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whatgaviiformes · 3 years

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The Personal Trash

Okay, I needed the catharsis of writing this out, but I am throwing it under a read more because I honestly don’t expect anyone to read this. Family shit below

I feel like before I start I have to say first I love my husband very much and am continually excited by the life we are and have been building together, and the only goddamn constant in these circumstances is that he is my best friend always.

The second part of this before I jump in is that his mother, my mother-in-law lives with us, and there are parts of this story I can’t tell because it’s her story and I am not that kind of person. One of the things I love about him is his loyalty to family. I am the same way. Living with elders does not make me bat an eyelid - they’ve taken care of us, it feels comforting that we can take care of them.

But I need to share the context of our home - it’s a 2 bedroom, 2 bathroom townhouse with the three of us, three dogs, with almost every space shared. One kitchen, one living room. It’s a small place. My husband purchased the house in September 2014, and it was around when we started dating. One of our first outings was his housewarming. It was, and still is, a starter home.

So since he’s had the home, I’ve been around - starting with a weekends, back and forth, and finally a moved in in 2017, married in 2019, and now we are here. Four years later.

We’ve talked upsizing, getting an in law place if we can. But the housing market is a sellers market at the moment, and things have been good. For four years.

For four years, the family unit has been the three of us. We’ve all contributed in different ways, and in that time, MIL has retired, husband has switched jobs a few times, and mine has been constant. And I *adore* my job. But it keeps me incredibly busy, overwhelmed often. Work-life balance is a bit of a joke for sure. Like anywhere there are days that I’ve gotten off work and cried. Or, checked out mentally that I couldn’t engage in other things. It’s can be intense, but its rewarding. And there was a period through the past few years where I was the source of income keeping our heads above water. And we were - we were fine. But it put a lot of stress on me.

In the meantime there have been some health issues - which I will gloss over. Not my story. But MIL has had few different things, on top of us worrying about COVID. We’ve taken her to some different appointments and such.

We had one such scare two weekends ago, and it kind was a catalyst to a bunch of other stuff that I’ve been dealing with behind the scenes lately. So on Sunday, husband and I went to the grocery store (she was supposed to go on a trip for four days or so) so we were going to use the opportunity to cook a few things together, and we needed to replenish. We were about to grab lunch, and called to see if she wanted anything, and she told him then she wanted to be taken to the hospital. She told us a few days earlier she was having some problems, but only mentioned to my husband that she was worried this might happen. But to me this forewarning was not mentioned, and I was only told because he advised her that she needed to be upfront of what was going on. (For the record, she still was vague).

This ^ will be a theme.

So we skipped lunch, came back home, I unloaded the food and started putting stuff away because he and I agreed that’s what we do and I told him to keep me updated, and she left without saying anything to me or vice versa. Husband comes home because COVID means you can’t stay with anyone. Also no beds, so it took awhile (F*CKING GET VACCINATED PEOPLE SO PEOPLE WHO DO EVERYTHING RIGHT AREN’T LAID UP FOR YOUR STUPIDITY -alsoyesiknowthereareotherreasonspeopleareinthehospitalforcovidjustgivemethisimfrustrated)

11:30 PM that night we picked her back up. It was late, I was tired. A few days later she tells us that she had a lot of time to think while at the hospital, and tells us she is going to move out.

First - you know what we did while she was in the hospital? We freaking worried. Okay - so all of that is facts, details, and I’ve gotten you caught up to the this-happened-then-this-happened. The rest of this is feelings so buckle the fuck up

Husband - immediately lashes out because he doesn’t like the reasons (still doesn’t) and I find out that there was a conversation the day before between the two of them I wasn’t a part of - and he felt because she was not being honest with me, he was forced to have to lie to me, his wife, and didn’t like that feeling.

Me - feeling confused, a little like this is out of left field, and only not completely surprised because this has happened before with husband telling me, and then it never happening, we misunderstanding. and more times than not it never made it from her mouth to my ears. Also it was never for *this* reason. See how this escalates more below.

Husband- “I had to learn to live with strangers, and you just can’t stand not being in control” Me - so wait I am a stranger now?

Husband - do you even like my wife...

and so on. So apparently everything I thought I knew about our home changed in the course of this conversation. What I was able to get out of the cacophony of chaos is that I am insensitive because I don’t interact with her the way she expects me to? And she feels like she’s intruding all the time, despite us assuring her she’s not, inviting her to game nights, and in general sharing in the things that you do as a family like vacations and dinners. And the more we argued, the more little things came out and little clues. She’s mentioned leaving before, almost on a 6 month cycle, and the last time was this one -

So like... when we got Della, and three days in she was like “If they don’t get along I’m going to take Dino and my own place” and so like... hold up, you can’t just throw away a comment like that. They’ve barely gotten a chance to know each other. (they are fine by the way. Della is a puppy and gets in his face a bit, but she’s still learning. They play, sleep together fine, and we are constantly taking care of the fur kids).

And from what I get from the comments to leave - because shit there’s still so many pieces to this I feel like I am missing -she will rationalize other reasons like the dog example above.

So when this happens it sends my husband in a spiral, he tells me because she won’t say anything, and the one time we did try to have a conversation about it, she shut down and made it sounds like he misunderstood and made him out to be the asshole. Then in the same breath tell him its not his job to fix everything as a stab at me, but like continue to talk only to him when it involves everyone.

I don’t know if that makes sense. A lot happens without me involved.

So then - those clues - the hints that all of this is really about me:

health - i stopped asking because she stopped telling me things, so how am I supposed to know what she can and can’t do. but im at fault for like... not asking. but she’s not telling.

home - apparently my understanding and my husbands understanding about the stuff she does around the house - some cleaning, groceries (we pay for) and loading dishwasher, cooking sometimes,. We thought she liked doing them to help around the house, and she’s never told us differently. EDIT- no, she’s told us she likes to help. Cue - you can stop right there, I am an adult and I never asked you to clean up after me.

I feel like whatever feelings she has for me started a long time ago, and she continued to let them harbor instead of talking to me about it, until it got to the point where it couldn’t really be solved.

I mean, I am not lacking the self-awareness to recognize that, yeah, I can be messy, and yeah, I can be single minded. There are days where my husband is talking me and I just space answering him because I can’t or or I just mentally lose it in processing.

I am seeing this mirror reflected back at me of like - I have all these expectations for you, and you are a problem and, but like.... it kind of goes both ways? And I feel like you’ve made these circumstances yourself? And if you want to leave that’s fine, but its not from our doing?

And so in the end *I* feel like I am the one under scrutiny for everything I do or say and how I interact in my home. And it feels like selfishness, and self-victimizing behavior that I’ve seen time and time again, and I don’t really see a way out.

So husband just wants to keep the family together, he’s taking this to heart - its his mom, and there are feelings there about how they’ve provided for each other. He would feel differently if they got the house and she moved in with him under the notion that she was going to save, get her own place. But it wasn’t, and so he has this weight on his shoulders for it, for failing in some way.

And I - well. I didn’t really realize the family unit we had wasn’t working... at least to that extent and that it stemmed from me and I’m really hurt by it. Aside from the stuff above, I am really easy going - I try to give everyone space, and make everyone happy. I shut down if I am processing something. I’ve never intentionally tried to make her feel unwelcome. I’ve invited her to my family vacations, we’ve all equally enjoyed dinner’s out.

And though I’d be willing to try to do better, i am absolutely livid that this conversation waited until it was at its worst. So now I don’t really want to try to do better because I am mad and hurt, and don’t feel like my sacrifices or contributions are being acknowledged, nor do I think she will do the same thing to be self-reflective and recognize her own part of all this. And above all things, I truly hate to be misunderstood. And I will completely shut down under that kind of self-victimizing behavior and thoughtlessness to other people. I don’t want to lose myself over this, in my own home.

So neither path is really an easy or right solution. She moves out, husband loses a bit of respect in her and the relationship they have.. She stays, recognizing your own part in lack of communication is a long term thing, and I have to feel this awkward limbo for that whole process.. if it even gets there.

I feel like I am walking on eggshells constantly.

I should never have to question if a “Hello” will be taken the right way and that’s how i fucking feel.

#personal trash #cursing

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pengychan · 3 years

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[Coco] Nuestra Iglesia, Pt 24

Title: Nuestra Iglesia Summary: Fake Priest AU. In the midst of the Mexican Revolution, Santa Cecilia is still a relatively safe place; all a young orphan named Miguel has to worry about is how to get novices Héctor and Imelda to switch their religious vows for wedding vows before it’s too late. He’s not having much success until he finds an unlikely ally in their new parish priest, who just arrived from out of town. Fine, so Padre Ernesto is a really odd priest. He’s probably not even a real priest, and the army-issued pistol he carries is more than slightly worrying. But he agrees that Héctor and Imelda would be wasted on religious life, and Miguel will take all the help he can get. It’s either the best idea he’s ever had, or the worst. Characters: Miguel Rivera, Ernesto de la Cruz, Héctor Rivera, Imelda Rivera, Chicharrón, Óscar and Felipe Rivera, OCs. Imector. Rating: T

[All chapters up are tagged as ‘fake priest au’ on my blog.]

A/N: the problem with Ernesto’s murderous plans is that they tend to only have a 50% success rate. Art is by @lunaescribe and @swanpit

***

“... And you killed how many Villistas?”

“Ah, I lost count. At least thirty.”

“Five, more like!”

“Shut up! Maybe some were just wounded, but I killed no less than twenty of Villa’s bastards, at any rate.”

“Sí, sí, and then you wounded Pancho Villa himself. One would think that with such a warrior among us, getting through the Zapatistas on our way here would have been a child’s play. I didn’t see you hit a single one. Did you forget how to shoot in the meantime?”

“Ah, shut up. They fought better, is all. Everyone knows Zapata and his followers are twice the mad dogs as everybody else, and I did hit one!”

“Your own shoe doesn’t count, pendejo.”

“Shut your mouth!”

“You’re so full of--”

As an argument broke out, Héctor watched Gustavo sigh and fall back a few paces with his horse. His attempts at buttering up the soldiers to get any sort of useful information had amounted to nothing, when they hadn’t straight-up started an argument like that one. The only question he was able to get a real answer to was why Commander Hernández hadn't allowed them to spend the evening and night in Santa Cecilia before setting off.

“Ay, he won’t hear of it,” a soldier had replied. “He heard of a battalion that was decimated like that - they stayed in a village overnight, but turns out it was chock-full of traitors and they called their friends in during the night, and the men were slaughtered before they could grab a gun. So he’s paranoid about that.”

The expression that crossed Gustavo’s face for a moment, that of a man who just sucked on a lemon, had been enough to tell Héctor that was very much something he had hoped to pull off in Santa Cecilia. Unaware of that, the man - “call me Chucho”, he had said - had added: “It’s a myth if you ask me, more likely all of them just got sick of this shit and deserted.”

“Can’t blame them,” someone had muttered only a couple of paces behind Héctor, only to be immediately shushed by no less than ten of his comrades.

“Shut up, idiota!”

“You want the commander to nail you to a telegraph pole or what!”

“He’s off ahead scouting anyway,” the man had muttered, and promptly fallen in a sullen silence. Morale was low, Héctor had quickly realized; he had been aware of the fact the war was not going all that well for the Federal Army, but this was the first time he saw its effects on the troops. All things considered, he got the distinct feeling most of those men didn’t want to be there a hell of a lot more than Ernesto had.

Only that Ernesto had seized his moment to escape, and they were still stuck.

“-- shoot that cigarette off your mouth from a hundred paces, and if you don't believe--”

“Amazing, think you can hit the men attached to the cigarettes every once in a while, too?”

“If what you're asking is a bullet through your brain--!”

“Brain might be a big word there…”

“Shut your mouth, Nachito!”

As the argument continued, Héctor did his best to tune it out and reached into his saddle bag for the water. They had been warned the water rations were scarce and he had been trying not to drink too much, but they had been riding under the sun for hours, he’d been sweating half his body weight, and there seemed to be no moisture left in his mouth. At least the sun was starting to get lower at the horizon, evening not too far away.

Héctor wondered how they’d spend the night. Would they make camp? Just sit around fires, rifle in hand, and try to shut their eyes for a few hours before they kept marching on? Surely someone would stand guard, were the revolutionaries really going to catch up as Gustavo seemed to think they would? Would there be a battle? How many would come? Or would they decided a few men off Santa Cecilia was not a big enough loss to bother--

“Water?”

“Huh?”

Héctor looked up to see a man riding next to him, holding out a flask of water. He seemed about his age, maybe a little younger, an attempt at a mustache on his upper lip and an uniform almost as ill-fitting as his own. He tried to smile, grimaced at the heat, and awkwardly avoided his gaze at the same time.

“You, uh. If you want water.”

“Ah. I’m getting mine, don’t worry. I don’t want to take your ration.”

“... Right,” the young man muttered, and kept riding by his side. Héctor took a couple of sips from his flask, just enough to make his mouth feel a little less like an entire desert had moved in, and glanced back towards the man. He seemed to hesitate, but as Héctor rather expected he finally spoke again. “So you are, uh, a novice?”

“I… I was, I suppose. I suspect leaving the parish to join the Federal Army means that’s going to lapse,” he said, trying to smile like the idea was funny. The man didn’t seem amused, and Héctor cleared his throat. “... My name’s Héctor, by the way.”

A nod. “Alejandro,” the man replied. “Look, me and the others - several of the others, we… I mean, back there, when the commander shot the gringo-- I mean, the priest, I would have never,” he finally blurted out, holding onto the reins so tightly his knuckles turned white.

Ah.

Héctor had barely looked at Father John’s body on the cobblestones, focused as he was on the fact that man had Miguel, but the mental image had still been lingering in the back of his mind ever since they left. The pool of blood, the way it got into every crack, the sticky warmth of it through his robes when his knees hit the ground.

Some men had taken him away to get him help, he knew, and the Federales had allowed it, but Héctor had no idea if any help would even be possible. He was probably dead, for trying to reason with someone utterly unreasonable, for trying to save Miguel.

He found his martyrdom, at last.

Something in Héctor’s chest ached; the gringo was not a simple man to get along with, easy to despise and quick to judge, but he had tried to do the right thing and he did not deserve a bullet for it. Perhaps taking note of his pained expression, the young man fidgeted.

“Maybe God will save him,” he murmured, and swallowed. “I… we wanted to ask… do you think God will curse us for this? For shooting down one of His servants?”

Why ask me, Héctor almost replied, but then again it was the sort of question one would ask to a priest and he was the closest thing to one those men had at hand. Part of him wanted to believe God would indeed curse them, all of them, Huerta’s damn Federales - but as he looked around himself now, those men who’d seemed to terrifying looked so tired, dirty from days of travel, many of them young and probably wearing their uniforms no more willingly than he did.

How many had been taken the way they were in the first place?

“There is no mercy in war,” he remembered Ernesto saying when he was found out and they confronted him. “They die or you do. On and on, day after day, until you forget you’re looking at humans because it gets easier if you get that detail out of your mind.”

“... The Church says that as long as there is regret, all can be forgiven,” he found himself saying instead. Alejandro nodded, but he looked far from reassured and just fell silent as they rode on towards the top of a hill they were never going to get past.

***

“Those bastards were supposed to come through San Luz!”

Arms still aching and palms burning from the friction with the rope, Sofía made it down the belltower and to the churchyard just on time to hear the frustrated shout. Right before the church were maybe twenty men and women on horses, all of them armed, being filled in on what had happened by a few very confused bystanders who likely had no idea what was going on but were relieved that these new visitors were not Federales at least.

As Sofía approached with quick steps, the man turned his horse to face her. “Gustavo--” he began, and trailed off. He blinked. “... You’re not Gustavo.”

Sharp as a knife, this one. Nice to see we’re in good hands.

“Gustavo went with them. He told me to call for you,” she added, pointing up to the belltower, where the bell still swung slowly. “He said I should tell you to follow the trail.”

The man seemed taken aback, then he nodded. “Very well. What direction did they--”

“They took the road west, through the hills.”

Imelda’s voice rang out suddenly, causing several heads to turn. She was riding an aging horse that had belonged to her family for years, but that was not what made Sofía raise an eyebrow.

The robes were gone, replaced by a gown and a blouse, a belt at her waist with ammunition and the pistol they had taken from Ernesto’s room. Her head was uncovered, her jaw set; the man stared at her a few moments before he tilted his head in recognition.

“... Sister. I was hoping to meet you again in better circumstances than this.”

“José. You probably already gathered as much, but the Federales that took our men outnumber you, at least three to one. I assume you could use an extra pair of hands.”

“We could,” one of the women spoke up. She spurred her own horse closer to Imelda, a rifle slung over her shoulder. Her hair was braided back, showing a still healing cut on the side of her head. “How much practice did you get with that pistol?”

Imelda met her gaze. “Not much. I’ll have to hope what practice I could get will be enough.”

“And if it isn’t?”

“Then I die. Not the first or last.”

The woman smiled. “Very well. We’ll need someone to tell us what men not to shoot, after all, in case Gustavo can’t,” she added, and turned to look back at the man she’d called José. At this point, Sofía suspected she may have been mistaken in her assumption he was the leader there. “They can’t have gone very far, with the supplies and carts they took. We can catch up with them. Gabriel, you and I go ahead to dispatch anyone guarding the back of the column. If we don’t take them by surprise we’re fucked.”

“Well, you heard her, everyone. Let’s get going!”

As they kicked the flanks of their horses to get moving, Imelda looked back, and her gaze met Sofía’s. “... Sister,” she said, “I should mention this marks the end of my novitiate.”

Something gripping her throat - don’t die out there, she wanted to say - Sofía managed a smile. Trying to talk Imelda out of her plan, she knew, would be absolutely fruitless. “About time,” she said instead. “Go take back your stupid fiancé.”

The smile Imelda gave was sharp, telling her clearly that she wouldn’t go down without a fight. Not that Sofía had doubted that even for a moment.

“You can be certain I will,” she said, and kicked the flanks of her horse, riding off.

“Ay, a novio,” one of the men muttered as he rode past. “And my heart breaks already.”

We had enough heartbreak as is for the day, Sofía thought, but said nothing. Instead she turned away from the galloping horses and let her gaze wander across the parish grounds. A few men were running off to grab what horses and hunting rifles they had and join the rescue party, but no trace of Ernesto. He’d returned, she knew, but no one had seen him since.

Where in the world is that idiota hiding now?

***

Following the trail left behind by the column of Federales - the imprint of hooves, the wheels of carts, the cigarette butts they left in their wake - was easier than finding gonorrhea in a brothel.

Well, at least Ernesto supposed it was; he wouldn’t really know, as he had never in his life had gonorrhea or needed to resort to a brothel for pleasurable company in the first place. His good looks and charm had served him well enough with men and women alike, as Juan could testify.

Except that Juan was dead, shot like a dog in the middle of the plaza, what little color he had on his face draining away along with the blood; Ernesto had not seen it happen, but he could imagine it all too well each time he closed his eyes against the merciless July sun.

Juan could never testify anything anymore, nor roll his eyes or start a lecture whenever Ernesto said something outrageous. He was far enough from Santa Cecilia that he could barely hear the bell anymore, but its toll was still ringing in his head, in every thudding beat of his heart.

Dead. Dead. Dead.

I want them dead.

Sweat dripped into his eyes and down his cheeks, or so he told himself. Ernesto kicked the donkey’s flanks to make the stupid animal go faster, the reins of the other clutched tight in his hand, and wiped his forehead, teeth clenched hard. He clung to his fury, allowed himself to bare his teeth in something resembling a smile as his gaze fell on the caskets of wine. Holy wine, plus a special ingredient courtesy of the parish’s old rat problem.

He would see them dead. He would see them writhe and suffer, and he’d let them know it was by his hand; Juan would probably disapprove, that stupid stuck-up gringo, but he was no longer there to talk him out of it. He was no longer there to disapprove of him, and someone had to pay for it. How gracious of God’s church to provide the means to make it happen. Perhaps it was his will, after all, and who was he not to help along divine will?

Todo modo para buscar la voluntad divina, Juan had said.

Todo modo. Todo modo. Todo modo.

Ernesto let the words echo in his head until they drowned out all noise from the bell, or perhaps it had stopped ringing, or he simply got too far for its sound to reach him anymore. He pressed on through the dusty path and up yet another hill until finally, finally, he saw it just below: a long column of men who were not long for that world. A few men at the back were looking up towards him, surely there to guard against rear attacks. But they saw no rebels there: only a priest, far more charming than the one they’d shot dead in Santa Cecilia.

Ernesto stared for a few moments, and finally let out a long breath, relaxing his frame. He wiped sweat off his face, opened his eyes, and smiled. A real smile, not a grimace; the easy, charming expression that got him in the good graces of men and women alike oh so quickly.

Who would refuse a blessing in those difficult times? Who’d turn away a friendly face? Who wouldn’t accept some holy wine to wash down the dust and dirt? With some luck, it would be the last thing they’d do before they got to confess their sins to San Pedro himself.

Good luck explaining away the murder of a man of the Church, Ernesto thought, and got the donkeys moving down the hill as quickly as he could. No turning back now, not anymore.

The thought did cross his mind for the briefest moment - what if they see through me, what if they recognize me - but it hardly even registered. At that point he was one deserter among thousands and he’d left his battalion as it headed north, with no plans to go back down towards Oaxaca. Chances any of those men came from his battalion were vanishingly thin, he thought, and to be fair he was almost entirely correct in that assumption. Just almost.

Ernesto de la Cruz kept clambering down the hill on top of his donkey, with the smile of a friendly priest eager to deliver a very special blessing to the heroes of Mexico.

***

He wasn’t there, either. The slippery bastard wasn’t anywhere.

Santiago kicked his horse’s sides again, hands clenching on the reins. He had gone off ahead, ostensibly to scout for any sort of possible ambush, but truth be told it was only an excuse to be alone with his storming thoughts for a time.

He already knew there would be no ambush: the idiots were still waiting for them in San Luz, or had given up waiting and were drinking themselves into a stupor, which was just as likely. A few more miles, and then they could circle back to take them by surprise in the middle of the night.He’d toyed with the idea before, but it was not the current plan: he and his men were expected in Yucatan within days, which left them short on time.

But it was… tempting, nonetheless.

We could get some scum out of the way. And maybe de la Cruz is hiding there, or passed by. Someone might know something. Someone might talk.

Santiago closed his eyes and lifted his head, letting the sun beat down on his face. It had been a scorching hot day when he had found Alberto’s body, too, shot in the back of the head and left to feed carrion birds by the monster who’d greeted them that morning with a smile before they went off on patrol together.

It should have been Santiago out on patrol with Ernesto de la Cruz that day. It was his turn; it should have been him to fall face down in the sand with his brains blown out. But he’d pulled a muscle in his back the previous evening, riding felt like having hot rods pushed into his spine, and Beto had offered to take my place.

Said I owed him a drink. What wouldn’t I give to pay back that debt.

Monster, the gringo had called him. What sort of beast, he had said, but the idiota knew nothing of monsters and beasts that must be put down for everybody’s safety. He, at least, didn’t feign friendliness. He didn’t hide behind a smile. He warned before he shot, stated his terms and delivered on his promises.

If it made him a beast himself, very well; perhaps he was. Perhaps trying to take the child had been a step too far - but he’d sooner be a lion than a snake hiding in the sand.

I cannot turn back anymore. No way to go but forward.

But first, San Luz. If he’s there, I’ll smoke him out.

Santiago Hernández stopped his horse on a rocky outcrop and reached into the saddle bag to pull out his map, so he could work out the best route back for a quick attack. He opened it and studied it under the merciless sun, waiting for his men to catch up

It took him a while to realize it was taking them much too long.

***

“Oye! Come here!”

“There’s a priest!”

“We’re getting blessed, muchachos!”

“And we’re getting wine!”

“... Huh?”

As word travelled fast up the column, causing men to halt their horses and turn, Héctor glanced around in confusion. He looked over at Gustavo, but he seemed about as lost as he was at the notion of a random priest walking into marching Federales to offer blessings and wine. Where did he even--

“He says he’s the parish priest of the hole we just left,” someone added, and Héctor’s blood ran cold, something clenching in his stomach.

No, no, no, no. What is he doing here? They were looking for him. They’ll kill him.

“Padre Ernesto?” Francisco, a young cobbler who’d been taken with him that day, blurted out. Sidling up to Héctor, Gustavo elbowed him in the ribs.

“What’s going on?” he growled under his breath. “Why is he here, and why did you get almost as pale as the gringo just now?”

“I…” Héctor swallowed, unable to force words out. Gustavo didn’t know, and this really was not the time to explain him everything. He needed to get to Ernesto immediately, warn him to get away while he still could, so he ignored Gustavo’s questions and spurred his horse to go back, towards the end of the column. The men there were already starting to gather, dismounting their horses… and passing around caskets of wine.

Héctor braced himself for the moment someone would cry out in recognition and every man present would turn against Ernesto, but there was no such cry; the men were none the wiser as they talked and laughed, took the wine and kept gathering, all semblance of order gone.

Above all, Héctor heard a familiar voice.

“... And once I realized I had entirely missed your arrival, well, I had to catch up with you,” Ernesto was saying, all charm and smiles as he helped unload the caskets of wine. “I couldn’t let my parishioners leave to serve this country without giving them my blessing, you understand. And you, of course, it is the least I could do - careful there, it’s heavy…”

It was like an impromptu party, but it was soon clear not everyone was simply in the mood to celebrate. Héctor did his best to approach, but he got knocked back by several men gathering around Ernesto.

“Padre!”

“Can we have your blessing, Padre?”

“I have not had confession in months--”

“Haven’t heard from my family since March, I don’t know if they are well, pray for them--”

“What happened to that other priest-- the gringo, we did not--”

“Our commander lost his temper, a man of God, I would have never--”

“We would never--”

Ernesto turned to the men, and his smile wavered for only a moment. But then it was back, full of understanding. “... Padre Juan was a man of principle who did not always know when to hold his tongue, but he is with God now,” he said, and Héctor’s stomach sank. So he hadn’t made it. He was dead, and Ernesto showed no sign whatsoever of being affected.

“His soul is safe, and I know he would want me to take care of yours,” Ernesto was going on, and he lifted his hand to impart a blessing, speaking loudly to be heard by all. He spoke in near-perfect Latin John Johnson would have been proud of, giving everyone present absolution before crossing himself. Many of the men mirrored the gesture, relief plain on their faces. Alejandro was among them, looking close to tears.

The blessing done, absolution given, Ernesto smiled and spread out his arms. “Now, let us all drink the blood of Christ and--”

“Padre!” Héctor finally cried out, pushing his way to the front, and Ernesto’s gaze turned on him. His smile grew even wider.

“My child!” he cried out, and pulled him into an embrace. “Ah, what a relief, having reached you on time to absolve your sins and give you the Lord’s blessing!”

Face smashed against Ernesto’s shoulder, Héctor barely managed to whisper. “What are you doing--” he began, only for Ernesto to turn his head and almost snarl into his ear, his voice so full of seething fury it made Héctor’s heart skip a beat in his chest.

“Saving your scrawny ass so I can kick it myself. Don’t drink the wine, none of you. Tell the others.”

“Wha-- Ernesto, wait, they’re--”

“Not a drop,” Ernesto hissed, and pushed him off before anyone realized they had spoken to one another, patting his shoulder with a laugh. “Go to the others, tell them they have my blessing and that the parish will look after their families,” he added, and before he could add another word Héctor was almost ejected from the small crowd, reeling.

What does it mean? What has he done to the wine?

He looked around to see Alejandro taking one of the opened caskets, saw the wine flowing and men drinking. Héctor wanted to stop him, tell him not to - he was not a bad person, he could tell; many of them were not bad people - but he knew he couldn’t do so without alerting them all, and in the end he had to back away.

Guilt twisted in his gut, but he knew he had to ignore it and move quickly. The wine was being passed around so fast, and he had to warn Gustavo and the others not to drink it before it got to them. Regardless how tempting it was not to tell Gustavo, of course.

No one has recognized him. Maybe it will be all right. Maybe whatever plan he has is going to work. Maybe it will make them pass out, no one needs to die, Héctor thought, and with one last glance towards Ernesto - he was positively holding court now, men around him laughing at something he said or crossing themselves and asking for a prayer - he ran back to where he left the others from Santa Cecilia, trying to reach them before the wine could.

Whatever Ernesto had done with it, he knew none of them wanted to find out the hard way.

***

What got Santiago to lift his gaze from the map and realize his men really should have caught up by now was a very distant sound, one he did not recognize at first. He put away the map with a frown, focusing, and for a moment he thought what he heard were distant screams. It made his blood run cold and his hands clench on the reins.

Had his men been attacked? Could it be? Was there an ambush - had he walked right past the enemy without realizing as much? Heart hammering in his throat, Santiago spurred his horse to trot back, straining to listen… and finally he realized what he was hearing were not screams.

Well, they kind of were, but those were no cries of distress; there was a rhythm to it, all voices rising up together and then falling, then rising again, like… singing? Was that bunch of idiots singing at the top of their lungs?

Have they all gone mad?

Stunned and furious at the same time, Santiago kicked his horse’s flanks to spur it into a gallop back the way he had come. He knew those men’s discipline was almost non-existent, but that was ridiculous. He would see them punished for it, he’d make them march through the night, he--!

Insortaron a Cortez Por toditito el estado: "Vivo o muerto que se aprehenda Porque a varios ha matado!"

Soon he was close enough to hear the words and, after turning a bend, he could see that the sorry excuses of soldiers he’d been leading were off their horses and standing around or sitting in the dirt, drinking and singing like they were off duty in a damn cantina.

He opened his mouth to shout at them, demand to know what was going on in their empty heads, but another voice rose up loud and clear and Santiago’s own voice died in his throat.

Decía Gregorio Cortez Con su pistola en la mano: "No siento haberlo matado Al que siento es a mi hermano..."

He knew that voice; he heard it before in the barracks, at campfires, whenever a comrade picked up a guitar. He never missed a chance to sing, turning each break in a performance.

Alberto had found it endearing; he’d found it annoying. Now it made him feel as though the sweat on his skin had turned into frost.

Still atop his horse Santiago turned slowly, very slowly, towards the source of that voice. He had not expected the priestly robes, and he’d had a beard when he’d last seen him, but he would recognize that despicable face anywhere; he’d dreamed of it almost every night, grinning down at him as he kneeled over Beto’s body.

And now he was there.

How or why he had come to be there, let alone in a cassock and singing along with his men as they guzzled down wine, Santiago had no idea nor he cared to know. All that he knew, all that mattered, was that he was there within his grasp, and that he would never escape again.

Santiago Hernández bared his teeth, and reached for the pistol at his hip.

***

BANG.

The gunshot was distant, reverberating through the hills, impossible to mistake for anything else. It made Imelda’s blood run cold, but she didn’t slow down; her horse was in full gallop, right at the heels of José’s own - which, come to think of it, looked an awful lot like Ernesto’s own missing horse - and she spurred it to go a bit faster, just enough to sidle with him.

“Was that one of yours? Did you prepare an ambush?” she yelled to be heard through the rushing wind and beating hooves, knowing full well what the answer was but still hoping against hope to get at least some explanation for the gunshot.

José shook his head, his expression grim. “No such thing. There may be insubordination among them.”

“Does it happen often?”

“All the time. But we’ll only know when we catch up,” he added, and spurred his horse again. Imelda could only follow, and hope for the best.

If he gets himself killed, she thought, I’ll have to kill him again.

***

The gunshot was deafeningly loud, and close enough to make Héctor cry out - him, and several other men - and the singing to stop abruptly. There were confused cries, men jumping on their feet and dropping their cups of wine to reach for their own guns, turning around wildly to find out who’d shot.

They didn’t have to look far.

“Ernesto de la Cruz.”

Still on top of his horse, pistol raised in the air, Commander Hernández stared at Ernesto with enough hatred to make Héctor tremble. He was vaguely aware of Gustavo and another couple of men from Santa Cecilia talking to him under their breath, asking what the hell was going on, but Héctor was unable to speak, dread gripping his throat.

He found him. It’s over.

He wanted to cry out for Ernesto to run, to do something, but there was nothing for him to do and he could only stand there, staring in horror. Ernesto had stilled, realization beginning to dawn on him that he’d been recognized, and that he was trapped.

The soldiers around him were not quite as quick to grasp the situation. “What--”

“Commander, we, uh, can explain--”

“Shut up, all of you, and seize that traitor!”

“... Sir, that is Padre--”

“That’s no more a priest than I am, idiots! It’s the deserter we’ve been looking for!” the man screamed, and leaped off his horse, pistol still in his hand. “ SEIZE HIM, I SAID!”

“Qué?” Gustavo blurted out somewhere on Héctor’s right, and it seemed that sentiment was prevalent among the Federales as well, most of whom kept staring at their commander as though he’d suddenly started speaking Portuguese.

Then Ernesto tried to run, and all hell broke loose.

Héctor had gone hare hunting once, out of sheer curiosity, watching from the sidelines and not really doing much. The pack of dogs, all of them friendly mutts, had seemed comically clumsy, wagging their tails and snuffling about, seemingly more interested in playing than hunting… until a hare had burst out of its hiding spot to run away, and suddenly the entire pack had pounced. The chase had been brief, the screams unbearably loud, the outcome bloody, and Héctor had felt queasy as the owner of the dogs lifted the prey, grinning from ear to ear while his dogs went back to goofing off.

“This,” he had said, “is why you never try running before even the dumbest dog pack.”

Now Héctor watched Ernesto make the same mistake, and again the dogs pounced as one. The hare had no chance of escape that day, and neither did he now.

“STOP HIM!”

“Got him, I got him!”

“Get your hands of me, hijos de--”

“Agh! He bit me!”

“Get him over here!”

If any of the soldiers had doubted Commander Hernández’s words and still believed him a priest, Ernesto thrashing and screaming insults to their entire lineage - through the flea-ridden Spaniards who’d forced their way between their great-great-great-great grandmothers’ thighs and all the way down to the Garden of Eden - probably took care of it.

As Héctor stared, petrified and not knowing what to do, he was dragged in front of the commander and forced on his knees, arms behind his back. Hernández put the pistol back in its holster, walked up to Ernesto, and grabbed a fistful of his hair to force his head back.

He gave a cold, too-wide smile that still did not reach his eyes and said something Héctor could not hear. Ernesto’s scowl turned to shock for a moment, and then his features twisted in fury. He screamed and tried to rise up to throw himself at Hernández, almost made it, but too many men were holding him down and he was pushed back in the dirt. Orders were barked and they began dragging Ernesto away from the rest of the still confused soldiers, off the path and towards a small grove of trees and shrubs. One of the men carried a long rope.

They'll see me hang, Ernesto had told them after being unmasked, and God, he'd been right. “No, wait!” Héctor cried out and tried to run, but something gripped his arm, pulled him back.

“Stay here, idiota,” Gustavo hissed, his grasp on Héctor’s wrist tight enough to cut off the blood flow. He glared. “Won’t let you become a martyr on my watch, you’re insufferable enough as is. Whatever you’re thinking of doing, don’t do it. Did you know about him?”

“I can’t let them kill--”

“Did you know!” Gustavo barked, and Héctor fell silent, his expression probably speaking volumes. Gustavo groaned, rubbing his forehead with his free hand. “A Federale right under my nose and I never knew. Por Dios, José is never going to let me hear the end of it...”

“Gustavo, let me go, we have to help him--”

“Help is coming, idiota. Stay here.”

“But--”

“Help is coming,” Gustavo repeated in the forceful way of a man trying to will something into reality. “At least that damn liar delayed their march. Any moment now--” he trailed off when a sudden noise reached their ears amidst the confusion and exclamations, harsh and unmistakable - retching. Soon followed by another such sound, and another. And another.

One by one, the men around them began looking very, very sick.

***

“Let me go! Let me go, you bastards--!”

Ernesto’s insults got him precisely nowhere, and his attempt at fighting off the men dragging him away was about as useless. Too many of them, too strong, his wrists already tied behind his back before they shoved him on his knees in the dirt before the cabrón who had somehow recognized his face.

When said cabrón stepped forward and grabbed his hair to yank his head back, Ernesto clenched his teeth to hold back a cry and glared up at him. Who was he? Dimly he knew he must know him, he looked vaguely familiar - something about the mustache, the unusually thin bridge of his nose - but he still could not put a name to the face the way that bastard had somehow put a name to his.

Unaware of his thoughts, the man sneered. “Ernesto de la Cruz - so the rat comes out in the open at last. What’s the reason for this masquerade? Did you think these robes would save you? They will not. I shot down a true priest today. Or was the gringo an impostor, too?”

Our commander lost his temper, one of them had said.

That beast pulled out his pistol and… and… ay, I told you, he knows no God. To shoot a man of god like an animal!

YOU TOOK HIM AWAY!

With a wordless scream, Ernesto strained against the men holding him down, against his bounds, wanting nothing more than putting his hands around the man’s neck and choke the life out of him. He almost managed to stand, but the weight of several men was too much and he was thrown back down in the dirt.

“You, take him and follow me. Rojas, get enough rope to hang this bastard. Quick.”

“Yes sir.”

No no no no no!

Ernesto struggled, but to no avail. Bound and overpowered, he was easily dragged away from the path by the small group of men - towards shrubs and trees, where they could hang him by the neck and leave him to feed carrion birds. They would not give him a clean death, he knew. No fall, no broken neck. They’d string him up and… and…

“Let me go!”

“Oh, as you wish.”

The men threw him down on the ground, and with his hands tied there was nothing sparing his face a painful impact. Ernesto ground his teeth to stifle a cry, only for that cry to be forced out of him when a kick in his side threw him onto his back. A knee pressed on his chest and the man leaned down, all his weight on Ernesto’s sternum.

When is the damn poison going to work?

Maybe the parish got scammed and that wasn’t poison at all. Wouldn’t that be a laugh, a fake priest dead thanks to fake poison.

As he struggled to breathe, Ernesto blinked a few times to clear his vision and looked up. Seen up close there was something startling in the sheer hatred in the man’s gaze, and it caused Ernesto to still a moment. The soldier, John’s murderer, sneered once again.

“Tell me, traitor,” he all but snarled. “Do you even know who I am?”

Don’t make him mad, part of Ernesto’s brain said, but the rest clung to the hope the poison would start working soon. Make him waste time.

“Should I?” he spat. A fist connected with his face as soon as the words were out, causing his vision to swim. Blood ran down his face from a split lip, went down his throat. Somewhere above him he saw the rope being thrown up over a branch, one end already tied in a noose.

And then, before his eyes, the blade of a knife caught the sunlight.

***

He didn’t even recognize him.

Of all the ways Ernesto de la Cruz had wronged him, that somehow was the final straw, the worst possible slap to the face. He’d murdered his best friend since childhood and ran off, leaving him to obsess over revenge for months on end - unable to sleep without seeing his face or Beto’s body in the sand, or both - and now he dared say he didn’t even know who he was.

Ah, but he’d know. Before he died, when he allowed him to die, he would know.

“I know who you are well enough,” Santiago snarled, and pulled out his hunting knife. “A coward, a traitor, and a murderer. You’re a Judas, and you’ll die as Judas did - and everyone will know why!”

De la Cruz tried to squirm beneath him, still dazed by the blow but all too aware of the blade of his knife. Santiago sneered, held the knife to his throat, and watched him grow still. There was terror in his eyes, unmistakable, and he savored it like a sip from a bottle of fine wine.

“Ay, you’ll wish I made it this easy for you.” The blade slipped beneath his collar and ripped down through the cassock, baring his chest.

De la Cruz tried to squirm again, this time with more urgency, eyes wide. “Stop!” he rasped.

Santiago smiled. “Why? Have you recalled my name?”

“I have done nothing to you. I--”

“Liar. I should take an eye for that,” he snapped, and brought the tip of the knife’s blade to rest right beneath a widened eye, drawing the tiniest drop of blood from his skin. “Think again, you Judas. Think of the day you deserted. Someone was with you.”

“What…” Ernesto de la Cruz paused and finally, finally, Santiago saw his expression change - from terror and confusion to realization. Of course, that must have jogged his memory: the two of them had barely shared a few words, but he must remember Alberto. And wherever Alberto went, Santiago followed.

Until, of course, de la Cruz had sent Beto someplace where Santiago could not follow.

You took him away.

Something ached in his chest, and all of a sudden Santiago felt ridiculously close to tears. But he had him now. He would see him die, Alberto would be avenged, and he would finally feel better. He had to feel better. He could not contemplate feeling the way he did forever.

“Thiago,” de la Cruz choked out, and he scoffed. Of course, even now, the self-absorbed bastard couldn’t be bothered to remember anyone’s name.

“Santiago,” he snapped, and leaned in so close their faces almost touched, pressing the blade a little harder on Ernesto’s skin and causing another pinprick of blood to well up. “But it matters not. You know whose name I want you to remember, sí? That of the man you killed.”

De la Cruz swallowed. “Alberto,” he managed. “I-- I didn’t want to kill him. I swear. I only wanted to get away, I couldn’t stand it anymore, I... he would have stopped me, he--”

“And so you shot him like a dog!” Santiago screamed, causing that disgusting coward to wince. He pulled back, knees still pressed against his sternum, keeping him pinned down. The grip on the handle of his knife was so tight it ached. And he even had the galls, this bastard, to lecture him for shooting a gringo!

“You left him dead to feed scavengers, and you really thought I would let it stand! You really thought I wouldn’t hunt you down like the beast you are! Tell me, did you kiss him the way Judas kissed Christ when he betrayed him?”

A shudder beneath him that may have been a sob. “P-por favor--”

“Oh, you’re begging now?” Santiago gave a loud, ugly laugh, and pressed the blade against Ernesto de la Cruz’s chest. “Very well, traitor. Go on and beg,” he said, and began to cut.

He did beg, but only for a few moments. For a good while, all he could do was scream.

***

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#pixar coco #ernesto de la cruz #hector rivera #imelda rivera #coco #fake priest au

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shinsoups · 4 years

Text

Student No. 22 —

m a s t e r l i s t

pairing: shinsou hitoshi x f!reader x class1a

genre: 1tbsp of crack, 1 tsp of fluff, a sprinkle of angst and 1 cup of chaotic randomness

synopsis: y/n was certain she would never be a Hero. She had a different goal in her mind, and that is to be a great doctor someday. With a terrible past she wants to forget, she vows she would never use her Quirk and will never let the world know what it is. Not until she finds out that the invincible quirk she thought she has can also have a certain weakness.

super random updates

a/n: canon Shinsou is joining hero class for their second year but I'm gonna make him part of Class 1A already yay! ALSO IM ON MOBILE IDK HOW TO PUT A *KEEP READING CUT* will edit this tomorrow 🙏🏻 sorry for the long post on your dash

OO5 : Acceptance...Is that a Threat? —

"You're already enrolled and your safety was entrusted to us."

"No, I'm sorry but I think I had enough." You hoarsely whispered. "I already got the answer what I was looking for."

Aizawa stopped in his tracks, his hands buried in his pockets as he watches you struggle to reply. "And that is?"

"The Hero scene isn't cut out for me." You bravely look at his eyes, slowing down your pace and faced him, catching Shinsou's gaze just behind your teacher.

"I don't want to fight nor hurt anyone to save lives. I want to save lives as a doctor if possible. And if you think that proper guidance is that one thing I need then you're wrong, sensei. I don't need that, please don't patronize me."

Aizawa tried his best to remain calm but the way you somehow push the wrong buttons and say things so straighforward makes him want to knock some sense in to you and tell you that there is more to being a hero. But the way you fidget somehow caught his watchful eyes. Aizawa squinted as you kept glancing towards him and behind him, catching a certain purple head boy passing you two.

You fiddled your hands nervously, seeing another gaze settling on your figure. Still feeling the pain on your shoulder, Aizawa walked closer to where you stood.

"You're scared of him," he said in-a-matter-of-fact tone.

"I am not."

"Because he can control you," he taunted.

Is Aizawa even a teacher right now? Why is he so pressed into this matter? You thought to yourself as you felt his presence even closer, caging you and your thoughts... your fears that someone actually exists that can easily negate your own self defense quirk. You bowed your head, averting your gaze.

"l/n-san, you don't like being controlled don't you?" Aizawa sighs seeing how your body trembles at the mention of the word.

You looked up wide eyes, straining to retort something but words fail to escape your mouth. Instead a nonsensical challenge transpired between the two of you. Shinsou held his breath, wanting to intervene the moment he saw Aizawa’s eyes glowing red and hearing your whispered exchanges. Only for Bakugou to block his way, enjoying the scene unfolding in front of them.

Everyone was silently hoping there was a good reason why Aizawa was suddenly fighting you just after finishing the Hero Training exercise. His hair flared up as he tried to capture you with his scarf, only for you to dodge and glare at your teacher.

“You didn’t fight Shinsou and Bakugou. Is that how you like to win?,” Aizawa’s voice echoed as you run towards the exit. Trying your best not to bump into someone along the way.

At the back of your mind there was a tiny voice telling you that they’re all judging you and your intentions was so unclear to be there at the Hero Course. That you don't deserve to be there. And they were right. But...

"You can become stronger if you train against him and with him. Maybe find a reason why he of all people can do that to you..."

You scoffed, amazed by how a teacher can agitate you with such simple words. Your grandfather was worse, his training methods were the worst, the hero exercise earlier pale in comparison to what you experienced. You only learned self defense in order to protect and not fight.

And to see this class filled with hopeful heroes to be are trained in order to fight for the justice they believe is such a ludicrous notion it made you wonder... why train them in the first place only for the HPSC to control everything? You gag at the toxic hero worship everyone seems to adapt. Is everyone foolishly blind? Foolishly following such trend? Or were you the blind one?

Gritting your teeth, you spat the words angrily. You stopped running and charged into him instead, “I still won. You got what you wanted, sensei. My Quirk... you saw it with your own eyes. So why do I have to hurt someone if the only goal is to win?”

With that said you side-stepped away from the white material coursing your way only to meet another set of it the moment you evaded Aizawa’s.

The rest of the class tried their best to avoid the both of you, still confused about what's going on. "She really likes to pick a fight doesn't she?" Kaminari watches as you gracefully dodge each of Aizawa's attempt to capture you.

"Sensei's erasing quirk is useless against her too," Midoriya mumbled, amazed once again with this new information. "I thought it was only fire quirks that were affected but I'm guessing she can --"

Midoriya's words were cut off when he saw Shinsou walked closer, carefully threading in the sidelines.

"You have got to be kidding me!"

"I-I think everyone should calm down." Shinsou looked over you then to Aizawa who was shocked that his own protege captured him with his own binding technique.

"y/n-san" Shinsou pulled you into him, trapping you with his binding cloth for the second time after releasing Aizawa. "I don't know what's going on, but -" he looks at his mentor then back to you.

"Release me."

"No."

"Shinsou!"

"No!" he pulled you closer.

"Take it off."

Shinsou raised his eyebrows, smirking at the tone you used. He tried to hold his smile but the way you whispered those three words somehow made you two blush at the weird notion.

You bit your lips in embarrassment as you felt his breath on your cheeks, "No."

"Please?" you sighed, trying to calm yourself down. Too close...he's too close.

Shinsou looks back up at his teacher. "Sensei-"

Aizawa’s face was more unreadable as he walks closer, Shinsou was trying to figure out what his mentor's expression means. Aizawa simply stares at the both of you, a strange look both of you can't read.

Shinsou takes a deep breath, and goes on, “I shouldn't probably intervened but she's...she's injured because of me.” he looks away, too shy with the reason he came up with, now a small tinge of red powdering his nose.

There was a long pause. Aizawa merely nods. Shinsou opens his mouth, wanting to say something more but the words don’t come.

Giving into another temptation and succumbing to the curiousity budding, you rationalized the choices in your head. Do you want to fight him? Or do you wanna know how far he can use his quirk against you. About what he said earlier, were you scared people will resent you or maybe you really are scared of yourself.

"Fine." you murmured. "I accept the offer."

"Offer?" Shinsou looks momentarily confused about the exchange.

"Good. Now please do me a favor and stop being another problem child." Aizawa pats your head and walks away as if nothing had happened. "I'm not getting paid enough for this." he mutters to himself as he looked between you and Shinsou leaving you two behind and calling the whole class to go change back into their uniforms.

"Were you always a pushover?" Shinsou asks out of curiosity as he frees you.

"I am not!"

He watches as you contorted your face into a pout, your nose scrunching in annoyance as you rub your arms. With cheeks puffed out you glared at him, "I'm going to crush you, so you better know what's coming.”

"Is that a threat?"

You pat his shoulder bravely making him flinch at the sudden contact "No. It's a declaration of war."

The heat rises to his cheeks, his cool and passive demeanor suddenly melts aways as he chuckles lowly, accepting the declaration you just announced. "Then be ready to taste defeat this next time."

Curiosity was one thing you don't like but what you really hate the most is not finding answers to satisfy your own. So this time, you might as well go all the way in satisfying the curiosity growing.

"Then try me. Bring it on, hero."

a/n: the story is progressing so slow skdkkskec i just want to stress the part that y/n hates the idea of hero worship... Probably due to one of the many traumas she endured during her childhood.

But still she's a very curious cat, Shinsou unknowingly being the reason why she accepted Aizawa's offer once again.

ps: this is not proofread 🤧 will edit laters~

taglist: @sugarandsoft @roesaurus @moonlightbae14 @therealwalmartjesus @redperson58 @i-bitch-you-bitch @allie-munoz @seijohoe @riathearora

general taglist: @b0ku4ka @chibishae34 @skusamiya

i got a taglist im soft ~ want to join? just leave a comment or shoot an ask my dudes and dudettes ✨

likes, comments and reblogs is highly appreciated 🐣

this is my first time writing bnha so tips and comments are really helpful ! ✨

#shinsou hitoshi #class 1a #aizawa shouta #bnha #shinsou hitoshi x f!reader #class 1a x f!reader #bnha fic #hitoshi shinso #sey writes #🔖: student no. 22

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kyber-kisses · 4 years

Text

Torrential (3/3)

Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: more cursing, more fluff, more Dean being totally in love and not knowing what to do

Summary: Deans tries to keep his feelings buried, but its extremely hard when Y/N is just so damn perfect.

A/n: I’m sorry this took so long to finish, i currently have the worst case of writers block and it feels like I've been stuck in an endless loop of zero inspiration. Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy and feedback is always appreciated!

It was like some sort of weird drug.

That was one of the only ways Dean could describe his feelings. Everything was fine one second, and the next? You’d just waltz into the room and his palms would get sweaty and he would suddenly be stumbling on his words.

Okay- so more accurately you were like a drug, and Dean was addicted. He partially blamed Sam for this. He was the one that had helped him realize his feelings towards you. His little brother had got him hooked on the drug that was Y/N Y/L/N.

For a moment he also blamed the damn thunderstorm still raging outside. It hadn’t let up and with each passing day Dean swore that he was falling deeper in love with you. You would still sit with the door open while you read and every once and awhile you would just patter into the room drenched to the bone with a smile that out shined the sun smeared across your face.

You were addicted to the rain just like the older Winchester was addicted to you. You came in drenched with water and Dean stayed drenched in love. It was somehow poetic, and the hunter had no idea what to do with it. He’d never felt this way about anyone before.

You had gotten up from your armchair awhile ago, disappearing into the confines of the bunker to do knows what, leaving him to steep in silence as he tried to come to terms with the truth. Even if it had been days, he still found it hard to believe. Should he tell you? Or should he just keep it buried as his little secret until eventually time ran out?

So caught up in his thoughts, He almost didn’t notice your return until you were siding up next to where he was seated, the laptop in front of him going unnoticed as he stayed locked in the zone.

“Grilled cheese for your thoughts?” You smiled, offering over the delicacy you had balanced on a plate, earning his attention as he turned to look at you.

“You made me grilled cheese?”

“Uh, yeah? You seemed a bit out of it earlier so I thought what better way to gain your attention than to bribe you with cheese and bread?” You grinned, sticking the plate out for him to take.

“You know me so well.”

“I know.” Sinking down into the chair besides him, you crossed your arms. “You wanna tell me why you’ve been acting so off lately?”

“I haven’t been acting off.”

Raising an eyebrow, you swiped half of the sandwich. “Try again cowboy. You’ve been awfully quiet these past few days.”

Shit. Had he really been that off? He thought he had been covering it up just fine. Clearly that was not the case.

Dean let out a sigh, picking off little pieces of crust from his portion of the sandwich. He just had to try and cover it up again. Throw you off so you didn’t poke anymore. He was afraid that if you did he wouldn’t be able to hold anything back.

“Do you wanna go on a walk?”

and there went that plan. . .

“A walk? Dean, it’s raining.” You shot him a quizzed look, his question catching you even more off guard. “And no offense but I thought you hated the rain.”

“I don’t hate it!” He fired back, standing up and reaching for his coat. “It’s just not- my ideal weather.”

Watching him walk towards the stairs, you tried to piece together what was going on with him, only to come up blank. You couldn’t for the life of you pin point why he was acting so weird.

“You coming or not?”

“Sheesh, calm down. Let me put on my jacket.” Tugging the canvas material over you body you let your feet carry you quickly across the room and up the stairs, Dean grabbing the lone umbrella that stayed propped against the railing most days.

Holding the door open for you, you stepped out into what felt like a never ending downpour. Rain beaded down the paintwork of the impala, bouncing off of every hard surface. The sound coming from every direction except down and the storm drains bubbling with brown runoff from the lonely dirt road. There was a subtle swoosh sound from behind you and a moment later the feeling of water dripping onto your head ceased, Dean standing besides you with the open umbrella:

“You know, you’re probably the last person I ever expected to just get up and go on a walk with. You shun exercise.”

“Oh shut up. This isn’t exercise.” Stepping up the stone stairs side by side, Dean adjusted his grip on the umbrella, making sure you were both protected from the downpour- not that you cared though. “This is- this is a leisurely stroll.”

“Ah. Got it. . . Still not like you at all.” You shot him an amused grin before linking your arm with his and pulling yourself closer to the Winchester. Thankfully for Dean, you hadn’t noticed his surprised look when you did it, the tender action catching him off guard as he looked down at your linked arms. Everything in him was telling him to pull away, to sever the connection before he fell even further. . . But he couldn’t. It was like a magnet kept him close to you, making it impossible for him to do anything rationally.

The two of you walked in silence for a few minutes, the sounds of your boots hitting the shallow puddles almost being drowned out by the droplets smacking against the material of the umbrella.

“Why do you like the rain so much?” He suddenly questioned, shifting to stick his free hand into his pocket. “You never told me.”

And like so many times before, Dena watched as your eyes lit up, a soft smile pulling at your lips and making the corners of your eyes crinkle. “Why do you want to know?”

“Just wondering.”

“You want the long answer or the sort one?”

Dean shrugged, doing his best to act casual in the whole situation. “I don’t care. Whatever you want.”

You smile grew at his response, taking in the hunter as you did so. How could someone be so complicated and so simple at the same time?

“I love the rain. I always have. It brings life and fills the earth. It smells good too- it smells fresh. Clean.” You paused. “And the sound? People always explain it as a steady pitter patter but I always compared it to the crackle of an old radio coming to life. The rain has always made me feel safe and secure. kind of like you.”

You paused once more, looking over the hunter you still linked arms with, taken back by his expression.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that? Is it really that cheesy?”

“No,no.” Dean quickly interjected, the soft smile on his lips slowly growing, eyes full as he gave you his attention. “I just like hearing you talk about things you love. You get excited.”

At that your grin grew, eyes almost as bright as his. “And what about you, Dean Winchester?”

“What about me?”

“What things do you love? What things make you happy? Besides double bacon cheeseburgers and your car of course.”

Dean tried to hide the falter in his steps, almost soaking his foot in a puddle with the action. So. . . He may have dug himself into a small hole with that one small comment.

Quick, Dean. Give her an answer. . . Preferably not the first thing that comes to mind.

“Y/N, you already know the things I love.”

“I know some things. I doubt I know everything.” You corrected him, giving his bicep a squeeze as you did.

“I love hunting, and classic rock.”

“Dean, I already know those things!”

The hunter shrugged in defense, practically white knuckling the umbrella handle in a futile attempt to keep himself in check. “I don’t know what to tell you Y/N! You know everything about me!”

“Oh c’mon. There has to be something. Give me something that will surprise me.”

“Y/n, I’m telling you. You already know what I love. I can’t surprise you.”

With a groan you un-linked your arm from his, once again stepping out into the downpour, tilting your face skyward. “And I’m telling you: I sincerely doubt that.”

“You do know if you do that your gonna have to walk back in wet clothes, right?” Dean grinned, watching as you hopped into a puddle, the childish part of you shining through with the small action as you got distracted.

“Does it look like I care?”

And then before the older Winchester even had a chance to react to ripped the umbrella from his grasp and snapped it shut, successful drenching him in a similar fashion to yourself.

“Y/N! What the hell?!”

“It’s just water, silly.” You laughed, suddenly choosing to hop from puddle to puddle momentarily. “Sure, it doesn’t look partially nice from under the umbrella, but once you’re out in it, it ain’t so bad.”

Squinting through the sheet of rain dividing you, Dean took in your features. tiny rivulets of water slid down your face, dripping of the top of your nose and collecting on your lips. Your hair at this point slicked back by the amount of water it had collected as well.

God, you were beautiful.

“You.”

Your childish antics quickly ceased, your figure spinning around to face him. “What?”

“You asked me what do I love. That’s my answer.” He swallowed, suddenly finding it difficult to do so. “You. I’m- im in love with you.”

It was almost painful to stand there and watch you. Your eyes widened and you froze in the middle of a particularly big puddle, the last of the ripples you had made slowly beginning to fade. You blinked. Once. Twice.

“Okay, you gonna say something or you just gonna stand there and make me feel even more uncomfortable than I already am?”

You stayed silent for another minute, successfully stunned to silence by his words. Dean Winchester. . . In love with you?

“Me?”

“Yes, You.”

“Are you sure? I’m fucking crazy.”

“Yes, I’m damn sure. Why do you think I’ve been so quiet lately?” He paused, drawing in a breath.

“That’s why you were so quiet?! I thought you were mad at me!”

“I wasn’t mad at you!” Stomping through the small puddles, Dean came to a halt in front of you, wiping the rain from his vision, even if it only lasted a moment. “I just- I didn’t know what to do. I love you- I’ve been in love with you Y/N. Probably long before I even realized I was.” It was like the rain was a whole different kind of liquid courage, because like a switch being flicked the words just flowed out easily.

There was silence from your end again as you took in his words and then slowly but surely a smile spread across your face. “Dean.”

“What?”

“Well, I thought we were saying things we loved, right?”

It took a minute for the gears to click into place in his brain but you could pinpoint the moment they aligned, Deans eyes widening at the realization. “Wait- you-“ he never finished because you quickly flung your arms around him, and sweetly pressed your lips against his.

And then the bastard slipped. He fucking slipped. You don’t know how but all off a sudden his arms were around you, and his feet went out from underneath him, and Dean Winchester successfully pulled you to the muddy earth with him, your heads bonking during the decent as you let out a yell.

Except this time the hunter softened your fall as you landed on his chest, earning a harsh oof from him.

“Oh god, I’m sorry-“ bracing your hands on either side of his head, you pushed most of your body weight off him, your face hovering bunches from his own.

“You okay?”

“I’m okay. Are you? I think I crushed your lungs.” The words slowly fading on your lips as you quickly lost yourself in his eyes.

“Y/N.”

“Dean.” His name left your lips breathlessly, and then his arms snakes around your waist and pulled you flush against him, and you were kissing again. Dean swore he could taste the rainwater on your lips, and they were even more lush then they looked. His hands curled along your back, tracing your shape as he did.

Okay- so maybe you were right. The real thing wasn’t so bad once you stepped out into the downpour. It might be unsettling at first- but the feeling soon melts away.

*. *. *. *. *. *.

Maybe love is like rain. Sometimes gentle, sometimes torrential, flooding, eroding, joyful, steady, filling the earth, collecting in underground springs. When it rains, when we love, life grows. - Carol Gilligan

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sweater-daddiesdumbdork · 5 years

Text

Life After Snowpiercer: Tell Me, Please?

Summary- Curtis Everett x Y/N. Tensions are still there between you two, but Curtis demands an answer. Your group collects the last bit of supplies and makes it towards the front, only to be confronted at the end. Trauma, Some Violence. Word Count- 4.9k

Chapter 7 / Masterlist

Curtis watched you sleep, in sleep you relaxed yourself from whatever plagued you, during the night having pulled in half sprawled across his very sore ribs, and laid your head in the center. The rise and fall of your shoulders so slight that he would have to really be studying them to see that yes, you were still asleep. You faced away from him, but you sighed softly and shifted yourself, tilting yourself closer, his eyes able to rove over the curve of your nose, and how your lips have chapped slightly. The dark bruises under your eye, at first it would see to have been tiredness, but much to the anger he was feeling coil in his gut, someone must have hit you hard at some point the past few days. His eyes continued to rove, noticing other scrapes, and bruises along your scalp line. Would you tell him though? Further he noticed that there was a cut in the corner of your mouth and without a thought, his fingers brushed along the mark, hissing to himself when your eyes shot open, unfocused and a touch of fear clouding them. In all the years you two have known each other, you never looked at him like that, and it phased him more then you could know.

You were fallen in one of those dreamless deep sleeps, the kind where your cocooned in darkness and nothing is drawing you forward into images. Blackness, soothing blackness. There was no visual moments where you had to think and rationalize. It was peaceful. Things merely ceased to exist.

A touch brought you back, so light but the sting it left near your lips brought it back and you tensed, ready to yank away when your eyes opened, prepared for the worst, that sneering grin reaching for you in your safe place, ready to drag you out and put vile pain all over your body. No, we escaped, we got out.

Curtis face sharpened second later in your view, and you softened, loosening your grasp in his jacket where you had fisted your hands to keep from being pulled away. See Y/N, your safe. This is home. Curtis hand slid from your mouth to brush aside the soft hairs curling over your cheek, and you dragged in a deep breath, and released it, feeling your chest expand and his steady heart beating underneath your cheek kept you grounded. “Bad dream?” Curtis asked after a few seconds of the two of you just staying silent. You quirk the corner of your mouth a bit “Nothing serious Curtis.” Your hand smoothed over his chest and you realzined where you were laying. “Shit sorry baby, your ribs.” Going to move his hand clasped on the back of your neck to keep you from moving.

“Dont, they are fine. Tell me about what you were dreaming about?” Hoping she would relax enough just the two of them to talk about what you were thinking about. His grasp turned lighter now that you werent moving, sliding his thumb over the column, and you slightly relaxed once more, biting your already chapped lips and wincing slightly at the sting.

“Yea, I saw you favoring your side Curtis” You informed him, but you didnt move. Honestly after the past few days, you were just fucking thankful you got to do this again. “And nothing, hell I think I was so damn tired, it wasnt sleep. Somewhere just before a coma.” You rub your face lightly against his chest and sigh. “I could slip back into it right now if we didnt have to prepare to move to the front.” His thumb continued to feather along your neck, circling over the bruises of fingertips that had pressed down to hard. Faint, but Curtis saw them better now that your hair wasnt covering them.

“What happened Y/N?” his brows coming together and lifting the heaviness of your hair back from your neck. You then pulled away and straightened your hair back over your neck. He shifted to half sit up on his elbows. “Y/N, you gotta tell me who put hands on you?-” His inquiry got interrupted when your name got called, and you took the moment to avoid Curtis questions, calling back out. “In here!” Tugging on your jacket and looking at Curtis “We will talk about it later baby, promise.” His hand moved against your arm to keep you with him, but you slipped out of his hold. Leaving him there with more questions and no answers. His lips thinned tightly and his jaw clenched, a dark suspicion inkling its way into his thoughts.

All of those fuckers are dead. His thoughts snapped as he snatched his jacket, trying to keep from blowing over. Im going to hunt every single on of them down. It was the last thing you needed was him loosing his temper, but that didnt stop the rage building in his chest, or the guilt. Why didnt I leave them with protection? Gone back, brought them weapons... Hearing your footsteps descend away, Curtis knew that you were heading towards the wounded. Grasping his beanie, and leaving the warmth and comfort of the momentary home, and slipped it on. Now that it was day, he could see just how far the group had been able to do. They had gone through several cars and hauled out anything decent. Catching a glimpse of you leaning down to check Saras shoulder, you also caught sight of Edgar sitting up, and a box next to him, stuffing something into his mouth.

“Is that... crackers?” Curtis asked as Edgar held his arm out to grasp and get up. With some effort, Edgar managed to get to a stand, hauling the beat up cracker box with him. “Yea, they found a bit of this kind of stuff a few cars up. Dried goods, flour, sugar, cans.” He held out the box for Curtis to reach his hand into and withdrew a few crackers that he took a bite of. It was stale as fuck, salty, and just about one of the best things he can remember ever having.

“Yes, I remember passing through right after the water, supplies Im assuming for the rest of the train. There was a few more similar closer to thre front as well” Curtis mentioned, and Edgar nodded over to where a pile of food had been made, along with clothing and blankets. “Im sure the front survivors have already raided some of those others.” Maybe they will be okay until were able to figure out a more permanent solution. “Hows your back?” Curtis turned his attention away from the supplies, and Edgar turned, lifting his shirt enough so Curtis could see. The length of the actual stab looked to be a good three inches long, red all around. Although burned from where the ax blade had laid across it, it was sealed. You came on over just then and ducked around Curtis, getting in for a closer look.

“Thank God they got it sealed” You breathed out and tugged on Edgars shirt to have him put it back down, when he turned to face you, you drew in close and hugged around his neck. “You punk, I told you to be careful” Curtis cast a downward glance, regret and guilt passing and Edgar shook his head lightly Dont... You never saw the exchange pass between the two men. “Yea well, when I ever bloody listen anyways?” Edgar withdrew and smirked at you, causing you to scowl at him.

“Well Im back now, so your gonna.” You point a finger at him, and then smooth your hand against his arm in a loving gesture.

“Are the people able to travel? Or do they still need some recovery time?” Curtis changing the subject from Edgar, his hand rested against your waist, and it felt heavy to you, like he wasnt ready to let you go, that you were actually with him. He must have really believed he wouldnt see me again.

“If we go slow, Im sure we can. Everyones so exhausted though, another day might not hurt anyone.” You tip your head towards Edgar and he immediately rebutes it although you ignore him. “Sara, shes bad off. Its inflamed and im worried I might not have gotten everything out. It was hard to tell...” You drifted off as Curtis took a glance at the woman you were talking about. Seeing her huddled against the wall, head tipped forward. “She says she can travel, but she will need to stop alot.”

That confirmed it for Curtis, he shook his head. “Then we stay, one more day.”

The rest of the time was spent sorting through supplies, packing it in a way it could be carried. Outside fires were kept stroked and burning, using debris off the train, and someone found large hollowed metal bins that with some scrubbing could work to melt snow in. The idea of being able to wash up appealed to you, and once you were sure the others waters needs were met hours later, you worked on warming up a pot for yourself. One of the cars towards the back had side rooms available for actual privacy, and you planned on taking full advantage.

You didnt need much and using a blanket to handle the hot container, you hauled your bit of hot water through the car to the end, slipping inside. Of course Curtis noticed from where he had been helping to pack up the dried goods in blankets to easier carry them, and he turned to Edgar “Get as much packed as possible, if we have to we will come back for the rest.”

“Yea, sure... where you going?” He asked as Curtis moved away from the group, calling over his shoulder.

“Got someone to take care of” Edgar just shrugged and went back to what he was doing.

You were in the process of undressing, when a soft knock happened on the door. Squeaking in alarm, you say loudly so there was no denying that whomever heard you. “Occupied!”

“I know, Im coming in.” Curtis said as he opened the door and you withdrew from sight, looking to grab your shirt and cover yourself.

“Curtis! Im busy” In which he just arched a brow and shut the door behind him, okay lame on your part, not much was kept hidden in the tail end and youve never been super shy before with him. Your fingers played in the shirt, looking down and away from where he stood. It was thankfully darkish in the room, you felt better being somewhat hidden, not wanting that question you know was coming.

Just seeing you react, he knew. He could see it all over your face that you were dealing with a heavy mix of emotions, but the one he saw the most was shame, and he couldnt for the life of him understand why. How he wanted to go and wrap you in against him, take away all of those memories and protect you better, I should have... fuck why didnt I leave people behind. “Y/N, Baby, I know something happened. Please tell me. You were scared this morning, and youve been avoiding me. I-” he sighed and took a cautionary step closer, and could see the glimmer of tears streaking down your face. “- just got you back. I cant loose you again, especially like this.” His voice lowered, gruffer, you could tell he was trying to keep himself in check.

Standing there, trying not to let him see you, how you wish you could shrink away into the wall. You tried so hard to fight back and just werent strong enough, spit it out you scolded yourself, but you stayed silent, lifting your face to look at him and dropped your shirt. Curtis took an audible gasp at the bruising that littered your body, your pale skin dark and yellowed with discernible finger and hand prints. Covering your face in your shame. “Oh god, Im sorry Curtis, I tried to stop them.”

What?! Oh babygirl, no....He stepped forward and wrapped his hands gently around your wrists and pulled them away. “Babygirl sshhh.... Im not mad at you.” You blinked up at him with that wide eyed stare of yours and then pushed in against him, sobbing into his chest and he lowered the two of you to the floor, careful to keep you in his lap, and rocking you softly. The pain blossomed in his chest at what you were saying, the way your whole body sobbed into his, and he let you. Nothing but the soft swaying motion, like one would do for a child, and his chin rested atop your head as it was buried in against him. There were no words he could say at this moment to make it better, you had to be able to simply cry it out until you were ready to tell him what happened. But even now, he could see the bruises down your back. When I get my hands on them, all those fuckers are going to pay. Oh it wasnt an If, Curtis was all about When. He wouldnt stop till he had his hands on there throats, squeezing the last breath from there lungs.

You finally fell silent in his arms, a occasional body rocking hiccup stirring from you, but that was all you had. His hand came up to your face and gently brushed aside the hair that had gotten stuck to your face from the tears, looking down at you with a soft expression. “sorry” you hiccup out and it seems to be the only thing you can think to say.

“Babygirl, they are the ones who will be sorry.” he shifted you a bit so you werent so folded up, letting his hand rest against your knee and his thumb sweeping over it gently. “The fact they touched you will make them regret everything they have done in life. Im going to see to it personally.” You gulped a bit listening to him, the promise in his face, the rage simmering in his eyes, it was all there. You were just thankful it wasnt directed at you, cause even now it was scaring you. And in the same breath, it blossomed a warm raging happiness in your chest, spiraling in a way that made you shake slightly. They would hurt to, not just for what they did to you, but you were sure that others suffered a similar fate that day.

He leaned forward and dipped his fingers into the water, finding it still warm. “How about we clean you up Babygirl? and then go get you something to eat. I know you havent had anything today.” You slowly unfold yourself from around him and Curtis takes the rag, dipping it in the water and wringing it out. He holds his hand out for you to take it, but you turn instead your back to him, reaching behind you to gather your hair and lift it off your neck. You trusted him, you knew his touch would be gentle and caring along your bruises, and it was an intimacy you desired to share with him. Dipping your head when you felt the cloth brush over your shoulder, sure enough he was gentle as it went down your back and over your hip, continuing downwards, he squatted down to do the back of her thighs and calves. “Face me Y/N” he said, giving the softest brush of a kiss against a tender looking spot on your hip. You twisted to face him as he rose up to start from your shoulders and down again.

The riddled marks on your body, now fully seeing what you had been through destroyed a sane part of Curtis, he never wanted to kill anyone more then these men, not even Wilford for all the evilness he had done. There was just a few on your back, careful as he traced over them. You must have fallen from up high, or they took a boot to you. Having you turn for him, he make his way down in a similar fashion. The worst bruises seemed to be on your hips and inside of your thighs, and to see them in such a intimate spot. It was his spot to rest his hands whenever he held you, not anyone elses, and it hurt him that you had to bare such marks. They actually made him growl softly and he was caught by surprise when you cupped his face, running your fingers through his beard. Focus Curtis... He chided himself as he continued with your legs and then swept up the inside of your calves and thighs, this time placing a soft kiss on your belly button and back up to a stand.

This time when he offered you the rag you took it, to finish up, and you thought about what had transpired. Now Curtis had seen all of what they had done, and getting dressed again, you thought about what he had seen and his reaction. It was foolish for me to think he would be mad at me. Sometimes theres no rational reason for your reactions. He remained silent as he handed you clothing, slipping them on a piece at a time. Grasping your coat, he held it up for you and you backed into it, sliding your arms in one at a time. Before you could start to button it up, he turned you back to face him, doing the buttons himself, smiling softly. “You always have a hard time with these babygirl”

“I know, you would think after all this time I wouldnt need your help doing them up.” You chuckled softly at them, all different mismatched sizes, not quite placed right. You could patch a person up, but damned if you could sew decently.

“Well, let me tell you babygirl, Im glad you still need me to do this.” He finished up the last one, and lifted his hand up to cup your face, cradling it in both hands, his thumbs brushing along the softness of your cheeks, the soft downy hairs brushing under the pad of his thumb. Your hands folded over his wrists while looking up at him. “Y/N, nothing, certainly not this changes anything between us. So whatever you think would drive me away, its not going to happen.” He wouldnt break his eyes from yours, needing you to know just how serious he was.

“I know... I- I panicked. I felt that what happened, I should have stopped it.” You admitted, and took a deep breath, ragged from earlier, but no tears sprang forth talking about it. Curtis had been correct in you needing that release, a cleanse. Maybe now this was the beginning of coming to terms with it. Keeping his darker thoughts to himself that throbbed in his temples, as you gave a brief description of what happened, this would be a trial and error for you two, Curtis not wanting to push you in a way you werent ready, and you craving the exact same vibe you two had before. It would take time, to heal. Curtis isnt going anywhere....

Leading you out of the room, he carried the water, and you followed along behind, your hand fisting in the loose part of his jacket. You lighten considerably he noticed once you joined the group, immediately falling back into old habits of stopping and chatting with groups, looking over those you considered your patients, and falling right back into playing with the kids for the rest of the evening, you even made an effort to eat a can of beans that Curtis pried open for you, sharing with the kids you went to hang out with. There wasnt much difference in how you were as from before, and he gave you your freedom, sticking nearby with Edgar, first finishing there earlier project, then Curtis finished his tale of what had happened.

“You mean Matt is actually still alive?!” Edgar remembered the boy well, back then. Looked up to him, almost like a brother. Curtis nodded.

“Yes, and dumbass me left them tied up in the engine. Im sure they have been released now. I tried telling Y/N what hes like... hes dangerous. If he comes around her, I dont know... watch him extra close. She wouldn't forgive me if I hurt him.” A glance over to you showed you laughing while playing itsy bitsy spider with one of the smaller children, cuddling them in your lap while you twisted your fingers to go up the pole, and then sprinkle your fingers down to tickle the youngin’ on the neck.

“Curtis, maybe it wont come to something like that, Y/N is a pretty good judge of people... Im sure she will see how twisted he is.”

Curtis shrugged, he hoped so. But this was her brother, she loved this kid more then anyone else on the train, and he almost lost her then. If she gets her heart broken again, forcing her to give a damn might not be so easy. Making her choose between Matt and Himself, he didnt want to put her in that spot, maybe a bit of fear stabbing at the back of his unconscious, would she pick him if she was forced between them? “We will see probably tomorrow afternoon. I want to get us out of here and back to the front, before they decide they dont need us, and have basically the majority of the supplies once more. Were not equipped enough to survive out there and eventually were going to have to move away from the train for food. Most the cars up there are still upright and can be used for shelter.”

You looked up to see Curtis and Edgar deep in a discussion, and you untangle yourself from the kids. “Bedtime for all of us. Tomorrow were going to the front.”

“The front?!”

“For reals this time”

“wonder what its like?”

“I dont know” You shrug “We just gotta wait and see tomorrow, now off to bed.” You shooed them away to a nest of blankets they made for themselves, and wandered over to Curtis. “Im heading off to sleep, see you all in the morning.” You waved off to the group. Curtis gave you a few minutes to get yourself ready and then excused himself as well.

When he got there you were already curled under the blankets, just a soft pile of your hair showing above the blankets. He shredded out of the majority of his clothing and slipped in beside you, thinking you was already asleep, but surprising him as you flipped to her other side, starting at him in the dark.

“I love you, thank you for coming back for me.”

“I will always come back for you, I love you to babygirl.” Curtis declared, and you moved over closer and lifted his arm to go around you, your head resting on his shoulder, and your hand slid under his shirt and rubbed your hands across the all familiar soft hairs and broad muscles of his chest, settling over where you could feel that familiar thump of life. This was familiar, comforting, and relaxed into this. The past 36 hours was your hell, and this was your salvation. You actually fell asleep and this time you dreamed, not of what happened, but what was to come.

The next morning proved to be busy chaos. After taking a few moments to wake up, Curtis was never one to just roll up and go unless necessary, usually proving him to be rougher around the edges, well more so then usual with the upcoming unknown going back to the front now with the tail enders. “Get up, time to get a move on.” he rumbled, the toe of his boot nudging people as he passed through the group, Edgar grumbling and flipping him off as he to got a toe to the leg and a “Get the fuck up, we dont got all day.”

You rubbed your eyes and snorted in laughter at the grumblings you heard through the crowd, although they complied. You helped hand off sacks of food that they all packed in blankets the day before and you went to your patients, checking them over right quick. The only person you were really concerned for was Sara. If anything she looked paler then the day before. But her wound was still firey red. Biting the inside of your cheek, you smiled, and helped her up. “Dont hesitate to ask for help, I wont be far off” You stress to her till Sara gives a nod and Johanna wraps an arm around her. “Dont worry, we got her.”

Maybe it will all be okay.

The group filed out, Curtis again taking up the rear, watching for any sign of the aggressors from the day before, he had skimmed over the cliff edge, and checked out the path back up, but found no signs. Maybe the fuckers are gone.... He wistfully considered, as he trudged along behind, holding a rifle over his shoulder and in his hands a heavy axe was kept close. In any hand to hand fight, he would rather have the axe on hand instead of the rifle. You made your way back through the crowd and fell in step with him, looking over your shoulder, it seemed like the train was an endless line of cars. You all must be getting close.

“Theres so many to sort through still.” Talking about the cars, Curtis grunted in agreement, glancing down at you. “Well I wouldnt bother with any holding people, all the stuff we need is in those storage ones. Im just hoping the front end had the sense to get into the livestock cars and save anything that survived.” You blinked a bit in surprise, you never actually thought there would be any kind of livestock on the train, the front end having stopped giving the boiled eggs a few years ago.

“Like... chickens and such?”

“Chickens, pigs, some beef cows, couple of those your supposed to milk and all. Yes, had them all. Plus at least 2 cars filled with frozen butchered meat, a large green house cart. The front end didnt have our struggles, that is for damn sure.”

Fuck when was the last time you had a roasted chicken? Steak? Your mouth literally watered at the idea of it.

“No they certainly didnt.”

A few moments of silence between them, the occasional brush of shoulders as Curtis shortened his stride matching your, the change in it made you hide a smile, looking down. You were sure he didnt intend on you to notice and it just resolved in you what you already knew about him. He would always look out for you. Your shared silence was interrupted by a shout as the group started to bunch up and come to a halt. “Curtis Everett to the front, I know your leading this mess.”

Curtis then picked up his pace, you following behind him closely as he weaved through the people milling into a group and coming out in the front. You were about to follow alongside him but Edgar caught the back of your coat, keeping you back slightly and thats when you saw what was before you.

Heavily armed group of people, waiting and they parted as a man and Claude came through. The smirk on the mans face shined right into his eyes, so fucking cold, and you felt your heart sink in your stomach. It really was Matt, just as Curtis described it.

“Well we knew you would come back Curtis.” His arms folded over his chest, as he surveyed the people behind Curtis. “And brought your little rag tag mess of people.” Matt turned his attention to those that started to line up around Curtis, assessing the threat before them. “You might as well just join us everyone, there really is no better answer. You may have the numbers, but we have the supplies, and that includes the rifles.” Matt looked up and down his line of people, smug, satisfied, he won. “So you might as well give up, well before this has to turn ugly Curtis, I mean... We are in this mess cause of you after all.” Claude hung on Matts arm, but he pulled it away and took a step forward till he was standing before Curtis, who glared down at him. “So what do you say tail ender? I clearly won.”

“Matt!” You yanked your arm from Edgar and snapped up right in his face, inches away, anger rolling off you in steams. “What the fuck is wrong with you?!” Curtis arm shot out and grabbed you by the arm, pulling you back to him, not trusting Matt to not hurt you physically. You pulled on your arm, but Curtis grasp was iron and unrelenting. “You are our family, how DARE you even speak like that, after all we been through to get up here.”

“Yea Sister” He said with such venom in his tone, your mouth snapped shut, jaw clenching in your anger and confusion. “All we been through, you had if just fine in the tail end, but not good enough, sending your man up here to wreck it all, correct?”

That was the last line when Curtis fist connected with Matts face, his head snapping back sharply.

Curtis could tolerate alot of things, your brother disrespecting you clearly wasnt one of them.

Fuck it all.

@curtisbbq @what-is-your-plan-today @jtargaryen18 @p8tn0lish @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123 @official-and-unstable-satan @thatweirdwalangpake

#curtis everett x y/n #trauma #snowpiercer #what the fuck they gonna do now?#chris evans beard #chris evans #curtis everett

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katslitg · 4 years

Text

how the open heart lis would react to you being pregnant. (obvs jackie’s pregnant in her scenario.)

Jackie Varma:

god she’d be pissed!!!!!!

“what do you mean positive??? check the other ten tests!!!!”

“jack, all of them say posi-“ “shut up!!!”

she’d be mad, mostly at herself for not being careful enough

pregnancy on top of money problems is rough

good thing you two already live together

wouldnt acknowledge it until she started showing

“dr varma, ure pregnant???” “yeah, just ignore it.”

shed ignore you at the beginning, not knowing what to do

“jackie, c’mon, you cant keep ignoring me! it takes to two to tango!” “i can and i will,”

when you finally force her to come shopping for baby clothes, supplies, furniture etc, she loves it

“omg look how adorable! can you believe our baby’s feet are this small!”

she’d become insecure further into the pregnancy

“what if im not going to be a good mom, hm?”

“don’t say that, jack, you’ll be a great mom,”

you two would move into the your room, since it had a better view and change her room into a nursery

the boys would help you put everything together.

“bryce, that’s not where its supposed to be- ykw forget it.”

“jesus, dr ramsey do you even know how to-“ bryce would shut up just seeing ethan give him a glare

“see i knew raf would come around to save the day” she’d flirt with him, making him blush

cutest mood swings ever!!!

“all im saying is he’s a fucking jerk and i- ohhh sienna are those donuts?”

jackie would get stressed at the weirdest moments, and you kiss her and cuddle with her to calm her down

“mc, you know i hate kids, why did this have to happen to us!!!!”

she’d slowly come to terms with the fact that she was going to become a parent

god giving birth would scare this woman, and trust me not a lot of things scare her

“mc, what if-“ “jack, breath, everything will be fine!”

when you two found out you’d have a daughter she smiled

“at least i wont have to deal with a little mc” she’d joke

when she got in labour she’d curse at everyone!!!

��AND YOU! YOU MC ARE THE WORST ONE HERE! GETTING ME PREGNANT AND THAN MAKING ME DO THE HARD PART I FUCKING HATE YOU!!!”

“uhhh....”

after a couple of years, the three of you would move into a bigger apartment, still close to the hospital

god, your daughter absolutely lovessssssssss aunt sienna and uncle elijah!!!! these two dorks would hang around with her all the time

“dad, can i stay at aunt sienna’s after school?”

“she’s working today sweetheart but mommy will be there to pick you up”

you two would have some sweet, annoying nicknames for her

love, sweetheart, sugar, honey etc

Bryce Lahela:

he’d be excited and scared

he would freeze when he found the positive pregnancy test in his trashcan

“i wanted to tell you but seems like you already found out,”

he’d shut you out and be less loud at work

“bryce, please talk to me” “uhh, cant have a long shift today”

but one day you’d show up to his apartment, keiki opened the door

“oh hey keiki, is bryce home?” “yeah come in”

youd try to get him to talk but man he was not feeling it

“i just need some space mc,”

wouldnt even take a week for him to come over and apologize to you

“im just not sure if i’d make a good dad, i mean i had two bad examples growing up, what if i-“

youd cut him off with a kiss

“no need to stress, bryce, im certain you will make a great dad!”

you two would have to look for a bigger place, and also someone to fill your spot at the apartment

sienna, elijah and jackie would help you decorate the nursery

“jackie those colours do not match with the blankets i bought” sienna would say while jackie just rolled her eyes

“well maybe you shouldn’ve bought so! many! blankets!” jackie said while holding up multiple blankets

“guys please its mc and bryce’s child we can’t fight over this” elijah was the only one who would think rationally

when you found out you were having a son bryce almost jumped into the air

“a little bryce,,,,” he’d say with heart eyes, making you roll your eyes

when you went into labour, he’d be the one freaking out

“can’t believe im saying this when im the one in labour, but good god bryce calm down!”

uncle raf!!!!! aunt kyra!!!!!

rafael and kyra would absolutely adore your son!!!! theyd fight over whose turn it was to babysit

“kyra, you had him last weekend!” “but mc said he always talks about how fun aunt kyra is!”

“why dont you two take him to the park together? he loves both aunt kyra and uncle rafael equally” bryce would say, making the two adults reluctantly agree

“finally a moment alone with the woman of my dreams” he said the second they left, making you chuckle

keiki would hang out with your son. occasionally.

“aunt keiki can you read me a bedtime story?” “right. im aunt keiki.”

she’d love it secretly

Rafael Averio: (pretending sora doesnt exist here lol)

this man would beam with joy!!!

he had always dreamt of having a big family of his own

“youre pregnant?” “yeah.... i-“ he’d kiss you before you could even say anything else

would brag to everyone about it

“do you guys know im goin-“ “going to be a dad? yes raf you told us like a million times” his paramedic friends would say

it was even funnier when you saw how some people avoided him because of it

would not leave ur side

“jesus ever heard of personal space?” “oops sorry”

he’d be at ur apartment all the time

“raf, not that we don’t enjoy you being here but don’t you idk have other friends?” jackie would try to get him out of the house

sienna’d be fine with it since he would help her cook n bake stuff

“i didnt know you cooked!” “not really just some stuff i picked up from my grandma”

he’d sleep over at your apartment

when you got insecure he’d talk to you and make u forgot about it in a certain way ;)

“what if im not a good mom? or what if your fanily doesn’t approve of me?? oh good god this is not going how i imagined-“ “relax, you know my family loves you, now get over here”

you’d move in with him, and get someone to fill ur spot in the apartment

the two of you going to the senior center together!!!

“now edith you better not get to comfortable” you’d joke, earning a laugh from rafael

kyra and bryce would come over and help with the nursery, of course it was after the boys’ gym day so bryce dragged ethan with them

“hey gu- oh hey dr ramsey!” you’d say with a bright smile when you opened the front door.

“kyra not that i dont love you but what even is this?” “yeah i tried to make a blanket but as you can see it backfired”

“uhm ethan you sure that this is the color we picked out?” bryce would panic, knowing damn well they didnt do the one you asked them to do right

“well good thing aunt kyra did got the good color” she’d go get it from the car while the two men started at her in confussion

when you found out you were having a girl he got super excited

“a little mc running around the house” he’d say, already coming up with names

when you’d go into labour he’d put up a calm gentle persona while in reality he wanted to screammmmm

uncle bryce n aunt jackie!!!

u cant tell me bryce n raf havent become close friends

“hey dad can uncle bryce and aunt jackie stay for dinner?” “sweetie youre ignoring the rest of our guests”

even tho they would admit it bryce and jackie loved babysitting her

“do you want to come with uncle bryce?” “bryce thats enough its MY day!”

his family would come around often, bringing gifts every single time

his grandma would try to get him to propose, earning glares from him

when your daughter heard juliana say something along the lines of “when is the wedding” she’d get super excited!!!

“are you two really getting married??!!”

Ethan Ramsey:

you two would already be in an awkward position bc of the gwyneth thing

what was worse was that he admitted to not wanting to get married and have children

god, that little fight on the way to leland and at house took a toll on you, so when june came to check on you back in the hospital you told her

“so, youre pregnant?” “yeah” you’d sob

she wouldnt force you to tell her who the dad is, but it was obvious

before the fight you’d always come to the diagnostics team’s meetings with a smile on your face but now it was a neutral face or sometimes even a frown

soooo ethan found out. not directly from you, but from june, resulting in another fight

“you told june but not me?” “you dont even want kids i cant just casually bring it up!”

the awkwardness would be there for a while, im talking 2-3 months

“enough already! you two talk this out! not only is this bad enough for the two of you but also for me and baz! think about us! and our patients!” june’d snap one day

you’d talk it out, still awkward around each other

“jesus, ethan we can’t keep doing this, i have an appointment to check on the little one, you want to join?” you would try to keep the awkwardness at a certain level, he’d nod with a smile on his face

so when he found out he was having a son, he’d be happy, still very scared but very happy

“im sorry, mc. i acted as a jerk and didnt listen to your needs. i want to be in your and our baby’s lives.”

he’d ask you to move in with him, which you reluctantly agreed to, i mean there wasnt even enough space for a nursery in your apartment

sienna would invite herself and elijah over to help you with the nursery , since they knew about you two since that time after the hearing

“thank you, trinh,” ethan would say as he accepted the cookies she had baked

“i helped too. just so you know” elijah chimed in, earning a chuckle from you

god labour was the worst, you had to do an emergency c section since it was a bit too early for the baby to be born

so when they send your son off to the nicu, ethan would be there the whole time, very worried

“dr ramsey, you should go we’ll take care of him” the nurses would try to get him out of there with no luck, “no its fine i just want to stay here”

when you two could finally go home he would make sure to never youre side

“mc do you need anything? want me to bring you something to drink? maybe an extra blanke-“ “ethan shut uppppppppppppppppp its 3 am”

of course your friends would come over but not as often since they had to take care of their interns and stuff

uncle baz and aunt june!!!!!

“AUNT JUNE!!!!” he’d yell when you, june and baz picked him up from the daycare at the hospital

“wow so youre just ignoring uncle baz?” baz would act hurt, making the boy laugh

#hope this is sorta ok lmfao #open heart #jackie varma #bryce lahela #rafael aveiro #ethan ramsey #jackie x mc #bryce x mc #rafael x mc #ethan x mc #open heart hc #headcanon

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moonlit-imagines · 4 years

Text

Familiar Faces

Cal Kestis x reader

warnings:

a/n: ohhhh my god im sorry this is the last cal idea i had im so sorry there are requests for him now ahhahahhah

prompt: it’s been too long since cal and y/n had seen each other

“Cal, can you hear me?” Cere asked over. the comms. Cal was making his rounds on Zeffo, he’d probably be here a while.

“Loud and clear, Cere. What’s going on?” Cal slowed his run to a walk to hear what Cere had to say, she sounded serious and he could hear the Mantis getting ready to move.

“We intercepted more imperial transmissions and it sounds like you inspired another Jedi to come out of hiding. Greez and I are going to find them before the Empire does, are you going to be okay here?” Cere explained and waited for Cal’s response.

“Of course I’ll be okay, go find our Jedi, I’ll talk to you soon.” Cal stopped in his tracks and proudly smiled to himself, glad that he wasnt alone on the front lines anymore. Hopefully. He went on with his journey, running into some sort of trouble every few steps. So much better than hiding, for sure.

—————

Meanwhile, you were on Tatooine, dodging every authority in sight. You didn’t actually want to be found, but some people want their payday. All you wanted to do was finish up the ship you were being paid to tune up and make some money, but here you were on a middle of nowhere planet with the galaxy’s most ruthless soldiers on your tail. It was a good thing you’d kept your lightsaber all these years, something told you that you were going to need it.

“‘Go to Tatooine,’ they told you, ‘no one’ll ever look for you there.’” You muttered to yourself as you peered out the alley to see if the coast is clear. It wasn’t. You saw your boss talking to an inquisitor and her troops. “This isn’t gonna be good, is it?” You asked yourself and overheard your boss telling them which way he saw you go and exactly where you lived. “Oh, come on, Sal, I thought we were friends.” You rolled your eyes and turned around to see an older woman standing at the end of the alley with her blaster in her hand. She saw your lightsaber and you thought this was it, but she put the blaster back in it’s holster and approached without fear.

“I’m Cere, I’m here to help.” She told you with her hand extended for you. “I can’t explain everything now, but we came here for you. We have the other Jedi.” Your eyes went wide as you realized she really was here to rescue you. “Let’s go.” She backtracked to her ship without being spotted by any imperial enemies. Only problem is, the ship was far off in the desert so that it wouldn’t be spotted. “You haven’t talked the whole way here.” Cere sat down on the couch and invited you over by patting the seat.

“Sorry, I have a lot on my mind.” You accepted her invitation and leaned your head back. “Today didn’t exactly go as planned.” You blew a piece of hair from your face and leaned forward, turning your head to her and holding your hand out. “I’m y/n, I realize I haven’t told you my name yet.”

“Well, y/n, are you ready to restore the Jedi Order?” Cere asked and took you off guard.

“That’s what I’m doing here? Wow,” you chuckled with a look of disbelief stuck on your face, “where’s the other guy?”

“On a planet called ‘Zeffo.’ He’s supposed to be searching old Jedi temples by now.” She explained. “I’d like you to meet him without any preconceived notions from me. You’ll see him very soon. Would you like something to eat?”

“Oh, sure. Thanks.” You closed your eyes and wonder what it was you had just gotten yourself into. “Who’s the captain of this ship, huh?”

“That would be Greez. You should head to the cockpit and say ‘hi.’” She suggested while fixing up some leftovers. You figured there was nothing better to do and took a look in the cockpit.

“Hey! There you are!” Greez greeted you with a bundle of warmth. “I’m Greez Dritus, captain of the Mantis, and you are..?” He waited patiently for a reply.

“Y/N L/N.” You answered respectfully. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen a Lateron.” You observed his four arms and he let out a hearty laugh.

“Oh, yeah? Get used to it! Hope you didn’t track any sand onto my ship.” You could tell he was joking. “I like you, kid. Cere told me I wasn’t allowed to talk about our other Jedi friend until you met him, not sure why, but oh, well. More time to talk about me!” Greez joked and you joined in his laughter. “We’re almost to Zeffo, kid. Take a seat.”

The Mantis landed on Zeffo and was greeted by heavy fire from an AT-ST. Since it wasn’t the worst threat, you quietly ate your warmed leftovers in the kitchen while Cere called the mystery Jedi that you would be partnered with.

“He’ll be here soon.” She informed as you stared at your glass of water. “Have you used the Force since Order 66?”

“Not really, I haven’t had to. I’m probably a bit rusty.” You admitted, getting a bit distracted by the sound of the imperial walker taking shots at the ship. “Are you sure were safe in here?”

“We’re perfectly fine, I’d like to see you use the force on that glass, if you’re up for it.” She motioned to the water and you gulped and heard the AT-ST start to shoot in another direction, which made you feel better.

“Uh...yeah, okay.” You lifted your hand gently and closed your eyes in an attempt to concentrate, feel the Force around you. You had to open yourself back up to it.

“You’re doing good, y/n.” She told you as she saw the glass levitate slightly, but you suddenly jumped and the glass flew across the room and shattered. You were gasping for breath and she put a hand on your shoulder to calm you. “Hey, that’s not a big deal. I can clean it up.”

“I’m confused about your relationship to the Force.” You told her and she chuckled.

“Well, I was a Jedi, but—” She was cut off by the sound of the door of the Mantis opening for the other Jedi. You looked up and watched as the young redhead boarded and greeted him crew, then turned his gaze to see you on the couch. You were quick to get up and stunned at who you were looking at.

“Cal Kestis?” You asked in disbelief while slowly stepping towards him.

“Y/N L/N?” He did the same and suddenly the two of you had your arms locked around each other, his hand was placed at the back of your head, tangling with your hair.

“I...I thought you died.” You whispered with a shaky voice, you were filled with all sorts of emotions during this reunion. You blinked back tears and let out a soft chuckle after realizing that you got one of your best friend’s back.

“Well, that makes two of us.” He pulled you away and you moved your hands to his face, tracing his scars.

“Where have you been?” You looked into his teary eyes and he held onto your hand that was caressing his cheek.

“Bracca, and you?” Cal couldn’t help but smile upon closer look of your face.

“Tatooine.” You placed your head onto his chest and bit your lip to keep it from shaking.

“So, you two know each other?” The pair of you turned to Cere with her arms crossed and a himt of a smile.

“Me and y/n were padawan learners together, our masters had us train together often. We were best friends as kids.” Cal explained to Cere.

“Well, I’m glad there’s some familiarity. Why don’t you bring y/n to your quarters and catch up, maybe explain the mission?”

—————

Well, in the end, things didn’t exactly gonas planned, you were just glad that everyone was okay. You were sore, so sore from all pressure you had put on your body, it was all so sudden. You passed out on your bunk above an injured Cal, the last thing he could remember was you dropping when Vader had thrown you across the hall of the fortress. He shot up from his sleep and nearly hit his head. He dreamed you died, scrambling to figure out if it was true.

Cal spotted your arm hanging off the side of the bunk and hoisted himself up to you to investigate. Fortunately, you were still with him, but he woke and startled you, sending you backwards with a gasp.

“Oh, god, Cal!” You launched yourself into his arms and he fell back, you laid on top of him, nuzzling your head into his neck. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

“Are you kidding me? I thought you were a goner while we were still in the fortress. You nearly gave me a heart attack!” He stroked your back and you listened to his breathing. “I don’t think I can lose you again.”

“You won’t. I promise.” You lifted yourself off of him and slipped your eyes down to his lips, but quickly back up. Bad idea. You hoped that Cal didn’t notice, but of course he did.

“Come on, let’s go see the team.” He suggested before you sheepishly crawled off of him and waited for him to hop off the bunk. You paused with your legs draped over the side of the bed and stared at your calloused hands, trying to picture your fate if it weren’t for Cal and the others. “Are you coming?” You noticed he was watching you the whole time and looking a bit worried with a grin to ease himself.

“Uh—ye...yeah.” You stuttered and dropped from the bed, Cal caught your sides and held you momentarily, keeping you close to him. “The crew?” You whispered.

“I know, I know. I just...need a second.” Cal placed his forehead on yours and closed his eyes. “We’re Jedi.”

“Right.” You agreed, trying to be rational in your mind, trying to figure out what he was getting at, trying not to get your hopes up that he might be implying that there was a reason he would want to break the Code.

“There’s no Council.” He added, making your lips part ever so slightly upon realization.

“Yeah.” You moved your rough, worn down hands to his cheeks and he opened his eyes, you sensed confliction in him, but he could say the same for you. “Cal?”

“Yeah?” Cal answered but you cut off your thoughts and watched him standing there in front of you, each of you still a bit battle damaged, but it was okay because you still had each other. There was a moment of realization where you thought that was all you needed, each other. Damn the Jedi Code.

Cal didn’t exactly grow impatient, he just couldn’t go another second without learning how you tasted. He tightened his grasp on you and leaned forward to your lips, joining them with yours. You pushed forward and wrapped your arms around his neck and shoulders to deepen this experience, he was gentle, moving his hands up your waist a bit. He enjoyed the hums that were slipping from your throat.

“I can’t lie to you, I’ve been waiting to do that for a while.” You shyly admitted and gave him a quiet chuckle.

“I know, me too.” He placed a separate kiss on your forehead. And your nose. And your cheek. And your other cheek. You were giggling, he was happy, then he took your hands into his and whispered. “This is our new path.”

#cal kestis imagine #cal kestis x reader #cal kestis #star wars x y/n #star wars x reader #star wars imagine #star wars #star wars jedi fallen order #jedi fallen order imagine #jedi fallen order x reader #jedi fallen order

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haro-whumps · 5 years

Text

Box Boy Meeting Mama

(CW: slavery, dehumanization, creepy + intimate whumper, implied noncon, videorecording, possessive behaviors)

Tag list: @thatsthewhump @whump-it @ashintheairlikesnow @fairybean101 @finder-of-rings @comfortforthepain @shameless-whumper @that-one-thespian @burtlederp @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @raigash @im-not-rare-im-rarr

Part 1

“Mama! Mama!” Ren called to the open front door, bouncing down the steps excitedly.

Their mother was a stunningly tall woman, with heavy brown hair that waved like a product model and a solid, masculine build. Her shoulders were broad, her wrists thick, and she had a jawline that could only be drawn using squares. Although her skin was free of wrinkle or blemish, she could never be described as youthful, her presence heavy and sharp in any room she entered. Her color palette was almost exclusively red, with some black and rare gold, and anytime someone told her that a woman of her size shouldn’t wear high heels, she bought herself a taller pair.

“Hello duckling,” she greeted with a bright smile, hugging her child, the only person in the world who would ever describe her as warm or loving.

“Soren!” they called over their shoulder, only half-stepping away from their mother, “Heel! Position 1!”

Soren had been told he’d be meeting Ren’s mama that morning, and had been dressed up for it, wearing what could only be called a toga and gold sandals that stretched up to his knees. He rushed to them and stood with his feet slightly parted, arms at his sides, spine straight.

“Oh there he is,” she said curiously, eyeing him over as though to judge if his presence lived up to the rumors. He stood close to Ren, nervous around the looming woman, with her sharp eyes and strong arms. Ren was his owner, so of course they could do whatever damage they wanted to him, but they knew that to a whumpee, their mama cut a much more intimidating figure. She could do as much damage with a closed fist as Ren might with a belt. Maybe more.

“You’re right, the short hair really isn’t suiting him,” she commented at length, lifting a lock of Soren’s hair, which now skimmed his shoulders. The products were doing their job. She tilted his chin and her eyes lingered on the birthmark. “But you are a cute little thing, aren’t you pet?”

“Thank you, um, m-ma’am?” he said hesitantly, body tense, and Ren giggled.

“Aw,” Ren’s mama said with a knowing click of her tongue. “Did you call my child ‘ma’am’ and get scolded for it?” she asked with a small chuckle shaking her impressive shoulders.

“Uh--um, well,” Soren stammered, which was too cute, so Ren took pity on him and kissed his pretty temple.

“He’s been perfect, lately; hasn’t messed up since, have you angel?”

“No, Exalted,” he said, obviously relieved that Ren had stepped in.

“Oh, Exalted!” Ren’s mama crooned, “I like that, that’s so classy!”

“Thanks!” Ren said cheerfully, beaming up at her. “The other option is ‘Honored One,’ which I think has a similar ring to it.”

“Good choices, good choices,” she agreed. “Well, off to Sunday brunch?”

“Mm!” Ren hummed. They gave Soren a quick kiss to his cheek, petting his hair in a smooth, swift gesture. “Behave yourself while I’m out, Soren. I’ll be back in a few hours.”

“Have, have fun,” Soren said, glancing between them and their mama, timid around her, but that was fine. If Soren wanted to see Ren as the only safe thing in all the world, that was a-okay by them.

They climbed into the passenger seat of their mama’s red luxury car, one of the smaller ones today, and arranged their skirts around their legs. Best part of skirts: Ren looked phenomenal in them and they showed off their calves. Worst part of skirts: maneuvering in them.

“He really is,” Mama murmured as she started the car with her thumbprint, “That’s your sweet little Soren.”

“I know!” Ren said with a laugh, “I can still hardly believe it sometimes!”

“Well, he seems healthy and whole, at least.”

“Mama! Of course he is!”

She snorted and pinched their cheek, eyes still on the road. “I didn’t say I ever thought you wouldn’t take care of him, dumpling. But you know how those whumpee-vendors can get, sometimes. Every couple of months, it seems like there’s some new scandal that everyone just needs to flood the news streams with.”

Ren sighed knowingly, very put upon. “It’s true. I mean, really, you’d think we’d be past the whole ‘Oh hey let’s lose our shit over this’ phase of whumpees, right? They knew the risks when they signed themselves over, and it’s not like they’re actually people anymore.”

Mama hummed. “Do we want to go for cheese and pasta or are we thinking seafood today?”

“I could go for somewhere with refried beans and pork, if you’re up for it,” Ren stated.

“Oo, fancy today.” Mama threw on her turn signal. “Guaca Maya’s always a safe bet.”

“So, did I not, express, to Soren, enough, that I loved him and liked taking care of him when we were younger? Like, why didn’t he come crawling back to me?”

“Duckling,” Mama crooned, like when they were acting just a little unreasonable about how life wasn’t fair.

“It’s been bothering me since I found him, Mama. I would have forgiven him! He had to have known that, right?”

“Honey, sometimes poor people just… behave in strange ways. They’re not rational.” She gave their thigh a sympathetic squeeze. “The more you try to make sense of them, the more frustrated you’ll get.”

Ren sighed and stroked their brow, probably messing up their eyebrows but ah, such was life. “I know, I know. It doesn’t matter, I have him now,” they said, flaring out their fingers.

“And so cute, too; he’s so nervous!”

Ren giggled. “Oh, oh! Once we get seated I’ll show you; remember how I told you I was buying all those cameras?”

“Oh, that’ll be nice,” she said, parking the car.

They were seated at one of the better tables, the waitress accidentally calling Mama “sir” before she noticed the mixup, and after they’d ordered their food Ren pulled out their phone and tapped through the application, searching for their boy.

“Ha, there he is,” Ren said, holding out the phone screen so Mama could look. “He really likes that balcony.”

“Good thing, too, his freckles are so pretty when they’re dense,” Mama commented, taking the phone in that way the previous generation had, instead of just looking while Ren held it. Soren was seated on a patio chair, plush but waterproof, and was dozing in the late morning sun.

“I’m glad I got him the two in one sunscreen and lotion,” Ren remarked, staring gleefully down at the screen, chin in their palm. Even though it would be fun to poke and prod at the burns, they thought privately. Such things were not meant to be shared with their mama; she would scold them for casual violence.

“You’re such a clever kid,” Mama said proudly, handing the phone back, “Always the most prepared out of all your peers, I don’t know where you got it from.”

“Statistically speaking, probably you,” Ren said, and they both laughed. Brunch went by pleasantly, the two of them catching up on the events of the week. Mama knew a good portion of Ren’s week, since they had kept on delightedly texting her throughout, but it was always fun to eat and chat. Mama enjoyed flaunting her wealth as much as Ren did, and tipped equal to the bill, then drove Ren home.

“Same time next week,” she said before they got out of the car, “But not the week after--”

“--because you’ll be overseas, so we’ll have to videochat,” Ren confirmed, leaning across the consol so she could kiss their cheek affectionately.

“You got it. Alright darling, have a good one.”

“Bye Mama!” Ren called brightly as they got out, and returned inside. Brunch with Mama always left them feeling pleased and calm, and knowing that they were returning to Soren left them positively bouncing, skirt flaring out around their knees. They went to the kitchen to put their leftovers in the fridge,

and their mood turned on a dime.

“What are you doing with those scissors!?” they bellowed, crossing the kitchen in an instant, catching him by the wrist so hard he dropped the blades, their nails pressing bleeding crescents into his skin.

“E-Exalted, I--”

“The fuck do you think you’re doing?!” they yelled, slamming that fragile arm into the pantry door, grabbing him by the front of his toga and lifting, furious, spots swarming their vision.

“Nothing! Please!”

“The hell does nothing need scissors for?” they shouted, their face so close to his that spit flew onto it. “Do you seriously think you can just--”

“Thread! There’s a loose thread!” Soren wailed, free hand desperately pressed against Ren’s chest. They stopped, breathing hard, rage still curling in them but paused, just for a moment. Soren hiccupped on his little sobs and shakily moved his hand to point at the strap of his toga. “T-*hic* There’s a l-loose thread, Honored One,” he said, lifting it so they could see. Thin, unnoticed when the clothing was delivered, hardly even visible without someone pointing it out. “I, I was snipping it. I would never hurt you, Exalted, Ren, please, I would never, I’m not a fighter, I wouldn’t hurt you, please,” his fingers curled in the front of their blouse, “please, never, never. I wouldn’t, Honored One, please believe me, I wouldn’t, I wouldn’t.”

Ren released his wrist, their fingers trailing down his skin and leaving bloody marks. They took a deep breath, and let it out, releasing his toga and lifting their hands to his face, cupping his cheeks. “Oh, baby,” they murmured, trying to calm their heartbeat. “Oh Soren,” they said, pressing up against him, his back flush against the pantry door, their face pressed into his hair. His gorgeous hair, that he wasn’t going to cut. He hadn’t even been thinking about it. His first concern was that Ren thought he would hurt them, use the scissors to fight; cutting his hair was so far from his mind it never crossed it.

They stood there, pressed up against his quietly crying body, for an indeterminate amount of time. They pulled back when they were calm enough, and silently took the thread between their fingers. They leaned down and bit it, snapping it easily, and then kissed Soren’s birthmark.

“Go ahead and clean up the mess you made,” Ren said, glancing at their leftovers, which were now spilled across the kitchen tile. “I’ll go get some disinfectant for your wrist.”

“Thank you,” he said, high and quiet and Ren felt okay enough to smile at him. They kissed his pretty lips, thumbing at the tear tracks, half-dried, and left the kitchen. But not without first grabbing the scissors, taking the blades with them.

#whump #slavery #dehumanization #creepy whumper #intimate whumper #possessive behavior #videotaping #videorecording #pet #slave #lost temper #bbu #box boy #ren #soren #mama #mine #writing

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tiffgeorgina · 5 years

Text

fuck it black monday soulmate au

this one goes out to brit pricevore and that damn quote rt about hating soulmate aus. also to all the time i wasted in the shower last night thinking about this. brit if you’re reading this i have done my part.

this fic is sponsored by the hyuna and LE collab that i cannot stop blasting. it’s called blacklist and it kind of invented music

-ok so im starting with mo and dawn because of fucking course i am

-mo spends like four years in prison starting from when he’s 20 or 21 or sum shit. around this time, dawn’s getting her MBA from northwestern. as soon as mo’s out of prison, jammer stakes the jammer group and hands majority ownership over to mo. alright so mo needs some employees he can’t do all this by himself. so he schedules an interview with dawn and meets her and realizes that this is His Soulmate.

-im not really certain what the exact soulmate au would be for this because frankly i don’t care, i don’t want to get into that rn lol. but it’s something obvious and clear-cut, like seeing color for the first time when you make eye contact with your soulmate or smth. Actually i rly like that idea so im gonna roll with it. Fuck it you see color the first time the first time you touch your soulmate (i’ll get into the general implications of this some more later on, maybe after keith/mike’s part stay tuned xx) i love me some ambiguous soulmate aus but all the relationships in this show are ambiguous enough so i’ll pass in that regard this time. also in this universe, your soulmate isn’t necessarily regarded as your romantic partner for life. some conservatives/evangelists/fundamentalists/traditionalists will consider any marriage/sexual or romantic relationships with people other than your soulmate to be an abomination or w/e, and the 80s were pretty conservative, but they were also pretty weird, so a lot of people give zero fucks and will date/fuck/marry whoever. these people tend to regard soulmates as the most important person in your life, regardless of the nature of your relationship with them. some people’s soulmates are like a parent to them, and could never imagine being romantic/sexual with them. lots of people never meet their soulmates due to distance/death/etc. basically fate is not as all-knowing in this soulmate au as it is in some others. there is more to a long-lasting, successful romantic relationship than just love. back in the 40s or whatever, people would meet their soulmates and marry like two weeks later, never having had sex or a romantic relationship with anybody else, and then two days into the marriage they realize how devastatingly incompatible they are and the relationship crumbles under the strain of resentment and confusion within a year. people in the 80s have started to learn the lessons the people in the 40s never had time to figure out, so most people have some romantic/sexual experience before they meet their soulmate. besides, who wants to wait that long to have sex? not me tf

-ok back to the plot now that we got the background is down. mo and dawn meet and know they’re soulmates. so they get to know each other, but their main focus is work bc they’ve got a lot of work to do if they want to get anywhere. the company is young, dawn’s just out of school, and mo’s just out of prison. there’s a lot of ground to cover and they’re impatient asf to be rich and powerful.

-the romance sort of happens naturally, given how much time they spend together, and they fall hard. they start dating, and when it’s great, it’s great. but when it’s bad, it’s fucking horrible. they’re both really underdeveloped as people (should i mention that they both literally just entered the workforce lol) and they just. can’t. get. along.

-they hire some more people, like keith and yassir and wayne, and even they can tell that their relationship just sucks. they fight all the time over petty shit, and their fights always go way too far and never get properly resolved. sure, the sex is good and they want pretty similar futures (lots of money and no kids), but emotionally, in the short term, they are as incompatible as it gets. they have the same argument that they’ve had a gazillion times about promoting dawn to partner, but this time it goes a little too far. the things they say are a little too hurtful, and at this point, the relationship is a little too broken to salvage. they both know that when dawn storms out that night, it’s the last time. she moves out the next day.

-but she can’t really quit, can she? at this point she’s put in like three years of work at this place, and it’s moving up the ranks, and she’s head trader. she’s not taking a pay cut because she’s too immature to work with her ex-who-is-also-her-soulmate. so she sticks around. it’s a little awkward at first, but she and mo just come to an unspoken agreement that they’ll spend less time together and let themselves detach as much as possible, because at this point, a romantic relationship just seems so impossible, so why try? they can be each other’s most important person without being romantic partners, right? of course they can! Yeah, maybe they were just destined to be platonic soulmates. this will definitely work.

-so dawn meets this guy. his name is spencer. they hit it off right away too. of course, they’re much less compatible (in terms of long-term plans and all that, especially regarding having a family) than she and mo ever were, and the chemistry is nowhere near as electric, but at least they can have a conversation about something other than how much they hate the lehman brothers without screaming at each other. despite how much she knows she doesn’t love him like she still does used to love mo, she thinks she can live the rest of her life like this. they get engaged after dating for a year, and then married after a six month engagement period.

-mo stays single for about a decade or so. the most serious relationship he has isn’t even monogamous and it’s like, barely a year. he tells himself that he’s not looking for love, and he’s much happier to just sleep around and count his money and focus on that. everybody he ever talks to knows this is a bald-faced lie. they choose not to bring it up.

-(IM REALIZING HOW SIMILAR THIS IS TO THE CANON BACKSTORY/PLOT OF BLACK MONDAY IM SCREAMING SHGLKSDFHGLKSDRGHLS WHATEVER IM HAVING FUN) so mo and dawn are still working together and their relationship is... getting better. time heals all wounds right? well, not if you keep rubbing salt in the wound by literally working with your ex-who-is-also-your-soulmate and seeing them everyday. they know subconsciously that they could’ve been really fucking great, if only they hadn’t been such idiots in their 20s. but now that chance is gone, and they both just have to accept that. they still get into fights and shit, but it tends to be over much more superficial stuff. of course, people without fifteen years of history don’t get into screaming matches over tiny shit like they do. but that’s the territory of working with your ex-who-is-also-your-soulmate.

-so mo has this stupid fucking idea that he doesn’t even run by dawn before throwing $60 mil on it, because of course he does. so she has no choice but to go with it. they hire this kid, his name is blair, because they need him to pull this off. blair finds out that mo and dawn are soulmates who used to date but don’t anymore, and he’s really not even that surprised. of course, it’s weird to find out that your bosses whom you’re weirdly close to, who seem to hate each other, used to be in love and date and the whole nine yards and all that, but it makes a lot of sense.

-so they go off to the predator’s ball bc even rich people need money sometimes. you know that scene where they’re walking back to their rooms after that wild ass night, and mo’s like “you want to call it, or?” and dawn’s like “would if i could but im married” and then they get into a fight over collateral shares? fuck that scene entirely. let dawn find out about that 30% collateral shit like the next day or some shit idfc. instead, dawn’s just a smidge drunker than she was in canon, or maybe she was thinking more clearly than she has in a while, and she just fuckin goes for it. she kisses him, and of course he kisses her, and they... sleep in the same room that night. lmfao you know what i mean. and so starts this sort of friends/business-partners-with-benefits thing.

-they are next level awkward when they get back to NYC, and blair and keith notice the fuck out of it. they aren’t exactly on speaking terms, so they don’t bring it up to each other, but fuck if they don’t bitch about to their respective soulmates (which i will get into)

-dawn feels soooo guilty it’s unreal. But she rationalizes the hell out of it. Her relationship with spencer has a textbook dead bedroom (which is actually sort of canon), and she signed up for monogamy, not celibacy. it’s not her first example of fucked up morals for sleeping with somebody other than her husband, anyways; there are worse things she can do (and has done) than cheat. It’s not fair that he gets to have all the sex he wants while she has to suffer in silence. So she keeps hooking up with mo even if it’s the worst thing she could do for her relationship with him (and her relationship with spencer, who doesn’t even know that she’s met her soulmate, let alone that her soulmate is her fuckin business partner [canon divergent, spencer does not find out about her and mo in 1x02])

-mo feels guilty in theory but really he’s just happy to be with dawn again in some way. They’re never in dawn’s apartment, so there’s no chance they can ever be caught ever. This is fine. They are fine.

-as one can expect, they are not fine and spencer notices dawn acting differently. Eventually she has a couple drinks one night and the guilt overwhelms her so she ends up coming clean. Safe to say she and spencer get that divorce.

-around this time, mo is telling blair about the georgina play, and blair is telling him to go fuck himself. Also around this time, tiff is getting kidnapped.

-dawn immediately suspects that mo did some stupid shit when she finds out mo told blair everything. So she goes to find him, only to find him at his lake house, spreading ashes. After he tells her he knows nothing of tiff’s kidnapping and he’s spreading the ashes of a friend, she relaxes and they spend the night together, just talking over all the shit they’ve been through. They don’t have sex that night, but they feel what they used to feel when they were together 15 years ago.

-in the middle of the night, blair calls dawn in a blind panic, talking about how tiff’s parents arranged her kidnapping for the press without telling her. Blair says, “Let’s you and me run the georgina play. That’s right, i know you knew, you’re too smart not to” and dawn says “no.” she doesn’t give excuses or anything, she puts her foot down because she will not let this kid she’s known for barely a year convince her to fuck up the most fulfilling relationship she’s ever had as soon as they get to a good place again. She tells him she’ll run the play with him, but it’s not gonna be against mo. either all three of them are fucked with mo and dawn $60 mil in the hole and blair out of a job, or all three of them can be filthy rich and successful. That’s the deal. Blair says he’ll call her back tomorrow.

-the next morning, mo and dawn are talking on the doorstep, and mo brings up the georgina play and how the kid fuckin hates him now, and there’s no chance of pulling off the play bc he quit. Dawn’s like “yeah, about that… we need to schedule a meeting with him” and mo’s like “what for?” and dawn’s like “i spoke to him last night, his fiancée’s kidnapping was a sham that her parents pulled off and he might be in the right headspace to fuck them over right around now” and mo’s like “holy shit you miracle worker” and they make out and when they walk back into the office, they’re hand in hand.

-they call blair into the office and they basically just yell at each other for three hours. Keith, yassir, wayne, and ronnie do not know what is going on and frankly they are too afraid to ask. Eventually, they reach an agreement: blair will pull hand over 6% of georgina jeans in exchange for 20% of the jammer group, and another 25% to dawn (after they use blair’s algorithm to grab that last 30% from the lehmans). They shake on it, but none of them leave happy.

-blair’s not exactly happy to fuck over his parents-in-law, and mo isn’t happy to lose majority control of his own company. Dawn lucked out, gaining more power and losing little in the play, but her relationship with both of them is so on-the-rocks that she can’t imagine upholding a business partner relationship with them. This is gonna go so great after blair gets married in *checks watch* like two months.

-so blair gets married and the georgina play is a thing that happens (successfully might i add) and everything is kind of shitty because there are at least two relationships to repair here, and one that’s coming back from the dead. But little by little, they all get to a better place until they’re more or less back at where they were before mo told blair everything and they were all just friends except this time mo and dawn are dating xx

-WHEW and that is that on that. And by that on that i mean that on mo/dawn for this au. Dw im gonna get to blair/tiff and mike/keith and im super excited to write those too but i’ll make sure to put those in a separate post because i don’t think tumblr could handle a +7000 word post lmfao (since this post is nearly 2500 words jesus christ)

-i hoped y’all liked reading this as much as i loved writing it!! Again i love feedback and i read everything y’all say in the tags so please put stuff in the tags bc i love that shit!! Gn xx

#black monday #fanfic #fanfiction #andrew rannells #blair pfaff #mo x dawn #maurice monroe #dawn darcy #dawn towner #fic: bm soulmates #otp: partners.#slander #a million queue lawyers a million queue years to queue out

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