. I know it isn't. You've been nothing but a blessing to me, Jimin. An absolute angel. You're sweet, kind, caring, understanding, ugh--" You mocked frustratingly, letting out a small giggle. "You're perfect. I couldn't see anyone that wouldn't fall for you like I have." Jimin's face reflected what he felt at that moment, relief. This wasn't what he was expecting, hence why he averted the confrontation as best as he could. You were the one who was perfect and completely out of his league. You were a beautiful and capable independent woman that any man would kill for. Your ex-husband was beyond stupid to play with your feelings like he did, he knows. But if it wasn't for your ex's stupidity, he wouldn't be here facing the only woman he'd want to be with for the rest of his life. "I thought you wouldn't like me since I was older--." "Stop." He interrupted, stroking his fingers through your locks while gazing at your gorgeous features. The staring contest ended with the both of you smacking lips, eager to taste what has been endured for so long. Impatient longing was evident in every kiss, lick, bite and tug. You kissed him so fervently that his back was digging against the backrest of the sofa. One of your legs seemed to have a mind of its own and positioned itself to straddle him. "Are you sure you want me?" You queried the boy beneath you, your tone much mischievous from before, it was like there was a flipped switch somewhere. The noticeable change in the atmosphere has got him simply nodding, excited to know there was this side of you that he has not witnessed before. He watched you as you steadily unravel your blouse's satin belt and started to gently caress his wrist. "Would you mind if I tie up these pretty hands of yours?" You hummed, pulling on his hand up to you face and sucking on his middle finger and ring finger. The sensation of your wet mouth around his digits caused his brain to send signals down there. He could already feel himself get rock hard inside his jeans, thinking about how tight your mouth would be if he shoved his dick down you throat. But he'll save that for another day because right now he just wants to let you do what you want to do with him. Right now, he is yours for the taking. You urged him to lean a little closer to you. His face now between the valley of your breast as you meticulously tie his hands behind his back. You pushed him back to his previous position and inquired, "Do you want me to cover your eyes as well?" He shook his head in protest and said, "N-no. I want to see you." There was a pause as he manages to catch his breath, "I-I wanna see you while you make me feel good." You nodded, brushing his hair out of his sweat slicked forehead. From his head, your hand slid lazily down to his neck, to his chest, to his stomach and finally to the growing bulge inside his pants. You palm him unhurriedly, taking your time. Tracing your fingertips over the curve of his caged penis. "Y-y/n.." Jimin griped, observing your hand press against his erection. Somehow enduring the excruciating pain, your teasing had sown. "Can I ask you one last favor?" You purred, peppering his neck with kisses and sucking purple bruises here and there. "W-what is it?" he managed to reply, reveling in the way your teeth nipped against his delicate skin. "Call me noona," Jimin was silent, somewhat waiting for an explanation. When you told him the first time, he met you that he can call you by your first made him feel special because only he could do that. The other workers call you 'Miss' and Jungkook and Taehyung declared you as 'our noona'. "N-noona-" Jimin whined, bucking his hips harder against you hand. He saw your pupils dilate as the word escaped your lips, inflaming something inside you. "Jimin," you growled, squeezing his around his girth ferociously. Buttons were unfastened one after the other, exposing his refined chest and taut muscles. Out of nowhere, you felt raunchy. The tips of your fingernail slowly dragged themselves across his torso, leaving streaks of red in its track. He flung his head back, enjoying the sting that danced on his skin. Jimin squirmed as he felt your weight suddenly leave his lap. His neck snapped back to your direction and damn, what a sight to see. You tucked between his legs and unzipping his pants exposing his angry red-tipped cock oozing out beads of pre-cum. He smirked as he saw you involuntary lick your lips. "You like what you see, noona?" "God, yes." You exhaled, wrapping both your hands around his shaft not because you wanted to, but because it was necessary. Your tiny, little hand could barely encompass his circumference. "Noona's gonna me you feel good, baby." You felt Jimin's dick twitch by the given pet name. "Noona," he groaned, thrusting his member in your grip just to feel any sort of friction. Sensually, you undid your bloused and hurled it somewhere on the floor followed by your bra, exposing your bare chest to the boy. Jimin jerked in his seat, wanting to grab and knead you breast with his own hands. It looked even better up close. The skin smooth and flawless, nipples pert and hard due to the frosty air. "Fuck" he hissed through his teeth, if he could get his mouth on those buds he'd suck them dry and pull it between his teeth making you cry out. "Behave." You scolded him, eyes staring daggers. He stayed in place once again, not wanting to vex you in any way.

You ran the flat of you tongue on the underside of his length, feeling his skin pulse at contact. Salaciously making your way to its head, you began circling his narrow slit with the tip of your tongue. Feeble moans were the only things escaping his pretty mouth. You seized this moment to swallow him whole down to the hilt, fighting your gag reflex. Your mouth has never felt this stuffed as you moan in satisfaction. Jimin felt the vibration of your throat around his cock, tightening around it. You languidly started bobbing your head up and down, bottoming out with every stroke. With a lewd pop, you tried pulling your mouth off his cock. Strings of saliva dribbled from your lips connecting to his tip. You push yourself up slight and proceeded painting your nipples with the concoction of you saliva and his pre-cum that was coating the tip of his penis. "How does this feel?" You cooed, sandwiching his hard member between your two breasts, erotically pumping the tender flesh up and down his length. "So so gooood, noona" Jimin wheezed blissfully. The sensation of his cock wholly enveloped by your soft mounds is inclining him over the edge. "Noona," he wailed shutting his eyes, the urgency of wanting to release washing over him. By the look of things, you guess he's close. You quicken the pace, feeling the skin of you breast chafe due to friction but you don't care. You clamped your hand on your boobs harder to tighten its hold around his cock and pump faster and faster and faster until he's cumming on you tits. "Shit, noona," Jimin stressed, his breaths labored. You watched as his chest heaved up and down, supplying him with the oxygen he needs after such an intense climax. "Oh no. Look at the mess you made, Jimin." You shook your head, pointing to your breast painted with his milky liquid. "I don't like messes," You sing-song, pushing yourself back up to straddle him once more. You clasped your finger under his chin and commanded, "clean it." His heart stammered in his chest. This is it. This is what he desired. Your perky nipples snug between his lips while your back arches in euphoria. He aggressively lapped up his juices from the skin of your chest with his tongue, leaving no trace of the substance behind. Up and down, left and right, there was no area left untouched by his wet greedy muscles. If he could only see the contorted position he put himself in just to taste you. He doesn't give a shit anymore, he'll gladly eat his cum out of you asshole if you asked. He obscenely sucked you left nipple first, earning the tiniest moan from you. Alternating between light nips and starved slurps, abusing your bud. He then moves to your right nipple, the more sensitive one that has you immediately grinding your clothed core against his semi-hard on. "Let me make you feel good, noona." He desperately whined, concealing his face in the nook of your neck inhaling your fragrant scent. You quirked a brow and asked while weaving you digits through his sweat-damped hair. "What does my baby have in mind?" "Let me.." he croaked. "Louder. I can't hear you." "Let me eat you out, noona. Let me make you feel good." He begged with pleading eyes , fidgeting his hands that were behind his back, trying to untie the belt that was restraining him. "I can make you--" "If you take those off I am kicking you out." You threateningly glared at him, voice deadly like venom. Jimin was scared shitless. He could do nothing but sit silently and obey. "I-I'm sorry, noona. I didn't mean to make you mad." This boy. It may seem like you're the one in control but it is you who are actually wrapped around his little finger. Giving in to what he wants. "It's okay, baby." you massaged his tensed shoulders, soothing him down. "I'll still let you eat me out if you promise not to take off your restraint." You sounded so sweet, the exact opposite of what you were minutes ago. Not wanting to piss you off more, Jimin nodded. You helped him lay down the sofa, propping his head underneath a throw pillow. You stepped to the side and shimmied your pants off. His eyes trailed the article of clothing peeling off your body. When the pair of jeans were long gone, his gaze was attached to your still clothed core. A small wet patch sticking to your folds in the middle was visible. You prop a leg over him, climbing on top of his chest, finding purchase when his face is below your pussy. He could smell the scent of you arousal. Filling up his nostrils and intoxicating his entire nervous system like it's some kind of poison. This by far was the best angle he's seen you in. Seeing it up close, he wished he could at least touch you… You moved into a considerably better position, if you buck your hips the slightest bit, if will directly collide with his mouth. "This what you want baby boy?" You teased, lowering you center on the tip of his nose. Overpowering him even more. "Yes, yes, yes!" He cries out, "I want nothing but your pussy, noona!" You snickered at how desperate he has become, "Who knew you were such a little bitch, Jimin. Loving the way you hands are tied up and thirsting over my pussy." "Yes! I want to taste you, noona. I want to make you feel good until you're squirting all over my face like you did before on the floor. Then I'll eat you up so good, so clean." "Good boy." You thrummed, ultimately taking off your underwear. Letting him marvel at the sight of your woman hood. Clean Shaven, baby smooth, and tulip pink. Without warning, you hastily maneuver yourself, grinding your core against his face. "Put your filthy mouth to good use and make me cum." The sounds he was making were borderline pornographic as hell. His slurps and moans blessing your ears, making your insides rut. He'd occasionally prod his muscles inside your hole then flick on your clit relentlessly. The tensed coil finally snapped and you chase you high by grinding against his face. He's devouring you out like a man starved, sucking out and drinking all the juice your pussy was providing him. Wanting nothing but to be selfish, and have you for himself. He licked you clean, not wasting a single drop of your delicious cum. "I didn't know you were such a disgusting slut for pussy, Jimin." "I, I only want your pussy noona… no one else's." He confessed. "On your knees." You demand. "H-huh?" "I said on you knees. You slut." Jimin dropped down on the floor waiting for your next command like the slut he is. "Tell me how much you want to fuck me." "I-I.." He stuttered with his words, and it made you infuriated. "I said. Tell me how much you want to fuck this tight pussy of mine." You bellowed, your words bouncing off the walls of your living you. "I want to fuck you so much, noona! I want to bury my cock so deep inside your pussy until I reach your cervix then I'll fuck you some more. I want nothing but to fill you up with my seed and put a baby in you, noona! I'll fuck you so good that you'll want to you pussy filled by me every day!" He cried, plunging his head on the floor in a begging for your life bow. "Please, please, please!" Jimin was hysterical at this point, screaming and begging you to let him fuck you. "Noona, please. I'll fuck you so good that you'll forget about all your problems." You shiver at his submission and once again, he's got you eating at the palm of his hands. You freed his wrist and he lunges at you, hustling you up against the wall. "Noona," he breathed in the smell of your shampoo, steadying his hands on your hips fingers digging into your skin. "You don't know how much I wanted to put my hands on you. I can't take it anymore, noona." he pressed his erection against your slick folds "I need to be inside you." "Then show noona what that dirty cock can do." you smirked, challenging the boy. He gripped both of your thighs and carried you to the dinner table. Laying you down before spreading your legs open for him. He aligned his cock to your entrance, pushing gradually, inch by inch until he bottomed out. The stretch was incredible, you were already dripping wet but there was still the sting that lingered from his size. Your walls were trying resisting the force, convulsing around his length spontaneously. "You're tighter than I've imagined, noona." You did kegels around him, eliciting a sharp groan from the boy. "Fuck, Noona. You were made for my cock." You hummed in agreement, relishing the sensation of him pushing in and out of your tight hole. "Baby.." You moaned wantonly, elevating you butt so that he could have a better angle while penetrating you ruthlessly. "Your thick long cock is the best I've ever had. Better than my ex-husband's pathetic excuse for a dick." His ego doubled at your praise, pride blooming in his chest. "More, noona.. please tell me how great my cock is for you.." "Ahhh-- ahh. Jimin!" You bit your lip, clenching around him. "You're taking remarkably good care of noona. Fucking your noona so good. I love your cock so much. I want you to fill me up with you cum. Yeah? Hmmmm. Make your noona the happiest by cumming inside my pussy." There was the push he needed, he was plunging further into you. He felt the barrier of your cervix and broken through it before spilling all his seed into your womb. You quickly followed when you felt the warmth of his juices flowing into you. Your velvet walls convulsed around his cock, milking him for all his worth. Silence fell on the both of you, only the south of your panting and harsh breath resonated. You supported yourself up with you elbows as Jimin pull out his now flaccid penis. You felt the trickle of both of your releases slobber out of your sore hole. "Baby, do noona a favor and clean up the mess you've made with your mouth." Jimin without hesitation obeyed and dove right in. Making sure to get every last drop of yours and his cum with his tongue. He lifted his head, mouth glistening from your juices. You pulled him closer to pet his held. "You were such a good boy for noona. Bring me to bed." He obliged, carrying you bridal style to your room. His muscles rippling under your stripped body. "Noona?" He questioned while his face was still cuddling your tummy. "Hmm?" "Did I make you feel good?" You lifted up his face and said, "You made me feel so good, baby." You assured, loving the way his eyes turn into crescent moons endearing when he smiles. "Can we do that again? But this time I want the blindfolds." He flashed a cheeky grin. You smirked at his innocence, placing a kiss on his temple. "Of course, baby. We have all the time in the world." ++ The sound of knocking on your front door wakes you up, seems like this is will be a regular thing now. You managed to put on an oversized shirt and underwear on before heading to the source of the noise. You opened the doors at was bet by Jungkook and Taehyung. "Good morning, boys." You yawned, gesturing them to come in. "Uhm. Good morning, noona" Jungkook croaked, pushing his senior to speak on his behalf. "See, we haven't heard from Jimin since last night so uh-- it's just jungkook and I that'll be finishing up work today." Taehyung stated. "About that…."

You heard the door of your room creak open and out comes Jimin with nothing but this boxers on and hickeys all over his neck and chest. The two boys looked at each other dumbfoundedly and once they've put two and two together, huge grins were plastered on their faces. End

tell me what u think pls

1K notes · View notes

luci-in-trenchcoats · 4 years

Text

Make It Through The Night (Part 3)

(x)

Summary: The reader meets Dean’s friend, Benny, but everything isn’t as smooth sailing as it seems...

Masterlist

Pairing: Apocalypse!Dean x reader

Square: Dean Winchester

Word Count: 3,100ish

Warnings: langauge, minor violence

A/N: Written for @spngenrebingo

_____

“Morning sunshine,” said Dean as you walked into the kitchen. “Eggs and rice for breakfast.”

“It’s hot. I ain’t complaining,” you said, fixing your arm in it’s sling.

“You change your bandages out yet?” he asked. You yawned and nodded, taking a seat at the counter. “Ever been shot before?”

“No. Hurts like a bitch,” you said, looking around. “So where’s the rice come from?”

“One of the largest rice distribution plants is about twenty minutes down the road. I stocked up,” he said.

“Smart move,” you said. “So where the hell am I exactly? This place I mean.”

“Short version, there used to be these guys, Men of Letters. My grandpa was one. This was their base of operations. They got wiped out in the fifties though,” said Dean. “They used to research monsters, how to kill them, that sort of thing. Through a very long series of events which started long before I was born, I wound up being raised by a hunter, my dad. Along with Sam. Hunters used to kill monsters back when the world was normal and no one knew about this stuff. After my dad died, it was me and Sam for a while and a whole bunch of other bad shit happened and then he got on demon blood and we went our separate ways. I ended up meeting my grandpa who traveled through time before he died and he told me about this place. It’s safe from monsters, demons, you name it. It runs itself. There’s a bunch of information in that library that might be useful. It’s pretty...I lost you at the time traveling grandpa, didn’t I.”

“If that’s the short version, I can’t imagine the long,” you said, resting your head against your palm. “You’re serious?”

“My life’s always been strange. Everyone else finally caught up a year ago,” he said.

“It’s completely safe here?” you asked.

“I mean, nothing is completely safe but it’s probably the safest place on the planet,” he said.

“Good,” you said, closing your eyes. “I could do with someplace safe.”

“It’s not pretty out there. The world now I mean,” he said, handing you a plate, your eyes fluttering open.

“Those guys were probably going to sell me to a monster...or a demon. It seems to be the hot commodity,” you said.

“Speaking of which, after breakfast, you’re gonna have to get tatted up,” said Dean.

“Um, what?” you said as you started to eat.

“Tattoo,” he said, pulling aside his flannel and t shirt, showing off a tattoo on his chest. “Anti-possession. A demon can’t take over your body that way.”

“Oh. Yeah, that’s probably good to have,” you said. “You know how to do tattoo’s?”

“Personally, no but one of my friends should be getting back home soon. He was out on a supply run,” said Dean.

“Oh. Cool,” you said.

“Y/N,” he said, poking at his food. “I thought about last night, what we talked about, what you said. You’re right. I can’t kill Sam. I never could. I don’t want to kill him. It’s my job to fucking protect him. I’m not going to give up on him. I want to try to talk to him, figure out how to catch him and get him off of the demon blood, get rid of his powers. That’s the only option. I know you offered but I won’t go down that road.”

“No killing Sam. Okay,” you said with a nod. “We’ll figure something out then.”

“Thank you,” said Dean.

Thirty minutes later you were in the library trying to figure out some basics about demons when the front door opened and man in combat gear came walking down the stairs with a box.

“I found you extremely stale gummy bears. You’re welcome,” said the man, setting the box down on the war room table, staring at you. “Cher.”

“What?” you asked, glancing at Dean.

“It’s a nickname thing he does. Y/N, this is Benny. Ex-vampire I met in purgatory. Benny, this is Y/N. Met her yesterday when a few unscrupulous fellas were on my property again,” said Dean.

“Vampire,” you said, instinctively getting out of your seat and taking a few steps back.

“Ex-vampire,” said Dean as he flipped through a book. “He doesn’t bite.”

“Unless you’re into that,” he smiled, flashing you a wink.

“Dude. I get that the dating pool is limited but-”

“Excuse, Dean,” said Benny, ruffling his hair as he went past and took a seat. “He’s a worrier. Plus it’s fun to tease him. He’s totally into you anyways.”

You blinked slowly, Dean giving Benny a bitchface.

“Let’s not scare off the first company we’ve had in oh, months? Hm?” said Dean.

“Ignoring the purgatory part of that sentence for right now, how does one become an ex-vampire?” you asked, staring at Benny.

“Ordinarily there’s a cure but it only works if the person has never tasted human blood and if you have the fang of the vamp that turned you. Benny though...well when we got out of purgatory, he was still a vamp,” said Dean.

“I was almost at the point of asking Deano to end it for me. I knew I would break and hurt someone. But the world decided to go to shit and I drank from an infected person. I got really sick. Majorly sick,” said Benny, peeling off his boots and kicking up his feet in a nearby chair.

“We tried the cure, figured what the hell and now Benny is as human as the day he was born,” said Dean. “He’s like really fucking old by the way.”

“Shut up,” said Benny, pushing Dean’s face, a smile popping up on it for a moment. “So ex-vampire. No need to be afraid.”

“Alright,” you said as you sat back down.

“What’s with the chicken wing?” asked Benny, nodding at you.

“Shot yesterday. Graze on the arm, through and through in the shoulder,” said Dean, flipping through his book again. “Y/N’s gonna stay here, help with the Sam situation.”

“Good. We could always use a few more hands,” said Benny.

“How many hands are there?” you asked.

“There’s a network of hunters out there. It’s not huge but it’d be useful to get close to Sam,” said Dean. “Plan’s changed by the way, Benny. We take him alive and cure him or it’s the end of us.”

“Whatever you want, brother,” said Benny, standing up with a sigh. “I’ve been on the road all night. I’m gonna shower and crash before I have to head out again.”

“I’ll need a tat done before you go. Gonna stick around more than a day for once?” asked Dean.

“I’ll be here a few days. I know you miss this pretty face, Deano,” he said. Dean rolled his eyes and Benny wandered off down a different hall.

“So purgatory...no one can ever say you have not led a full life,” you said. Dean chuckled and leaned back in his seat.

“Full of horrors. But yeah, I suppose you’re right. It’s been interesting,” he said.

“Did you like...die,” you said, Dean cocking his head. “Purgatory.”

“No. Accidentally wound up there when I killed a special kind of monster. I met up with Benny there. We found a way out together,” said Dean. “Just because a monster is a monster...they can be your friend too. I got a buddy who’s a werewolf actually.”

“Here I thought study abroad would make me exciting,” you said. Dean smiled and slid over his book to you.

“Read this one. It’ll give you some good info. We’ll go over some good ways to kill demons maybe later in the week,” he said.

“I’m not a soldier. I don’t know...everything I know, I picked up on my own,” you said.

“I’m pretty confident in your abilities,” he said. “We don’t have to go after Sam this second. Something like this, we need to know our game plan first and I don’t even know where to start so focus on healing and training a bit for now.”

“Alright,” you said, Benny cutting back in wearing nothing but his boxers.

“Dude. We have a lady in the house now,” said Dean.

“She can walk around in her underwear too. I don’t care,” said Benny, going to the box and pulling out a bottle of soap.

“You and your old spice you freak,” said Dean.

“Don’t knock it,” said Benny. “There’s some shaving cream in there too in case you decide to shave that peach fuzz.”

“Asshole,” said Dean as Benny laughed, carrying the box away with him.

“I like the beard,” you said with a shrug.

“See, brother? Match made in heaven right here,” he said.

“Oh shut up,” said Dean. “Go get clean. You smell filthy.”

“Whatever you say,” he said, whistling as he went.

“Sorry. He’s a bit...Benny sometimes,” said Dean.

“I like him,” you said, glancing through the pages.

“You actually like the beard?” he asked. Your eyes glanced over and met his, noticing just how pretty of a green they were.

“It suits you. You look like some badass or something,” you said. He smirked and you rolled your eyes. “Oh my God. I can only handle one man-child at a time.”

“Speaking of badasses, you’ll need some new gear. I’ll take a look around in storage,” he said. “Also, I am so not a man-child.”

“Gummy bears?” you said with a smile.

“Touche,” he said, grabbing his notebook and jogging up into the library. “You get bored of reading come find me. I’m sure we can find something for you to work on.”

“Hey,” said Dean a few hours later. You let out a hiss and grit your teeth, Benny wiping off your bicep. “How’d she do?”

“She was good,” he said. “Barely made a peep.”

“How’s it look?” you asked.

“Good,” said Dean. “It’s just a precaution we have to take.”

“No, it’s fine. I probably should have gone with the right arm is all,” you said, wincing a bit.

“Come on you two. Dinner’s done,” said Dean. You followed him back down the hall while Benny turned off the equipment. Dean plopped a bottle of pills in front of you at the table. You shook your head and he took two out, putting them on your plate. “Y/N. Take the pain meds. It’s fine.”

“So you come up with anything today?” you asked as Benny joined you, diving into his bowl of stew.

“Maybe. I was thinking Ben, we could retrofit the dungeon, turn it into a holding cell, detox chamber kind of thing,” said Dean.

“It could work. How we get him inside is another problem,” said Benny.

“Do you think you could work on gathering materials, figuring out the best way to build a safe room?” asked Dean.

“I can think of something. I’ll head up North, visit Donna. She’s good with that sort of thing,” said Benny.

“So are you two an item yet or are you still living in denial?” asked Dean, giving him a smirk.

“Who? Me and Donna?” scoffed Benny. “No way. Strictly platonic. We both been burned before.”

“I know about the camping store incident,” smirked Dean. “Benny bear.”

“Fine. We’re dating. You girls gonna chat about this too?” he said, crossing his arms.

“Maybe. We do love to talk about boys and braid our hair,” teased Dean. “Nah, man, that’s great. You and Donna make a good team. Tactically.”

“Shut up. Worse than a high school girl,” said Benny. “You see what I’ve been dealing with during the end of the world?”

“Is she cute?” you asked, Benny throwing up his hands.

“Oh yeah,” said Dean with a laugh. “Donna’s a pretty girl. Sweet as can be but she’s tough. She and Jody…”

He trailed off and pursed his lips, Benny nodding.

“Jody didn’t make it,” said Benny. “Demons. If you guys are all set, I’m gonna head out soon.”

“You travel at night?” you asked.

“Safer actually,” said Dean. “Most of the infected people, they still sleep for some reason. Benny can get up to Sioux falls by dawn pretty good this way.”

“Write down any gear you think you may need,” he said, finishing off his drink before he took off.

“Why is he leaving already?” you asked. “He just got here this morning.”

“He has a job to do and I told it to him,” said Dean. “Benny moves at his own pace. If he wants to go tonight, he can go, I won’t baby him.”

“Doesn’t he want to rest?”

“Benny crashed most of the day. He’s good,” said Dean. “Unlike you. Early bedtime tonight.”

“What are you, my mother?” you mumbled.

“Do I need to be?” he asked. You rolled your eyes and went back to your food, Dean finishing his off before he started to pick up.

You closed your eyes and rested your head against the table.

“I feel funny,” you said. “Did you drug me?”

“It’s the pain med’s, dumbass. They’re kicking in. It’s pretty strong stuff,” he said. He walked over and sat you upright. “Finish your food and then you can sleep.”

“Or you drugged me,” you said, reaching for your knife. Dean quickly knocked it away and you pulled the gun out of the back of his pants. He froze as you turned off the safety.

“Y/N. Calm down. No one’s going to hurt you,” said Dean.

“Back up,” you mumbled. He stared at you before you were suddenly on the floor, gun back in his hands.

“Are you infected?” he asked, aiming the gun at you. “Are you?”

“Whoa,” said Benny as he came rushing back in. “What the hell is going on in here?”

“She thinks I drugged her which is insane,” said Dean.

“This ain’t pain medication, dip shit,” you said, flipping him off as you propped yourself up against the wall, the cold floor making you shiver. “Fuck you. You’re the one that’s nuts, not me.”

“You’re both idiots,” said Benny. He walked over to you and reached behind his back, a pair of restraints around your wrists. You shoulder would have been killing you if it weren’t for the drugs. “I drugged her.”

“Excuse me,” said Dean, suddenly lowering the gun and tucking it away. “You did what, Benjamin?”

“I heard of this chick, the second you said her name I knew who she was. She knows Sam.”

You shook your head when Dean slowly turned and stared you down.

“I don’t. I swear,” you said.

“I definitely heard of some demon talking about this chick right here and Sam,” said Benny.

“You’re thinking an inside job?” asked Dean, pulling the gun out again.

“Possibly. Could be a human that decided to side with what she thinks is the winning side,” said Benny. “Could be a lot of things but point is, we can’t trust her.”

You were too tired to say anything more, simply sat there and shut your eyes, trying not to think of how odds are you wouldn’t be waking up again.

“Y/N,” said Dean. You breathed slowly, Dean’s hand on your shoulder shaking you. “Y/N. You with Sam or not?”

Last thing you remembered you slumped over, straight to the ground.

“Hey,” said Dean. Something wet was on your forehead, a washcloth if you had to guess. It took a moment for you to get your bearings, finding yourself in your room strangely. “Relax. You’re okay.”

“Drugged me,” you said, frowning at him, pushing the washcloth away. “Asshole.”

“Benny made a mistake,” said Dean.

“I wanna go,” you said, shutting your eyes, head swimming. “Let me go.”

“You can go. Just let this stuff get out of your system first,” said Dean. He took the cloth away and you scowled when he put it back. “I’ll make up your bag for you.”

Four hours later you were standing in the garage, trying to get your bag on unsuccessfully.

“Y/N,” said Dean quietly. “Maybe you should stay.”

“Maybe you need better friends,” you said, throwing the bag on, immediately shooting a hand to your shoulder. You sniffled and swallowed hard, giving Dean a dirty look when he stared at you. “What?”

“We both know that if you go out in your condition, the first sign of trouble and you’re dead,” he said.

“What do you care?” you said. You tried heading out but the pain was too much and you had to shrug off the backpack.

“Something is going on. Benny was adamant that he heard something involving you. I was adamant that whatever your part in this is, you aren’t the bad guy,” said Dean. “You know how it is now. You can’t take chances and Benny wasn’t taking one. But I will.”

You sighed and set the bag down.

“Why?” you asked dryly.

“Because you’re not the bad guy. If you want to go, you can go. Or you can stay and recover and maybe you can help me save my brother.”

You spun around and went past him, heading inside.

“Next time something like that happens, I shoot. No questions asked,” you said. “And don’t think I didn’t realize you put a brick in the bottom of my bag.”

“Welcome back, Y/N.”

_____

A/N: Read Part 4 here!

#supernatural #spngenrebingo #spn #dean x reader #dean winchester #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #dean #winchester #dean spn #au #apocalypse au #bearded!dean #apocalypse!dean x reader

245 notes · View notes

benaffleckofcrowdsurfing · 4 years

Text

Lazerquest - part 1

Alex Turner x Reader

Chapter 1/?

Description: you are an impulsive bartender who recently moved to London after traveling across the United States and living on the road for a few years. You befriend Alex, a musician who recently got out of a long term relationship, and you show him the ways of your free-spirited lifestyle in an attempt to help him move on from his ex. However, you become more of a muse than a friend for Alex and all is revealed when he releases his band’s fourth studio album, “Suck it and See”.

Word count: 1.7k

Warnings: none ;)

**************

“You know, Y/N, this isn’t a terrible place to have to work,” your flat-mate, Tatiana, sighed. The two of you were sat sipping glasses of red wine at the bar of a rather bustling club in London. You couldn’t stop thinking about how six months ago if you had told yourself that you finally settled down in one spot for long enough to get a serious job and a flat with a lease for more than 6 months, you would have laughed in your own face. Although, you could say that about anything you had done as of late. Your recent life decisions had been everything but predictable.

“I know. I’m just not thrilled to be the only female working the bar. The guys here sketch me out and I’m not too keen on getting womanized in a foreign country. That was on my mind enough as is when I was living in my parents’ house,” you joke. As lighthearted as you and Tati were being, you very much did feel uneasy. After travelling the United States for nearly 3 years after high school, you felt that you needed to move on to something bigger and more exciting, but you had never left the country before and you knew only one person here.

You had always been the spontaneous type. Your parents worried about you most of your life, as you were extremely impulsive and constantly making brash decisions. When you turned 18 and decided to take off across the country on your own instead of going to college, they were absolutely furious. You went nonetheless, what they thought had never stopped you before. Your excursion was originally only going to be a year long, but you absolutely loved being on the road. You had met so many wonderful people and seen so many wonderful things that going home never once crossed your mind. You just kept on sleeping in hotel rooms and on strangers’ couches until you turned 21.

That couldn’t last forever, though. You were getting bored of the lower 48 states, and your parents, still completely livid that you were ‘wasting’ their college money on what they saw as a cross-country bender, cut you off financially. It was an extremely stressful time, you can vividly remember searching for hours on end for roommates and jobs in Europe before meeting Tatiana and getting a bartending job in the UK.

Now, 2 short months later, you were in London, living alone with a stranger. Luckily, though, you and Tati were getting along famously and your flat already felt like home. You were eager to start this new adventure.

Tati looked over at the clock before pouting a bit and resting her hand on your knee. “Looks like it’s time for your first day of work, love.”

“Shit. I’m nervous. Do I look okay?” You got up out of your seat and did a little spin for Tati. She squealed and gave you a hug.

“You look fantastic, love. Now go make some money!”

You smiled at your new friend and bid her farewell before walking towards the back of the club. Once you approached the door with a sign that read “EMPLOYEES ONLY”, you took a deep breath. Here we go kiddo. New job. New country. New life.

The second you placed your hand on the door, a large man barged through it. The man huffed and began to tell you that you couldn’t go into the kitchen unless you were an employee. He stopped his lecture and just smiled and when he noticed you were in the club’s uniform of a black dress, Mary Jane heels, and a red name tag, though.

“Oi! You must be Y/N, then?” He chuckled. When you shyly nodded he gave you a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “I’m your manager, Chuck. Let’s get you behind the bar, shall we?”

**********************

After an hour or so of Chuck showing you where things were, how to ring people up, how to use the cash register, and making sure you actually knew how to make drinks, he left you on your own to serve customers. There were only a few stragglers left in the club as it was near closing time, and all you had done the whole night was pass out some tequila shots to a group of rowdy middle aged women and make some small talk with a man who reminded you a bit of Frank Gallagher from a show called Shameless that you used to watch back home. You were exhausted and started to clean up behind the bar so you’d have less to do when the bar closed for good. It was nearly 2 in the morning and all you wanted to do was get out of your tight ass dress and your heels.

“What kind of work uniform is a slutty dress anyway, huh? I look like I work on the corner” you mumbled to yourself as you wiped down some glasses.

“I think you look lovely, miss,” a voice said from the corner of the bar. His accent was unlike most men in Londons’ and his voice was raspy and thick. His sudden presence startled you a bit, making you jump a bit and let out a gasp.

“Didn’t mean to creep up on yah and scare yah like that, I’m sorry.” The man chuckled. When you turned around you saw an attractive man, maybe a bit older than you, smirking at you and smoking a cigarette. He had messy hair and a tee shirt on, you thought he looked like he had just gotten out of bed.

“You’re alright, it’s my fault for zoning out while on the clock. What can I get for you?” You smiled weakly, partially hoping he’d just order a quick drink and then get out of your hair so you could go home.

“Well, what are you good at making?” the man asked. “I’ll take anything as long as it’s alcoholic.”

You smiled. Making drinks for friends back home had been one of your favorite things to do, and you were excited to show off your skills to an actual customer. “Well, I’ve wanted a grapefruit daiquiri since the beginning of my shift. How does that sound?”

“That sounds fantastic,” the man rubbed his hands together in excitement, “but first I’d like to know how long you’ve been in London. You sound quite American.”

Oh brother, you thought. The attractive stranger seemed to be here to stay and the idea of making conversation when you were this tired made you want to cry. If you had been any less worn-out you would’ve been more than eager to talk to him, brown eyes were always a weakness of yours and there was something particularly enticing about this boy’s, but right now you just wanted to curl up into a ball and sleep.

“Well go on then, don’t just stare off into space and leave me hanging,” the boy said.

“Sorry, I’m just a bit tired. I’ve only been here for a few days now.”

The boy was rather amused by this. “A few days? And here you are working the closing shift at one of the best bars in London? I’m going to need some more information, love. You’ve drawn me in now.”

The boy’s excitement perked you up a bit. You had been rather proud of yourself to land a job at such a well-known club with only over-the-phone interviews, and you weren’t going to miss the opportunity to brag a bit. Especially to a cute boy.

“Yeah, I went to bartending school like right after my 21st birthday back in the states and then when I was looking for jobs here in the UK a few months ago I saw there was an opening here. I was really surprised to even have gotten an interview, especially since we had to do everything over-the-phone,” you beamed, knowing that it was impressive to get a job like this in the way you had. The boy looked at you intently while you made his drink. His eyes focused on your hands gripping the cocktail mixer and when you began to shake he had to do his best to hide a smirk.

“You know I never caught your name,” the boy cleared his throat and broke the momentary silence.

“You could’ve looked at my name tag,” you murmured just loud enough for him to hear and rolled your eyes playfully.

“Well I’m sorry Miss Sassy, I find it impolite to stare at a woman’s chest without knowin’ her. Not my fault that’s where your name tag is,” the stranger chuckled, then looked closely at the red tag pinned to your dress. “It’s nice to meet you Y/N. I’m Alex.”

you did your best to hold in a giggle. Alex sounded good saying your name, his accent was rich like honey and you couldn’t help but think about how it’d sound in…other situations.

“It’s very good to meet you, Alex, now here’s your daiquiri,” you said after pouring the contents of the shaker into a martini glass and adding a sprig of mint to the top. You slid the glass across the bar and nodded your head in satisfaction when he took his first sip and let out a little laugh.

“My goodness, Y/N, that’s a fantastic drink.”

“Thought you might like it. Now drink it quickly, it’s nearly closing time and I’ve still got to wipe down the counters and walk myself home,” you imitated pointing at a watch in your wrist.

“Walk yourself home? Love I couldn’t let you do that. Why don’t you let me finish this drink while you clean up and I’ll escort you home. Wouldn’t want anything to happen to you,” Alex proposed. If it had been anyone else you would’ve politely declined the offer, you knew that walking with a complete stranger in the middle of the night was just as sketchy if not more so than walking alone. But something about Alex made you want to trust him. Even when he had been checking you out while you were making his drink he hadn’t been creepy, his brown eyes had a sort of innocence to them and his smile was soft. You felt comfortable with Alex, and thought his company might be nice on the walk home.

“Deal.”

“Brilliant. Now get to work, Y/N, I’ll be done with my drink before you know it.”

54 notes · View notes

chipper9906 · 3 years

Text

Bound To You - Chapter 14: One Last Chapter - Part One

< - - - Previous Chapter

WARNING: SPOILERS FOR SEASON 15

NOTE: Pairings and Ratings Will Change As Story Is Updated

Pairings: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester

Rating: General Audiences

Chapter Word Count: 11,195

Overall Word Count: 116,704

Status: Multi Chapter Fic - In Progress (14/15)

Chapter Preview:

Castiel knew there was nothing he could say to help alleviate Dean’s guilt. This was just something he was going to have to feel. So, instead, he reached out across the table, pulling out one of Dean’s crossed arms from under him and intertwining his fingers with Deans. “We can’t change the past, Dean.”

Dean just barely managed to pull the side of his mouth into a smile, reaching out with his other hand and placing it over their combined ones. “Would probably fix a lot of our problems if we could, huh?”

“I don’t know about that…” Castiel uttered softly, finding himself falling into the endless shades of forests in Dean’s eyes. “I quite like where we’ve ended up.”

Link To Fic

Click Below To Keep Reading

Authors Note: "One last chapter!" I said... Yeah...

Basically I, uh, I may have been a bit too confident in my writing abilities? And severely undercalculated how long it would take to write out all that I had planned...

So... it's gonna be the last chapter: part one and part two. Y'know, like all good books into movies do. (Seriously though, if I tried stuffing it all into one chapter it wouldn't be out till next Thursday at the earliest and would be around 20,000+ words long, so... two parts!)

* * *

They didn’t get married in three months. So, Sam lost his bet, much to a smug Eileen’s delight.

But then they didn’t get married in six months, either. So Eileen basically handed back the twenty dollars Sam had given her three months prior.

But there was a reason they didn’t get married in that time.

It was because Dean had a plan.

It was a four-step plan, and Dean had a particular date in mind for one of the steps.

Step one he achieved only after a few weeks.

Cas was sat at the kitchen table that Saturday morning, munching blearily on a bowl of ‘Krunch Cookie Krunch’ and glaring out at the world like it personally offended him – Cas was not a morning person, as they quickly found out – when Dean walked into the kitchen and slapped the paper contract in his hand down on the table in front of Cas. Poor Cas startled so hard that he nearly flung a spoonful of milk and soggy cereal across the room, eyes wide awake now that Dean had gifted him a near heart attack at eight in the morning.

“Dean, what on Earth-,”

“Step One,” Dean said with a shit-eating grin, gesturing at the paper he had just put down.

“Step one of… what?” Castiel asked, pushing his half-eaten bowl of cereal away and picking up the piece of paper.

“That’s not for you to know yet,” Dean replied. “Or Sam and Eileen, for that matter. They’ll get to know what step two and step three is before you, though.”

Castiel’s eyes scanned across the paper in his hands, realizing what is it that had Dean looking quite so excited – and also jittery with nerves – as he waited for Cas’s reaction.

“I, uh… I actually went job searching shortly after we took down Chuck,” Dean tells him. “This was the first thing I found that seemed… possible. It’s construction work, here in Kansas. The guy said they rarely ever work out of state, in which cases it’s usually neighboring states anyway. Thought it’d be good to do some physical work, y’know? Not just sitting around at a desk all day; something where I can use my hands and feel like I’m actually doing something. I had the contract ready to sign and everything then, uh… y’know, everything happened.”

Castiel looked up from the contract in disbelief, only able to blink at Dean for a few seconds before his brain caught up to reality. “You… you got a job?”

“Somehow,” Dean said with a sheepish chuckle. “Guy called up to ask if I was still interested in the job offer, as they hadn’t heard from me in a while. Told ‘em I was in an accident and was bed-ridden for a while – which is partly true – but that I was given a bill of clean health and the all-clear to return to work, so… he asked if I still wanted it, and I took it.”

“You got a job,” Castiel repeated once more, staring blankly up at Dean in a way that made Dean wonder if he had misjudged how Castiel would react to the news.

“Um… yes?” Dean offered his answer hesitantly, unsure as to whether he was about to celebrate alongside Cas or suffer through one of their first real arguments as a couple.

It was a relief when Castiel’s face broke out into a huge happy smile – crow’s feet and all – nearly tripping over his chair as he engulfs Dean in a hug that squeezes all the air out of Dean’s lungs.

“I start on Monday, so maybe let’s not suffocate me before then?” Dean wheezes through the hug, returning Cas’s beaming smile as he released Dean from his death grip.

“I can’t believe it…” Castiel mumbled, partly to himself and to Dean. “You got a job.”

Dean snorted. “I’m not that useless, y’know.”

“I didn’t mean it like that. It’s more… what made you go searching for a job?”

“Gotta do something, right?” Dean answered with a shrug of his shoulders. “I mean, if I’m not hunting anymore then I’d just be sitting around all day going crazy.”

Dean could feel Cas go tense under him, the easy-going smile on his face slipping away as Dean’s words replayed in his head. “You… you’re not hunting anymore?”

“No, I’m not. And that’s not something I ever thought I’d say, but… I had been trying to get out before, y’know? Thought I’d ease myself out of hunting, maybe picking up the occasional hunting job every now and then – just had to work up the courage to tell Sammy my plans and get on with it. Then we caught wind of a Vamp nest and… well, you know the rest. I’d like to consider it a ‘wake-up call’. Somehow, I’ve been given a second chance, and I got you as part of it, too? Ain’t no way in Hell I’m risking fucking it all up again to hunt, Cas. This is it. This is our chance - and I’m taking it.”

For a moment, Castiel could only stand there in Dean’s arms, looking up to him in complete and utter shock. Dean Winchester not hunting was more of a pipe dream than anything for him – even just saying it didn’t seem right. Dean Winchester not hunting? It was almost like a paradoxical notion, too unnatural to consider being a part of reality.

And now… Dean had a job. And that in itself felt more like an assurance that Dean was telling the truth than anything else. He was trying, really trying to turn a new leaf, to live a life that he deserves to live – one that involves him.

“You’re giving up hunting… and you got a job…”

“Did I break you, Cas?” Dean asks, waving a hand in front of Castiel’s blank face. “Man, I thought when I told you you’d just say congrats and that’d be that, I wasn’t expecting for you to shut down completely-,”

Castiel cut Dean off by grabbing the sides of his face and pulling forward, leaning up to plant a kiss on Dean’s lips, whose muffled squeak of surprise had Castiel smiling into the kiss. Dean couldn’t help but smile back at the feeling of Castiel’s smile on his lips – which kinda ruined the whole aspect of the kiss – sending the two into hushed giggles of laughter shared between the small space between them.

“Damn, that’s all I gotta do to get a kiss out of you? Get a job? Wait till the paychecks start coming in and you see me filling out my tax forms – won’t be able to get you off of me.”

Castiel rolled his eyes at him, but the smile on his face remained - they often came around Dean, and usually stuck around for quite some time. “What about Sam and Eileen?”

“What about them?”

“Have you told them?” Castiel asked, glancing towards the kitchen entrance and into the hallway that leads to their room.

“Nah, not yet. Wanted you to be the first to know.”

“Do, um… do you think Sam will keep hunting without you?”

That gave Dean pause. Would Sam keep hunting without him? Before, he assumed Sam would just kinda stop since he could no longer physically hunt. Now he can hunt again, but is choosing not to… would Sam still hunt?

The only time Sam had ever really gone on hunts without him by his side was during that shole ‘soulless Sammy’ fiasco, and that version of Sam isn’t one he considers to be his real brother. Would it make him unbelievably, nail-bitingly nervous to know his brother was out on a hunt without him, out of view and out of reach, unable to sense whether his little brother is in danger? Abso-fucking-lutely. But, then again… Sam has Eileen. Eileen is just as gifted as a hunter as they are – raised into the life, just as they were.

“I… I honestly don’t know,” Dean answered. “Guess we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”

Cas nodded slowly at his answer, glancing back over to Dean’s job contract on the table. “I’m human now…”

“Uh… yeah…?” Dean said, wondering if Cas was trying to word that as a statement or question.

Castiel sank back into his chair, keeping his eyes fixated on the piece of paper in front of him, drumming his fingers against the table. “I should probably get a job, too,” Cas continued, bringing his gaze back up to Dean.

“You don’t have to-,”

“Maybe not, but I want to,” Castiel argued. “It’s a part of being human. Work to earn your keep. I can’t just… sit around. I’ve always had something to do, Dean. I suppose I could apply for a position at the Gas N’ Sip just outside of town?”

“The Gas N’ Sip?” Dean asked, unable to hide the judgment in his voice at Cas’s career choice.

“This may come as a surprise to you, but I enjoyed my work, Dean. I was given a list of tasks to do. A routine that was easy to follow. Comfortable, and… predictable.”

“You didn’t seem to predict that I was gonna show up one day,” Dean said with the same satisfied grin he wore on said day, dropping down into the chair opposite Cas.

“That… was a surprise,” Castiel agreed. “After you kicked me out of the bunker without giving me a reason, I assumed my role in Metatron’s plan and causing the angels to fall had irreparably ruined our friendship and would be unlikely to see you again.”

That wiped the smile off of Dean’s face. “Cas…”

“There’s no need to apologize, Dean,” Cas stopped Dean’s apology before it could even begin. “I know better now, of course. You did what you had to do for Sam. I understand.”

“Doesn’t make me feel any less shitty for doing that to you,” Dean mumbled down at the table, leaning forward and crossing his arms atop its surface. “I can still remember your face so damn vividly… You were all excited about being in the bunker, gushing about the water pressure and shoving burritos in your face… Seeing you in that damn hoodie and with your beard growing out, and… you just looked so human. So… vulnerable. And I kicked you out…"

“I don’t know about that…” Castiel uttered softly, finding himself falling into the endless shades of forests in Dean’s eyes. “I quite like where we’ve ended up.”

Dean huffed gently at that, looking down to their joined hands, feeling his fingers run absentmindedly over Castiel’s knuckles. It’s then, his fingers brushing over the soft skin of Cas’s, that the plan for Step Two all seems to fall into place in his mind.

“Yeah…” Dean says out loud, looking back up to meet Castiel’s inquisitive gaze. “Can’t change the past, right? But I got a whole lot of future with you to make up for it.”

* * *

Step two begins on September fifteenth – as part of Dean’s plan.

He had already booked the week off work for it – and how weird is that? Taking vacation – and then the plan officially began that Wednesday evening, when Castiel returned to the bunker at seven, looking about ready to drop dead after a grueling shift at the Gas N’ Sip.

His plans to drag Dean from whatever he was doing and pull him into bed for a well-deserved nap was ruined when he was met with an anxious-looking Dean sat at the library table, laptop open and spilling out its harsh light into the darkness of the bunker, phone in one hand whilst he chewed incessantly at his nails on the other hand.

“Dean?” Castiel asked as he stepped further into the bunker, pocketing the keys to the old second-hand pick-up truck he had purchased with his own money a month prior into his trench-coat pocket (he and Dean had argued back and forth over the purchase, with Dean insisting he just takes one of the old classic cars from the Men of Letters collection. The argument was dropped when Cas bought up how odd it would be for someone working at a Gas N’ Sip to pull up into work with an expensive classic car from the thirties.)

“What’s wrong?” Castiel asked upon reaching the library table.

“Nothing,” Dean answered immediately, which of course meant that it wasn’t ‘nothing’. After a few seconds of disbelieving stares from Cas, he sighed and placed his phone down on the table, rubbing a hand across his face. “Sam and Eileen went out on a hunt.”

“…Okay?” Castiel said, unsure what the significance of that was supposed to be.

Sam and Eileen had decided to stop hunting. Eventually. In no way were they picking up hunts as frequently as they used to, with the idea being that they’d slowly ease out of hunting, leave it to the younger ones, the next generation of hunters, to take on the task they had devoted most of their life to.

“Jody called about a suspected Vamp nest up in Illinois,” Dean explained. “She was too wrapped up with actual police work, and there weren’t any hunters available locally to do it, so… Sam offered to go.”

Castiel pulled out a chair opposite Dean, taking a seat as Dean once again picks up his phone, checking through the messages again like he had the past few hours. “I… I don’t understand. Why are you worried? You’ve been okay the past few hunts?”

“I don’t know, Cas. Something about this one feels… weird. Can’t explain it, just got some gut feeling that something ain't right. Already had it pretty bad, then…”

“Then what?”

Dean answered by flipping his phone around in his hands, offering it out for Cas to take. Castiel takes it, glancing down at the screen to see that the messenger app was open, displaying a text chain between Dean and Sam.

‘Message Received – 4:30 PM’

Sam: ‘Three more bodies now, Dean. THREE.

‘Message Sent – 4:31 PM’

Dean: ‘How is that even possible? You’ve been there, what, two hours?’

‘Message Received – 4:33 PM’

Sam: ‘Yeah, which probably means there are more bodies that just haven’t been found yet.’

‘Message Sent – 4:33 PM’

Dean: ‘So what you thinking?’

‘Message Received – 4:35 PM’

Sam: ‘I’m thinking that Jody’s estimate of a small nest might be a little off the mark. Eileen’s still down at the police station, trying to get some more info on the victims and where they were found. Once we track down the nest we can do some recon, try and get a better estimate of their numbers.’

‘Message Sent – 4:36 PM’

Dean: ‘Just don’t do anything stupid, okay? If it seems big, you call Jody. Don’t try and be the hero and take it on just you two – rope in some more hunters, guilt trip Jody into coming down if you have to.’

‘Message Received – 4:39 PM’

Sam: ‘Say’s the guy who would have charged in guns blazing already at this point.’

‘Message Sent – 4:40 PM’

Dean: ‘Good thing I’m not on the hunt then, bitch.’

‘Message Received – 4:40 PM’

Sam: ‘Yeah, otherwise I might have to drag your ass off a pole again, jerk.’

“And you haven’t heard anything since?” Castiel asked, even though the evidence of that being the case was in his hands.

“Yeah. No calls or anything. I know it’s only been a few hours, but… I can’t help but worry.”

“That’s understandable,” Castiel says, reaching across to hand the phone back over. “But I don’t think there’s any reason to be alarmed just yet. They’re probably just going to get dinner. Sam wouldn’t text you unless there was something new with the case, right? So his lack of communication doesn’t necessarily mean something is wrong.”

“Yeah… yeah. That’s true,” Dean mumbles. “You’re right… I know you’re right.”

“But you’ll still worry.”

“Yep…”

On September seventeenth, the Friday evening of that same week, Castiel returns home to almost the same scene as that Wednesday. Except, this time, Dean is frantically pacing about the library, looking about ready to start tearing out chunks of his hair.

Castiel can’t even get a word out before Dean’s head snaps up at the sight of him, rushing over to grab Castiel’s arm and lead him towards the hallway. “We gotta go, Cas.”

“Wha-,” Castiel tries to slow Dean down, which he does – only barely. “Dean, what’s going on?”

“It’s Sammy,” Dean answers, frantic eyes flickering between Cas and the hallway. “I think he’s in trouble.”

Dean is hurrying off down the hallway before Cas can even respond, huffing out a frustrated sigh at the former hunter before chasing after him. Dean is already tearing through his drawers for clothes when Cas makes it to their bedroom, watching as Dean hurriedly shoves some of their spare clothes into a duffel bag.

“Why do you think he’s in trouble?” Castiel asked calmly, hoping that keeping his voice steady and calm would help relax Dean a little.

It did not.

“This morning, he texted me saying that they tracked down the nest,” Dean answers, not even looking at Cas as he speaks, focused on grabbing his pistol from under his pillow and checking it over before sliding it in amongst the clothes in the duffel. “That was the last text I got. Said he and Eileen were heading in to see what was up and… nothing but radio silence since.”

“That doesn’t mean-,”

“But it could, Cas,” Dean stressed, whipping around to face him, pleading eyes digging into Castiel’s. “Look, I know you don’t want me going out there, okay? I know I promised not to do hunts anymore, but this isn’t a hunt. I have to see if he’s okay, Cas.”

Castiel exhaled sharply, stepping further into the room and letting the heavy door swing shut behind him. “It feels a little bit too much like déjà vu for me; one last hunt… another vampire nest…”

“I know,” Dean said, feeling himself deflate at the way Cas seemed to shrink in on himself. “But I have to do it, Cas. It’s my brother.”

Castiel held Dean’s begging gaze for a few moments more before closing his eyes with a heavy sigh, nodding his head in resignation. “I wouldn’t expect you not to. Not for Sam,” Then, he turns to the wardrobe he and Dean shared, pulling out a few pairs of shirts and slacks for himself, daring Dean to challenge him as he stuffed them into the duffel. “But you can’t expect me not to go, too.”

The knowing grin Dean gives him in return is somewhat surprising, pausing in his packing as Dean leans across the bed to place a chaste kiss on Castiel’s lips. “Wouldn’t dream of it, angel.”

* * *

Castiel knew Dean was especially worried when he threw him the keys to the Impala with a grunt of, “Here, you drive,” and slinking into the passenger seat before Cas could even look up from the keys in his hands.

Castiel couldn’t say he was too thrilled about the prospect of a ten-hour drive after working a nine-hour shift at the Gas N’ Sip, but… this was for Sam, after all. They were on the road by nine the same evening, headed down the US-36 East for what Cas knew was going to be a grueling and monotonous drive. Dean was all jitters next to him, his leg constantly shaking on the spot as he stares out of the Impala’s windows, the amber streetlights whizzing past only serving to intensify his anxiety.

“Knew I shouldn’t have let them go…” Dean mumbled out loud around three hours into their trip, phone still held tightly in his hands. “I ignored my damn gut, and look where that got me…”

“We still don’t know if anything’s wrong yet,” Castiel tries to assure him, briefly turning his gaze away from the stretch of road ahead to glance over at Dean. “There’s no use torturing yourself over the ‘what if's.’ All we can do is try and track and them down, and then go from there.”

Dean only grunted in response – whether in agreement, Cas had no clue – swiping up and down the brief chain of messages he got from Sam this morning like a new message was magically appear, assuring Dean that Sam and Eileen were okay.

Around the six-hour mark, Dean chucked his phone into the backseat with a frustrated grunt. A sign advertising a nearby rest stop approached overhead, and Dean quickly tapped at Castiel’s arm with the back of his hand, gesturing to the sight before it disappeared out of sight. “Pull over, Cas. I’ll take over.”

“Are you sure?” Castiel asks, flicking on the indicator and switching to the right-hand lane. “I can keep driving-,”

“Nah, you deserve a break,” Dean cut him off. “Besides, I think I need the distraction right now. Can’t stop thinking.”

Whilst Dean found the constant passing of the lights ahead anxiety-inducing, Castiel found them almost soothing, feeling his eyelids begin to droop as he got comfortable in the passenger seat, the lights of the passing cars beginning to blur together until there was nothing but darkness.

Around the nine-hour mark, just as the horizon was shifting from that dark purplish to the soft orange glow of the approaching sunrise, Dean let his eyes drift away from the road to his angel sleeping peacefully next to him. Castiel has curled into himself on the seat, facing towards Dean with an arm outstretched, his hand having come to a rest atop Dean’s thigh at some point in his slumber. Dean felt his mouth pull into an affectionate smile at the sight of him, finding it much more difficult than usual to return his gaze back to the road.

Somehow, now he was a human with his messy bed hair, tired bags and dark circles under his eyes, and the slightly darker, patchier five o’clock shadow from missing a few days of shaving… Cas never looked more like an angel in his eyes.

“If only you knew, Cas,” Dean spoke softly to the slumbering man next to him, letting out a small chuckle as the exit sign for ‘Pontiac, Illinois’ passed overhead. “If only you knew…”

* * *

Dean gently shook Castiel awake as they pulled into ‘The Delight Motel’ (Dean could already tell from its crumbling exterior that this would not be a delight), waiting for Castiel to come to his senses a little before making an attempt to speak to him. No one can understand the English language five seconds after waking up…

“Here,” Dean said as Castiel wiped the sleep from his eyes, handing him a Styrofoam cup of fresh, hot coffee. “Stopped at a drive-through while you were out; thought you’d appreciate some caffeine.”

Castiel took the hot beverage eagerly, not even bothering to check its temperature before taking a hearty swig of the dark, rich drink.

“I asked them to put some honey in it too, before you ask,” Dean told him before taking a swig of his own black coffee. “You freakin’ weirdo…”

Castiel pulled the coffee away from his lips with a pleased hum, licking the few dregs that had clung to his upper lip. “Did I mention I love you?”

“You’ve mentioned it once or twice, yeah,” Dean intended for his reply to sound as sarcastic as possible, but the smile that crept onto his face transferred over to his tone. He took another swig of his coffee, gesturing with cup in hand to the worn-down sign of the Motel. “This is the place Sam and Eileen set up camp: room number seventeen.”

“We’re not going straight to the nest?” Castiel asked.

Dean shook his head. “I’m gonna book another room for the night. Thought it’d be best we go have a look around their room, see if there’s any clues to where they went. Besides, there’s always the chance that they’re just chilling in there and Sam just broke his charger or something right?”

Judging by the fact that Dean gets no answer upon knocking on the door – even going so far as to use their super special secret knock – even Castiel has to admit that maybe everything isn’t alright. After a few tense minutes of Dean attempting to pick the lock to the room, with Castiel standing watch and praying that no nosy motel attendants peer out the flimsy plastic vertical blinds, they finally break through into the room only to find…

Nothing.

Well, not nothing. The room was empty of occupants, but evidently lived in. The ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign still hung from the outside of the door, and so there had been no housekeeping staff to clean out the boxes of Chinese take-out cartons from the night before that had been hastily shoved into the trash, or the few bottles of beer still sat atop the mini-kitchen counter in the corner of the room. The double bed sat in the middle of the room was made, but clearly in a rush and clearly by Sam – Dean recognized that scruffy bed making style anywhere. For a moment, Castiel almost entertained the idea that they had already left, but then the sight of Sam and Eileen’s shared duffle stuffed underneath the motel’s rickety table, that of which still contained their spare clothes, Sam’s laptop, and a few research books, quickly disproved that theory.

“Nearly twenty-four hours,” Dean says, picking out a flannel shirt from the duffel and staring down at it with his jaw clenched so hard he could feel a headache coming on. “It’s been nearly twenty-four hours since they left for the nest, Cas. And they haven’t texted us to let us know they’re alright. It’s time to panic, right?”

“Maybe a little.”

* * *

Castiel would be lying if he said arming up for this hunt didn’t make him a little nervous. Sure, he had years of battles under his belt, but… hunting without being able to rely on his powers was always a nerve-wracking thought. Being mortal never felt more… inconvenient. Once upon a time, he would have simply tracked down Sam’s location, flown to him and Eileen, and smited every Vampire in eyesight, then heal any potential wound either of the two may have been inflicted.

Now… now he can only sit in the passenger seat of the Impala, leg bouncing in uncontrollable nerves as the dark of night begins to descend on them (because of course this would go down when it was dark, why wouldn’t it?) as they approach Sam’s last guess of where the Nest could be from the extensive list they had checked all day.

This was the last possible location on the list. If there was no sign of a Vamp nest, no sign of Sam and Eileen here… Well, truth be told, he didn’t know what they would do.

Castiel found himself so caught up not only in his nerves, but at the overwhelming desire to get Sam and Eileen back to safety, that he didn’t even notice the familiar barn that the Impala rumbled up to in the middle of nowhere. Desolate in location, its aged wooden exterior looking about ready to fall apart at even the gentlest blow of the wind. This was a barn that Castiel absolutely should have recognized, but… he was too preoccupied in his thought to.

Not even as he clambered out of the Impala, pulling out a machete from her trunk as Dean did the same, did Castiel notice the unusual golden light spilling from inside the barn. His heart pounded relentlessly in his chest, an annoyingly loud noise in his ears that made it harder to pick up any potential sounds from within the barn. Dean had only just begun to close the trunk to the Impala before Castiel was already storming towards the barn, eyes darting around its exterior with his hand’s gripped snugly around his machete’s leather handle, ready to swing at even the smallest of movements.

Castiel paused at the old wooden doors, taking a deep breath to ready himself before pushing on the doors as hard as he can, raising the machete in preparation as the doors creak and groan at him. He takes a few steps into the barn, barely registering the glass crunching under his feet, ready to face an onslaught of prepared Vampire’s that were most likely waiting for the other Winchester brother to show up when…

When that’s not what happens. His eyes are immediately drawn to the faded, black sigils that were painted around the interior walls of the barn, sigils that would keep out nearly every supernatural creature known to humanity, all apart from….

From angels…

This was… this was the barn. Their barn. The one where… where had had first shown himself to Dean, all those years ago. He can still remember it so vividly: the glass bulbs shattering over his head, blown out by what was once his immense holy power; the fear on Dean and Bobby’s face as he approached, not even caring about the shotgun slugs that filled his chest; the genuine amusement he felt as this man, the man that was labeled ‘righteous’, the one that would help lead Earth into paradise under God’s command… had just stabbed an angel of the Lord in the chest with a demon knife.

The very second Dean had done such a fearless but utterly foolish move… Castiel knew he would like the stubborn human stood before him.

The entire barn was covered in candles. They were placed on the ground, bathing what should have been a cold, dark barn in a warm, golden light that flickered across the sigils, almost making them appear as if they were shifting on the wooden panels.

The candles formed a walkway, leading to an old table that had been left untouched inside the barn for thirteen years. There, sat upon the table, having what looked like a pleasant conversation with their legs swinging underneath the table was…

“Sam?” Castiel asked in disbelief, feeling his grip on the machete relax somewhat. “Eileen? What…?”

“Hey, Cas,” Eileen greeted him with a gleaming smile, waving joyfully at the former angel.

“I… I don’t understand,” Castiel mumbles, dropping the machete down to his side when he’s unable to see any potential danger – apart from all these candles setting the old wood alight, of course. “You… you had gone silent. We thought you were hurt, or dead.”

“Yeah… not so much,” Sam answers, a little to Castiel’s frustration. “We were just here as the distraction.”

“The… what?”

Sam smiles at him, gesturing with his finger in a circular motion for Castiel to turn around. Castiel takes in their barely contained grins of pure glee before following Sam’s commands, spinning around on the spot to the entrance of the barn where-

Castiel’s brain comes to a sudden halt. Somehow, he’s able to register Sam’s encouraging pat on his shoulder after he had jumped off the table, him and Eileen passing by and exiting the barn, leaving Castiel to absorb the situation in front of him.

There, in the entrance of the barn, was Dean; knelt down on one knee with a lop-sided smile that put his nerves on full display. And there, sat within his hands held towards Castiel, was a deep blue colored velvet box, containing a single gleaming silver ring that almost appeared gold as the light from the candles were reflected in its polished metal.

“Step Two?” Dean say’s like it’s a question - an offering. “Told you Sam and Eileen were going to have to be involved for Step Two – and that they’d know before you.”

Castiel still hadn’t said anything. In fact, he hadn’t done much in terms of a reaction whatsoever – unless you count blinking rapidly down at Dean as he knelt down on the cold hard dirt. “Uh, Cas? You, uh… you gonna say something, or should I keep going with the speech I had planned? Coz I think I might have knelt in some glass here and it’s kinda painful…”

At Castiel’s continued silence, Dean took the opportunity to carry on with the speech he spent longer working on than he’d like to admit. “Thirteen years, Cas. Thirteen years ago to this date, you walked into my life. Back then, you were another monster to add to the list. Another seemingly overpowered being to throw a wrench into the plans. If someone told me those thirteen years ago that I’d become best friends with that being? I’d assume they were drunk off their ass. If they then told me that thirteen years later, I’d be proposing to him? I would have personally dropped them off at the psychiatric ward myself.

“Now? Now, I’d check them out of that hospital, buy them a cold beer and thank them for planting the idea in my head. Coz all them years ago… it seemed crazy even then to know an angel, let alone realize I was starting to care for him. Then, eventually… I would fall in love with him.”

Dean cleared his throat as Castiel shuffled closer to him, eyes fixated on the ring sat snugly within its velvet pillow. “You know, back when we met it’s – heh – I guess it would almost be cheesy to say that sparks flew, huh? And while I know cupids technically exist… I don’t believe there was a cupid there that day. I don’t think that we were destined to be, that there was some plan in place that required our courtship. I think… I know, that what we have is real because we chose it for ourselves. It may have been God that forced us together, but it was us that helped our friendship bloom into something more.

“And while Cupid might not have been there that day to shoot an arrow through your chest… I sort of did it for him my own way,” Dean swallowed nervously. “I thought it was only right that the blade I once used to pierce your heart should be used to represent my love for you; how me, of all people, managed to capture your heart, Castiel.”

“This…” Castiel croaks out, eyes darting between the ring in Dean’s hand and his expectant face. “This is the demon blade?”

“Was the demon blade. Had it melted down,” Dean answered. “Look, Cas - you know I’m not the greatest at words and ‘speaking my feelings.’ Honestly, I’m surprised I managed to get through all of that without forgetting anything, but… I don’t think I even needed any of that speech. All that matters is that I love you, Castiel. Castiel, Cas, Buddy, Sunshine… lots of names I’ve called you over the years,” Dean plucked the silver ring out of its box, holding it out to Cas. “How does ‘husband’ sound?”

“You’re not joking, are you?” Castiel whispers. “You’re… you’re proposing… to me?”

“Had been planning to the second we got you back, Cas,” Dean said. “There were so many times where I’d wake up with you next to me, and you’d smile just from the sight at me, that I nearly asked you right then and there. Sam was so excited to be a part of this though, couldn’t do that to h- - oof-,”

Dean got the wind knocked out of him as he suddenly found himself with an armful of (still to him) angel, landing on his back with a mixture of a pained grunt at the near six-foot man landing on his ribs and a surprised bark of laughter at said man launching himself at Dean. Whatever noise he made was quickly silenced by Castiel’s lips claiming his own, keeping a firm grip on the ring in his hand (didn’t want to lose that) whilst his other hand came to rest on the side of Cas’s face. It wasn’t exactly a comfortable position; with shards of glass poking at him underneath his shirt and one of Cas’s knees dug painfully in his thigh and a sharp elbow resting on his ribs – but the firm weight of Castiel atop him, pushing into the kiss like he couldn’t get enough of him, more than made up for all that other stuff.

“You’re an ass for tricking me into thinking Sam and Eileen were in trouble,” Castiel gets out in a rush once he pulls away from Dean. “And if I was a pettier man, I would reject your proposal for putting me through that terror.”

“Is that your way of saying yes?” Dean asks through the blissful smile already breaking out onto his face. He already knew the answer before he had even asked, of course (maybe there was a little part of him worried about Cas saying no, but to be fair, he’ll probably be double checking with Cas that he ‘loves’ loves him when they’re in their nineties chilling out together in rocking chairs.)

Castiel pushed himself off of Dean, holding out a hand to pull Dean up. Dean took his hand, letting Cas pull him up until they were both sat on the glass-covered floor of the barn, smiling at each other in the candlelight like the two idiots in love they were. “You’re a fool if you think I would have any other answer than ‘yes,’ Dean Winchester.”

Dean flipped around Cas’s hand that was still wrapped around his, silently muttering a prayer in his mind that the ring would fit as he slid it onto Castiel’s ring finger (he didn’t think there would ever be a more nerve-wracking time in his life than when he was wrapping that damn measuring tape around Castiel’s finger as he slept; just waiting for him to startle awake and either punch the strange dark figure messing with his hand at two o’clock in the morning, or have the proposal spoiled months earlier).

“Guess that makes it official,” Dean said. “Guess I can’t call you ‘husband’ just yet, but… ‘fiancée’ sounds good for the time being, right?”

* * *

Planning the wedding was surprisingly easy.

It wasn’t all ‘panic over what flowers to use, what food to serve, where guests will sit’ and all that other crap you saw in tv shows and movies. Mostly because… there wasn’t really much to plan. It wasn’t going to be a traditional wedding – and really, it would be weird if it was. Traditional just… wasn’t their style.

Funnily enough, the ceremony itself was going to be small - just as Dean had pictured all those months ago. The few decisions they had to make took barely more than a few minutes of discussion at the map table over the course of one night. Although, that’s not to say that his little brother didn’t put in a downright flattering amount of effort; going so far as to sketch up some ideas and lists on one of those whiteboards on wheels, talking enthusiastically about where exactly the ceremony could be and whatnot.

“It does sound nice to do it early February,” Castiel mused at Sam’s suggestion.

“Oh yeah, all that snow?” Eileen said. “You can almost picture it, right? Blanketed on the ground, all on the trees, a perfect winter backdrop.”

“Yeah, but… I’d rather not have to freeze my balls off,” Dean said. “How about sometime in the spring? You know, new beginnings and all that. Me and Cas, starting a new chapter of our lives. And, y’know, it’d be nice to say my vows without my teeth chattering.”

“Okay, so… we got the guest list mostly completed…” Sam said, tapping at the hastily written out list in front of him. “You still want Claire to be at the ceremony, Cas?”

Castiel nodded in answer.

“Alright… So, at the ceremony itself it’s just us and Claire… and uh…”

“And…?” Dean said.

“Well, it’s just… Rowena did technically ask you to invite her to the wedding,” Sam brought up. “And, you know, I was thinking… we’re gonna need someone to officiate the wedding, right? So…”

“Isn’t that like… against the law and nature?” Dean asked incredulously. “A witch? Who’s died and come back multiple times, now the Queen of Hell… being the one to marry two dudes in the Midwest, one of which was a former angel and the other a dude who was once a demon?” Dean just barely caught Castiel’s eye before all four at the table burst out into fits of laughter at the notion of what Dean had just described.

“You know what? Why not!” Dean said, throwing up his arms with a smile still plastered on his face. “Better than a stranger. And she did technically ask… I mean, screw tradition, right? We’re already breaking tradition having Claire walk Cas down the aisle – the daughter giving the father away.”

“How are we even going to ask Rowena?” Castiel asked. “Does she… have a phone?”

“Don’t think so,” Sam said. Then, another small smile crept onto his lips, huffing out a laugh as the realization struck him.

“What?” Dean asked at Sam’s laughter.

“Nothing, just…” Sam cleared his throat. “We’re… probably going to have to hand the invitation over to a cross-road demon or something… Already picturing the look on its face as it hands over a fancy piece of card with ‘You are cordially invited to the wedding of Castiel and Dean Winchester’ printed on it.”

As it turns out… that’s exactly what happened. Dean had put on his most charming smile as he stood sweating and dirty at the cross-roads, shovel in one hand and invitation in the other as the crossroad demon stood in front of him looked like he wanted nothing more than to rip out all of his internal organs and let the Hellhounds use them as a chew toy. It was a downright miracle the demon didn’t decide to break allegiances with Rowena right there and then…

One week before the wedding, things were… calm. Like there wasn’t even going to be a wedding in one week. It felt… normal, Dean supposed. They were just sat around the kitchen table that night, chowing down on burgers made by yours truly, talking about a potential shape-shifter case up in Wyoming when Sam said, “Hey… you know what I just realized? You guys are gonna be married. By law.”

“Yeah, hopefully, so long as the registry accepts our completely fake documents,” Dean says around a mouthful of meat and cheese.

“It's just… it's crazy, right? I mean, Cas, I’m gonna be your ‘brother-in-law.”

Castiel sucked off some grease that has dripped down his finger, leveling Sam with a bemused stare. “I already considered you a brother to me, Sam.”

“Wow, you guys are very… nonchalant about getting married,” Eileen said.

“I wouldn’t say ‘nonchalant’,” Castiel said, looking forlornly down to the empty space on his ring finger where Dean’s ring once was; having decided to remove the ring a month before the wedding, to use at the ceremony itself. He was looking forward to getting it back.

“Yeah, I think we just… don’t really consider the importance of the ‘law' parts of it,” Dean said.

“Winchesters? Not caring about the law? I’m shocked.” Eileen said with a grin, hand to her chest in fake shock.

Dean rolled up his napkin and chucked it at her for that comment, getting his plans thwarted by a protective swipe from Sam along with a less than pleased glare. “I'm just focusing on the important stuff, like pledging to spend the rest of my life with this dumbass next to me,” Dean said, jabbing a thumb as Cas. “Then having a nice little celebration with the people in our lives that may very well die at any given moment. We're not focusing on ‘related by law’ stuff and crap like that, right Cas?”

But when Dean looked over, he saw that Cas was sitting oddly still on his chair, staring wide-eyed into nothingness as a thought washed over him. “I… I punched my future father-in-law…”

“You… you what?” Dean spluttered, exchanging bewildered stares with Sam. “You never met our Dad – when the hell did you manage to punch him?”

“We, uh… we became acquainted in Heaven,” Castiel tells them, nervous eyes darting between the two brothers.

“And you punched him?” Dean asked. “What did he do that made you punch him?”

“I saw him,” Castiel answered simply. Dean and Sam’s heads whipped around to face each other, keeping up the astonished appearance for only a few more seconds before bursting out into laugher. Castiel visibly relaxed at the two’s apparent amusement at his act of violence against their father, even going so far as to crack a smile at the (admittedly) humorous memory.

“Wait, wait – let me get this straight,” Dean leaned up from his laughing fit, placing a hand on Castiel’s shoulder as he asks, “So you walked into heaven… saw my Dad… and before he could even say anything to him, you walked right up and punched him?”

“He got a few words out,” Castiel defended himself. “Not the whole sentence and, quite frankly, I wasn’t listening to what he was saying at the time anyway.”

“So, your first act in Heaven was… to commit an act of violence?” Eileen asked.

“It was deserved,” Castiel mumbled darkly.

“Man… first family dinner up in Heaven is gonna be awkward, huh?” Dean said, picking up his glass of coke from the table (Cas had kept up his insistences that Dean stays sober as long as he could) and leaning back against his chair. “Does, uh… Does mom and dad know? About us?”

Castiel could pick up the shift in Dean’s tone immediately; gone was the light-hearted tone, left now with fear of judgment disguised under indifference that Dean had much practice with. “They do,”

“And, uh…” Dean paused to take a sip of his coke, taking advantage of the opportunity to get his thoughts under control. “What do they think?”

Castiel stayed quiet for a moment, thinking over his words carefully. “Your father is… a product of his time, Dean. I think it’s fair to say that I wasn’t the person he was thinking of when he pictured your partner.”

“Right…” Dean mumbled, casting his eyes down to his plate. The few remaining fries on his plate didn’t seem quite as appetizing anymore. Sam looked uncomfortable to be part of this conversation, mostly because Castiel’s answer was one he was expecting.

“But-,” Castiel said, the continuation catching Dean’s attention. “Both him and your mother recognized that you are happy, Dean. And that’s all they want for you.”

Dean glanced up at Cas at that. “Dad really said that?”

“Your mother was rather unimpressed with your father’s attempts at ‘playing nice’ with me,” Castiel tells him, getting a huff of laugher from Dean. “To be fair, I did punch him immediately upon meeting him, so it’s not too surprising he wasn’t too pleased with me. I… I hope you two aren’t too upset that I punched your father…”

“Someone had to do it…” Eileen mumbled around the glass she had raised to her mouth.

“Do I mind?” Dean asked. “By the sounds of it, Cas, you were defending my honor. I should be flattered. And, you know… technically I’ve punched your dad before – not that it did anything to the bastard, but it felt damn good to do it.”

“Huh,” Sam said then, pointing between Dean and Cas. “I know you said you don’t care about the whole ‘law’ thing, but… once you’re married, God himself will be your father-in-law, Dean.”

“If he was still alive, Lucifer would have been your brother-in-law,” Eileen brought up with a teasing grin.

“And Gabriel. And Michael. And Raphael. And every other angel,” Castiel added.

“Dude – you wanted to bang your aunt-in-law!” Sam exclaimed, breaking out into peals of laughter at the horrified look Dean gave him.

“That wasn’t my choice! It was the damn left-overs from the Mark…” Dean grumbled in defense, only feeling marginally better at the teasing when Cas wraps a leg around his under the table. “Whoa, wait… won’t Jack become related to me by law, too?”

“Thought you didn’t care about the ‘law’ thing?” Sam said.

“Shut up, it’s interesting. He’ll be like… my officially adopted son or something.”

“Nephew, technically,” Castiel corrected him. “On a biological level, I am Jack’s uncle. You will become his uncle-in-law.”

“This is just plain weird…” Eileen said. “You guys have one messed up family.”

“Yep. And now you’re part of, too,” Dean said, throwing a wink Sam’s and Eileen’s direction before taking another sip of his teeth-rottingly sweet drink. “Welcome to the world’s most dependent and messed up family, you two. You’re gonna love it.”

* * *

On the morning of May 14th, Dean wakes up to an empty bed. Not all too surprising, considering he had fallen asleep to an empty bed, too. It was one of the few traditions they decided to keep – not seeing your significant other the night before, then seeing them again for the first time at your wedding. Dean stretched out his arm to the empty side of the bed, almost able to imagine the warmth of Castiel’s skin under his hand instead of the coolness of the bedsheets.

They decided not to go with some stuffy church that would probably have people looking down on them and cursing the government for forcing them to let two men be happy, God forbid. Instead, they decided there was no better place to get married than in the little found home of theirs.

The clearing Sam had found on one of his jogs was just a ten-minute walk into the woods surrounding the bunker. It was a beautiful spot, hidden away from prying eyes and filled with the green of freshly sprouting vegetation and leaves blossoming to life on the trees that hung overhead. The best part however was that, right at the end of the clearing, was a single beautiful weeping willow tree.

The second Sam showed him the clearing, Dean knew it just had to be where they got married.

They didn’t have to make too many changes to the clearing itself. What few logs and twigs littered about the forest floor were moved out of the way. Then, looking at the pile of wood they had made, Sam had the brilliant idea to lay out the smaller, thinner logs into a makeshift aisle leading up to the willow tree.

A quick visit later to Target, Sam came running back into the bunker with a bunch of small lanterns, mini candles, and some wire. Sam made quick work of setting up the lanterns, looping the wire around the low hanging branches of the surrounding trees and creating a trail of what would become twinkling lights above their heads during the ceremony once the candles were lit.

But now, here in the bunker, pulling himself out of bed, Dean felt… nervous. Yes, that’s what it was. He was nervous. Problem was… he didn’t know what he was nervous about. Obvious answer would be about getting married, but… that wasn’t it. The thought of marrying Castiel, of spending the rest of his life with Castiel, wasn’t making him nervous. Was it the thought of all those people at the reception after? Was he worrying that there wasn’t enough space for everyone, not enough food? Would they even all show up?

Such thoughts plagued Dean as he trudged over to his ol’ reliable FBI suit he had hung up the night before, ironed and ready to go for the big day (and not ironed with beer, this time). Usually, putting on the suit was a pain in the ass; always so stuffy feeling, not offering the same level of freedom as his usual attire of jeans and a flannel shirt did. Today… it never felt so good to slip into the suit, looking at himself up and down in the little sink mirror in the corner of his room as he shrugs on his suit jacket, brushing over the little creases that were missed in last night’s ironing session.

One thing was missing. His eyes were drawn over to the comfortingly familiar blue tie left neatly hung up on the hanger, soft under his hands as he carefully unwrapped it. He doesn’t usually wear a blue tie when he wears suits for interviews, typically opting for a traditional black tie to go with the suit jacket. Then again… this wasn’t his tie.

It was Cas’s.

It was his last parting gift before Sam and Eileen had to physically separate them, not to see each other again until later this evening, where he gets to watch his husband-to-be walk down the aisle to him. Castiel had untied the tie, sliding it out from around his neck and pressing it into Dean’s hands the same time he pressed one last kiss onto Dean’s lips with a whisper of, “Something blue, and something borrowed.”

Dean’s fingers trembled as he finished the knot to the tie, adjusting it around his throat until it was neatly tied, but still comfortable. He swallowed nervously, watching his Adam’s apple bob in the reflection of the mirror, before leaning forward and gripping the sink tightly, staring into his own wide, blown-out eyes.

“My name is Dean Winchester,” Dean spoke to the mirror. “Mary and John Winchester are my parents. Sam is my little brother. Jack is my surrogate son, soon to be nephew. And Castiel… Castiel is my best friend. My fiancé. The love of love my life. And I’m about to get married. Holy hell, I’m about to get married.”

“Not for a good few hours, but sure,” Sam’s voice to his left makes Dean startle, nearly punching the sink under his hands in his flailing. Sam was leaning against the doorway, already dressed up in his own formal suit and tie, watching Dean’s mini-breakdown with a raised brow. “You losing your memory again or something?”

“Nope, just…” Dean straightens himself from the sink, giving himself another look over in the mirror before turning to Sam. “Just trying to shake my nerves.”

Sam pushed away from the doorway, stepping further into his room. Dean gave his brother an appreciative nod, gesturing to his suit. “You don’t think it’s weird we’re using our FBI suits for this?”

“Not really,” Sam answers, taking a seat on the end of Dean’s bed. “Suits a suit, right?”

“I guess…” Dean mumbles, looking down at his own suit. “At least we didn’t have to shell out hundreds of dollars for a damn wedding dress you only wear once, huh?”

“You know… I could almost envision it; Cas wearing a pearly white dress as he walks down the aisle,” Sam said with a grin, waving out a hand in front of him as if he was actually picturing it. “Who’d you reckon would catch the flower bouquet toss?”

“Oh, we wouldn’t throw it,” Dean fires back. “Cas would walk straight over to Eileen and hand her the flowers – give you a clue to get a damn move on.”

Sam only rolls his eyes at him in response, crossing his arms across his chest as he does so. “Says the guy who knew Cas for eleven years before making a move. And it was Cas who took the first step!”

“Technically, I initiated our first kiss.”

“Cas confessed his love to you first,” Sam points out. “Which is… super weird. You got a love confession before a first kiss.”

“Yeah, well… me and Cas are pretty far from normal, Sammy. Only right our relationship is equally as backwards,” Dean said.

Sam frowned up at him as Dean played around with his tie again, standing up and smacking his brother’s hands away before attempting to fix the tie for him. “You gonna tell me what’s got you so worked up?”

“Nothing,” Dean answered and, judging by the look Sam briefly shot up at him, he didn’t believe Dean one bit.

“You know, getting cold feet is fairly common-,”

“It’s not cold feet,” Dean refuted with a shake of his head. “God, Sam, I… I’m so ready for this. Which is weird, because… I’d always imagined you’d be standing at my funeral, not my wedding.” Sam’s fingers stilled in their work at that, and Dean quickly continued before Sam could say anything. “It’s not like that now.”

“Good,” Sam replied, finishing up his work on the tie and brushing a hand down it. “So… why are you nervous?”

“I don’t really know, I guess I’m…” Dean paused, finding himself unable to meet his little brother’s concerned gaze. “What if… What if Cas changes his mind? What if he… he doesn’t show up? Or, what if he goes through with it, then regrets it? I wouldn’t exactly blame him; he finally has a shot at living a life, being human, and… what if he feels like he owes it to me or something to stick around?”

“Dean,” Sam says as gently as he can in preparation for the incoming blow. “You might just be one of the biggest dumbasses I’ve ever known.”

Dean doesn’t even blink at the insult. “Your point being?”

“You wanna know why I came in here?” Sam asked. “Because when I checked on Eileen and Cas, Cas was freaking out just like you are. He was worrying over whether you had changed your mind.”

“He was?”

“For some damn reason, yeah,” Sam huffs. “Seems you’re both dumbasses. Perfect fit for each other…”

Sam sighed at the apprehensive look that remained glued on his brother’s face, placing a comforting hand on his arm. “Listen… Cas loves you, okay? You know he does. He’s told you – many times before. Hell, he doesn’t even have to say it; everyone knows it just by looking at him. Cas loves you, and isn’t that all that matters? He’s going to be there, he wants to marry you and will always want to be married to you, because he loves you.”

Dean finds himself nodding along with his brother’s speech, exhaling heavily and brushing a hand down his suit for invisible dust. “Yeah… yeah, you’re right.”

“Course I am,” Sam says, taking his arm off Dean’s shoulder to slap him on the back. “Already had to give the same damn speech to Cas…”

“I thought it was a nice speech.”

Both Sam and Dean jumped in their skin at the voice that had appeared in the room. Sam found his hands searching for a knife in his jacket that wouldn’t be there, whilst Dean was planning the best route to his pistol under his pillow that involved skirting past the stranger that had teleported into the middle of his damn room.

Except, it was no stranger.

Dean saw Sam’s reaction before he caught sight of whoever it was that was now standing behind him - his narrowed, fight-ready eyes widening at the sight of the person, hand frozen in the pocket of his suit jacket. Dean didn’t even have to turn around to see who it was; because there, in the mirror, was where Dean caught the sight of an already smiling Jack; clad in the old suit that they had bought him for the brief time he had come along on hunts with them.

“Hello,” Jack greeted them cheerfully with a wave of his hand. “I wasn’t sure what time the actual wedding was, so I thought it’d be better If I arrived first thing in the morning in case-,”

Jack didn’t even get to finish his sentence before his still waving hand was grabbed by Dean, tugging him forward into a hug that enveloped the young boy until he almost disappeared under the layers of Dean’s jacket and dress shirt. He then barely had a moment to breathe before Sam jumped in on the hug, to which Jack actually did disappear between the two giant men that engulfed him in their arms.

“Seriously? Hello?” Sam asks in pure disbelief once Jack pries himself away from the two. “You’re more like Cas than I thought… years of nothing and then just… hello.”

“It’s… a greeting?” Jack stated the obvious.

“I can’t believe you’re here…” Dean told him, gesturing towards Jack and his attire. “You even got suited up.”

Jack looked down to himself at Dean’s gesture, glancing back up from his suit with a pleased smile. “I did; Mom told me it was expected of guests to wear formal clothes at weddings.”

“Well, yeah, but-,” Dean let out a laugh of disbelief. “You’re God; I imagine you can wear whatever you want.”

“I’m also still just… Jack,” Jack answered, a small frown creasing his forehead. “Being God doesn’t make me better than you.”

“I… I kinda think it does,” Dean said.

“You know what, we can get into the semantics of who’s better than who later,” Sam cut in before Dean and Jack could continue going back and forth with each other. “Jack… what are you doing here?”

The face Jack pulled at that could only be described as a ‘kicked puppy’ look. “Do you not want me here?”

“Of course I want you at my damn wedding, kid,” Dean quickly answered, sending a quick dark glare Sam’s way for his poor choice of words. “Don’t think for a second that’s not the case. We didn’t get to send you a physical invitation since, y’know… you don’t exactly have a deliverable address, but… we did pray to you. When we got nothing back, we assumed you were busy. Which, as God, I imagine you are.”

“I am,” Jack agreed.

“So… what, you took a break from your busy schedule to attend a wedding?” Dean asked.

“Yes,” Jack’s answer was straight-forward, leaving no room for argument. “I didn’t become God on my own. I never would have survived as long as I had without you, Sam, Cas… Before I was God, I was your family first. I think the world can wait a day for me to be here with you.”

“Kinda sounds like you’re desperate for a break yourself, huh?” Sam asked.

“A little,” Jack admitted somewhat sheepishly. “Being God is hard…”

“Hey, so long as you don’t write all of us into a life of pain for your entertainment? You’ll be doing better than the previous God,” Dean said, clapping the side of Jack's arm with a grin. “And… y'know, try not to destroy the world?”

“I'll try,” Jack promised, straightening his back and putting on his most serious face, clearly not picking up that Dean was joking.

Dean huffed fondly at the kid… God…. “Listen, Jack. I know I’ve said it a million times in prayer before, but… I also need to say it in person: Thank you.”

“What for?”

“For… bringing Cas back?” Dean said, like the answer should have been obvious. “Without you, I… well, I don’t really wanna think about what would have happened. From what Cas told us, you were there helping along the way; guiding us towards the spell, bringing back Cas's trenchcoat…”

“Bringing back Eileen,” Sam added, finding himself reaching out once more and giving Jack's arm a grateful squeeze. “You, uh… you saved us from a lot of pain, Jack.”

“It's the least I could do,” Jack said. “I… I wanted to do so much more than what I had. I wanted to step in during that hunt, but… then Cas got there before I could, and then I realized… this way, I could finally get the both of you to see what you refused to see.”

“See…what?” Dean asked.

“I'm sure Cas will tell you about what we discussed in Heaven when he wants to. As for you Dean, well… I needed you to see the real you.”

Dean shared a confused glance with Sam, turning back to Jack with his face scrunched in thought. “The real me was… being in a wheelchair?”

“Not quite…” Jack replied. “The real you -the qualities that make you, ‘you’ - aren’t tied to your abilities as a hunter. You were still here, doing all you could to protect your family, to keep Cas safe, and you didn’t need to be the soldier you were raised to be to do it. You leaned on your family instead, let them help you instead.

“When I was born… you saw me as a monster. I knew back then you hated me, were scared of me, but… I still wanted to be like you. Not because you’re a hunter that kills all the bad monsters, but because... I knew that the hate, the fear you had for me… it was because you wanted to protect your family. Protect the world, and… that’s who I wanted to be. Someone who cared about others. And you didn’t show me that through the gun training, or taking me out on hunts; I learned that through the times you shared your beers with me; snuck me extra fries when Sam wasn’t looking, took me out fishing with you, taught me how to drive. You and Sam… you taught me what it's like to be human. And knowing that, in having that experience… I think it'll make me a better God.”

Dean cleared his throat, trying to push away the lump that had suddenly appeared there at Jack's words. “That’s, uh….”

“Wow,” Sam said.

“Yeah… that,” Dean agreed with his brother’s assessment. “I… I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” Jack said. “You heard it, and that’s all that matters.”

“Cas is gonna be worried that I’m crying before he even shows up…” Dean mumbles, hastily wiping at his misty eyes. “Wait… Cas! Does Cas know you’re here?”

“Not yet, no,” Jack answered. “I was going to visit him next-,”

“Whoa whoa wait, hang on a sec,” Dean put a hand on him as if it would stop him flying away. “Maybe it'd be better to keep it a surprise, huh? Let him see you for the first time standing to us as he walks down the aisle.”

“Dude, you’ve really gotta stop springing these surprises on people,” Sam admonished him.

“Who doesn’t love a good surprise,” Dean shot back with a grin, throwing an arm around Jack's shoulder and directing the young God towards the door. “C'mon, take a look at the spot we picked out. We'll find the perfect spot for you to stand for Cas to get a clear view of you. Can't wait to see the look on his face…”

Next Chapter - - - >

#destiel #destiel fanfiction #destiel fic #destiel fix it #destiel fix it fic #fix it fic #castiel/dean #castiel/dean winchester #casdean #supernatural spoilers #season 15 spoilers

4 notes · View notes

surveys-at-your-service · 3 years

Text

Survey #406

“turned on all the lights, the tv, and the radio / still, i can’t escape the ghost of you”

Have you ever had an ulcer? No. Do you have any rare medical conditions? I believe AvPD is considered to be a rare mental disorder. Do you have to carry an epi pen? No. What color is your mailbox? I think it's black. I don't pay attention. Would you ever want a job working with animals? I'd love to. The thing is, without a degree in something, my duties working with animals would almost certainly involve cleaning up after them, which I am WAY too squeamish with fecal matter and vomit to do. It's extremely embarrassing, but I've never even been able to clean up after my own pets if they ever had an accident or got sick. I obviously couldn't do it with random animals. Did you have a good high school experience? It's... so odd, retrospecting on high school. In some ways, it was the best time of my life because of my memories with my friends and especially Jason, but at the time, I absolutely loathed it and was horribly depressed. But at least I saw a future for myself. I took better care of myself, all that stuff... That Brittany would be fucking mortified to get a glimpse at who she becomes. Have you ever watched any Monty Python movies? Which one is your favourite? I know I've seen some of at least one. Would you ever get a "below the belt" piercing? Nah. If a couple is married, do you think there should be any legal punishment if one person cheats? No...? Like don't get me wrong at all, I am firmly against cheating under any circumstance, but for there to be legal retribution seems extreme. What is the greatest source of anxiety for you? My future. Are there any hallucinogenic drugs you’d like to try? Nah man. What made you choose your current job? I'm unemployed. Do you feel uncomfortable on the dance floor? Or are you confident with you dancing abilities? Oh hunny, you won't see me on the dance floor. Unless MAYBE if the Cha-Cha Slide comes on, or the Cupid Shuffle. That's as skilled as I get, haha. Is it exciting to you to imagine having an affair with a teacher? ... No??????????? It's fucking creepy. Adultery isn't exciting. Do you like your smile? No. I absolutely look high when I smile. What is something silly that you believed to be true when you were a child? That I could invoke the traits of any animal, which I just referred to as my "animal powers." Like for example, if I "called upon" a kangaroo, I could jump higher. I was a weird fucking kid. Have you ever been in a relationship with someone you completely connected with on a mental/emotional level, but did not find physically attractive in any way? Was physical intimacy a problem? How did it work out? I was never really physically attracted to Girt, but it was never a big deal to me. I cared way more about his personality and how much he cared about me. We were never really "intimate," per se, we just would give each other a simple peck. It didn't work out, but not at all because of physical things. He was just too much of a brother to me. What classic or cult movie have you never seen and have no desire to? Hm. I know there's some, but I'm blanking. Does The Human Centipede count here? Like everyone knows about it, so I would assume it does. I have ZERO desire to see a second of that repulsive movie. Have you ever taken a real liking to a band/singer you never ever....ever thought you'd enjoy? Maybe Melanie Martinez? Her voice is so cutesy, as are some of her songs, but I really enjoy how dark her lyrics can be. People who know me would probably be shocked to hear I thoroughly like her. After seeing the movie Avatar did you suddenly view our Earth as ugly and/or boring? If you have not seen the movie, do you think it’s worth your time? I've seen a little bit of it, but I never finished it because I was very tired and chose to go to sleep. I actually do want to see the full thing, though; it looks very good. How helpful are your parents to you? Would they help you to pay for your first apartment? College? Where does the line end? My parents are truly incredible with helping me the best they are capable of. They helped me pay for school, among other things, but I doubt they'd help with my first home, whenever that is. I wouldn't really want them to, either, because that's my responsibility for sure. Do you like playing video games? If so, what do you usually play? I love video games, and horror is absolutely my favorite genre. I also love fantasy games though with deep stories. I've never been the best at playing super long games, like Final Fantasy games, even if I'm seriously invested in the story, though. I burn out. Have you ever sewn a garment? No. Are there any plants in the room you’re in? No. I don't bother with plants. What’s your highest level of education? Some college. What’s the most important thing in any kind of relationship? Proper communication, probably. If you wear lipstick, what’s your favourite colour to wear? I only really put on lipstick to occasionally take a picture, and it's pretty much always black. Is your style feminine, masculine or somewhere in the middle? Somewhere in the middle, I guess? Are there a lot of dragonflies around your house? I've never seen one around this house, and I doubt I ever will because it's too urban. When we lived in the woods, however, I saw them a lot. Of all the Disney couples, which one would you say is your favorite? Kovu and Kiara came to my mind first. Do you think it is cute/funny or disgraceful when a child swears? It's shocking, more than anything. You don't expect it. I don't believe it should be encouraged, but only because children just don't know when swearing really isn't appropriate. If/when you have a baby, how do you think you would want to decorate its room? I don't want kids, but I'll entertain the question and assume this is before the child is born and develops interests. Whether it's a boy or a girl, I'd probably go with a cutesy animal theme. Would you more likely buy a shirt with a picture of Mickey/Minnie Mouse, a Winnie the Pooh character, Snoopy, Hello Kitty, or Tweety Bird on it? None, honestly. Perhaps like, a gothic Hello Kitty. Of all the states you have been to, which one did you have the best experiences? Putting aside the AWFUL heat and humidity, I probably had the best time in Florida. I loved all the palm trees, seeing so many lizards on my grandma's patio, and going to Disney World was a blast. I liked that swimming pools were always warm, too. Have you ever had a crush on someone “too young” for you? No. Do you regret losing your virginity to who you lost it to? No. I was madly in love with him, so no regrets on that. If your boyfriend ever hit you, would you dump him? HA, BYYYYEEEEEEEEE MOTHERFUCKER. ZERO hesitation. Did the one person who hurt you most in your life apologize? He did, but I honestly don't know if he meant it. Is there anything you want to say to someone? It'll probably go unsaid for the rest of my life. If they were to televise a live execution, would you watch it? Yikes, hard pass. If you could be the president of the USA, would you be willing to do it? Noooo thank you. Did you wake up in the middle of the night? I always do. Does your animal sleep with you? My cat does. Venus obviously sleeps in her terrarium, but she is in my room. Last color you dyed your hair? Red. Will you keep your last name when you get married? Very unlikely. I don't like my last name. What are you looking forward to? Hearing back again from the woman whose wedding I shot literally two years ago. I thought she ghosted me, but she messaged me the other day about seeing the pictures again and going through them to actually buy some. I don't know why the hell it took her two years, but whatever, I guess? I spent two whole hours resizing the files and re-adding the preview watermark (I deleted the OneDrive folder for space forever ago, but I have the files still), so I hate to sound like an ass, but she better buy something. Between sweating my ass off on location when I shot the wedding, editing those 100+ pictures two years ago, and now re-doing the previews, I have invested so much goddamn time into them that yeah, I think I have the right to be pretty damn salty if I don't hear back from her again. If your significant other cut sex out of your relationship for any reason, what would you do? It'd be whatever. I mean sure, that sort of intimacy is a very special part of serious romantic relationships to me, but I can live without it pretty easily. What was the last thing you said out loud? "Thank you for dinner" to my mom. She brought home Hardee's. Who are your godparents? I don't believe I have any. Do you like Gushers? omggggg yes Can you touch your nose with your tongue? No. Is there a particular sport you follow on a regular basis? Nope. Are you waiting for something to arrive in the mail? No. Think of the last film you watched. Who was your favourite character? Uhhhh what was it... The Shining, I think? I didn't really develop a favorite. Do you have a friend whose name starts with ‘L’? Describe him/her. Lisa. <3 She's one of my WoW friends. She'll talk your ear off, but I don't really mind. She is SO sweet and caring for other people and loves to cook. She recently had triplets, and seeing as she had a son only months before accidentally getting pregnant with the triplets, she's obviously been MEGA busy so we haven't talked much lately. When you’re being kissed do you like it when they hold your face? Yeah, but not too early on. Doing that has a promise of seriousness and passion in it to me, and it would probably weird me out if that happened too soon. Last thing that made you cry? My health. Would you ever consider getting a piercing in your septum? Nah. I don't think it would look good on me. Do you enjoy being outdoors? If it's cool outside and I have a place to sit when I want to, yeah. Do people tell you that you have an accent? Only sometimes. It's definitely not as bad as your average Southerner, though. Do you enjoy watching fireworks on the 4th of July? Ha, what nice timing. I think they're very pretty, but I believe I went over in a recent survey how I don't encourage their usage in consideration of veterans with PTSD as well as being conscious of animals and the absolute terror it can cause for them. What’re some unspeakable subjects for you? So my sister is a children's social worker, and she shares a LOT of stories with Mom (and me, if I'm present) that I can't listen to. The ones that involve pedophilia and/or rape, especially from the child's very own parent(s), I just cannot listen to. Period. It's so fucking repulsive and just unimaginable to me how even a monster of a human can commit something THAT goddamn vile. What’s your opinion of root beer? I'm not a big fan. I mean I can tolerate drinking some of it, but I don't really *enjoy* it. Have you ever seen The Breakfast Club, and what’s your opinion of it? I have, and I didn't get the appeal at all. Did you have a Furby when you were younger? Oh god, I did. Those things are so creepy. If you had a baby boy, what would you name him? Damien, most likely.

#survey #surveys #random questions #lyrics: ''the ordinary world'' by the hit house

1 note · View note

goldenmessenger · 4 years

Text

TS Actor AU: Reach Out Your Hand Pt 1

Summary: Before recovery can come, you have to admit you have a problem first. In 2019, Roman’s been clean for about 6 years. In 2011, however? Clean is a long way away. He’s alone. Isolated. No-one to turn to. Except he might have one person. But Roman’s ignored him for the last 4 years. But then the voicemail comes.

Read on Ao3 here.

A/N: Hey everyone! So, I’m currently working on a multi-chapter fic set after the last two fics. But that’s probably going to take me a while. So in the meantime, have this fic that’s set 8 years before the others. This is some backstory on Roman, Remus, and Dillon, and how Roman got on the first steps to recovery. Also, I meant for this to be a one-shot, but it’s going to be a two-parter. It’s too long to post all at once. I apologize in advance for this, it’s really intense and a lot of whump and angst. I promise part 2 will make up for everything, and that’ll be up tomorrow.

As usual, let me know if you want to be added to the taglist! And once again, I apologize.

Content Warnings: Drunken texts, drug abuse, drug overdose, mild violence (vague mention), self-deprecating thoughts and language, whump, angst

****************************

Thursday, March 20, 2008

Sent at 11:24pm

Text from (xxx) xxx-xxxx:

happhy B-day roe

its me Rekus

Remus

i gootta new phonee

im sorry

iwas the worts

woest

worsr

Cant typw

To drukn

Miss u tho

First b-day wit out u

Do u mis me to?

See u on th news

Got that moie

Movie deal u wanted

Hop ur doin wel

That ur happy

M not

Mis u

Love u

****************************

Friday, March 20, 2009

Sent at 2:00 pm

Text from (xxx) xxx-xxxx:

Hey Ro, happy birthday,

it’s me again.

I wanna apologize for the mess that I sent last year. Thought you’d like to know I’m in a much better place now.

I’m in college in San Francisco, probably gonna live there after.

Gotta boyfriend, just like you always said you would if we didn’t have to deal with everyone’s expectations.

Went to therapy, boyfriend’s idea

Though he was just a best friend then

It’s been really helpful.

I was so awful to you.

I honestly wouldn’t blame you if you never wanted to see me again

You don’t have to forgive me, I just want a chance to talk

If you want to meet up

Just let me know

****************************

Saturday, March 20, 2010

Sent at 10:00 am

Text from (xxx) xxx-xxxx:

Hey Ro

Happy birthday again.

At this point, I know you probably won’t reply

This probably isn’t even your number anymore.

I don’t know why I keep texting you though

Closure, perhaps?

An inability to let go?

Whatever it is, it’s kinda sad

I can’t stop though

If by any chance you are reading this, please respond

I don’t care if it’s to say you hate me, or never want to talk to me again, please

I need you

I need my brother

****************************

Sunday, March 20, 2011

Sent at 10:00 am

Text from (xxx) xxx-xxxx:

Happy birthday Ro!

This will probably be the last time I text you.

My boyfriend, Dillon, pointed out that if you were going to reply, you would’ve already

I need to move on

I need to heal

I still love you though

You’ll always be my brother

****************************

Tuesday, March 22, 2011

Sent at 11:00 am

Text from (xxx) xxx-xxxx:

Ro, what the hell?

I know I said that I wouldn’t text again

But I just saw the news

You punched someone?

What on earth

I’d honestly be kinda proud of you if I wasn’t worried

Are you doing ok?

That’s not like you.

I was always the violent one.

I know what I said before, but if you need anyone to talk to, I’m here.

I won’t be waiting for you anymore, but I’ll still be here for you, if you need me.

All you need to do is reach out.

****************************

Sunday, August 15, 2011

Missed Call at 1:00 am

Voicemail from (xxx) xxx-xxxx:

“Ro—Roman! Please, please tell me you’re there, that you’re alright—

I just heard, apparently you’ve been missing for two weeks? Two whole weeks, and I didn’t know—

Please call me back, or text if that works better! Please, no one knows where you are, if you’re ok, nothing!

I — I can’t lose you Roman.

I mean, maybe I did already, maybe I did a long time ago—

But that was different. At least you were alive. You were happy. At least, I thought you were happy. I’m not so sure about that anymore.

But if by some miracle, some crazy insane miracle you still have this number, if you’re ok, please please let me know.

I love you so much Ro.

I don’t think I ever said it enough, but I do. So, so much.

I hope wherever you are, you’re ok.”

****************************

The dark hotel room was illuminated only by the screen of his phone. He stared at it with glassy eyes, unseeing, as the message finished playing. Roman was leaning against the bed, sitting on the floor. His phone was gleaming on the ground next to him.

Roman had read Remus’s texts as they came, of course, but he hadn’t thought they were sincere. That they were real. Nothing else in his life was, not even his own parents. So why should his own twin be an exception? But he didn’t delete the texts or block the number. He let the messages keep coming. And he didn’t know why.

Maybe because part of him had wanted to hope. Why else would he be where he was now? Why else would he have used the most of the little money he had left to get himself here? Here in a dingy little motel on the edge of San Francisco. He hadn’t told anyone where he was going, not that anyone cared. Maybe Remy might’ve. Remy, who Roman realized now might’ve been his only real friend. At least, he could’ve been, if Roman hadn’t pushed him away when Remy had attempted to convince Roman he had a problem. Pushed him away just like Roman had done to everything else good in his life.

That’s why he hadn’t contacted Remus yet. Why he’d sat here in this room with it’s flea-ridden bed and peeling wallpaper for almost two weeks now, only leaving to buy food from the nearby convenience store. Remus’s texts had seemed like he was doing well. Roman had looked at his Facebook too. Remus was in college, was living with his boyfriend, a job working as a tech at a local theater. He seemed happy. Roman couldn’t bring himself to ruin that like he ruined everything else.

But that voicemail—he hadn’t ever heard Remus sound so frightened before. So worried. And about Roman, of all people. Why? Why on earth? Sure, they’d been close as kids, but they hadn’t even been in the same room for years. And Roman had ignored all of Remus’s attempts to make contact since. He couldn’t understand it. It made his head hurt. He was feeling bitterly jittery, and not very glittery.

That was a weird sentence. When did his thoughts stop making sense? He needed his pills, needed them. He couldn’t deal with all of these thoughts and emotions. He needed them to go away. He needed them to stop. He fumbled on all fours for the bottle, and finally found it, open and empty. That wasn’t right, it’d been full only...only...he couldn’t remember. A wave of dizziness hit him, and he pitched forward, face planting into the ground.

Something wasn’t right. Why was his brain so fuzzy. Everything hurt so much, he couldn’t think. He needed help. He needed Remus. He somehow managed to find his phone, and hit the contact simply labeled “R.”

The phone rang. And rang. Finally, it was picked up. And a familiar voice spoke.

****************************

Remus ran his hand through his sleeping boyfriend’s hair. It was a calming motion that somewhat helped to calm his racing mind. But not by much. Dillon had attempted to convince Remus to rest, but Remus couldn’t sleep. Not when Roman was missing. He’d gotten the news around midnight, from a former friend of Roman’s, Remy.

Remy had been the one to tell Remus that Roman had been struggling with a drug addiction, though Remy didn’t know how long. He’d tried to get Roman some help as soon as he found out, but the other man had rejected it and broke off their friendship. Remy had gone to Roman’s apartment that morning to attempt to repair their relationship, with the hope that he could eventually convince Roman to get some help. But he was nowhere to be found. The door was unlocked, and there was two weeks worth of mail on the floor. He’d found Remus’s number on accident, on a post-it on Roman’s fridge, labeled “Bro.” That’s when he’d called Remus and, upon finding out he was Roman’s brother, told him everything.

Remus didn’t quite understand why Roman had his number saved like that, but the more pressing concern was finding Roman. Remus attempted to call Roman several times, each one going straight to voicemail.

He didn’t blame Dillon for falling asleep though. Remus would if he could. He couldn’t though. The hand that wasn’t running through Dillon’s hair had a death grip on his phone. He couldn’t stop staring at it, praying to anyone who would listen that it would ring.

He didn’t know what he expected though. Roman had never responded to him in the past, so why would now be any diff—

“I’m a Barbie Girl, in a Barbie wooorld

Life in plastic, it’s fantastic...”

Remus startled as his phone’s ringtone filled the room. Next to him, Dillon shifted and blinked tiredly at him.

“Why on earth do you still have that obnoxious song as your ringtone?” Dillon questioned, a little grumpy at being woken so unceremoniously.

“You can brush my hair, undress me everywheere

Imagination, life is your creation...”

Remus could barely hear him. He could barely hear his own ringtone. All he could do was stare at the name that lit up the screen.

Lil bRO(man)

“Come on, Barbie, let's go party!”

Dillon looked up at Remus, the sleep slowly fading from his gaze as his brain slowly began to catch up.

“Re, what’s wrong?”

“I’m a Barbie Girl, in a Barbie wooorld

Life in plastic, it’s fantastic...”

The chorus of the song began to repeat, and Remus knew he was running out of time. This was something he’d wanted for years, and now, it was happening right in front of him. But he was frozen. For some reason, he couldn’t answer the phone.

“You can brush my hair, undress me everywheere…”

When Remus didn’t respond, Dillon sat up, and saw the phone lying limp in his boyfriend’s grasp.

“Imagination, life is you—”

Quick as a lightning bolt, Dillon grabbed the phone and hit ANSWER before it could go to voicemail. Almost as quick, he hit the speaker button.

There was a long moment of silence. Too long. Finally, Remus’s voice returned.

“Ro, is that you?” He asked, hopefully. “Are you ok, are you hurt, where—”

“Re. I— I didn’t acshully think you’d anshwer.”

Roman’s familiar voice leaked through the speakers like water through a broken dam. Despite Remus’s relief, however, he immediately recognized something was wrong. One look at Dillon’s face told Remus that he’d heard it too. The way Roman’s words slurred themselves together. Remus took a deep breath. He knew how to handle this. He just needed to stay calm.

“Of course I would.” Remus said sincerely. “Ro, why don’t you tell me where you are? Maybe I can come to you and we can have this conversation in person?”

However, Roman didn’t seem to hear Remus’s question.

“I meshed up Re, meshed up big time, I ran ‘way from evything ‘cause I shcrewed up, an’ now I’m losht an’ allone an’ I jus’ wanted to hear your voishe one lasht time…”

Remus felt his heart seize in panic at those words. He grabbed the phone out of Dillon’s hands as the man looked on worriedly. Remus clutched that phone like it was his lifeline. No, Roman’s lifeline.

“Roman, wait, what do you mean, one last time? Where are you, what’s going on?”

“Ate too many of th’ pret-ty white circles, and now I can’ shtand up right and m’ brain won’ work.”

Roman’s voice grew thick, and it began to sound like he was crying.

“M sorry Re, ‘m an awful brother. I can’ do anything righ’ an’ I was too much of a cow-ward to tell you I was here.”

Remus’s eyes widened in shock as his brain processed the information. White circles, didn’t a lot of pills take that form? Including addictive ones. And Roman was here? San Francisco?

He looked over to Dillon to find that his boyfriend had his own phone out, and was callling someone. Dillon caught his gaze, and mouthed 911. Keep him talking. Remus took a deep breath. He needed to keep it together. For Roman’s sake.

“Roman, you’re going to be fine, just tell me where you are, and I’ll be right there. You said that you’re here? Where is here?”

“Th’ golden ci-ty, home of Saint Franny. Wan-ed to talk to you, couldn’ get up th’ nerve. ‘M in this shtupid lil hot-tel, it schucks. Bayshide Mot-tel, I think. Rom 320. Picked it cause it wash our birth-dayte.”

Remus quickly glanced over to Dillon urgently, and his boyfriend began relaying Roman’s location to the paramedics.

“Ro, we’ll be right there, just hold on, ok? We’re on our way.”

No response.

“Roman, Roman!”

Silence echoed from the other end of the line.

“No, nononononono no! Roman, please!”

In a dark dingy motel room several miles away, the only sound was a brother’s anguished cries, and the only light was that of a cracked phone screen next to a limp hand.

****************************

AN: Again, I’m really sorry about this cliffhanger, and I will fix it tomorrow.

****************************

TAGLIST:

@ironwoman359

@galacticguppy

@trashpanda-remus

@atticusfinchthelegend

@ravenclawunicorn1

@voidvirgil

@dogwithpants

@dreaming-about-kittens

#ts actor au #sanders sides #sanders sides fanfic #my writing #my au #remus sanders #deceit sanders #roman sanders #remy sanders #sympathetic deceit sanders #sympathetic remus sanders

63 notes · View notes