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wowbright · 2 years

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Fic: Mancrush (or Mother’s Day, Part 2)

Klaine Advent 2021: chance

Words: ~2000 words

Rating: Teen and Up

Summary: There’s an elephant in the room. Cooper points it out.

I’m back with more vignettes from my Mormon!Klaine universe for Klaine Advent 2021! This vignette takes place after Mother’s Day (but on Mother’s Day).

My Mormon!Klaine Masterpost.

Notes: “In the Latter Day Saint movement, a patriarchal blessing … is an ordinance administered by the laying on of hands, with accompanying words of promise, counsel, and lifelong guidance intended solely for the recipient.” If you have any questions or typo corrections, feel free to use my ask box!

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Blaine called his mother after dinner, when Kurt went over to the neighbors to return Spinni and debrief them on her weekend. It felt weird to Blaine to be in the apartment without his companion, but it was probably a good thing. Kurt was a stickler for the rules to an unhealthy degree, and if he was willing to bend this one, then maybe he would learn to be more flexible on the ones that were hurting his soul.

Still, as Kurt stepped out of the apartment with the cat in his arms, Blaine couldn't ignore the pang in his chest. Not because Blaine couldn't survive fifteen to thirty minutes apart—in all honesty, he could probably use the break too, even if he didn't feel as pressing of a need for it. What hurt Blaine was the sudden remembrance that not too far into the future, Kurt would once again walk out the door on his own, but this time, he would never come back. Kurt would leave their apartment forever and Blaine would be left here in Ingolstadt, trying to remember how he had ever survived being a missionary without Elder Hummel by his side.

They would stay friends. Blaine trusted that. But it would never be the same as it was now. The sacred intimacy of companionship—of running a household together, of sharing prayers together, of being a rock for the other person to lean on—would be gone. They might be roommates for a while back in the U.S., but sooner or later, Blaine would have to get married. It said so in his patriarchal blessing: “When it is time to marry, do not delay. … Choose with wisdom and love a companion who will be worthy to be sealed in eternity to you.”

The idea of marriage had always evoked warm feelings in Blaine. The best romantic movies were the ones where they didn’t just get together in the end, but got married. He loved wedding receptions: the flowers, the decadent food, the table settings that looked like they came right from Pinterest. He loved seeing the brides in their beautiful white dresses and the grooms who, even when they weren't good-looking in normal life, became devastatingly handsome in their wedding suits.

But for the first time, the idea of his own wedding filled him with dread.

Blaine shook his head. There was no reason to be thinking about that. It was far in the future. All he needed to think about now was his mission and his mom.

He dialed the phone.

“Anderson residence,” a male voice answered. That was weird. Blaine's dad had never answered the house phone as long as Blaine had known him. He was too busy and important for that. It had taken Blaine until high school to realize not everyone's mother basically served as their father's secretary.

“Um, hello? It’s Blaine.”

A beat of silence and then, “Blainey!!! I thought you weren't calling for another hour. Mom thinks you’re not calling for another hour. She has it right here on the calendar, for 1 p.m. She’s not even home from sacrament meeting yet.”

“Wait. Cooper?”

“The one and only.”

“What are you doing there?” Blaine looked at his watch. “And it’s only noon there?”

“Yup. Time zones suck, don’t they, buddy? I’m only an hour off from California and I can't remember from one day to the next whether being an hour ahead means it's six o'clock there when it's seven o'clock here or if it's eight o'clock there when it's seven o'clock here. So now I have two clocks running on my phone at all times, because you can only miss so many phone calls with your wife before she gets annoyed with you. I mean, I even got annoyed with myself, which means you know it's true love because when have I ever gotten annoyed at myself for disappointing somebody? Go figure. Anyway, is the time thing going to mess you up? I thought it was weird that your senior companion would let you schedule a phone call for 9:00 p.m. when the missionary bible says that's when you're supposed to start getting ready for bed. But surely he's not so much of a hard ass that he’ll deny your very own mother who birthed you her semiannual opportunity to hear your voice.”

“Elder Hummel’s not a hard ass. And what are you doing there?”

“What? I can’t visit my mother for Mother's Day to make up for all the times I yelled ‘You’re not my mother!’ at her when I was an asshole kid projecting my unresolved trauma onto the only adult who was genuinely kind to me?”

Wow. That was … surprisingly self-reflective. Who was this Cooper? “Of course you can visit mom. But she didn't mention anything about it when we were setting up this phone call.”

“Okay, fine. You got me. I'm in Arizona for work. And there was a fire on set yesterday, so there’s been a little break in production. And I thought, well, I guess that gives me the perfect chance to go visit mom and be an okay son.” Cooper paused. “Also, I did not set the fire, in case you were wondering.”

“No, I … No. I don't have time to wonder about anything because I'm still in shock that I'm talking to you.”

“Yeah. It's pretty cool, isn't it? A lot of people would pay to be in your shoes.”

Okay. So he was still the same Cooper.

“Do you have to hang up on me, though?” Cooper said. “Because I had a companion who sat there with a timer when I called home.”

“No. It’s fine. Elder Hummel is the most generous soul I've ever met.”

“Hmmm. I think I remember you mentioning something like that about him in your letters. And you're not just saying it again because he's sitting right next to you, monitoring your phone call?”

“No. He's not even in the room. He can't hear me. It’s one-hundred percent the truth.”

“Okay then. Tell me more about this Elder Hummel.”

If Blaine would have known he was about to talk to Cooper, and could have sat down first to daydream about the questions Cooper might ask him, this would have been the question he wanted most to hear. Blaine didn't get many chances to talk about Kurt or Kurt’s impact on Blaine’s view of himself and the world because, well, Kurt was always in the room and no one asked.

Blaine dove in with relish. He told Cooper about Kurt’s wit and his sense of humor and his Christlike love. He told him about Kurt’s unjustly suppressed fashion sense that still managed to bubble out along the edges of the dress code, his talent for organization (“The kitchen cabinets are, like, calming to look into, Cooper!”), and his incomparable voice “like a cello, Cooper—we went to a classical music concert last week with the permission of the mission president, and there was this cello, and they sounded so much alike. I mean, obviously, a human voice is different from a cello, but when they hit certain notes, it’s like, they have the same timbre, they hit your heart exactly the same way. When I hear his voice, it’s like hearing Yo-Yo Ma play. It’s more than that. You have to hear him, Cooper. You have to.” And he told Cooper how Kurt was the bravest, most righteous missionary—maybe even Mormon—Blaine had ever met. How his mom had died, like Cooper's mom had died, and how he was gay but didn't hide it, didn't act ashamed of it, knew that he was a child deserving of God's love. (Well, most of the time. Blaine wasn’t going to tell Cooper about that horrible week following the concert. That was private.)

There was a pause at the other end of the line. A long one.

“Cooper, are you still there? Did we get cut?”

“I’m here, Blaine. Just thinking.”

Was that new, too?

“Blainey, do you realize you just spent half an hour of your phone call home—and I guess it's unofficially extended to two hours, but the part where you get to talk to me is only one hour, and probably not that 'cause I think mom’s getting home at quarter to one—do you realize you just spent our entire conversation talking about your companion?”

Blaine flushed. “I’m so sorry. I barely even asked about your project. What is it? TV? A movie?”

“A movie, but I'm the third guy who gets killed, so definitely not the star. Well, I amthe star, but not officially. Man, when I die—don't be surprised if I get it a best actor nomination out of it.”

“That’s fantastic, Cooper. I'm really happy for you.”

“Okay, good, so now that we've gotten that out of the way, what about the fact that you spent the last half hour telling me about your companion and virtually nothing else about your mission?”

Blaine felt dizzy. Cooper didn’t want to talk about himself? “Well, he is the most interesting thing about my mission.”

“Blaine. You are in a new country. A vast foreign land with a different language and a different culture and buildings that are older than the United States of America.”

“Yeah, but … I've been here for a while now.”

“Okay. But you’ve also got a crazy schedule that has you working ridiculous hours but also meeting so many people that you should easily be able to come up with at least one hilarious vignette for each week you've been there. And you haven't told me a single one where Elder Hummel wasn’t the star.”

Cooper seemed annoyed, but apparently it wasn't because he wanted to be the center of the conversation, but because Blaine was talking about the wrong things? “But you already know a lot of that from my letters. And are you really interested in hearing my mission stories? They can't be that different from yours.”

“The point is not what I'm interested in. The point is what you’re interested in.”

“I’m lost.”

Cooper cleared his throat. “Blaine, do you have a crush on Elder Hummel?”

“You mean, like, a mancrush?”

“No. I do not mean, ‘like, a mancrush.’ A mancrush is what most of the men I've ever met have on me because they want to be like me. You don't want to be like Elder Hummel, Blaine.”

“That's not exactly true. I could definitely strive to be more like him. I mean, he's so kind and compassionate, and he has genuine patience with people who are investigating the church, where he doesn't pressure them but creates this environment where they can feel the Spirit, and it’s like … Cooper. I have never felt the presence of the Holy Ghost like I do when that man prays.”

“Listen to yourself, Blaine. Just, please. I know the church didn't prepare you for it and I know for sure that living with me didn't teach you how to do it, but just listen to yourself. You are not speaking like someone who wants to be like Elder Hummel.”

“Are you saying there's something wrong with being like Elder Hummel? Because really, Cooper, I thought you were better than that.”

“I am better than that. Half of the bridal party at our wedding was gay and had amazing fashion sense, but you probably didn't notice that, either. Well, maybe you noticed the fashion sense.”

“Wait. ‘Either’? What was the first thing I didn't notice?” Blaine had a creeping sense that he already knew the answer, but it was buried too deep inside his brain to get to on his own.

“Do I really have to spell it out for you?”

“Yes. Yes, you do.”

“Blaine. Do you think that maybe, just maybe, you might be in love with Elder Hummel?”

#klaine advent 2021 #klaine advent: chance #wowbright writes fic #mormon!klaine #klaine fic #my klaine advent 2021 #i used the prompt twice by accident after completely forgetting to include it in the first draft #so proud of myself #don't worry if this seems inconsistent with future chapters #it will all work out in the end #Even when Blaine isn't completely oblivious about one thing #He continues to be oblivious about other things

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norarigby · 3 years

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フェア関西のルームメイト二名 (The Two Roommates from Fair Kansai)

Chapter 2: The Typo

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Description: In which while typing a roommate ad online, the famed Miya Atsumu, (23) MSBY Jackals Setter, makes a detrimental typo that leads to an influx of women applicants. Confused, but not completely opposed (the idiot), Miya Atsumu lands on a formidable candidate. Y/n L/n. A Biotechnology major at Kansai University, looking for a change after her last disastrous roommates and some space from a particular complication. It’s odd, but it’ll work. Maybe a little too well.

Pairings: Miya Atsumu x Reader

Warnings: None!

Word Count: ~1.4k

A/n: Cross posted from my AO3. I update there first, so if you want the chapters sooner, check it out!

To say Atsumu was overwhelmed would be an understatement. When one of the athletic directors approached him saying how his phone kept going off in the locker room, he was concerned something was seriously wrong. As a precaution, they assure him that if it was an emergency that he should feel free to take the day. But upon closer inspection, he quickly realized that wouldn’t be necessary. He scrolled through what seemed like pages of messages and missed calls about the ad. And not just any inquiries, but…

“ALL WOMEN!” Atsumu exclaimed loudly in the busy shop. A few annoyed heads turned to the source of the outburst.

Osamu rolled his eyes, “‘Tsumu, we talked about this. Having you come during busy hours is already enough of a nuisance, but could you keep it down? This is still a public place.”

“But ‘Samu! What am I going to do?” Atsumu whisper-shouted like it would help his outburst, but it still elicited a few head turns, “I already didn’t want to room with a stranger! And now all of the applicants are girls? This has to be some sort of joke.”

Osamu helped with the line and handed out a few orders to customers before focusing some energy on his dramatic brother. “Well, did you specify that you were only looking for male roommate?”

Atsumu picked at the stray rice grains on his plate as he tried to remember what he wrote. He couldn’t remember specifying anything about the roommate themselves; focusing mainly on the apartment itself. He voiced his thoughts to his brother.

“Hmm, well Atsumu can be a girl's name. Maybe that’s why?”

He tried not to be offended at his brother’s comment, mainly because he was partially right. It’s possible that they’re assuming he’s a girl. But that doesn’t make entire sense either. Is it possible his fan club found the posting? That seemed pretty possible. Atsumu knew fangirls could get crazy when they wanted to be.

Osamu finished some things behind the bar and went over to sit by Atsumu. The two contemplated his conundrum over a fresh plate of onigiri. After Osamu’s second, he spoke up, “Just for science, can I see your ad?”

Atsumu gave him an incredulous look, but pulled up the ad anyway, “I mean, sure, but I don’t think-”

At Atsumu’s sudden silence, Osamu’s curiosity was piqued, “”Tsumu? Everything okay?”

Wordlessly he handed the phone over and Osamu read through the ad. Immediately after reading, he burst into laughter.

“‘Samu! This isn’t funny!”

But Osamu was laughing so hard he couldn’t even speak. Some of his employees turned out of concern and curiosity at their boss’ sudden burst. Eventually, he calmed down enough to choke out a “you are in some trouble, ‘Tsumu”.

Roommate Wanted.

Master Bedroom available with a private bath in a 100 sq m apartment in Osaka. In-unit wash, AC, dishwasher, internet, etc. Fully furnished (besides bedroom available). Rent with utilities is 62784¥. Near public transportation. Feel free to contact with questions or offers.

06-XXXX-XXXX

Text/Call

Miya Atsumi

“Alright, that wraps it up for today. Finish the calculations on your own time and be sure to bring back your completed form by next class. See you Tuesday!”

The sound of chairs scraping against the floor harmonized with the zipping and unzipping of backpacks as the classroom got up to leave. Y/n pulled out her phone to finally check her messages.

From: Mom

Found a listing in Osaka that looks interesting. Good apartment with really good pricing. You should give them a call.

(link)

Y/n typed a quick thank you before clicking on the link. Her mom was right. It looked like a decent location and a not too bad price. Trying to look for any information on the roommate (roommates?), all she could see was a number and a name at the bottom of the ad. What a strange listing. It was probably the shortest listing she’d ever come across--and definitely the most to the point.

Y/n sat and stared at the listing for a little bit while weighing her options. She just got out of an interesting situation in Suita, but she was now living with her parents. Which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, but both her and her parents weren’t exactly jumping at the idea of her moving back in, especially with her graduating college next year.

Making up her mind, she copied the number and sent a quick text to the number on the ad. A silent prayer was sent to whoever was listening. This wouldn’t fix all of her problems, but this would solve a big one and she swore she would be able to handle the rest.

“And you told me I was loud,” Now Atsumu was getting antsy about the amount of people staring at his hysteric brother. “”Samu, you need to calm down.”

This had been going on for at least ten minutes now. Osamu would read through the ad, get sent into a fit of laughter, finally calm down, but then would read it again and the cycle would start all over again. Not used to being the responsible twin, in addition to being extremely embarrassed by his brother’s reaction to his typo, Atsumu was at a loss for what to do. He tried sending reassuring smiles to patrons and mumbled some apologies, but that was the extent of his capabilities.

Finally, Osamu calmed down and pushed Atsumu’s phone back to him. Taking a deep breath to compose himself, Osamu tried to console his brother, “Hey, maybe this won’t be such a bad thing. Surely, there’s at least one of those girls that you could at least be civil with.”

Atsumu scrolled through his messages again, exacerbated, “Even if that’s true! There’s too many! I don’t really have the time to sit and go through all of these.”

There were at least 100 people who had responded to his ad and where the messages definitely weren’t flooding in as much as they had earlier that day, he would get a notification about once every 15-20 minutes. By the time he got through the original applicants, there would be another 100-200 to take their place. In between practice and conditioning, there was no way Atsumu was going to be able to get through these all by himself.

“Tell you what,” Osamu leaned back in the chair he was sitting in, “Since this was partially my idea, I’ll help you tonight after I close up. And if we can’t find anyone, I’ll help you write up a better listing and we can delete this one.”

Atsumu’s other issue with all of these applicants is that he really didn’t want to spend energy looking through dozens of descriptions and deciding if he would like them or not. He assumed it would be like the dating app he had for a couple weeks, but worse. Atsumu really didn’t like the idea of judging someone based on a single paragraph they wrote about themselves. He preferred a more personal approach. Like with the various spikers and teammates he’d played with over the years, he was really good at reading people in person. Within a short conversation, he could pretty accurately lay out a person’s personality (what things they might like, what might make them tick, what things they were indifferent to). Over the internet it was much more difficult.

He guessed he could always ask them to meet in person, right? That was something people did. They could meet at his brother’s restaurant so then Osamu could get a feel for the other person. Atsumu figured it would also get one glaring issue out of the way: he was a guy.

It was a fool proof plan. Osamu and him would sort through the applicants tonight and he would invite them to meet him in person. This way he can see if it’s going to work or not and if they aren’t comfortable with rooming with a guy they can just leave. Genius!

Atsumu recounted his plan to his brother and Osamu was in agreement. With that, the blonde brother left to go to afternoon conditioning, planning on returning just before close to sneak in a few more onigiri from his brother before the long haul.

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collecting-stories · 3 years

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One Sunset - c. 08 - JJ Maybank

Summary: Your birthday keeps getting closer.

A/N: Two more chapters to go!

You Are Ok Masterlist | Outer Banks Masterlist

✰ Oh, my love, she waits, so long overdue ✰

The baby, Hope, the youngest, so far, of your sister’s six children, was propped on your hip. Clingy, she pressed her face against your collar, head tucked in your neck as you bounced just slightly from foot to foot. She‘s been crying when Esther handed her off, a passing comment that “there was something different about you” as she rejoined the conversation your older siblings were having. You carried Hope outside when the fussing started again, threatening to interrupt your father’s reading from the bible before dinner. She wasn’t the youngest of all the babies there, Jubilee’s son took that honor, being just three months, but Hope was the most restless.

“You used to be like that,” your mother teased, coming out to bring you a bottle for Hope as she squirmed in your lap. You’d settled with sitting under the tree in the yard, letting your niece tear through the grass.

“Destructive?” You asked, looking up through the sunlight to her.

Ever since JJ had mentioned the possibility of leaving you had been thinking about what it would look like when you were gone. Knowing what was in store if you stayed, you had given leaving your mom and dad a lot of thought anyway. It would be just them in the house, plenty of grandchildren to take care of but just the two of them at night when everyone else went home. You would miss it, but it was these moments, so rare now that you were the last left in the house, that you would miss most of all.

“Restless, unsatisfied.” The adjective stung when she said it, as if she resented the trait even in a baby. “The minute you were steady on your feet, you used to take off.”

“Maybe I was just curious about everything around me?” You suggested, that bizarre fear that she knew something settling in your stomach. It was the same queasy feeling you used to get when you were little and you would lie, certain your mother would know.

She nodded, though it was not in agreement, “and what does the bible say about that?”

“And he said unto them, it is not for you to know the times or the seasons, which the father hath put in his own power.” You replied, all too familiar with the warning verse that your mother had kept taped to your bedroom mirror as a child, a reminder that your curiosity was as much a sin as anything else.

“That’s right, we don’t need to concern ourselves with other, worldly things.” She replied.

“I don’t think Hope is concerned with anything other than appreciating God’s creation,” you joked, an attempt to lighten the mood, as you looked down at Hope sill pulling at the grass and then staring in wonder at her dirty hands.

“I’m not talking about Hope, I found a…very revealing outfit tucked under your bed along with a sweatshirt I’ve never seen in the house before.” She said, playing her cards. She did know something she wasn’t letting on, just as you had suspected. It was better than you thought, something you could play off easily.

“They’re Kiara’s. She wore the dress on Sunday and I told her it was too revealing for church so she came in and changed. And the sweatshirt is her…boyfriend’s, she had it with her.” You lied. The dress was the one that JJ bought for you. For almost three weeks, since he’d first suggested it, you had been packing and unpacking a duffel bag, certain that you wanted to go but then unsure at the same time.

Your mother’s observation of you was probably right, you were restless. They had raised you the same way they raised your siblings and yet, nothing about the church seemed to comfort you. It made you discontent just exist in the space sometimes but you had always assumed it was because of some deep fault of your own. Some sin you weren’t consciously aware of that ensnared you. Restlessness would follow you forever, it felt like. But then you’d never felt restless with JJ or Kiara or Pope. You never felt like you were trying to fit into something that wasn’t made for you.

“I didn’t realize she had a boyfriend.” The tone was back, the disapproving one that silently conveyed the underlying meaning of her sentence. If your mom had known, she would not have let her hang around.

“He’s very religious too. I think he goes to a non-denominational church,” you lied, pulling Hope’s dirty hands away from the hem of your dress.

You had come outside with Hope because you wanted to be alone. Her crying was the perfect excuse to separate yourself from the rest of your family but then your mom had followed you out here, determined, it felt like, to deny you any moment alone.

“Your good with the kids,” she ventured, “It’ll only be a couple of years before you’re having little ones of your own.”

“That’s what Esther said when she handed me Hope.” You replied lifting the baby with you as you stood up. There was no point in trying to hold onto your attempts at relaxation. Babies had been all your mother wanted to talk about since Timothy’s visit to the house. She couldn’t stop herself from mentioning your future imaginary family. “How did you and dad know you wanted to have kids?”

“We prayed and fasted and the Lord answered us by giving us Faith and I knew then that he was telling me to leave my womb in his hands.” She replied as you fought the urge to roll your eyes at the response, “How many kids you have is something you’ll have to talk about with Timothy but God will guide you.”

“Yeah, I guess so.” You shifted Hope in your arms as she babbled, her dirty hands gripping your cardigan.

Maybe JJ lying to you should have been the push that you needed to embrace this idea of Timothy and Zambia and the twelve children he was probably going to expect you to have. It should’ve put you back on the path of the Lord, that “most righteous” path, as your father called it during Sunday service. But you couldn’t bring yourself to just close off the part of you that loved JJ so much that you considered running away with him. He had lied but you couldn’t bring yourself to believe that all of it was a lie. There were parts of it, you were certain, that had to be true. You had been thinking about him since you left John B’s.

“What if...” you chanced, beginning to walk back to the house with your mom, “what if Timothy isn’t who I’m meant to be with?”

“Why do you say that?” Your mom asked, stopping. She didn’t look surprised or even bothered by what you thought sounded like your usual restlessness.

“I just think...what if I’m not a good enough wife?”

“You have to pray, and have faith in the Lord and in your husband that they will guide you down that path and help you to learn how to serve your household.” She answered.

Hope started fussing again and your mom took her from you, proclaiming that it was most likely time for a feeding and heading back inside with her. She called over her shoulder for you to check the church, the light in the nave was on. You wanted to thank her for the moment alone but then she might’ve stuck around and questioned you further.

You walked to the church, pulling the old wooden door open and heading inside to turn off the lights in the vestibule. Your father was known to forget and leave them on and you were sure that your mother thought sending you was some subtle way of telling you that you needed to reconnect with Jesus through prayer. You weren’t so sure that was what you needed but you would take the moment alone that you had been trying to get the first time you went outside.

Before you could hit the light switch you noticed the familiar army green backpack leaning against one of the back pews. You hadn’t seen JJ since you left John B’s house but that was his backpack, sitting in the middle aisle. There wasn’t any reason for JJ’s bag to be in the church but you walked toward it anyway, curious as to its existence in that space at that moment.

The bag, you quickly discovered, was not without its owner. JJ laid there on the bench, asleep, from what you could tell, his lip split and a horrifying bruise under his left eye. You knelt down by the edge of the pew, brushing his hair away from his face so you could see him better. Just the sight of him had your heart pounding.

“Oh my god, JJ,” you whispered, laying your hand on his arm. “JJ.”

He groaned, shifting on the pew before opening his eyes slowly, a smile gracing his features as he saw you there in front of him, the cut on his lip bleeding slightly at the motion. “Hey Ace.”

“JJ, what happened?” You asked, moving to sit next to him as he sat up. Maybe you should have been more apprehensive with him, considering what John B had told you, but all you could think about was the bruising on his face. You’d seen less noticeable bruising before that JJ had always brushed off and maybe it was unrelated but your mind was drawing connections as you looked him over, noting the large purplish mark peeking out from the arm of the cut-off shirt he was wearing.

“Nothing,” he swore, shaking his head and shifting away from you slightly. “I’m sorry, I just needed to crash for a few hours.”

When you reached for him again and he moved back, you felt an ache. He looked battered and you didn’t care about what sort of bet he made, all you wanted to do was hold him and tell him that for the last few days you had been thinking about him. “JJ, please, tell me what happened?” you asked, taking his hand in yours before he could stop you.

“I fucked up everything.” He replied, leaning back against the pew and closing his eyes. “I didn’t...I should’ve told you about-”

Despite Pope’s attempts to reason with him, to remind him that the last person on earth you probably wanted to see was him, JJ couldn’t stop himself from moving forward with his original plan. He had offered you a way out and, whether you wanted it with him or at all, he was going to come through on that promise. He loved you and maybe it was selfish but he couldn’t stand the thought of you going to Tennessee.

JJ almost never went home but he did a few nights after you had run off, after Kiara told him that you’d come to see her, he went back home again to get the keys for his dad’s boat. Luke always kept the keys on him and JJ hadn’t actually been on the boat since he was a little kid. The first time he had smoked weed when he was twelve and his cousin took him on the Phantom for a joy ride down the coast to buy some specially cut stuff from a friend of a friend. He had let JJ smoke it on the way home and the probably broken rib that he’d suffered the week before suddenly didn’t hurt half as bad.

He wasn’t stealing the keys for a joyride this time though. He was stealing keys to get you as far away from the Outer Banks as he could. Pope had reasoned that you hadn’t really ever made up your mind and that by now you had probably definitely decided not to go off with some guy on a whim, but JJ had to believe you were still leaning toward going with him.

“Hey, look who finally decided to show up.” Luke chided, sitting at his work bench. If there was anything that JJ knew about his father, it was that Luke could sit in front of his work table all day and nothing would ever actually get done.

“I’m only here to grab some stuff.”

If he said nothing, it caused an issue. If he said something, it caused an issue. JJ had spent enough years in his father’s home to know that it didn’t matter what he did, if Luke was in a mood then there was nothing, he could do to avoid it. And usually, he would just make his visit a short one but he needed that key and that key was hanging off his dad’s neck.

It took Luke a couple beers and a trip down to Barry’s trailer before he confronted JJ’s return home with more than a snide remark. It started off with shouting about the electric bill when he tried to hit the light switch in the living room and realized that the darkness was unescapable. And that, of course, like all the other bad things that existed in his life, was JJ’s fault.

“How many fucking times I gotta tell you to do something before you actually do it?” He screamed, a string of insults following that would stay trapped in JJ’s head for what would arguably be the rest of his life. The rage was just what JJ needed though, his dad was erratic, distracted, and close enough that when he shoved JJ against the wall and tried to choke him, the key was in reach.

He had the key and when he finally got his dad off him, he ran for the door, grabbing his bag and running through the woods. Still not talking to John B, he knew there weren’t too many places for him to go. He stayed on the beach for a while but then moved on, heading to the one place he knew he wasn’t technically welcome. JJ had seen your family’s cars in the yard and had ducked into the church, falling asleep on one of the pews.

It wasn’t like you could’ve contacted him, you had no phone and you couldn’t exactly get away easily during the day and maybe that was what made it so easy for him to convince himself that he wasn’t beyond forgiveness. He needed to talk to you, had wanted to for days now. He needed to explain things to you, make you understand that he did love you and the bet was stupid, a mistake that he wanted to take back more than anything in the world.

“JJ, I don’t care about any of that right now,” you said, brushing hair away from his face. “What happened?”

He sat up a little, pulling the makeshift necklace out beneath his shirt, the keys to the Phantom hanging there around his neck. “I got the keys.” He replied, “I don’t know if you even would still want to go, but I got the keys.”

“Is that how this happened?” You asked, eyes still on his bruised face and not the keys he was holding up.

“It doesn’t matter-”

You cut him off, “it does matter, JJ-”

“No.” He insisted, “no, it doesn’t matter. I don’t want you to base anything on feeling bad for me.” JJ had spent his whole life trying to make sure that nobody felt bad for him. Sympathy, charity, pity, it was all just fake and he hated it. He did everything he could to be sure that no one ever knew what kind of father Luke was because he never wanted them to look at him like he was broken.

“I don’t want you to hurt.” You admitted, kissing his cheek.

JJ didn’t protest the affection, though he wanted to laugh. Here he was with you worrying about him, telling him that you didn’t want to see him hurt while he had hurt you. For days he felt like he had been plagued by that moment, replaying the way you looked at him when you asked him if John B was telling the truth. Kiara told him to give you space and Pope told him to take things slowly but all he wanted was to be with you again, to make everything right.

“You shouldn’t even want to talk to me right now.” He said, rubbing his hands over his eyes.

“My propensity for forgiveness might surprise you.” You teased, then shrugged, “I don’t think that you lied to me about...about being in love with me,” you chewed on your bottom lip as you spoke, “I mean, I hope not-”

“I wasn’t.” JJ replied. “If Sarah hadn’t bet me to ask you out, I wouldn’t have, but everything else was real. I know I should’ve told you...I just, didn’t want you to look at me the way you did after John B told you. Everyone else already looks at me that way, I didn’t want you to. I’m so sorry.” It seemed like the only logical thing to say to you.

The door to the chapel creaked open and JJ slid down to the floor as you stood up, moving down the aisle to keep whoever it was out of the church. Your dad stood there at the entrance, holding the door open with his foot as he caught sight of you. “There you are, your mom sent me out to find you, she said she asked you to turn the lights out here.”

“I was,” you replied, moving closer to him, “I just, stopped for a moment to sit in prayer.” An easy lie, one your parents were always all too willing to believe.

He nodded, “do you need another moment? Some fellowship?”

“No, no, I’m okay.” You promised. “I’ll be right there.”

The door swung shut behind him as he stepped back out of the church. You knew he’d be just on the other side of the door, waiting for you to turn off the lights and follow him in for dinner. Knowing the limited amount of time you had, you ran back down the aisle to where JJ was just standing up.

JJ’s eyes went wide as you grabbed his collar and quickly pulled him into a kiss, “I have dinner with my family, come to my room tonight?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, “yeah okay.”

As you left him you flicked the lights casting him in darkness as he dropped back down onto the bench, a small smile etched on his face. He’d come to the church because he needed to be close to you, especially after his encounter with Luke. But JJ had honestly thought that things between you were irreparable. Knowing they weren’t felt better than he could’ve imagined. Like he was floating above clouds. Stupid to think maybe but he didn’t care.

JJ’s muscles tensed as you traced your fingers beneath a nasty purple bruise that stretched across his stomach to his side. You leaned over him, hovering like a ghost in the stillness, and placed a kiss just over the discolored skin, eliciting goosebumps over his skin.

He stayed camped out in the chapel until the lights went off in the house and your family left for the night. There were too many smaller units these days to accommodate everyone when they came home to visit but your father was friends with a local motel owner who always gave him a good deal. JJ had tried to stay alert and awake but he’d fallen asleep, getting up later when the lights were off and sneaking across the yard to your window, knocking and hoping that you answered. That you meant it when you said you still believed he loved you.

Your parents were asleep down the hall from your room and he knew that trying anything would be risky and dangerous but being back in your room again since the last time, since he’d slept with you, it was almost as if a switch went off for both of you. He climbed through the window and was already grabbing at your waist, pulling you into a kiss as you led him to your bed.

He breathed out apologies and “I love you’s” between kisses, making sure that he took every opportunity to remind you both how sorry he was and how much he had missed being close to you in the few days apart. JJ had tried to tell himself that if you chose to stay with your family, he would be okay and understanding and he would force himself to be but he knew that he was lying to himself, if things ended between the two of you, he wasn’t sure how he would cope. Maybe that was unhealthy but he really didn’t care at all.

“I was thinking, we could go to Florida,” you said, keeping your voice down as you sat on the bed, JJ’s shirt keeping you warm. He was laying on his back, covers pushed down to his waist, one hand behind his head and the other resting on your thigh.

“Why Florida?” He asked.

In all honesty it wasn’t that Florida was anything particularly special it was just that you were trying your hardest to think of anything to say so you didn’t start crying. When you’d seen him in the church earlier you had almost lost it and that was with only his face visible. The bruising on his stomach and sides made you feel ill. “I don’t know, I’ve always wanted to go to South Beach.”

JJ grinned, hand squeezing your thigh, “you on a topless beach? Yes, please.”

“How about I conquer a two piece before I attempt going topless?” You joked, taking his hand in yours.

“I don’t know, you look pretty hot...” he said, moving his other hand from behind his head and grabbing the hem of your shirt to pull it up passed your chest. You swatted his hand away, stifling a laugh. The sound of it made him smile though it didn’t quite meet his eyes, that flicker of sadness still there behind them. There was nothing he wanted more than being here with you but he couldn’t shake that gnawing feeling of guilt that settled in.

“What’s the matter?” You asked, registering the change in his demeanor before he was even fully aware of it himself.

“Nothing, I-” he sighed, shifting around to sit up in bed, “I should have told you. About the bet, about my dad. I just...I know, under the surface, I’m not the most likable person. I’m loud and I smoke too much and I drink too much and I’m not that smart and I just...really wanted you to like me. So I didn’t say anything. And I know that’s not an excuse-”

“JJ,” you cut him off, “I was mad that you lied and didn’t tell me about the bet but that doesn’t change the way that I feel about you. And it doesn’t change the way I know you feel about me.” It was hard to explain, it had been hard to explain to Kiara when you had shown up crying at her house, but you didn’t think that JJ was lying to you about the whole of your relationship. He said he loved you and you believed him, there wasn’t a single moment that felt unreal to you in that sense, whether he had asked you out because of a bet or not. “You said you only asked me out because of the bet but everything else was real and I believe you.”

“I don’t deserve the benefit of the doubt.”

“Stop trying to sell yourself short.” You replied, leaning forward to kiss him, “it won’t work.”

Before he could answer you, the floor creaked and the you both looked toward the door as footsteps sounded down the hall. The light by your desk was still on and the footsteps came to a stop outside your bedroom door, a knock sounding, followed by your dad’s voice. “Ace, you awake in there?”

You pulled JJ’s shirt off, grabbing your nightdress and putting it on as you got off the bed and went over to the door. “Yeah, hold on!” You were thankful that the door opened in, obscuring the twin bed from view. “Sorry, I was having trouble sleeping so I was just up reading some verses.” You lied.

“Hmm,” your dad nodded, easily convinced, “what were you reading?”

“1st Peter, 4...uh, ‘and above all things have fervent charity among yourselves: for charity shall cover the multitude of sins.’ Just felt like something I really needed tonight.” You replied.

“That is a good one,” he contemplated, “I told your mom I’ve been a little stuck on the sermon for this coming weekend...it’s a big one, with Timothy’s family visiting and your birthday. But maybe I’ll put some focus on that verse, see if the Lord speaks to me about it.”

“I’ll pray on it as well,” you promised, twisting the doorknob in your hand as you waited for your father to decide to head back to bed.

“I’m just grabbing some water, do you need anything?” He asked, looking toward the kitchen.

“No, I think I’m gonna call it a night,” you replied, stepping forward to give him a hug, “love you, see you in the morning.”

“Love you too Ace,” he said, leaving you and heading to the kitchen.

You shut the door to your room, blocking out the rest of the world again and nearly jumping when you turned and found JJ standing right there beside you. “My dad could’ve seen you,” you whispered, pushing him away when he tried to wrap his arms around you.

“He didn’t.” JJ replied, voice low. His hand darted out from his side, grabbing the front of your nightdress before you could get away, using the leverage it gave him to pull you back to the bed. He flicked the light off on your desk lamp on the way to the bed, sitting when the back of his knees hit the mattress.

“What are you doing?” you asked when he started to pull the nightdress over your head again.

“Undressing you.”

“JJ,” you fought a smile, biting your bottom lip, “you need to go...that was way too close.”

He pouted in the dark, letting your nightdress fall back into place as he laid his hands on your hips. “Can I see you tomorrow?”

“I can walk to Heyward’s in the afternoon?” You offered. “Timothy and his family will be here on Wednesday...”

“When’s the party?” He asked, trying not to let himself dwell on the actual question, were you staying or were you going?

“Saturday evening...I don’t know what to do.” You admitted. It was leaving home either way but one of those included the possibility of never speaking to your family again.

“It’s your decision. I love you, either way.” JJ promised.

taglist: @heavenlymama @vindictive-hearts @alexa-playafricabytoto @dontjinx-it @randomficsandshit @niamhobrien @strangerthanfanfiction713 @tovvaa @freckled-and-daydreaming @harleylynn @bibliophilewednesday @dpaccione @bolaurel @poguestyleskye @beautyandthebleh @under-a-canyon-moon @outerbankspreferences @stevie-buck @bijleegiregi @vitaminekabc @minigranger @teamnick @just-smile-darling @obxsummer @damonsalvawhore27 @isqbella @tomzfrog @fangirlvoice @phantompogues @98starkeys @ilovejjmaybank @lemur46 @khiaraaa-in-spacee @babygal-babygal @niya-savage @divvrx @princess-of-the-fandoms @thecaptainsgingersnap @jenjie @yourprincess-maybe @wowmaybankk @goldeng1rl8 @outrbanks @mendesmaybank @thehomeiknow @minnie-bby @katiaw2 @2kayla64

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ashintheairlikesnow · 3 years

Text

Paul Higgs: Baby Daze

Tomorrow I will return you to your regularly scheduled whump programming. Today... this is what wanted to be written.

CW: Teen pregnancy, some crass language surrounding said pregnancy, brief gun reference, some organized crime references

Approximately eighteen years before Tristan Higgs became another casualty of WRU…

"Well, look who’s here! Billy Higgs’s boy, come to see us after school, then?" Sean Malley claps him on the back and Paul nearly stumbles forward, just barely catching himself as he crosses the threshold from the sun-warmed walkway with straggly weeds growing stubbornly up through the cracks into the chilly shadowed warehouse. His sneakers scrape along the ground, but he stays standing.

He's hardly even as big as a stick compared to his dad's work buddies, all older guys with thick muscled forearms and sleeves rolled up to their elbows. He’s never had much muscle on him at all, but then his dad didn’t have much in old photos either. Maybe he’d get some as he got older, if he worked here. If they let him. "How’s things, hm? Keeping your grades up?”

Paul smiles, a slightly strained expression. The smile is automatic, it’s what everyone expects with small talk. At school he mostly doesn’t even bother with it, but with his dad’s friends… well, a smile’s polite. Right? Friendly.

He tries to look more friendly. He needs them to say yes to what he’s about to ask for.

“They’re fine,” He says, squinting as his eyes adjust to the change in light. “Same as always, A’s and B’s.”

Mostly B’s, but they don’t need to know that.

“Good, good.” Sean slides an arm around his shoulders, jovial as always. Paul tries not to be visibly uncomfortable at the touch. Everyone is always touchy, in the world, and he’s never liked it much. Except with Ronnie, but… that’s different. “So, talk to us, Paulie. What's got Billy’s boy mucking around here at the Garden with the old-timers?"

It's not actually much of a garden, unless you count the dandelions in the sidewalks and the bits of scraggly grass along the edges of the pavement as your rows of plants. Instead, the big warehouse stretches wider than two Walmarts, chopped off into pieces by the standalone temporary walls inside that don't reach the ceiling.

The ‘Garden’ is a place where things happen that no one with a badge is ever supposed to see. There's shouting, good-natured calling out of sums and figures and code words Paul doesn't know, bouncing and echoing in a constant chaos of sound. Metal scrapes, an odd clicking Paul vaguely recognizes but can’t quite place until he thinks of his dad cleaning his guns now and then at night, carefully putting them back together once he’s done.

All that noise lays heavy like a blanket over his skin. He pushes past it - he's got a reason to be here, and he won't let Ronnie down. He can’t let her down.

"I'm here to work," He says, going for strong and loud. He doesn't change expression when the men around him laugh.

He doesn't think their laughter is meant to be unkind, and besides, he doesn't really care if it is. These men have all known him since he was born - if anyone’s going to give him what he needs, it’ll be them. "My dad told me I could pick up some shifts this weekend as a lookout, that you pay cash at the end of the shift, right away. That I could get a couple hundred if I’m good at it, maybe five if I do some running, too.”

"Oh he said that, did he?" Sean meets eyes with Cilly, whose real name Paul has never learned. He isn’t entirely sure anyone here has ever given him their real legal name. Not even Sean. "Will might've let the family know first before he sent his boy here, hm?

"Well, it's. It's important I get cash. Um. Fast. I just spoke to him, probably he'll call you in a bit thinking he's giving you a warning." Paul tries for another smile, and hopes it's warm enough. A bit of coppery strawberry blond hair falls over his green eyes as he looks hopefully from man to man.

He's not even eighteen yet, but really, isn't that even better for a lookout? He knows where they do their business, he knows who to watch for, and he doesn’t look like he’s one of them at all. He's paid attention, sat up at night making maps of where they work and what they do. He knows they’ve gotten into business with WRU, even, the big Facility up in Berras has been sending people down here now and then. He’s good at this sort of thing. He knows he can do this. He’s going to make a living at this one day, and everyone starts somewhere.

He just… has to convince them. These men aren't unreasonable, and they're family. Well, sort of. In a way. In that they all commit crimes with his dad. And some of them actually are real family, although he’s not always sure exactly who.

"What d'you need cash for that can't wait for your parents to come back from Florida, then?" That's Cilly, scratching idly at a red spot on his face, sipping a mug of hot tea like they're at a kitchen counter and not a fold-out table by a warehouse door. The others all have takeout coffee cups, but not Cilly.

Paul's mom buys him new mugs on all her vacations. A gentleman among thieves, she said once.

Nah, Paul's dad had said. Just a thief. But he puts on airs for you.

All the more reason to show him my appreciation, Bill.

The mug he’s drinking from now was one of Paul’s mom’s presents to him. It has a little palmetto tree on the side and Nothin’ Could Be Finer written in swirling script. It came from a trip to Myrtle Beach, South Carolina when Paul was seven.

He hated that trip. He never liked sand. Or the ocean. Or the noise of all the people everywhere in the street. He would have been happy with a book on the couch in the condo if they’d have let him stay there.

"They're not in-"

"Think they're in Georgia," Conor pipes up, the oldest with hair gone nearly gray, cousins to the real boss, a man Paul has met maybe three times and knows only as Mr. Sondheim - which isn’t even a little bit his actual name.

Conor makes Paul’s skin prickle, the way he thinks maybe a cat feels when it sees a mean-looking dog across the street. Paul's dad came home once with blood he had to wash off his hands and a shirt he had to throw out. When Paul asked, he said only, Conor's temper is going to get someone who matters killed one day. Too bad his grandson's as bad as he is. "Aren't they?"

"Nah," Sean says, shaking his head. "Florida. Definitely Florida."

"Actually," Paul starts. "They're in-"

"I thought Texas," Cilly says, almost thoughtful. He interrupts Paul thoughtlessly, and Paul’s face colors a little with embarrassment. He feels like the odd man out in a conversation meant to be about him.

"They went to Alabama," Paul finally says, soft. Thinking no one’s listening, but they all look at him then. That's worse than when they weren't paying attention at all. He never meets any one person's eyes, instead focusing on Sean Malley's forehead, a spot that'll look like eye contact without having to be it. He's never liked having to look too many people in the eye.

Or anyone, actually.

"Ah, all right then. Alabama. Well. What couldn't wait for them to get back from Alabama, Paulie-Wol?"

No one's called him Paulie-Wol since he was eleven - and he hated it then. He blushes even darker. He's always been easy to make blush, and they laugh again. It's a little meaner this time. He has to not care. It’s important not to care, so they’ll let him work.

Paul Higgs straightens his narrow shoulders and pulls a crumpled but of paper, shiny on one side, out from his back pocket. "This is why. I need money. Fast. For this."

He can't help how his voice dips, hushed, almost in awe. Sean is the first to take the little piece of paper, eyes widening in surprise at what he sees, before he hands it to Conor, who whistles through his teeth. Cilly takes it next, with a soft exhalation that's either curse or prayer.

With this group, it could be either. Or both. Paul’s dad always says God doesn’t care overmuch about the difference.

"You're a bit young, aren't you? To need money for this?" Sean asks, and he's… concerned, Paul thinks, and he tries to square himself up even taller. “What’re you, Paulie, fifteen?”

"S-seventeen. It’s-... we didn’t plan on it, Sean, it just happened." This time when his face stays red, heat burning under the smattering of freckles across his cheeks and nose, they don't laugh. All their smiles are gone, too.

They've gone serious, these men who aren't quite blood but might as well be. They aren't laughing at or with or because of him. They look worried about him.

"Paulie," Conor says, shaking his head. "Paulie, you know better than this. Don't they teach you how to make sure this shit don't just happen? Thought we’d stop having teenagers knocking each other up once we got past the eighties.”

"They did. I had a whole health class where we-... but it doesn’t matter, it still. Happened, okay?" The absolute last thing he wants to do is talk to these old guys about Ronnie, and why, and when. If they ask him he’ll melt into the floor, and die, and just be dead right here and now.

“So, when you say you need money… Are you looking to drive her up to Berras?”

“No, that’s not... We talked about it, but she said she already thought about it and made her decision. This isn’t… Don’t look at me like that. I like her decision. I’m happy.”

“You are?” Sean blinks, surprised.

“Yes! I'm happy, so don't tell me I fucked up, because I did. I know I did, but… but I talked to Ronnie, and we have a whole plan and I need money for my plan. And just. Look at it.”

Sean glances back down, taking the paper back, smoothing it out. Shiny on one side, it's a printed black and white image, a smeary blur of monochrome shades. Unmistakable in its center, more or less, is a gently rounded blob of white, topped with another and with other little blobs coming off its sides. Labeled along the top is Baby Botham, 14 weeks 3 days.

“Botham?” Sean asks, head cocked to one side.

“That’s… that’s Ronnie’s last name. She, uh. She didn’t tell them… Because we’re not married.” Paul squares himself up again. “Yet. We’re not married yet.”

He tries not to think about Ronnie crying on his shoulder about how her parents and her sister had screamed at her when she told them, that no one was talking to her and they might throw her out, like this. His throat will close up if he does, in hurt for her, and in anger.

His own parents he’d just told on the phone today, heard the long silence on the other end. Whispers that didn’t quite carry through the line. Then his mother had said, brisk and no-nonsense as always, So what does Ronnie want to do? We’ll help however we can. Will she need somewhere to stay?

“You’re not married yet,” Cilly repeats, not with derision, just with a kind of flat uncertainty. “You’re seventeen, Paulie. Little young to be talking marriage, don’t you think?”

“Well, we’re talking it, anyway,” Paul says firmly. “And don’t tell me it’s stupid. We already made our minds up.”

“Well, far be it for me to question your judgement,” Sean deadpans. “Since you’re clearly making excellent decisions already-”

“I got married at sixteen,” Conor points out. “Wife and I been married forty-two years this December, too. Sometimes it works out.”

“Different world, different times,” Cilly counters, and Conor has to nod in agreement to that. “Lots of those didn’t work out either, now did they? Besides, kids got options now we didn’t have back then.”

“Ronnie doesn’t want those other options,” Paul says, forcing his voice to be loud enough to carry, surprising all three men, who give him a new kind of look. Maybe even seeing him as nearly a man and not a kid, just for the moment. “She doesn’t. I never told her to do or not do anything, we talked about it, and she knows what she wants to do, and I agree with her. Ronnie and I want to get married, and we’ll need somewhere we can live when-... when the baby comes. So I need to start making money. And I want-... I need some fast, this weekend.”

Cilly’s expression goes cold. “Don’t tell me your folks are making you find a place that fast. I’ll take Billy to the woodshed myself if he’d be such a bastard to his own kid when things get tough-”

“He’s not,” Paul says quickly. “They’re not. Mom and Dad aren’t-... but they get it, they’re helping us. It’s not for an apartment, not yet. It’s so I can buy her some stuff.”

"This is a serious thing," Sean says, and he rubs his thumb over what Paul is pretty sure is his baby's head. The blobs are all sort of odd to look at, but… he's pretty sure that one's the head. It’s where he would put the head, if he were designing a person, anyway. "But I can see you’re quite the serious young man, now. What sort of stuff are you lookin’ to buy, Paulie?"

Paul swallows, nervously rubbing his palms along the seems on the outside of his pants. “I… I don’t know. What do you buy someone who’s pregnant? I thought, like, baby clothes? Or a crib?”

“No, no, no.” Sean shakes his head. “You can’t just get her baby stuff, not this early. You are not starting with a crib, Paulie. You got nowhere to even put one yet.”

“Then… what do I buy?” Paul looks from man to man. “I’ve never known a pregnant person before, not anyone I cared about.”

“You were around for my wife’s last pregnancy,” Sean says, mildly offended.

Paul shrugs.

The three older men look at each other, and then sigh nearly as one. Someone pushes out the fourth chair from the fold-up table and Paul sits, each of the other men sitting in turn. Sean picks up his phone and dials. “Hey, Don. Let everybody know we’re off-limits for the next couple hours, ‘til lunch. Yeah, Billy Higgs’s boy stopped by. He’s sniffing around for some lookout work this weekend. Find him some decent jobs for me, will you?”

Paul starts to smile, and it’s genuine this time. Sean hands him back the little picture of the blob that will become a baby, his and Ronnie’s baby, and he tries not to crumble it fully in his hands, worried his sweat will smear the ink. She’ll get another one in a few weeks, said her doctor told her it’ll look more like a person, then. Less like a weird frog. Or like a really, really bad painting.

“Thanks, I’ll owe you.” Sean hangs up the phone and grins, leaning on his elbows on the wobbly little table. The sun shines warmly through the open warehouse doors on Paul’s back. “All right. Between the three of us, we’ve got, what, ten kids?”

“Yeah, but five of those are all Cilly’s,” Conor points out. “And mine stopped bein’ kids decades ago.”

“Yeah, but babies don’t change, and they don’t need much. You need a pen and paper to write things down, Paulie?”

“Write… write what down?”

“What you’re gonna spend your money on, for your girlfriend. You don’t just show up with baby clothes, kid, you gotta go all out. Let’s talk date, let’s talk gifts for this Ronnie, let’s talk it all out.”

“What to Expect When You’re Expecting,” Cilly says. “They all get that book, right? Isn’t that the one?”

Sean snorts, derisive. “Don’t get her that, not this early. That damn book had my wife in fucking tears telling her everything that could go wrong. We need to think of a happier book than that.”

“Well, call your wife and ask her what she’d want, then.”

“Maybe I will.”

“You should!”

“She’s liable to start planning a damn baby shower if I do. You know how Christa is about little ones.”

Cilly grins. “Think she’ll make those deviled eggs I like for the shower?”

“Cilly, for God’s sake, we found out about this five minutes ago.”

“Right, but... deviled eggs.”

Paul takes a deep breath, and sits back in his chair. “I’ll remember, whatever you say. I promise. I don’t need to write it down. Just tell me what I should get her, what I should do.”

“Right. Well, then.” Sean spreads his hands. “Let’s talk gifts.”

Tagging: @burtlederp , @finder-of-rings , @endless-whump , @whumpfigure , @astrobly @newandfiguringitout , @doveotions , @pretty-face-breaker , @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @boxboysandotherwhump , @oops-its-whump @cubeswhump , @whump-tr0pes @downriver914 @vickytokio @whumpiary @orchidscript @moose-teeth @nonsensical-whump

#original fiction #chris the strawberry blond romantic #paul higgs #ronnie higgs #the past #a very special flashback episode #teen pregnancy tw #mob stuff #brief gun reference #fluff #honestly I just wanted to explore Paul as a character because you don't see much inside his head or get much of a feel for him #writing #writeblr #whumpblr #bbu #box boy universe

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the-alice-of-hearts · 3 years

Text

Kids Again Ch 2

Ch 2: He likes to keep his burner on

First Next>

Marinette would always remember the first time she looked through her romantic Soulmate’s eyes. She was five years old when she started crying in the middle of the day in maternelle. Nino ran to get the teacher while she gasped, trying to form her feelings into words. Her parents came to pick her up and her maman held her while she cried. When she was able to tell them what she saw, they held her close.

Her papa told her that her Soulmate must have been even more scared than she was, but that she could help look over him.

Her maman said that she wasn’t responsible to be the one to save him, that the people who were responsible for this had a duty to take care of him. She also said she didn’t have to sacrifice her own life for his.

Her maman told her that if she showed him kindness and love, the universe would make sure that they could meet one day. Marinette kept that in her heart every day. She wanted to show her soulmate that the world could be a brighter place than the dark place he lived in. She lived every happy memory to its fullest, and every night she sent a prayer into the sky; asking her guardian spirits to watch over her soulmate.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Marinette was nine, she woke up in the middle of the night in a panic. She saw through her soulmate’s eyes as he got stabbed, but even after that stopped, even as he passed out from the pain, she still felt emotions coming from her soulbond. She felt like she was watching someone die right in front of her. She was frozen in terror, knowing she could do nothing to change it. She didn’t go back to sleep that night, instead, she grabbed her sewing kit and started to take the pink applique flowers off her only black dress. She then went to work on making a veil. She also found the blue dress that she had worn to her great-grandfather’s funeral. She wasn’t sure what you were supposed to wear to a funeral for your soulmate’s family, but she wanted to be ready to get dressed in the morning.

When her mother came to wake her up in the morning she shifted her gaze up to her from the floor. She had sat there to write in her journal. She opened her mouth and asked her mom the important question she needed an answer to, “Maman, can you have more than one soulmate?”

______________________________

Sabine looked around her daughter’s room when she saw the dresses Marinette was sitting next to, “It does happen. What did you see Bǎobèi?” ((mandarin: baby))

Marinette shook her head, “I didn’t see it, mama. I just felt like I was watching someone really important to me die. I can still feel the link though, so it couldn’t have been my soulmate. But I didn’t see it, I just felt it... Could I have a platonic soulmate too?”

Sabine scooped her daughter up into her arms, “You could. I think it’s very possible you do.” Marinette started crying, “Shhh, it’s okay sweetheart.” She adjusted her grip on Marinette so she could move to sit them both onto her fainting couch. “Do you want to talk about it?”

She sniffled nodding, “what do you wear to mourn someone you aren’t related to?”

“In China, you would wear a dark color to the funeral of the death of a loved one who you aren’t related to. But not black. You only wear black for your parent’s or husband’s funeral. In France, you can wear black if you want to, but any dark color is okay. If you follow your gut feeling where does your platonic soulmate live?”

Marinette furrowed her brow, “I don’t know māma, I can’t see them.”

Sabine smoothed Marinette’s hair down, “Did your heart say somewhere when I asked you?”

Marinette nodded, “America. I thought about America… but I also thought about Paris…”

She looked at her daughter in contemplation, “Meiyun, do you remember how I taught you to meditate?” Marinette nodded, “I want you to meditate with me, but I want you to focus on your soul link. Can you do that for me?”

Marinette nodded. She sat up and got into a relaxed position. Taking in a deep breath she closed her eyes. After a few moments, Sabine started talking to her, “When you breathe in I want you to gather up all your emotions, and then, as you breathe out, let them flow to the background of your mind.”

Marinette smiled, “Like music?”

She smiled at her daughter, “Exactly like music. Let your feelings be the beat of the song, and look for the melodies of your soulmates.” She watched Marinette breathe and then start to hum.

Sabine’s older sister had been a part of a multibond and she knew it ran in the family, but she wasn’t sure how she would be able to help her daughter. Her soulmate died when she was a girl, they were a platonic bond and she hadn’t even met them. Tom’s soulmate bond was also platonic. He had met him once and they were pen-pals, but their friendship had never gotten that close. When Marinette was born she had a spark in her eyes that Sabine knew was pointing towards a difficult journey for her daughter. When she started to see through her Soulmate’s eyes Sabine knew she was right. She looked at her little girl, so young and yet so strong. Her sister had the same strength when she was young, Sabine just hoped that her daughter wouldn’t follow the same path. When Marinette opened her eyes Sabine waited for her to talk, her daughter was young, but, when it was something important, she always tried to figure out what she was going to say before speaking.

“There are three other melodies. So if I include my own that makes four. My song and Jay's are really close, but the other two are a little lower? They are as close to each other as ours are though.”

Sabine smiled at her, “It sounds like you have two platonic soulmates, and that they are romantic soulmates. Multibonds are rarer in the world, but they happen more often than most people think. My sister had a multibond too, she had four soulmates total. That just means that you have a lot more love to give, and a lot more love to receive.”

Marinette nodded at her, “So I could find one of my Soulmates here in Paris?”

Sabine scooped her daughter up in her arms, “You might sweetie, but unless all four of you are together you might never know.”

Marinette tilted her head in confusion, “but why?”

Sabine smiled and booped Marinette on the nose, “soulmates have a spark when they meet each other. It’s your soul saying ‘you did it! You found my other parts!’ but that can’t happen until all the pieces of your soul are together.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Eventually, Marinette learned how to pick out each of the distinct ‘voices’ of her soulmates. She knew when her platonic soulmates were hurting.

Each year her soulmate from America would mourn the same loss, her soulmate from Paris would have days where they would be filled with so much sadness and loneliness, and her Soulmate would have days where he couldn’t eat or would be running for his very life.

When her Paris bond started having the same hunger pains she got worried. She was used to the pains coming from Jason, knew exactly what they felt like and how long you went without proper nutrition before the pain kicked in.

She started reaching out to those around her, making sure that everyone she interacted with knew she was a person they could turn to.

She made herself known as someone who cared deeply about her friends.

When Chloé started being mean to her she spoke only kindness.

When Kim and Alix got into a fight she was there to hear both sides and help them see the other’s point of view.

When Nino got overwhelmed she sat quietly by his side so he knew he wasn’t alone.

She did everything she could for her friends because she was fighting the feeling that she could do nothing for her soulmates.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She was 11 when she learned all about the Gotham vigilantes.

She had some memories of Jason on the streets where he hid from Batman and had heard him talk about him, but she had never seen him.

Until she checked in Jason when he was caught in the middle of taking the tires off the batmobile. She hadn’t meant to look through his eyes, she was just very tired. When she closed her eyes for a little too long the soulbond drew her to him. She giggled when he was spooked in the middle of taking off tire number 4. She was worried when she felt his burst of fear when the vigilante placed him in the back of the batmobile. She watched him scared when he was taken to the bat-cave, heard him plead not to be taken to the cops. He sobbed telling the vigilante that he would rather die than go to the foster care system.

“Marinette, earth to Marinette.” Alix was waving their hand in front of her face, “you want to come back to Paris?”

“Huh? Oh!” Marinette jumped back. She looked around at her trio of friends.

“Dudette, what happened?” Nino reached out to hug her, then added in a soft voice, “you were laughing and then got this look of panic on your face.”

Kim was sitting behind the two of them, with Marinette by the wall she could see that the three of them had formed a barrier of sorts. She could see him watching to make sure that no one tried to eavesdrop on their conversation.

“It was really funny, he tried to steal the tires off the batmobile.”

Kim started to laugh at that, “no wonder you looked panicked. Did he get caught by the bat?”

Marinette bit her lip trying not to cry, nodding at Kim, “He did. He was so scared.”

That shut him up real quick, “Mari, look at me.” Kim reached out a hand, “Jason is going to be okay. You know he will, he’s been in tougher spots before.”

Alix scooched closer to her to lay against her shoulder, “not like he hasn’t gotten out of worse scrapes before. Didn’t you say he took down two guys with guns like last week?”

Marinette giggled and rubbed her eyes, “yeah, but they aren’t batman.”

Nino had been looking up any information about the vigilante he could find, “Netté, it says here that he has a strict no-killing policy and a soft spot for kids. Jason could beat the shit out of him and he still wouldn’t hurt him.”

That got a loud laugh from them.

“M. Lahiffe, do you have something you want to share with the class?”

They all snapped to attention, “No Ma’am.”

Their teacher nodded, “Then might I request that you all return to silent study time.”

_____________________________________

After school, they all ran to the bakery. It was a long-standing tradition to lay around Marinette’s living room and eat snacks while they did homework. Alix was throwing a paper ball into the air while Kim checked over their math assignment.

“I don’t know why you have me check, it’s not like I’m the best at math.”

“You are in this group. Nino is our french lit. guy. Mari can check over English assignments. I have History, you have maths. And then we struggle with science and geography as a group.”

“Hey! I’m good at geography!”

Alix threw their paper ball at him, “then you should have volunteered to check my geography assignment.”

Marinette interrupted the start of an argument that would become a bet that would lead to her cleaning up the mess, again. “Alix, you have to stop using so much slang in your English assignments.”

“Why? You do, I’ve seen your papers.”

“I use common slang, you’re using the slang that I’ve picked up from Jay. He uses a lot more regional slang. And you know our teacher has given you marks off for it in the past.”

“Not my fault that he didn’t understand my essay.”

Marinette rolled her eyes, “haven’t you ever heard of writing to your audience?”

Kim laughed at her, “Mari, you sound just like Nino!”

She stuck her tongue out at him, “at least I’m not the one teasing my foreign language tutor before she checks over my work.”

“You wouldn’t!” he turned on the full puppy eyes, “please Mari, you know I would fail without you.”

“Yeah, I know. Hand it over I finished Alix’s.”

They sat there for a while, each finishing their assignments and then checking over the other’s work. Quiet afternoons spent above the warm bakery always lulled them into a peaceful state. The soft sounds of writing and the speaker in the kitchen playing one of Nino’s new study playlists. Marinette always loved these moments when she felt so loved; surrounded by her best friends, able to hear drifts of the conversations on the street below. Moments like these were feelings she cherished, images that she engraved into her mind. Opening her small pink journal she started writing to Jason. She wanted to tell him everything about her life, so until she could see him in person she wrote to him.

Nino was the first one to break the gentle silence, “Netté, why do you think he was so scared?”

Alix and Kim both looked up from where they were doing the maths homework. With all their gazes on her she knew she had to say something, “he doesn’t want to go into the foster care system.” She took a deep breath and started to doodle on the corner of her page, “he, well he knows some kids who have been in the system. It’s really corrupt in Gotham. A lot… a lot of foster care parents are bad people. They abuse their wards and get the money from the system. Older kids get it worse, a-an-and he’s 13 now. S-s-so he would ha-ve a harder time getting a good family.”

She had started crying and was now quietly sobbing. Kim moved closer and picked her up to hold in his lap. Nino and Alix moved closer to join the group hug.

After she had calmed down enough to talk Alix asked her, “Mar, why don’t you try to check in on him?”

She sighed, whipping her tears away, “I tried earlier during lunch, I think he was asleep though.” She bit her lip, “I could try again maybe, but he seems calm now. What if I just worry him more?”

“It’s up to you Netté. We are here to support you, not tell you what you should do about your bond.”

She nodded, “I think I’ll wait then.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Over the next two years, she learned a lot more about Gotham’s heroes vigilantes. Jason was the new Robin. His new brother was the first Robin, now he had a new alias Nightwing. Bruce Wayne is Batman was a huge secret that was dropped on her. One that her three closest friends knew too. They had been sworn to secrecy, but she couldn’t not tell them.

They were her small family, and if she wasn’t going to tell her parents then she was going to tell them. Sure, his identity needed to be protected. But what harm could four people from halfway across the world do? She started collecting news clippings of Robin. Each time he helped someone and they caught him on camera. The kids around the blocks he patrolled being in awe of the kid in the bright colors who would help anyone who needed it. She got to see him splitting off from patrol to take food to a building he knew had people living in it.

Then came the other good moments. His butler, who was more grandfather than employee, taught him how to cook. His new father, the adoption papers went through really fast, enrolled him in school. Bruce saw how much Jason liked to read and put a couple large bookcases in his room. Then bought him different books that he thought might interest him. He was trying, but things were still awkward sometimes. His brother, Richard but people called him Dick, was in the circus before becoming a Wayne. He taught Jason to use his natural dexterity to flip around attackers, telling him that a moving target was harder to hit. The robin colors made you easy to see, so you had to be fast and think on your feet. If you never stopped moving then they couldn't hit you.

Marinette asked her parents if she could continue her gymnastics classes. They were only a little surprised. She had taken a break when her soulbond had gotten to be too much, but knowing that he was safe meant she could focus on herself again.

That started with being fast and nimble and getting herself ready for when she ran the streets with him. She spent hours redesigning the Robin suit and making herself a hero persona. She had decided on Nightingale as a name and designed her suit in black and orange. She made her design a partner to her redesign of Jason’s Robin suit. She knew they were going to be partners, so they needed to match.

She just wished that she could be there with him now. Running the rooftops by his side, helping him, making sure he makes it home.

#maribat #jasonette #soulmates #Kids again fic

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literaryfic · 3 years

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Chapters: 4/? Fandom: 빈센조 | Vincenzo (TV) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Vincenzo Cassano | Park Joo Hyeong/Hong Cha Young Characters: Hong Cha Young, Vincenzo Cassano | Park Joo Hyeong Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, vincenzo leaves, set five years after he left sk, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, vincenzo and cha-young are exes, they were in a relationship before, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Jealousy, Exes, Getting Back Together, Not Canon Compliant, i wrote this before ep 20

Summary: Sipping on his third — or fourth, he’d stopped counting a while back — whiskey of the night, Vincenzo fantasised about snapping the neck Cha-young’s fingers were delicately wrapped around.

To Vincenzo, regret was like an old friend. He’d become accustomed to its familiar weight over the years, learnt its intricate shapes and colours. More than that, he’d learned to welcome the intimate ways in which regret accompanied his every step.

The blood on his hands, his mother, her… Yes, it seemed regret was the recurring theme of his life. Alas, in spite of all the years he’d spent acquainted with it, he could not silence the wails of anguish of his heart.

“Mmh.” A simple sound had sufficed to sink his soul to slumber.*

He’d always known this was a possibility. He’d thought about it endlessly, convincing himself that he wouldn’t care, that being in her life was enough. But Vincenzo was a greedy man, and he’d never desired anything more than he desired her.

Her. Cha-young. His Tesoro.

Rarely did Vincenzo say or even think of her name when his mind wandered back to her. He treated it like a jewel, a precious gem meant to be tucked away in the corner of his soul, only to be let out under extraordinary circumstances.

Her name on his lips would not be said in vain, for he was a pious man and her, a Goddess. He’d converted to her cult the moment she’d kissed him, her lips initiating him to her worship.

And so, he prayed to her. When he’d reached the edge of the cliff, the troubled waters calling out to him, whispering in his ear that drowning would put out the fire that consumed his being, he prayed.

He’d go to a small Catholic church in Milan, high ceilings and stained-glass windows glimmering in the evening sun, and he’d sit in the last row, his hands clapped together. He’d recite his prayers, confess his sins and plead. I love you. Forgive me. Wait for me.

The Goddess, however, was a capricious being, and it seemed she had not heard his pleas. Or maybe she had, but had deemed him unworthy.

Vincenzo had wondered if she had found someone else, if she had been happy without him. Wasn’t human nature so contradictory? He had been sure that leaving her was the most selfless act of love he’d be capable of, yet that ‘Mmh’ had set his soul on fire.

He had promised himself that if it were to happen — if Cha-young had forgotten about him, if leaving really had been the gift he’d first thought it was — , he would be content with just seeing her again. Even if all he’d get was a furtive look, that alone would be enough to satisfy the thirst he’d been dying of for the past five years. What a naïve thought. He knew the moment he’d seen her again, that night on the beach. He needed her.

Now, watching her slow dance in someone else’s arms, Vincenzo thought about torture. He’d inflicted it on many of his enemies before and knew the myriad of ways in which the human body contorted itself when in agony.

Vincenzo reaches for the gold lighter in his pocket, the reassuring clicking sound helping him organise his thoughts.

He would start by pulling out his teeth one by one. Then, he’d move on to his fingers. It’d make a mess, but he wouldn’t die right away. Vincenzo would be able to enjoy the fun for quite a while, actually. Would the man scream until his vocal cords bled? Would he convulse, his body distorted by tremors, eyes rolling back?

Sadly, the only one getting tortured is him; the only cries of pain, his heart’s.

Sipping on his third — or fourth, he’d stopped counting a while back — whiskey of the night, Vincenzo fantasised about snapping the neck Cha-young’s fingers were delicately wrapped around.

Like moths to a flame, Vincenzo’s eyes were inevitably drawn to the pearly white of her thigh, revealed by the split of her long, form-fitting dress. She looked otherworldly tonight, her hips swaying to the slow beat of the love song playing in the background. Here she was, with her straight, shiny hair reflecting the dim lights of the ballroom, her red lips complimenting her flushed cheeks — a fallen angel gracing them with her presence.

The man holding her in his arms was in his late thirties, and while he was the same height as Cha-young with her heels on, he had broad shoulders and large hands. He looked down at his feet whenever he laughed, which made his glasses slide off his nose ever so slightly. After a while, he’d readjust them and run his hand through his short hair, the start of an endless loop.

He wondered what she saw in him, if it was something in his eyes or in his voice. Did she kiss his knuckles whenever he was working on some paperwork, lost in thoughts yet reluctant to let go of her hand? Did she kiss his neck and whispered ‘I'm here, it’s okay’ whenever he had a nightmare? Did her fingers trace ‘I love you’s’ on his shoulder blades while they were laying in bed?

And if she did, was it because he looked at her like she was the most precious thing on this earth? Was it because he had secretly learned her favourite recipe, the one her mom used to make when she was sick? Was it because he held her tight when she cried, stroking her hair and murmuring comforting words against her skin?

He looks harmless, Vincenzo thinks. The alcohol is getting to him.

‘Is he a good person?’

‘Mmh. He is.’

He shakes his head, banishing memories of yesterday’s conversation from his mind. That’s a relief. Cha-young deserves to be with an ordinary man who lives a righteous life, away from all the murders and the evils of this world. Yet, his heart aches every time she smiles at him.

Him, who is everything he’s not. Him, who’s making her laugh, and smile, and blush.

The man leans in to whisper in her ear, and Vincenzo can’t take it anymore. He pays for his drinks and leaves, the sound of his lighter not enough to ground him anymore. He needs to get away, far from the sway of her hips and that man’s hand on her lower back. Before he knows it, he’s out of the hotel, on the beach.

Stuck in his own personal hell, Vincenzo considers atoning for his sins. Surely, the fire blazing inside his body, boiling his blood and heating up his skin is worse than the Inferno he’d ineluctably be condemned to.

Without thinking, he takes off his shoes, his trousers and his shirt, and dives into the ocean. He needed to put out the fire before he got burned alive. It’s a warm evening but the dark waters feel ice-cold on his heated skin. He swims until the cacophony of the waves crashing against the shore lulls him. He swims until he’s about to drown, limbs too heavy to float. How he manages to get back on the beach, he doesn’t know. He collapses in the sand, exhausted. The distant moon looks down on him, her inquisitive eyes strangely offensive. Tonight, the heavenly body is mocking him. Look at this fool, she laughed. Did you really think she’d wait for you?

Vincenzo wants to scream at her, or maybe at himself, but instead he cries. He doesn’t have the energy to fight it, or to feel ashamed. He is guilty of leaving her and he has no one else to blame. Regret might be an old friend, but guilt is his greatest foe.

He forces himself to get up, knowing he’d get buried under the weight of his conscience if he stayed any longer. Putting back on his trousers only, Vincenzo carries his shoes and his top until he sees the hotel lights. Were they still dancing together?

He stops before going inside, lighting a cigarette. He’d taken it up again after going back to Italy, another one of the nasty habits he indulged in. He stood near a huge palm tree, just at the entrance of the main building, probably why he didn’t see him. Cha-young’s… someone was standing there, smoking on the other side of the palm tree. Vincenzo holds his breath, not sure how to react. The man is on the phone, and although it isn’t his business, he can’t help but overhear his conversation.

“No, no… I told you, nothing’s going on with her...Yes, I promise. I told you, she paid for all her employees, it’s a group thing. Mmh. Don’t worry. I’ll see you soon. Me too.”

Forget torture, Vincenzo is killing this man with his bare hands tonight.

*‘Sink Not Yet My Soul To Slumber’ is a Christian Hymn SINK not yet, my soul, to slumber, Wake, my heart, go forth and tell, All the mercies without number That this by-gone day befell: Tell how God hath kept afar, All things that against me war, Hath upheld me and defended, And His grace my soul befriended.

#vincenzo #chayenzo #vincenzo fic #chayenzo fic #my fic

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babybluebex · 3 years

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fine line [arvin russell x reader]

➽ pairing: arvin russell x fem!reader(y/n) ➽ word count: 2.6k ➽ summary: desperados pt.2! you and arvin deal with the emotional fallout of your crimes, and you plan on how to move forward. ➽ warnings: explicit language, mentions of violence ➽ a/n: enjoy!

The sun was just rising over the Ohio hills when I woke up. My mind immediately began to whir with the memories of last night, and my stomach turned when I remembered exactly what had happened. Arvin had killed the pastor. We had absconded from Coal Creek and come to rest in Knockemstiff, Ohio. Arvin had parked us on an empty stretch of road to rest for a few hours before we finished what we needed to do, and, by the looks of the golden sunlight, we had slept for a little more than a few hours.

Arvin and I were snug in the backseat, his strong arms secure around me. It felt good to have him holding me after the events of the night before, which kept repeating in my head every few seconds. The crack of the gun and the accompanying shattering of Preston Teagardin’s skull, and my screaming. Good lord, did I scream. My throat still hurt from it. I knew that Arvin was as damaged as I was. He would never admit to a single soul, probably not even to me, that what he had done bothered him, but, as I lay in his arms and listened to his even and sleepy breathing, I heard little mumbles on exhales. Some of the words were unintelligible, but some were clear. My name, Teagardin’s name, and sometimes even “gun”.

Then, after a few minutes of quiet, Arvin scared himself awake with a mighty shout. His eyes were wide, his irises the darkest brown, and his mouth was open as he gulped down air. Immediately, I jumped into action, and I pressed my hand to his chest and my lips to his ear. “Hush, my love,” I whispered sweetly, carefully rubbing his collarbones and pectorals. “You’re alright. You’re fine, love.”

Arvin was breathing so heavily and his heart was beating so quickly; it reminded me of when my daddy had a heart attack when I was little. It terrified me. “Arv, look at me now,” I said quickly and tugged his chin to force him to look at me. “You’re alright. I am too. We’re fine. Look at me. We’re alright.”

Arvin passed his hand under his nose with a sniffle, and he stretched himself to look out the window. “Where’re we?” he mumbled, his voice low and rough.

“We’re in Knockemstiff, my love,” I told him. “You said you wanted to come here… To bury your dog, I think? And then you said we’d start over somewhere else.”

Arvin nodded, as if remembering what all he had said. “Yeah,” he whispered. “Yeah, you’re right. I do… But I… Goddamn it.”

“But you what?” I asked.

“I don’t even know if Jack-dog’s still there,” Arvin mumbled under his breath. He sat up fully and cleared his throat, and he wrenched the car door open. He swung his legs out of the car and sighed, and the weight of the entire world settled on his shoulders. “Fuck. Fuck me, fuck all’a this!”

I knew that there wasn’t much that Arvin would let me do to help calm him down, so I extended my hand to him and pushed the curling strands of long hair at his nape off of his neck. It was the ultimate least that I could do. I was quiet, just listening for anything that Arvin might whisper to me, and I finally heard the catch of his breath deep in his throat.

As much as I hated it, I knew this sound. It haunted me like a ghost, even though I had only heard it once before. It was the middle of the afternoon and I was reading on my front porch, and the old rusty burgandy Chevy had rattled up into our front yard. Arvin got out and looked at me for a second, his lips pressed into a thin line and his eyes red and puffy, and I had whispered, “Arv, what’s wrong? S’it Emma?”

Then, he had thrown his arms around me and buried his face in my neck, and his breath caught in his throat just as it did in the car. Then, he cried. They were painful sobs, tearing his throat apart and shivering down his spine. It was the most awful thing I had ever heard. A dying animal, choking and trying to die in peace, hoping for a quick death. A part of Arvin had died with Lenora.

Instantly, from my place behind him, my arms went around his waist and I held him as he folded and cried. I wasn’t sure exactly why he was crying; did he regret what he had done? He was probably overwhelmed and emotionally raw. Scratch that, I knew he was. And there was fuck-all I could do about it. I could only hold onto him and press my cheek into his back and pray to God that we would end up alright. The police had probably already found Preston’s body. They probably had found it last night and were still scrambling to find the sick person who could have killed a man of the cloth.

“Arv--” I began, but his hand on mine stopped me.

“You don’t gotta say nothing,” Arvin whispered, his voice cracking and breaking. “Please don’t say anything right now. Just…” He paused to wipe his nose dry, and he said, “Let’s get going. The sooner we get outta here, the better.”

I agreed that that idea was good, but the 1951 Chevy had other ideas. Arvin turned the key and it sputtered out its last breath before there was a crack like a gunshot, and the engine rattled to a quiet death. His car had done this once before a few months ago and it had taken a mechanic from nearby St. Albans to bring it back from the dead, but no such Frankensteinian event could ever take place between just me and Arvin.

I could feel his anger radiating off of him, and it made me feel sick. “What now?” I mumbled.

Arvin was quiet for a moment, then he mumbled, “We gotta hitchhike into town.”

“Arvin, seriously?”

“Well, what the fuck do you want from me, huh?” Arvin snapped. “The goddamn car’s broken and I can’t fix it and I bet you can’t either! We gotta get into town so I can bury my goddamn dog, and then we can figure out the car bullshit from there!”

“Arv, what’s so special about this dog?” I asked. “I mean, you haven’t lived here in years. Do you really think there’s anything left to bury?”

“I do,” Arvin huffed. “There’s gotta be. I need for there to be somethin’, anything there.”

“Arvin, this isn’t about your dog, is it?” I asked softly.

“It is, Y/N,” Arvin said. “It is. See, I… Fuck. I don’t wanna tell you this.”

“Then don’t.”

“No!” Arvin shouted. “I gotta! Or else you-- You need to know. I wanna marry you and I don’t want you not knowing.”

There was too much to unpack in that statement, so I decided to unwind it piece by piece. “Not knowing what?”

Arvin sighed, and he leaned over to me. His tanned hands hesitated over my legs for a moment, then he pressed his head into my chest, right under my chin. My hand instinctively went to his hair, raking it up and off of his forehead, something my mom used to do when I was sick. It was the smallest comfort in the world, but I knew that Arvin needed it.

“I was about seven,” Arvin began, whispering into my skin. “My momma got really sick. She had cancer, the kind that shows up and takes ya within a year. My dad had always been a little… He was over in Japan during the war and it messed him up, I think. Emma used to tell me stories about my daddy when he was my age and he wasn’t the same man I knew. But my daddy was real religious, just like Emma is. He built this cross out in the forest behind our house and prayed there every single day; sometimes more than once. When Momma got sick, he started taking me out there. Don’t matter if it was raining or hailing or sweltering, we’d be out by that log, praying for hours. If I wasn’t doing it loud enough, he’d hit me and tell me to do it louder. He’d ask if I wanted my momma to get better and that I’d better pray loud enough for the lord to hear me if I wanted Him to answer my prayers. Eventually, Daddy got the idea that some sorta… Sacrifice… Would make the lord hear our prayers, so he--”

I titled Arvin’s head up to look at me, swiped away the tears that were gathering at the corner of his lips, and I shook my head. I could tell where the story was going, and he didn’t need to finish it. He nuzzled his face into my hand, his eyes squeezing shut, and he said, “I mean it, ya know?”

“Mean what, Arv?” I whispered, kissing his hair.

“I wanna marry you,” Arvin said. “I’ve wanted that for a long time and… We’ll go across the country, to Washington or Oregon or whichever has the best ocean. We’ll get new names and we’ll get married and we can forget all of this shit. I’ll give you the life you deserve, baby, I swear.”

“I don’t deserve no goddamn good life,” I said, blinking away my tears. “I don’t even deserve you.”

“Don’t you start with that,” Arvin said. “Yes, you do. You deserve nothing but a good life, a great life. You… You had that all until last night. I-I can take you back.” He sat up suddenly and wiped his face with his fingers. “Let me take you home and you can blame me, you can say I fuckin’ kidnapped you--”

“Arvin, babe, please!” I cried. “I don’t want that! I want you! Let’s do what you said, let’s go to the coast! Let’s get married! I just need to be away from everything I’ve ever known and-- Shit, Arvin, I love you and I ain’t going nowhere. I’m with you, Arv. I swear.”

Arvin stopped his frantic fidgeting, and he looked at me. His eyes were blown wide and rimmed with red, and he finally took a deep breath. “Let’s--” he whispered. “Let’s go, then. Let’s start walking.”

We managed to secure a motel room in town. It was quiet and a little dusty, and the air smelled like mildew, but it meant so much to me and Arvin. It was a new beginning, renewed hope. We would leave, and we could forget all about Teagardin.

Arvin left to do his business with his dog and, when he came back, the sun had dipped below the horizon. I was in the bathtub, attempting to soak away the past twenty-four hours, and I hardly noticed that Arvin was even back until his frame came to linger in the doorway. His hair had gone curly from the summer humidity, and it hung in his eyes as he watched me move to rest my arms on the side of the yellow ceramic bathtub. His eyes were dark. There was something there that wasn’t before. I knew that it wasn’t anything bad, but I wasn’t sure it was good either.

“How’re you?” Arvin asked quietly.

I shrugged and rested my cheek against the cool side of the tub. “Just having a soak,” I mumbled. “How did everything go out there?”

It was Arvin’s turn to shrug. “Got it done,” he said. “Ran into a sheriff man on my way back.”

“Really?” I asked. “What happened?”

“He just asked why I was walking,” Arvin said. “Said I was doing somethin’ up at my old house. And…” He shook his head a little and laughed. “It was the same sheriff who helped me when my daddy died. ‘Course, he’s a couple years older now but I recognized his name. I don’t know if he recognized me, though. Anyway…”

I extended my hand towards him, and he came to me. His strong hand grabbed mine, and he settled himself on the floor next to the bathtub. Arvin’s hands were dirty, soil stuck beneath his fingernails and in the lines on his palm, and I dragged his hand into the water and began to clean him off. “How about we turn in early tonight,” I started quietly. “And get a head start tomorrow? We can hitchhike our way across the country.”

Arvin nodded. “I’d like that,” he whispered. Then, a few moments later, he added, “Do you want kids?”

I had to think for a minute. Generally, yes, I did. But I wasn’t sure I wanted them with Arvin. Not because I thought Arvin would be a bad father, because I knew that he wouldn’t be, but because I didn’t know for sure if he wanted them. I finally nodded. “Sure,” I said. “I always felt like I was made to be a mama, ya know? How about you?”

“I do,” Arvin said. “But I’m scared as hell. I don’t wanna be my daddy. The way he treated me, I don’t want my baby to deal with that.”

“But you won’t be like your daddy,” I said, and I exchanged his hands in the water. “Because you can recognize what your daddy did wrong, and you can make sure you don’t do that. I don’t think there’s such a thing as perfect parents, I think everybody’s parents screw up somehow, but that’s all we can do, is try and be good.”

Arvin nodded, only just acknowledging that I had said anything to him. He slumped down further than before and rested his head on the edge of the tub, and I used a wet hand to brush his hair away from his eyes. I had always loved Arvin’s eyes. It was one of the first things I noticed about him on that bus back in seventh grade. Beautiful, I called them, even though he always scoffed at me. “They’re brown,” he mumbled. “What’s so special about brown?”

My internal monologue forced me to take Arvin’s face in my hands and kiss his eyes gently. I felt my lips damped with tears that he had been trying so hard to hold back, and, when I pulled away, the crystals clung to his eyelashes. “We’ll be alright,” I told him. “We’ll be alright.”

The water had run cold by the time Arvin took a deep breath and sat himself up. “I wanna carry you to bed,” he told me as I pulled the drain. “Kiss ya, hold ya, like a man oughta treat his wife, ya know?”

“We ain’t even married yet,” I laughed.

“Well, then, I’d say I have a head start,” Arvin told me with a playful smile.

He wrapped me in a towel and picked me up easily, and he moved my legs to hook around his waist. I was so acutely aware of how close to him I was and the way that the rough denim of his jeans rubbed into my thigh and cunt, but I didn’t care all that much. Arvin was gentle as he put me down on the bed, and he did good on his promise to kiss me and hold me. He kissed me like it was his dying wish, and his hands felt my body as if he revered it. His hands, strong and tough from work, grasped my legs, and he slotted himself easily between them. The smell and feel of him was so comforting, just like last night, and I loved it. “I love you,” I whispered.

“I love you so fucking much,” Arvin snuffled into my neck. “So much, darlin’. We’ll get our happy ending, I know it.”

“We won’t get it,” I said. “We already have it.”

#arvin russell #tom holland #the devil all the time #tdatt #fanfiction #arvin russell x reader #arvin russell x y/n #arvin russell fluff #arvin russell angst #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland fanfiction #yes this is named after a harry song lmao #i feel like the mood fits it yknow

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itmighthavebeenintentional · 3 years

Text

I’m Ready

Summary: “I can’t...I can’t take my forever if you’re not in it.”

Picks up right where the show left off. Not technically a fix-it, as I didn’t change anything, but I promise it gets better.

Rating: Teen

Warnings: Cursing, mentions of (canon) child abuse and neglect, mentions of past trauma, working through trauma, denial, bit of pining (but, like, in a denial sort of way), some fluff, some angst (but not as much as there is fluff)

Author’s Note: So many thanks to @there-must-be-a-lock for endless suggestions, fixes, and beautiful images (header AND dividers!!!). Thanks to all my friends for cheering me on, especially @thoughtslikeaminefield ; I probably wouldn’t have kept going with the story without you.

This is my first Destiel story and my first time posting in a while. Please be kind.

Word Count: 7704

In case you missed it: ItMightHaveBeenintentional’s Masterlist

Dean isn’t sure how long he’s been in heaven, at least not by heaven’s timeframe. Probably years, maybe even a couple of decades. He doesn’t age in heaven, and time works differently, running fast and stretching slow.

For Dean, heaven is a chance to rest, catch up with his massive found family, and just breathe for the first time since he was a kid. No worrying about Sam, no waiting for the next monster to pop out, no prepping for the next apocalypse.

Nothing like heaven to give a guy time to kick his boots off and just relax.

Unfortunately, relaxing has never come easy to Dean. Sure, he can go through the motions (binge watching horror movies, binge drinking, hell, just bingeing in general), but relaxing is an entirely different matter.

Relaxing means letting his guard down. It means giving up his hypervigilance. It means sleeping hard and staying asleep until he wakes naturally and unassisted by attackers. It means spending long moments reminding himself the monster at the end of the book is really gone.

Sam is safe. Everyone he’s ever loved is safe and close, where he can reach them.

Almost everyone.

...

Jake Walker is born on the ninth of July at twenty-one seconds past 9:14 AM. His mother Samantha is exhausted after a two-weeks-early delivery, but both she and the baby are strong and steady. Her wife didn’t faint, none of the medical team ever sounded the least worried, and she heard her son’s first shocked wail as he came into the world. Exhausted, but definitely good.

His mom Betty, on the other hand, is an absolute wreck. She’s been anxious the entire pregnancy, despite good news from the doctor at every visit, and she is terrified that the unexpected early arrival of their son means her worst fears are just beginning.

Betty takes slow, calming breaths, focusing on not clamping down too hard on Sam’s hand. She has to stay strong, calm, for her new family. She has to keep her head on straight, in case—in case —

“Your son is absolutely fine, seems he just had a real particular time he wanted to arrive. Here he is.”

Betty opens her eyes to find a delivery nurse beaming at her, proffering a small, swaddled bundle.

“Never seen such a calm baby. Here, he’s been waiting for you.”

Betty looks down into the startlingly clear, mossy green eyes gazing up at her from the squashed, serene little face, and she feels something click into place in the middle of her chest. Samantha leans her head back against her pillow, letting out a long slow breath as she smiles, and Betty’s pulse slowly finds its way back to something like normal.

“We’ve been waiting for you, too, big guy.”

...

Trauma doesn’t heal in a day, not even in heaven. All the shit Dean remembers — all the shit he tried to forget — everything he ever managed to suppress — drives him from his bed at night, leaving him sleepless on his front porch, staring blankly into the night, or tinkering on Baby in the garage, digging into the perfect engine, determined to distract himself from his spiraling thoughts.

Dean has never been an idiot, no matter how many times he played the fool in life. The people he and Sam couldn’t save, the people he let down, none of those deaths are on him. Dean isn’t responsible for the pain and suffering, but he’s haunted by it all the same.

The problem is, haunts don’t go away on their own. Every hunter knows that.

It’s not that he wants forgiveness; how can he be forgiven for something he isn’t responsible for? He needs to see those people, though, see that they’re okay and at peace. He has to make sure everyone is where they should be, safe and at least content. And even if he ultimately isn’t their killer, didn’t want their deaths, would have done anything to prevent them, he still needs them to know...to know everything.

He needs absolution.

And if the person who needs to hear those things the most is MIA, well, they’ve got a history of not saying a lot of things face to face. There’s always prayer, right?

Dean starts by visiting a couple of people he hadn’t been able to save along the way, feeling strangely like someone following a twelve step program. Objectively, (ie, according to the people he talks to), he’s got nothing to apologize for. He did his best; he made tough decisions in situations forced upon him. They don’t blame him in the least, and most are truly and obviously thankful for his intervention.

Their words don’t make much of a dent in the mountain of guilt Dean carries on his shoulders, but it’s a start.

Once or twice, Dean finds himself looking up at the sky, so far from empty, opening his mouth to call out — an action so common on earth it nearly became reflex —but he stops himself both times. He’s not ready for that conversation.

But he needs to talk to someone closer to him, a deeper connection than the monster victims he’s been visiting.

He’s restless, needs to move a little, needs to talk to…

Someone. He needs to talk to someone. But he can’t. Hell, he can’t even say the name.

Pacing the garage turns to a wandering ramble down the road, past Sam and his family’s house, past Mom and Dad’s house (there’s a conversation or fifty that he’s not ready for), until he finds himself in front of what can only be described as a hobbit hole. He shakes his head, not for the first time, the corner of his mouth tilted up as he knocks on the circular front door.

He’s greeted by bright red hair, a surprisingly crushing hug, and one of the brightest smiles Dean has ever seen.

“Hey, Charlie. Can we, uh...You up for a walk? I was hopin we could talk for a while.”

...

Jake grows quickly and steadily, always near the top of all his growth charts but never alarmingly so. He’s bright, quick to anger and quick to laugh, and fiercely loving. He is both his mothers’ boy, always up for a cuddle or a wrestle, and he loves to build block towers and demolish them with equal abandon.

He makes his displeasure with vegetables known early on. On this particular morning, he introduces his strained peas to the kitchen wall with surprising velocity. Betty knows better than to encourage this attitude, so she hides her smile behind calm, controlled admonition as she offers another spoonful.

Jake looks her straight in the eyes, his smile dazzling and laughter bright, and she knows she hasn’t fooled him one bit. She sighs and lets her own smile match his. He won her over the day he was born; there’s not much point trying to fight it now.

“Come on, babe, eat your peas and we’ll see about some of those stewed apples left over from Mommy’s pie filling. Deal?”

She scrunches her nose and wiggles her eyebrows. Jake’s little eyes widen at her expression, and he tries to imitate it before dissolving into giggles. Betty takes the opportunity to poke a spoonful of peas into his open mouth.

She’s not spent much time around kids before this, but Betty swears she’s never seen a baby look so resigned and exasperated in real life. But she’s played her trump card. He’s too young for the crust, but a couple of spoonfuls of smashed up fruit (apple is his favorite), and Jake is guaranteed to eat just about anything she presents.

“Pie?” she asks.

Jake smiles and opens his mouth wider.

...

“SURPRISE!!!”

The last time he was shocked this badly, Sam didn’t let him forget that fucking cat for years. Or ever, really. Seems like everyone he ever knew is stuffed into his living room, barely leaving room for the balloon bouquets and a massive… That’s not a cake, it’s…

That’s the most beautiful apple pie Dean has ever seen in his entire life.

Dean is engulfed by arms, hugging and patting and slapping his back (was that a pinch on his ass?), everyone eager to get their turn with him, wishing him a happy birthday, saying they can’t wait until he opens his presents, it’s so good to see him, he’s looking so rested!

He manages to extract himself from the wellwishers, citing parental obligations, and finally makes his way over to Mary, smiling warmly and offering him a knife and a plate. His eyes flick anxious from his mom to the golden brown circle of perfection before him, but he can’t bring himself to ask. Mary’s smile widens.

“I didn’t lay a hand on it except to take it out of the box. Happy Birthday, Dean.”

Six plates of pie later, Dean reclines on his couch, letting the relaxed atmosphere of the party sink into his bones. The excitement and crowd of early have begun to wind down, leaving a double handful of family, both blood and found, all telling the most embarrassing, terrible Dean stories they can think of.

It’s possible Dean’s never laughed this hard in his entire life.

He heaves a deep sigh of contentment and props his feet ponderously on the coffee table, draping an arm across the back of the couch and surveying the room.

Donna, one of the apparent party conspirators, tosses him a sparkling grin over her shoulder before turning back to a rather animated conversation with Charlie about the length of Dean’s wig at the LARPing battle. Sam and Kevin are recounting Dean’s worst cooking disasters to Garth’s wife, and Bobby is entertaining Mary with Dean’s disastrous attempt to flirt with the pizza delivery girl who delivered to Bobby’s house most weekends when Sam and Dean would stay with him.

If Dean had to describe one perfect day, this would be just about it, down to the flakiness of the pie crust and the amazing collection of horror movies and original vinyls he’s been gifted. Almost every single person he could possibly want present is there, and since he isn’t dwelling on absence today, Dean decides to push his wandering thoughts out of his head and just soak it all in.

Every muscle in his body hums contentedly, and Dean feels strangely warm and peaceful, but excited, all at once. It’s weird, just sitting here and enjoying the moment, not worrying about the next minute or hour or day or even year. He’s full of pie, he’s got great tunes to look forward to, and there’s nothing to worry about.

He’s happy.

Naturally, that’s when the panic sets in. This won’t last; it never does. Happiness can’t last. He learned that a long time ago.

Sure, it’s heaven, but he doesn’t deserve to be here, so something is going to spoil it for him, for everyone. Probably Dean himself, he thinks as his eyes dart from his mom to his dad. Dean always seems to find a way to fuck things up, couldn’t take care of Sam, couldn’t keep himself alive, couldn’t even keep the Empty from—

“Hey, birthday boy.” Jody’s voice somehow reaches Dean through his darkening thoughts, and he comes back to himself in stages, focusing on the warmth of her hands on his shoulders. She stands behind the couch, leaning down to squeeze his shoulders. “Wanna get some air?”

He nods blindly and climbs numbly to his feet. Jody guides him efficiently out the door and points Dean in an arbitrary direction. They walk for what could be moments or hours as Dean plows through the morass in his mind.

“I get it,” Jody finally says.

Dean glances sharply at her.

“I still have random panic attacks sometimes, wondering if Alex is safe at the hospital, if this is going to be the hunt that gets Claire.” Her eyes are fixed on some point in the distance, and he gets the feeling she’s deliberately not meeting his eyes. “I check on Owen every thirty minutes on my bad nights, and I have to lay hands and eyes on Sean to convince myself he’s really there before I can calm down. It always takes me a minute or sixty to make myself remember where we are, where everyone is, and that there isn’t some big or even small bad waiting around the corner or under the bed.”

Dean stuffs his hands in his pockets, stuffing down his automatic reassurances. The first half of his life was spent avoiding conversations like this, and it took him a long time to unlearn the knee-jerk reaction to brush off people’s concerns with some variation of “Everything’s fine.”

Jody, with an awareness born of decades of hunting and parenthood, senses his discomfort. She slows her steps and catches Dean’s elbow, turning him gently to face her.

“That feeling in your gut when the happiness comes, the panic, that knowledge deep, deep down that everything good is bound to turn to shit.” Jody reaches out and wipes a trickle of moisture from Dean’s face.

It’s not raining, he thinks, frowning. Where the hell did that come from?

“You're going to unlearn it. You’re the toughest bastard I’ve ever met, Dean, and you've been through literal hell. If anyone has earned their happiness up here, it’s you. You’re allowed to be happy, and someday you’ll know it.”

Dean would love to reply right now, to contradict Jody. He’d love to remind her of all the bad calls he made, of all the torturing he did in hell, of all the lies he told...

But this knot in his throat is choking him. And still Jody persists.

“I know how goddamned stubborn you are, but you’re not stupid either. We have nothing to forgive you for. Maybe once you’ve talked to everyone on your list, you’ll see that, too. But in the meantime, take a deep breath, give me a hug, and at least say in your head that you’re allowed to enjoy yourself at your own damned birthday party, even if you can’t admit it out loud.”

And if the damp patch on Jody’s shoulder bothers her as they stroll back to Dean’s house to grab a couple of beers, at least she’s tactful enough to not mention it.

...

Jake takes care of his family. He’s a fairly serious, empathetic toddler, quick to kiss other’s ouchies. After receiving his first Elmo bandage, Jake insists on bandaging his stuffed puppy’s tail, his tyrannosaurus rex’s left eye (“He fight with stegosaurus,” Jake solemnly informs Samantha as he presses the adhesive strip in place), and then an old, almost-healed shaving cut on Betty’s left knee.

“Mama better now?” Jake asks, somehow managing to sound strictly professional and absurdly adorable at the same time. He looks up to Betty for approval, and she wonders how she manages to let him touch the ground at all with how much she just wants to hold him all day long.

“Mama so much better now,” she informs him, careful to stay serious. He rewards her with the golden smile that is the highlight of her days before rushing off to find someone else he can fix up.

Both Betty and Samantha marvel in his quickness to share his snacks. They never refuse an offered Cheerio from him, no matter how damp or sticky (though a few of those disappear quickly when Jake’s attention wanders).

The discussion over a first pet is fairly quick and decisive. Everyone agrees the pet must be something fluffy that can be cuddled. Betty vetoes anything smaller than a cantaloupe, citing her clumsiness and tendency to step on things that should never be trod upon. Jake vetoes cats, saying he just doesn’t trust them, and Mommy and Mama share one of their silent conversations before Samantha speaks up.

“A puppy it is, then, Jakey. Let’s go look up some good breeds.”

Their first pet is a rescue named Garth, at Jake’s adamant insistence, though they're still not sure where he learned that name in the first place. Garth is clumsy, awkward, easy-going, and the most spoiled and cared for pet in the neighborhood.

Jake’s little sister Tabitha comes along shortly before his fourth birthday, and he takes to big brotherhood with an authority and self-assurance that delights every stranger the family meets. When she eventually starts walking, Jake is right by her side, guiding each one of her toddling little steps while a beaming Mommy and Mama follow close behind.

No one is even a little surprised when Tabby’s first whole word is “Hake.” She masters the letter j eventually, but continues to refer to his big brother by the name she gave him for most of the rest of their lives. Jake doesn’t even pretend to be annoyed.

“It was just a matter of time,” Samantha says one night, as she and Betty are getting ready for bed one night not long after Tabby has given Jake his new moniker. “You know what I mean?”

Betty, who has known exactly what Sam means since the day she literally tripped over her future wife at university, smiles and turns down the covers on her side of the bed.

“That’s Jake,” she says. They’ve spent hours, discussing their son’s odd, charming quirks long into the night, offering up phrases like “old soul” and “wise,” and eventually realized nothing they said could ever completely encompass the loving little person they somehow managed to bring into the world.

“That’s Jake,” Sam agrees, and turns her version of Jake’s golden smile on her wife. Mischief sparkles in her eyes, and Betty wonders how she ended up with three people in her life that she absolutely cannot win against.

“Ready to get sweaty, Betty?”

Betty groans but can’t hold back her grin. “You are the absolute worst, and that is exactly why I love you.”

…

Sam manages to shock Dean when he insists on a big family Christmas. His extra years on earth apparently helped the younger Winchester warm to the idea of holidays, finally getting to enjoy them with his son as he never did during his own childhood.

Sam doesn’t have to try very hard to talk everyone into celebrating. Things have been calm and serene, more than a little on the uneventful side, and Dean figures it will add some variety to his afterlife. Something to plan, something to look forward to that won’t be crashed by murderous Elder Gods or various other supernatural entities.

Probably.

Dean secretly loves that feeling of finding the perfect present for someone, something he was never really in a position to do back on earth. He takes a deep breath, proactively reminding himself that this is okay, this is allowed, this is good, that everything is not only okay but actually kind of great, really.

He can be happy. He can. He can do this.

The shade of red Sam’s face turns before he finally dissolves into laughter is a thousand percent worth the degradation of actually gifting someone a signed vinyl copy of Celine Dion’s first solo album.

“It’s perfect, Dean. Thanks, man.” Sam pulls his brother into a hug, and his giant paw slapping Dean in the middle of the back literally knocks the panic right out of him. Deans huffs, at a loss for words, and hugs Sam back perhaps just a smidge too forcefully before letting him go.

“You’ll never top Sapphire Barbie for best Christmas present, but this runs a close second.” Sam shakes his head, still grinning as he reads over the back cover of the album while Mary and John look on, varying levels of confusion and amusement on their faces.

“What’s he talking about, Dean?” John asks. He takes a long drink of his whiskey. “Sapphire Barbie? Some kinda code word or something?”

Sam and Dean glance at each other, their shoulders tensing automatically. For a moment, Dean can actually feel the phantom hunger pains transposed over the current fullness of his belly, and he can see a tiny Sam (still way more hair than necessary), huddled despondent and hungry under a shitty, moth-eaten motel blanket, convinced there would be no Christmas.

“Dean, uh...accidentally got me a Barbie for Christmas one year, it was — a, uh — yeah, he wanted to make sure I got a present, so he grabbed it, and…” Sam trails off.

John huffs a confused laugh, and Dean’s hackles rise at the scoff, so like Sam’s and yet so much more...condescending. John rises from the couch and goes to refill his glass. Sam seems content to let the moment pass, but something in Dean’s gut, something latent and ignored since his heavenly ascension, sparks and smolders bitterly.

“How the hell do you ‘accidentally’ get somebody a Barbie?” John asks, still chuckling, and Dean suddenly realizes he’s real fucking tired of biting his tongue.

“I stole the Barbie. Stole a couple of other things, too. A Christmas tree, some decorations, a baton.”

Mary glances between her sons, confused, before turning to John. “Where were you while this happened?”

A parade of emotions march over John’s face: confusion is followed by slow recognition. Guilt makes a quick appearance only to be chased away by dull, ashamed anger.

Dean can practically see John’s mind flashing through the scenario, recalling more about the hunt than his own sons on that cold, nasty Christmas Eve. He knows the instant his dad reverts to default setting of laying the blame on his eldest son. Dean braces himself automatically, his body viscerally reacting to the familiar storm on his father’s face.

Dean has the fleeting thought that at least his dad is drinking from a glass now; ought to hurt a lot less than being hit with a whole bottle.

“You left your brother to go steal from somebody else’s home on Christmas? After what happened with the shtriga?”

Dean knows true anger, near rage, for the first time in heaven, and the bitter wash of it through him is cutting and all too familiar.

“Pretty stupid thing to do, I know, but I wasn’t even twelve yet, so I wasn’t making the wisest of decisions.”

“Not even twelve?” Mary cuts in. “Sam? Does anybody feel like explaining this to me?”

“What the hell were you thinking, Dean, anything could have—”

But Dean had a lifetime of being plowed under by his dad’s inability to take responsibility, has had way more than enough of shouldering the blame for shit he should never have been left with in the first place.

“I was thinking that somebody should get a seven-year-old something for Christmas, should make sure he has enough to eat. Where were you, Dad? What were you thinking? Because you sure as hell weren’t thinking about us.”

That knot starts up in Dean’s throat again, the muscles tightening against the fear that blossoms in his chest, echoed from decades of training. Sam’s hand finds Dean’s arm, and Dean looks to him. Instead of the caution or reproach he’s expecting, though, all Sam simply nods.

“Say it, Dean.”

Dean stands slowly, facing John Winchester with every bit of strength he’s built, every bit of courage he’s earned from a lifetime of terror, and realizes that the angry, bitter man before him is no more a threat to him anymore than Chuck is. And without looking, he knows Sam stands behind him, solid and resolute.

“I wasn’t even twelve. It was Christmas, and you abandoned us. Yeah, I stole Sam a Barbie doll. You know what I got for Christmas that year? The year before? Every fucking year before that for almost as long as I can remember?”

John opens his mouth, even now unable to admit his faults, but Dean barrels on before his dad can get a word out.

“Not a damn thing from you. Not one damn thing. Not presents, not food, not a warm place to sleep or a word of thanks or approval. Not even a fucking phone call to say Merry Goddamn Christmas.” Dean pauses one last time, and it suddenly feels like he’s towering over the man whose shadow always felt too dark, too large, too suffocating; the man whose respect he used to crave more than food and water.

“What about me, Dad? Huh? What about me?”

Dean doesn’t recall leaving his parents’ house, doesn’t remember driving home, but he finds himself on his own front porch, leaning forward in his rocking chair. He takes in a long, deep breath before scrubbing his hands through hair and leaning against the back of the chair.

A breeze rifles the leaves of a nearby tree, ruffling Dean’s hair. He taps his thumb against the arm of the chair and takes a long moment to breathe in the night air.

Dean lets his thoughts roll around for a while. The stars creep slowly across the black, the crickets chirp, and the breeze continues to tickle through Dean’s mussed hair.

“You and I could write the book on shitty dads, am I right, kid?”

He’s not sure why he decides to talk to Jack. Just nice to have someone to talk to, knowing they’re not going to talk right back.

“Could just cut him out. Dunno how that’d work in heaven.” He thinks a moment, then grins to himself. “Not sure Mom’d let me get away with that. Sam would back me up, though.” Dean grins into the somehow not-empty night. “I would be the guy that brings a family feud into paradise, huh?”

Dean takes in the wilderness around him, the empty house at his back, the extra rocking chair for...a visitor, he supposes. He has learned today that heaven, as perfect as it is, still holds anger and bitterness and loneliness, and he figures that’s to be expected.

“You still did good, kid. You and me, we did good even with our shitty old men in and outta our lives. Glad we cut yours out for good. Guess I’ll figure out how to deal with mine eventually. All I’ve got now is time, anyway.”

Dean pushes up slowly, still surprised at the lack of cricks, pops, and aches that accompanied the action his last couple of years on earth.

“Night, Jack,” he says into the wind. He glances over at the empty rocking chair one last time. “If you see him, tell him —just tell him—”

Dean frowns, shakes his head, and turns his back on the night.

…

Jake’s not a crier, not really. There are inevitable tears that come with bad falls, but Jake sheds tears like it’s a physical reaction that he’s getting out of the way so he can move on.

So when Betty goes to change the sheets in her son’s room, only to find him silently crying on the floor, she panics. Sheets flop forgotten to the side as she drops next to his, reaching instinctively for his still-plump cheeks.

“Baby, what’s wrong? Are you hurt? What happened?”

“Nothing happened, Mama, I’m sorry I scared you,” he sniffles, his eyebrows down low on his small forehead.

Jake has never lied in his entire young life, and Betty is torn because he is obviously upset about something, but his face is full of nothing but truth and confusion.

“You have nothing to apologize for, Jakey,” she says, settling on the floor next to him and opening her arms. He instantly climbs into her lap, hooking his own arms around her neck and nuzzling under her chin. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Can you tell me what made you cry?”

“I...I don’t know,” he says, his little voice quiet and heavily confused. “I was playing with Tabby, she was helping me build a tower with my blocks, and then Mommy came to get Tabby for her snack.”

Betty is stumped. Jake has never had any kind of separation anxiety, as far as she can tell. He’s spent nights with both sets of grandparents, even a couple of weekends with aunts, uncles, and cousins, and never shed so much as a single tear.

“You...are you crying because you miss Tabby? She’s right in the next room, baby, you can go with her for snack time, you know that.”

“No, Mama, I —I don’t know why I’m crying. Tabby hugged me, she said she loved me, then she went with Mommy, and I felt...really happy. Like —the happiest ever, and...it was too much happy?”

The last part comes out as a question, and honestly Betty isn’t sure how to answer it.

“Well, baby,” she starts hesitantly, not sure where to lead this particular discussion. “Can you explain what you mean when you say ‘too much happy’?”

He snuggles closer against her chest, his forehead pressing along her jaw. “I dunno. I think...maybe I’m not supposed to be that happy? Is that why the tears came out? Because I got more happy than I’m supposed to get? Was I wrong, Mama?”

Betty breathes slowly, tightening her hold on the little boy in her arms. “You weren’t wrong, Jake. You can be as happy as you want. There’s never too much happy, I promise.”

She feels him shift, and she looks down to meet his clear, green gaze. He studies her carefully, scrutinizing her expression, and she’s reminded why she’s always been so very careful to tell her children the truth, albeit on levels they can understand.

“You pinky promise?”

The proffered pinky is smudged, pudgy, and absolutely perfect. Betty hooks her pinky finger with her son’s, bumping his nose gently with her own.

“Jakey, you have my eternal permission to be as happy as you are capable of feeling. And no one is ever allowed to take that from you. Good?” He nods, and she carefully brushes the tear tracks from his cheeks. “Sometimes feelings are really big, and they’re just a little too big for your body. They have to find a way out, and that’s why the tears come out.”

“Is that why you cry when you watch the kissy movies?” he asks, suddenly smiling. “Your feelings are too big, too?”

“Yup. We’ve got big feelings in this family, Jakey. Better get used to it, kiddo.”

...

More time passes. Dean walks, he talks, he goes through the motions. He heals a little with every conversation, every time he reaches out, and even though some of the wounds feel as fresh as the day he got them, eventually all that’s left are faint scars. He’d never willingly erase the scars, anyway. He earned them, and he’ll be damned if something like a little death and talk therapy could just wipe them away.

Gradually — so gradually Dean doesn’t realize it until Donna makes a comment one night after their regular poker game — Dean learns to not only let his guard down but drop it entirely. He’s shocked to realize the loss of his emotional armor doesn’t even bother him.

Dean works on Baby, drinks with Bobby, teaches Mary how to make an apple pie from scratch, and even manages to have a couple of honest, semi-civil conversations with his father. They don’t exactly reach Andy and Opie levels of father-son bonding, but John does eventually manage to grudgingly admit he fucked up some (a lot). Dean supposes anyone can make progress in heaven if they try hard enough.

He’s talked to everyone he can think of, settled scores, smoothed ruffles, filled himself to bursting with absolution. Dean is so absolved he thinks he might punch the next person who pats him on the back and tells him how much good he’s done for the world.

And still, he comes home every night to that extra rocking chair.

He waits now, waits while he talks with Sam, waits while he walks through the woods, waits while he changes Baby’s oil. He can’t shake the feeling that something is coming. He can feel it around himself, like a suit of armor or a second skin. Nothing terrible, nothing ominous, but something. Which is weird because nothing ever seems to happen in heaven, not really.

Could be he’s just bored, but Dean doesn’t think that’s it. Not entirely.

He talks to Jack nightly now. It’s a habit, something to help Dean talk through and untangle his thoughts into something he can understand. He looks forward to their talks, being able to get his feelings out without being either validated or rebuffed. Just letting some steam off.

He’s done it for so long that he can barely remember the night he started. Dean knows Jack can hear him, but the kid’s been true to his word, stayed hands off and radio silent. He lets mortals deal with their own issues, keeping himself and the supernatural world well away. Even the angels leave people alone in heaven.

Especially the angels, Dean grudgingly admits to himself, late one night after leaving Sam’s house. Instead of going home to that extra rocking chair, he drives Baby slowly, aimlessly, yet somehow ends up back on that same bridge where he met up Sam all those years ago.

He parks right at the end (no traffic in heaven) and strolls out to the middle, scuffing his boots and sending little puffs of dust in the air. His hands are stuffed deep in his pockets, out of habit more than anything else, and he lifts his gaze from the ground up to the full moon in the sky.

“Hey, kid,” he says softly. “Hope it’s goin good for you.Things are pretty good here. I know you know, you’re everywhere and all that,” Dean waves his hand vaguely, then continues, “Just wanted to let you know, I guess. I didn’t tell you enough, but we—I —really appreciated you. Appreciate you. You, uh...you did real good, kid. Then and now.” He pauses, then takes a breath, standing straight and letting all pretense go.“Please tell Cas...he did good, and...I miss him. And I know you’re all taking the hands-off approach, but —I dunno, maybe...he could —stop by? Or…”

The silence around Dean is heavy, comforting like a thick blanket.

Or a tan trenchcoat, he thinks.

“Jack —“

He cuts himself off, though. He spent all this time in heaven working through rivers of bullshit, wearing down mountains of lies and self-loathing until he can finally be honest and open with everyone. And if he’s going to be honest with himself tonight, Jack isn’t who he needs to talk to.

“Sorry kid, I gotta put you on hold.”

Purgatory flashes before his eyes, that sense of loss and being lost, the desperation and certainty that he’d never see his best friend again.

I can’t do this anymore, he thinks. I can’t pretend anymore. And I’m done lying to myself.

“Cas. Castiel. I hope you can hear me. I miss you. I don’t know where you are. Bobby said you were here, that you helped remake this place into something pretty damned awesome, but I never see you. I can feel you sometimes, can tell some things are up here just because you put ‘em there. Someone will tell a story, and I swear I can feel you standing right beside me, can almost hear you frowning and not understanding the joke. I…”

He knows there’s something left —knows he hasn’t found the right words yet. He has no idea what that right thing is, or even what he’s still waiting for, but he figures if he just barrels on, it’ll come to him.

“There was too much in the way, back on earth, in Purgatory. Too much always coming after us, trying to kill us or worse. I got in my own damned way, never knew what to say or how to say it. Didn’t think I deserved...I should’ve…”

He’s not sure what’s more bizarre, that he’s praying to someone who probably won’t respond — probably can’t even hear him — or that he’s doing so in a place wildly opposite from that last time he prayed like this.

Dean isn’t sure how he keeps ending up in this situation, but here he is, gasping out his feelings to the night air, barely able to squeeze the words past that perpetual knot in his throat.

“It’s a lot clearer up here, more room to breathe and think. This heaven you and Jack made...it’s great. Hell, it’s damn near perfect. But there’s no you. And I just can’t see my heaven as right without you. I can’t...I can’t take my forever if you’re not in it.”

A wispy cloud, silver in the moonlight, drifts across an otherwise flawless sky. Dean stares upwards for several minutes, wondering if Cas can see the same stars tonight, wherever he is.

“Maybe...I don’t know if you can come back. Or if you even left. I don’t know how any of it works.”

He’s on the cusp. He can almost taste the next step.

Dean’s at a loss, though. He could be brave: he could say everything he should’ve said in that last moment, everything he should have told Cas.

Or he could take the comfortable path, revert to being a dick and tell Cas exactly how he feels about all this silent treatment, about the no-show in heaven or not telling him about his deal with the Empty until it was too late, about waiting until the last second so Dean would have no time—

Or he could do both.

Both is good.

Metal railings squeak under Dean’s punishing grip. He’s not sure when he grabbed hold of the bridge itself, but right now he needs all the support he can get.

“You left me! You should have told me, given me a chance. Another chance, just one more. I’m sorry, Cas, I knew but I didn’t. I— I should’ve told you, should’ve held you, I could have—“

The tears flow unimpeded, the air squeezed from his lungs in convulsive gasps, but Dean can’t stop now.

“I should have told you everything I felt, every day. I should have trusted you more, and I’m so sorry. You were always family, you were always there for me when I needed you. We both fucked up so many times, lost so much time together. I was so angry at you, at me, at everyone and everything, and I let it get in the way.”

The silence around him is maddening. Here he is, ripping his guts out in the middle of the bridge, and all he gets back is crickets and evening breezes. Dean shoves off the railing, too frantic to stay still.

“Gimme something, Cas, anything! I’m pouring my heart out! I fucked up, and I’m sorry, and I swear I’m gonna do better, but you’ve gotta give me the chance! Just...just give me some sort of answer, please? Let me know you’re there!”

The silence persists.

Just as quickly as Dean’s rage crescendos, it fizzles suddenly. He drops to the ground, back and head slamming hard against the side of the bridge as he lets out a roar of helpless rage. His fists grip his hair, teeth grinding against the wave of helplessness that threatens to overwhelm him.

“I missed my chance, I waited too long, I should’ve said— I should have—“

And then it comes to him.

His hands draw down from his hair, scrubbing his face before steepling his fingers in front of his mouth. He can’t believe it’s taken him this long to realize.

“I’m an idiot.” His voice is barely audible, even to his own ears, but he has no doubt his words will reach their intended destination. “This place you built, you and Jack, it’s as good as it gets. I deserve it, I earned it. I got my family, I got the easy life for a while. I got my family. I had my rest. There’s only one thing left in the universe I need, only one person I want.”

Dean stands, dusting himself off and turning his face back up to the stars.

“I’m ready, Cas. I— I love you. And I’m ready for the next thing. Whatever that is. However that is. As long as—”

One last pause.

“As long as you’re there, that’s all I need.”

...

The inevitable day of separation comes: Jake’s first day of kindergarten. Samantha is proud of her guardian warrior, knows he’s going to succeed at everything he puts his little bullheaded mind to. Betty hopes very hard that he won’t be too lonely without Tabitha there with him. Tabitha only knows that Jake’s finger tastes good and makes her gums feel better when she chews on it.

Jake, as always, approaches this monumental step with aplomb and logic.

“I’ll give it a shot,” he says casually as his little sister gnaws on his thumb. “An’ if I don’t like it, I’ll just stay here and take care of Tabby. You an’ Mommy can go to work, then, ‘kay, Mama? I can make nut butter n’ jelly sammiches. But I’ll try it out.”

...

School isn’t so bad, Jake decides on his second day. His teacher Mrs. Harris seems to know what she’s doing (she already knows who she can trust with scissors and glue), and the other kids are nice enough. There’s different toys (“learning tools”, Mrs. Harris calls them), so that’s interesting enough, but—

Something is missing.

“Can you tell me what you mean, Jakey?” Betty asks at dinner that night. “Are there supplies you need? We got everything on the list.” She wipes a smear of sweet potato off Tabitha’s face before looking back to her son. His mouth is turned down in a frown of concentration, like he’s trying to remember something.

“I don’t need anything, Mama, just...someone. I need someone. My friend hasn’t come to school yet.”

“It takes time to make friends, baby,” Samantha says. “It’s only the second day of school. Have you tried asking anyone to play yet?”

“Yeah, and they’re fun and all, but they aren’t my friend. My friend isn’t here yet,” Jake says. Then his frown vanishes with the sudden mood change of a five-year-old, and he turns beseeching eyes on Betty, aiming unerringly at the softer target. “I finished my green beans. That means dessert now, right, Mama?”

Jake decides on the third day that the best place to wait for his friend (he just knows he’s going to show up any day now) is the playground.

“My friend likes the playground,” he murmurs. “That’s good, I like the playground, too.” He eats his lunch slowly, watching the other kids wolf down their food so they can have extra playtime. He’s barely finished his peanut butter and jelly sandwich, though, when he’s distracted by movement on the other side of the play yard. The door to the school opens and the school secretary steps out. Then she turns and gently pulls someone out from behind her.

A small boy stands in the doorway, white shirt tucked neatly into black slacks. His blue tie is a little loose, as if he’s been tugging on it, and his tan jacket is a little too big, hanging loosely around his small frame. His hair looks like someone was in too much of a rush to comb it properly. He clutches a pink piece of paper in one hand and, in the other, a backpack inexplicably decorated with flying, winged slices of pizza.

“Late drop-off, parent had to run,” the secretary tells Mrs. Harris before tiptoeing out of the room.

With an anxious glance at the other children, the boy scuttles forward and immediately trips over his own untied shoelaces.

Jake is at the little boy’s side before anyone else can react, kneeling down to check on him. The prone child is too shocked to cry, both by the fall and by the sudden appearance of this unknown factor. Jake checks him over, then nudges him until he sits up.

“You gotta keep ‘em double tied,” Jake says seriously. “Or else that’ll happen all the time.” Without waiting for an answer, Jake sets about the laborious task of looping each set of laces in turn, rabbits chasing each other around trees and down holes until the shoes are secure.

Jake climbs to his feet and reaches down, gripping the other boy’s shoulders and helping him stand. A dark smear of jelly stains the shoulder of the coat in the shape of a smudged purple handprint.

“Thank...thank you,” the smaller boys whispers. He lifts his eyes hesitantly, and clear blue meets olive green for the first time. “I’m Chris.”

“I’m Jake.” He thinks for a long moment, frowning. Something is settling in his chest, something big and permanent and scary; at first he thinks it’s too much.

Then he thinks back to what Mama told him: you can be as happy as you want.

He smiles at Chris. “You’re with me. You’re the one I was waiting for.”

Hope and just a bit of delight flicker across Chris’s eager face.

“I am? You mean it?”

Jake nods and grabs his new friend’s hand. “Yep. Now you’re here, that’s all I need. And nobody's allowed to take you from me, Mama said so. C’mon, let’s play cars.”

59 notes · View notes

peaxhcringe · 4 years

Text

Romeo

pairing: Sugawara x Fem! Reader

genre: fluff, slight NSFW

warnings: nothing really

word count: 3.8K

summary: Y/n, a known heart breaker, get paired with Sugawara for a school project, but things take a different turn.

A/N: This is my first one shot after my small hiatus, so if there are any mistakes written in this feel free to let me know. I’m sorry if this story seems kinda rushed, I got stuck around the end and wasn’t sure how to end it, but I hope it doesn’t sound to bad. I didn’t have anyone proof-read this so there may be a couple of mistakes, but besides that enjoy!

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Love.

One 4 letter word used to describe a deep affection for someone or in my mind something everyone was told existed when we were little. Back in middle school I never believed in love, I’ve never had a reason as to why I believed this, but it was just something I got from my mom. Although a fair share of people used to tell me “You just have to find the right person” I still was convinced that love was just something as fictional as princesses and mermaids. No matter how many cliche love stories I read or movies I watched nothing ever convinced me to believe in it.

Through middle school I would always see couples holding hands or kissing by the gates of the school, only to think “that won’t last”. If I’m being honest, having this mind set sucked, especially when I started attending Karasuno. During my 1st year, I had begun to get a lot of confession letters or gifts in my locker, some from anonymous senders and others from people that were in my classes.

What did I do with those confessions?

I threw them in the trash.

It was a shitty thing to do, especially if the sender was watching, but by doing things like it I began to earn the reputation of a heart breaker. Not long into my 2nd year I had stopped getting letters or any gifts all together, minus the few from the 1st years who were unaware of who I was. I hated being like this, but at least if it was somehow real I wouldn’t be able to get hurt like all the girls I’d find in the bathrooms crying over their ex’s or boyfriends. This all kept happening all the way up until my 3rd year when I met him. I met the sweetest person ever.

I was sitting in English waiting for the bell when a silver haired boy came rushing into the classroom, apologizing profusely to the teacher as he made his way to his seat behind me. I never really got a chance to talk to him, besides the occasional ‘hello’ when he would come into class. From my perspective he seemed sweet enough, but I never had the need to talk to him. It took me until halfway through my 3rd year when we got paired for a project together for me to finally pick up on his name

Koushi Sugawara

That one fatal Wednesday morning when the teacher called both of our names, I would never have thought it was turn in a day I would look back on, for more reasons than one.

That morning I finally had a conversation with the silver haired boy, and who would’ve thought that conversation would be more. The project was for us to recreate scenes from the iconic play Romeo & Juliet. At first I wasn’t worried, I was actually surprisingly happy that I finally got to talk to the man that passed me every morning, but then the teacher handed us our scene.

Act 1 Scene 5, Romeo and Juliet first kiss.

Needless to say we both were a little nervous, but nevertheless we had decided to meet up at the park after school to practice. The school day had felt longer than it ever has, a hint of anticipation coated my mind when I would pass him walking through the halls to class or even at lunch.

Once school had let out I had made my way to the school gates to see him standing there, bag in hand, and a smile on his face as his brown eyes met my e/c ones.

“Y/n!” He called, waving at me as I finally came up to him “Are you ready to go?” He continued, making sure I had everything

I nodded and smiled at him, before we turned and headed towards the park. The walk was silent, only the sound of our shoes hitting the sidewalk and the engines of cars sounded around us. The warm sun shined down brightly around us, as the wind blew slowly. When we arrived at the park, we made sure to go to a relatively secluded area near a pond to do our scene, to make sure we weren’t too interrupted.

“Is this spot okay with you?” Sugawara asked me, as he laid his things down underneath a large cherry blossom tree.

“Yeah” I responded, turning around and laying my things down next to his

I turned around and took in the view around us. Not far ahead of us there was a large gorgeous almost clear blue pond with a couple of cattails and flowers surrounding the edge of the pond, and a couple of ducks swam across the water while some took place at the edge.

“Hey, Y/n,” Suga began, making me look from the pond over to him

He was sitting on the ground next to where I stood, his arms leaning on his legs as he faced the pond, his silver hair gently flowing as the wind picked up a bit.

“Hm?” I asked, looking away from him and over to the park sidewalk where a couple was walking hand in hand

“How come you act like that?” He ask, making my eye widen

I turn to look at him in shock of what he just asked me

“Excuse me?” I ask, hoping he’ll clarify what he meant

His brown eyes move from the pond and looks up to meet my e/c ones

“Why do you act so mean to everyone?” He asks trying to make the question seem not as mean

I look down at him, before letting out a sigh.

“Watch out” I say motion for him to scoot over so I could sit down next to him

Once he’s moved I sit down on the ground next to him, bringing my knees up to my chest and letting my hands rest on top of them.

“Why do you wanna know?” I ask, my gaze fixed on the pond

“Because from the time I’ve talked to you, you seem like a rather nice person than what I’ve heard” He explains, his head tilted down as his eyes follow the ants that were crawling across the trunk

I reach a hand up and brush some of my h/c out of my face, before leaning the back of my head against the tree.

“Well, why should I be nice to people who like me when I’ll never like them” I suggest, shrugging my shoulders and closing my eyes as the sun began to shine down directly on us

When there is only silence after my statement, I speak again

“Basically, I’m mean to those who confess to me because I don’t believe in love, I don’t want to be nice to those people and lead them on when I’ll date them in the first place”

I open my eyes as I finish talking to see Suga looking at me, his eyes meeting mine instantly making him look away.

“Well, why don’t you believe in love?” He asks, while standing up and brushing himself off

“I’m not sure really, it’s just something I believe I guess” I shrug, watching as he holds his hand out for me to grab.

I reach my hand out and take his, almost falling onto him as he helps me up, my other hand lightly pressing against his chest. I quickly move from him and begin to brush my skirt off before looking to him to see the small play book already in his hands

When I turned back to him, I saw the small play book in his hands, the sound of flipping pages giving me a sense of calm. My back leaned lightly against the tree my eyes closing, taking in the fresh scent of grass and the pure scent of spring,

“Okay, well are you ready?” His voice asked, as he came closer to me

Opening my eyes, I saw him standing in front of me, the book held out for me to grab. I gulped lightly as I stared into his eyes, my right hand slowly reaching out and gripping the book. The tips of my fingers brushed against the back of his hand, making me quickly take the book and move away from him. I coughed a couple times before finally speaking

“Yeah, let’s go ahead and get this over with” I spoke, pushing a few strands of my h/c behind my ear before looking down at the book

My eyes scanned the page, before I took another deep breath, glancing up, my eyes met with his for a split second before his hand reach out and took mine making me jump a little as he began to speak

“O, then, dear saint, let lips-” His words began to fade together as spoke, his soft voice seemingly disappearing with the wind the blew around us

His dark eyes stared down into mine while he read his lines, my heart began to race the longer we looked at each other. Although I hadn’t truly met Sugawara before, a part of me felt like I had already known him. As my mind began to flow with crazy thoughts of him, Suga’s voice brought me back to reality

“Y/n? You okay?”

I blink a couple times before nodding then looking down to speak my lines.

“Saints do not move, though grant for prayers' sake”

I spoke, my hand hand falling down to my side. The palm of my left hand met with his, his calloused hands were the complete opposite of the soft skin on my palm, a sweet difference. The tips of my fingers grazed against his, my heartbeat pounding through my hands. My tongue darted out and licked my lips, as I swallowed, almost in anticipation of the next scene we had to play out. Goosebumps rose against my skin as Suga opened his mouth and began to start his final lines

“Then move not,” He began

His words were almost like whispers as the pounding of my heart seemed to cancel out his voice. My eyes traveled down from his eyes to lips, before back to those dark brown eyes.

“while my prayer’s effect I take” He spoke, his eyes moving down to my lips, before to my e/c eyes

I gulped as his hand finally clasped down against mine, holding it tightly before his face began leaning forward.

“Do you want to stop here?” Suga asked quietly, his lips grazing mine, as his breath fanned against my face

My eyes dart to his lips then back to his eyes once again, taking in his appearance. The small beauty mark that sat underneath his left eye fitting him perfectly, and the way his nose was somehow so cute. I took a deep breath, the soft scent of his cologne blew through my nose, as shiver ran through my body as I took in his smell, somehow never noticing how good he smelled till now.

“No, It’s fine” I finally manage to speak, my throat feeling dry as I stared up at him, my hand finally clasping down against his also

Suga’s eyes scanned my face again, before nodding his head, finally leaning forward. My eyes widened as I felt the contrast between his somewhat cracked lips to my soft ones. The feeling was like how everyone in romance movies would say it was like electricity. The mix of the spring air and his cologne surrounded me, the smell was almost comforting as one of his hands slowly lifted to rest against my cheek. The longer the kiss went on the more my heart began to race, the feeling of our lips together and his breath again felt so intoxicating.

The book I held in my hand dropped to the grass underneath us with a small thump before I brought my now empty hand to Suga’s face, running my thumb gently across his beauty mark. His soft skin against my hand felt so natural, as my other hand held his lightly squeezing it. This wasn’t my first kiss, but his lips felt so different than anyone else’s, his were almost perfect.

A small whine almost left my throat as his lips slowly parted from mine, my hand still lightly resting his cheek. My eyes looked backed to his lips one last time, watching as he finally spoke his final line

“Thus from my lips, by thine, my sin is purged”

We both stood there in silence, Suga’s breath blowing against my nose as our eyes met. The silence between us felt comforting, but one of us had to eventually break it. A part of me was confused by what was happening, although we had to kiss for the play, a portion of my mind wanted to believe it wasn’t. I wanted to lean forward again and kiss him, the way he felt against me, I almost needed to feel it again, but I couldn't. I've only known this man for a day. There's no reason for me to feel like this.

In what felt like forever I finally snapped myself out of the trace he seemed to hold me. My eyes blinked a couple times before I cleared my throat and stepped back from him, my hand falling from his cheek and the other releasing his hand.

“Well looks like we’re done here” I say pushing some hair out of my face, my eyes looking everywhere but his

As I start to pack up my things my mind can’t stop thinking about what happened. My lips feel tingly and my hands seem so alone almost missing his touch. I shake, before bending over and picking up the book I dropped to the ground.

“Here you go” I say holding the book out to him, noticing he seemed to be a little shaken as well due to his flushed cheeks and wide eyes

“Oh, thanks” He says taking the book from my grasp, his fingertips brushing against my hand, sending a small chill through me

I turn back and pick up my bag, gripping the strap in my hands, before looking back at Suga. As our eyes meet it’s almost as everything stops, the birds stop chirping and the wind seems to go silent. I breathe softly, somehow being able to take the smell of his cologne from where he is standing. Just as I move to open my mouth to say my goodbye Suga begins to walk over to me, placing his hand on my shoulder and gently turning me to face him.

We stand in front of each other in silence, the wind picking up every now and then letting some cherry blossoms fall to the ground beneath us. I blink slowly, the air around us feeling so comforting and warm almost like a large blanket was placed on us. My eyes follow Suga’s hand as he slowly places it on my shoulder, his eyes scanning my face intently. I look up at him in confusion as he takes another step closer to me, his other hand reaching up and resting softly against my cheek.

None of us spoke as we looked at each other, almost as if we’re communicating without words. My heart begins to beat against my chest the longer I stare at him, the loud thump soon being the only thing I’m able to hear. My eyes scan across his face once again taking in every little feature of his face, the beauty mark, his nose, everything.

I take a step closer to him, the strap of my bag dropping from one of my hands, the other hand still tightly holding into it. I bring up my empty hand and place it against his cheek, my thumb slowly rubbing across his beauty mark, the warmth from his cheek feeling so comfortable against the palm of my hand.

I smirk at him, noticing how his eyes shift from my eyes to my lips.

“If you want to kiss me again, just say so” I tell him, his cheeks immediately growing a bright pink tint

I let out a small laugh, tilting my head down and looking at the ground. As I look back up to meet his gaze I’m instead met with his soft lips against mine. I let out a small gasp, causing him to pull away instantly, his gaze not meeting mine. Letting out another small chuckle, I use my hand that rests on his cheek to make him look at me once more

“You gotta let a girl know when you’re going to kiss them” I say playfully, a smile plastered to my face as my eyes finally meet his

“Now, how about you try that again?” I continue, the smile now replaced with a smirk, as my thumb brushes across his face again

I watch as Suga looks down at me, his eyes staring deeply into mine as his hand that rested against my cheek mimicked mine, gently brushing along my cheek.

“Well?” I asked, waiting for him to say something “You can’t keep a girl waiting either” I acknowledge, with a smile as I watch him gulp before opening his mouth

“C-Can I kiss you?” Suga asks, hesitation in his voice

Wordlessly, I nod, and within a blink of an eye Suga’s lips are on mine. I take a step back at the pressure of the kiss, his lips feeling so perfect. My bag drops to the ground with a thump as I bring that hand up to his face cupping both of his cheeks with my hands. I press my lips back against his as I step closer the heat of his body feels so welcoming. The tips of my finger rest in the soft strands of his hair pulling slightly to bring his face closer to mine.

We both tilt our heads more, deepening the kiss, his lips once again feeling so intoxicating. I feel Suga’s hands move slowly down to his waist, giving my sides a small squeeze causing me to let out a soft and unexpected moan, a large blush appearing across my face at the noise. I feel Suga smile into the kiss, before his tongue softly runs along the bottom of my lips, gently biting at the skin. I let out an almost silent moan as the pleasurable bite, my lips parting allowing Suga’s tongue to enter my mouth. His taste was so addictive, there was no way to describe it besides sweet.

I feel the tips of his calloused fingers run softly along the skin of my thighs, just below the school skirt I wore. Another soft moan leaves my lips as Suga lightly squeezes my thighs, an unexpected heat filling my body as he keeps his grip on the soft skin. I gently pull on a couple strands of his silver hair and pull him closer, his chest finally against mine, almost feeling how fast his heart is beating.

I step back a bit, my back hitting the trunk of the cherry blossom tree, giving me more leverage to deepen the kiss. I pull him closer, the scent of his cologne wafting around me again sending more warmth through my body. Reluctantly, we both slowly pull apart from the kiss, the need to breathe more overwhelming than wanting to continue. I look up at him, both of our chest rising and falling quickly as we try to catch our breath. His hands still rest against my thigh, as my hands stay in their spot on his face.

When we both finally catch our breath, well at least enough to speak, Suga is the first to break the comfortable silence between.

“Jump”

My eyes widen a bit in confusion, not knowing what he meant

“What?” I ask, wanting to clarification not knowing what he meant

“Jump” He says again, this time followed by a small squeeze to my thighs

My eyes widened finally knowing what he meant, a large blush overtaking my face. I look up into his brown eyes, looking for confirmation, earning a small nod from him. I gulp before moving my hands onto Suga’s shoulders, before jumping, his hands instantly grabbing the bottoms of my thighs as my legs wrap around his waist. From this position I’m above him and having to look down at him as he has to look up, a small sense of pride fills me as I look at him.

Before I had any chance to react, his lips met mine again, a moan leaving my mouth as his hand gripped my thighs tighter. I move one of my hands to wrap around his neck while the other moves to his hair, my fingers tangling in the silver strands. I pull at his hair, bring his face closer to mine, earning a deep groan from him. The heat that’s filling my body is overwhelming, my heart is pounding almost out of my chest, but I can’t seem to get enough of him.

Suga removes his lips from mine, a small whine leaving my lips, before I feel him bring his lips against the skin of my jaw. I let out a small gasp as his lips danced across my jawline, slowly moving lower down to my neck. He softly kisses the length of my neck until a soft moan breaks through my mouth as he finds the sweet spot. I feel Suga smile into my necks as he begins to focus only on that spot of my necks, biting and kissing it.

“Koushi” I say, but only for it to sound more like a moan, making him smile

Both of my hands move to his hair, pulling light as his bite into the soft skin of my neck. My tight grip stays on his head as he continues his assault against my neck, a hickey for sure going to be left in his wake.

I never thought that someone who looks so innocent and pure is almost the complete opposite. When I got paired with this man I never thought it would end up with him holding me against a tree making me moan, but here I am, my back pressed against a tree and Suga’s lips against my neck. I never thought that being paired with this man would make me feel something that I never have before. If only I would’ve known this feeling before him or known that I could feel this, because it would’ve saved me so much heartbreak. If only I realized it sooner, I could’ve kept this feeling and him.

But here I am now, 13 years later, watching Suga wait for the bride to walk down the aisle. A smile across his face and those amazing deep brown eyes shining brightly for the girl who stood at the large double doors, gorgeous yellow flowers held in her small hands. My eyes shift from him to the floor, the soft sound of the piano filling my ears as the bride begins to make her way to the man that made me realize love was real. To the man that I first loved.

To the man that I still love.

#haikyuu sugawara #haikyuu smut #haikyuu #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu imagines #sugawara fluff #sugawara x reader #sugawara koushi #sugawara kōshi #sugawara x you #haikyuu x reader

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dokoni-mo · 4 years

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Far Away, Together || Darth Vader x Reader (Chapter 3)

(A/N: hello all yet again! welcome back to my little series here on this little cite!! :) I am so glad that y’all have been enjoying my series thus far. I have had a blast writing it and seeing y’all’s reactions to it. As always, please feel free to ask to be on the taglist for this, or just ask questions about the series in general! I love talking with yall :))) links for the previous chapters have been provided below. This is where the series is really gonna start picking up, so stay tuned!!! also, do I see the smut chapter on the horizon? I believe I do...)

Chapter One: [x]

Chapter Two: [x]

Chapter Four: [x]

WARNINGS: slight angst, a bit of crying, mentions of death (nothing too serious), cursing, otherwise none!!

Key: (F/N) = first name, (L/N) = last name

Word Count: ~4600

Peace and tranquility were two old friends that had not visited in a long time. Yet, they finally came for one today.

After cleaning yourself off that morning and hastily getting yourself ready, you had made your way over to the site of our new workstation: Lord Vader’s personal hangar, primarily used for entering and exiting the Super Star Destroyer on his TIE.

The walk to your new station was everything but pleasant. Everyone had seemed to know exactly what you were up to. This is partially due to the fact that you were now the talk-of-the-town amongst your peers. Some new-face baby coming here and getting one of the highest positions imaginable so damn quickly? Unheard of. Getting picked out personally by the Dark Lord himself? Impossible. Unimaginable. How could someone like (L/N) manage to pull off the impossible?

This was also partially due to the direction you were headed. Anyone walking this direction was always eyed by those around them, if they didn’t happen to look exactly like some odd mouse droid. Lord Vader’s hangar was located dangerously close to his personal quarters. Everyone knew that it was the number one unwritten rule of working on this empirical vessel: Do NOT enter Lord Vader’s personal quarters under any circumstance. Unless you wanted to be dead within a matter of mere seconds, do NOT enter that room. Everyone had heard the stories of those who had tried. A stormtrooper who came out with his neck snapped, a woman who was impaled with his lightsaber, each one more terrifying than the last. So, as your polished, black boots clacked right in that direction, it was only natural that you got some stares and silent prayers for your safety.

You thanked them silently and unconsciously, but you knew exactly what you were doing.

Following the directions that the old officer gave you, you eventually made your ways over to the new doors of the new hangar. The doors were almost exactly like him. Tall, dark, cold, unforgiving, to name a few characteristics. As you stood before them, you felt an odd feeling of nervousness in the bottom of your diaphragm, your fingers trembling all so slightly.

If I ever piss him off, you thought to yourself, there is no one around to hear me scream.

But who would care?

Who would dare challenge the Dark Lord himself?

No one. No one at all. So, don’t screw this up, (F/N).

Without turning your head, you let your eyes fall to the keypad adjacent to the door, it's buttons emanating a soft glow. Reaching out a hand, you punched in the digits that the old man gave you to allow you access into the hangar. You were surprised that the code actually worked, despite you knowing that it would. In the back of your head, you had still thought that maybe that old officer was somehow toying with you. That door opening was confirmation that this was no sick joke.

Stepping into that hangar almost felt like stepping right into the jaws of some beast. The hangar looked almost exactly like your last one, only smaller. However, you instantly noticed that it was much quieter than the one you had started with. Much emptier, too. The only thing within the whole hangar was one workbench full of tools, a few crates of unknown contents, one mechanic who’s heartbeat was thumping a mile a minute, and one destroyed TIE Advanced x1.

Despite the atmosphere of unease, you smiled brightly at your surroundings.

It was so quiet. Tranquil, even.

You were so happy to finally be able to work in peace.

As your first action as Darth Vader’s personal mechanic, you quickly ripped off your uniform jacket and threw it on the ground, giving it a kick and a stomp. You hated that thing. And, Lord Vader never seemed to mind you breaking your dress code. So, you decided that your new uniform was your pants, boots, goggles, and tank top.

Eat shit, Empire.

Your second action was to immediately get to work.

~~~

The silence was much more deafening than you had originally thought.

Yes, it was nice not having to listen to the annoying chatter of the other workers in your prior hangar, but this was something else. The silence had let you slip into your own thoughts far too often, much the opposite to your liking. Thinking let your mind wander, and you had a tendency to think about impossible scenarios. Going back home, seeing your family again, finding a new job, to name a few.

The diagnostic had returned nothing of great importance, thank the stars. Just some alerts of wires being fried. Nothing that you couldn’t handle.

Right now, sweat was leaving a heavy sheen on your forehead, and your arms and legs were screaming for some sort of rest. You were currently trying to make some progress to the destroyed wing of the craft, a way to take a break from trying to turn the damn computer back online. And, this wing was giving you no sort of break. Of course it wouldn’t, (F/N). Nothing is ever easy anymore.

You currently had the biggest wrench you had on your workbench wrapped tightly in your grasp, to the point where it made your knuckles white and your palms burn. Your nose and eyes were scrunched, your teeth bore for all to see as you tensed your shoulders and pulled the tool towards you with all your might. You needed this bolt off for you to gain access to the ligaments of the wing that held it onto the TIE. You had tried everything else to get it off (burning it off, freezing it off, and even praying to your maker while giving the ship a swift kick in the ass), but nothing had seemed to work. You were only left with one last tactic: hoping your brute strength was enough to pry off the stubborn piece of shit.

Tears had started to brim in your eyes from the stress of your pulling. Your arms were so tired, and your legs were equally as such. Relaxing your muscles suddenly, you loosened your grip on the wrench, finally allowing yourself to exhale. Panting in silence for a moment, you turned your hands over to inspect them. They were much redder than normal, and the joints in your fingers ached like hell.

Looking down at your hands in silence, you were overcome with an emotion you had no way of describing.

Why were you here? Why did you even accept this job in the first place? Things were so much simpler when the Empire hadn’t come to your home planet, when it was just you, mom, and dad. You could have run. You could have gone with them off-world, but you didn’t believe them. You didn’t believe that the Empire would totally destroy your home. You didn’t believe that the Empire would force you into working for them just so that you could have some sense of protection. You didn’t believe that if you had stepped into their hands, you would never see your home or parents again.

Liars, you had thought back then, mom and dad do not see the truth.

Oh, how wrong you were.

If you could turn back time right then and right there, you would punch your past self in the face for being so fucking blind.

You didn’t notice that you were crying until you felt something warm and wet drop against your palm. Focusing your attention back, you stared deeply at the small puddle on your palm. Letting your mind brew a few moments longer, you frowned deeply as you closed your eyes and bunched your hands into fists. You leaned against the surface of the TIE Advanced, covering your face from the outside world.

Maker above, please, grant me the power to turn back the hands of time. Even for just one day.

Your legs finally giving out, you slowly slid down the surface of the ship until you were crouched on the cold, shiny floor, your tears now only a slight trickle. Forgetting exactly where you were, why you were there, and who exactly was your boss, you sniffled as you allowed yourself to lay on the ground, your legs and arms sighing in relief.

Staring up at the ceiling above you, you had noticed that there was a small window garnishing the roof of the hangar. This had caused you to let out a small chuckle past your tears. Something added to this damn ship purely for aesthetics? You must be going crazy.

Looking at the window, you let your eyes be transfixed on the view that the tiny opening provided. The stars were just barely visible from your point of view, like miniscule flecks of dust. A fleeting moment of relaxation overtaking you, a thought quickly made its way across your brain.

I need to get back to work.

You made no attempt to do so as you felt your eyelids become heavier and heavier.

~~~

He had only the faintest idea of exactly how long you had been there when he found you.

He had sensed your force energy waver from halfway across the Super Star Destroyer. The sheer amount of anger and frustration emanating off of your person was surprising. He had thought that you were the more calm and collected type, but reminded himself that human emotions were common. It surprised him that someone as small as you could feel such overwhelming amounts of anger. Being a sith lord, he would say that he was almost impressed. However, something inside of him kept him from feeling as such.

Instead, he felt… saddened. He didn’t exactly know why.

As fast as your immense feeling of anger came, it went. Sensing this new feeling within you, his attention was piqued.

A deep sadness. A melancholy, even.

For a moment, he couldn’t tell where exactly he had felt such a thing before. He did not have to delve far into this memory before realizing exactly where he has sensed such strong feelings prior to now.

He had felt them from within himself.

As he was currently in a meeting with some high-ranking officers and a handful of moffs, he knew he couldn’t step away so suddenly and without warning without them pestering him. He did not like to be pestered. Yet, something deep down inside him told him to go to you, to check on you and make sure that you were…

No. He had more important matters to attend to, he told himself.

Continuing on with his meeting, he couldn’t help but feel an odd sensation bubble within the core of his being. It pulled him away from the meeting, and beckoned him to leave these people and direct his attention towards you.

There are more important matters to attend to, he had tried to tell himself, but his thoughts did nothing to silence the voice telling him to leave.

After a long moment or two, he felt what was left of his natural body stiffen beneath the leather and robotics that encased him. Honing in on your force energy once again, he felt a cold feeling run through the web of nerves that remained within his body. Your presence had faded suddenly, a shadow of itself only a few moments prior. He couldn’t tell what you were feeling.

Surprising him, he felt his mind race with various scenarios of what could have happened. Was something finally fixed on the ship? Had you inadvertently broken something further? Were you taking a break?

He clenched his fist when the most worrisome thought of all popped inside of his head, making all the others fade away into nothing.

Were you dead?

He tried in vain to calm himself of the thought and put it to rest. He had seen you only the night before, and you appeared to be in perfect health. You had even smiled. This did little to calm him, however. As he would try to focus on what these idiotic officers had to say, his mind would always slip back to you.

A great sense of frustration started to smother him whole, causing him to clench his fist even tighter. He was frustrated that he could not pay attention to the meeting. He was frustrated that he had to attend the meeting in the first place. He was frustrated that these officers and moffs were so damn stupid. However, most of all…

He was frustrated that he couldn’t go to you.

He was frustrated that you had such a profound effect on him. You were just his mechanic. Why did he care whether you were dead or alive? You could be replaced.

...couldn’t you?

The second that words were spoken to signal the end of the meeting, he had turned and exited the meeting room, the wind of his fast exit making his cape flutter behind him. He sensed that the other men in the room were confused and almost startled by his sudden departure, but he didn’t care. He had to go to his hangar immediately.

Marching past all the other workers of the Super Star Destroyer in his path, he ignored all who tried to grab his attention. Idiots. Fools. Worms.

Couldn’t they see that he was in a hurry?

But why was he?

Why was he so in need to see you? To hear your voice and see your eyes? To hear a report on your progress?

Because (F/N) is my mechanic. Nothing more, he told himself. Why did it feel like a lie?

Finally at the doors of his hangar, he punched in his code to the keypad and stepped through the doors. The space was eerily quiet, and this unnerved him. Were his suspicions true?

Hastily making his way over to your workstation, he couldn't help but notice the palm of your small hand capsized on the floor in front of his TIE, the rest of your body obscured by a crate in the way.

No.

This cannot be.

Quickening his pace, he moved his hand to extend in front of him. Reaching out with the force, he threw the crate covering the sight of you across the hangar, it’s landing making an unholy crashing noise.

As he drew closer to you, he noticed how you were laid on the floor, one hand stretched to an unknown receiver and the other pulled close to your chest. You were resting on your side, and, unsurprisingly, your jacket was long since discarded. He did not blame you for hating that infernal article of clothing.

Finally within conversation distance to you, he stopped his quick pace and pointed the face of his mask to look at the tiny frame at his feet. Watching you carefully, he noticed that your chest and shoulders were slowly rising and falling in a rhythmic beat.

You were alive.

He pretended not to notice the feeling of relief wash over him.

~~~

When you finally awoke again, you were immediately hit with three startling realizations.

Number one: you had no idea how much time had elapsed since you were looking at that window. Squinting your eyes to open slightly, you tried to process the time based on the amount of light within the hangar. This was hard to do, however, since you were still very groggy from your sleep. A for effort anyway.

Number two: you were no longer on the floor where you had originally laid down. You could tell this from the feeling of one of your legs dangling off the edge of the object you were laying on, as well as the same feeling in one of your hands. This was confirmed as you pulled in your hands close to your chest, turned your torso, and pushed yourself up with wobbling arms. Your mind was still very fuzzy, but you were just able to make out the foregin surface beneath you. From the patterns on its surface, you deduced that it was one of the crates that littered your workstation.

Number three, and probably the most frightening of all: you were not alone. After a moment of your grogginess slipping off of your body, your ears finally turned back into your consciousness. They told you of the noise they heard, and the fear you should be feeling as a result of it.

Heavy, mechanical, rhythmic, breath.

His breath.

Taking a quick glance up from the surface of the crate, you beckoned your eyes to tell you whether or not your two ears were the biggest liars in the galaxy or not. Of course, they weren’t. Before you was that silhouette you knew all too well.

Shit.

Quickly rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you scrambled to try and stand up and assume your attention stance. You found this difficult, however, since your muscles were still aching from before.

Oh maker, you thought, is this how I die?

“My Lord! Lord Vader!” you were able to say, your eyes finally able to focus on your boss. After a moment of processing the sight before you, you thought that maybe you were dreaming, or somehow hit your head on the way down to the ground. Lord Vader was about ten feet away from you, his buff arms folded across his large, taunt chest, and his gaze locked firmy on your frame. All of these were not surprising. What was surprising, is that he was doing all of this from a seated position upon another crate, only this one had obvious scratches and skid marks on it. Was it always like that?

You realized that this was the first time that you had ever seen Darth Vader sit down. He was always standing, always looming above everyone you ever saw. But, even as he was in a more neutral and open position, he was still very intimidating. If anything, he looked even bigger and more dominating than when he was standing up.

You hoped he didn’t notice how your cheeks turned pink as you beheld him before you.

“My Lord, my apologies you have to see me this way, I-I have no idea...” you began to speak. If he was going to kill you, he was sure taking his sweet time with it. He had every reason to do so. You were resting on the job. Not even pretending to do your job, on the first damn day no less! This would have been met with the harshest punishments by the officers. And, if the stories had taught you anything, Lord Vader’s would be even harsher.

Trying to formulate the rest of your apology, you were also trying again and again to stand at attention. Your arms and legs, however, had different plans. Their weakness kept you firmly in your sitting position upon the crate. This only made the internal panic for your life stronger. Lord Vader detested weakness. Saw it as only a burden, and would be eradicated swiftly and unkindly.

After a few attempts to stand and choke out an apology, Lord Vader rose from his sitting position, letting his strong arms fall to his sides. Shit shit shit shit shit shit shit. He was coming to kill you. You knew it. You would be dead here in a matter of minutes, sliced in two by his red saber.

Adrenaline kicking in, you hoped that the hormone would give you the strength to stand once again. Nothing.

Vader stepped slowly and decisively closer to you, his gaze still locked upon you. Despite the rapid beating of your heart and your brain telling you to run as fast as you could, you stayed put. Lowering your head, you stared down at your feet and sighed quietly, taking a long, slow blink. If he was going to kill you, you hoped that he would give you at least the mercy of making it as quick as possible.

Once he stopped about three feet away from you, you closed your eyes and braced yourself to hear the sound of his saber igniting in his grasp.

This never came.

Instead, you felt something heavy, strong, and leathery make contact with your left shoulder. It was enormous, and dwarfed the joint in almost every way. Picking up your head, you darted your eyes over to the source of the pressure. Following your gaze from the touch, you followed it to its source.

Lord Vader.

His hand was on your shoulder.

Maybe you really had hit your head on your way to the ground.

“(F/N),” he said, his mask pointed squarely on your face, “I have been waiting some time for you to awaken. Do you wish to tell me why I have found you in such a state?”

Oh yeah. You definitely hit your head on the way down.

Licking your bottom lip and swallowing, you paused a moment before responding. You decided to tell the truth. If he wanted me dead, you figured, he would’ve killed me already. He doesn’t seem the type to draw these things out.

“I… I was trying to loosen one of the bolts on your TIE, my Lord. I tried many methods to remove it, but none of them worked. So, I thought that I would try and just try and pry it off myself. I guess I tried too hard because I just felt so weak all the sudden… Please pardon me, my Lord, I was not trying to avoid my work.” You said, letting your gaze fall only briefly as you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. You felt your cheeks burn brighter the longer he had his hand on your shoulder.

“I see.” he said flatly, taking his hand off of you and placing it on his belt alongside his other hand. Perhaps it was because it had been so long since you felt something like it, but you quickly missed the feeling of his hand upon your body.

“I do hope that you have enough strength to continue on with the day, Miss (F/N). I can see that you are making good progress, and it would be a shame if you did not continue as such.” he continued, tilting his head to the side.

“Y-yes, My Lord. I can continue on with the day.”

“Good.” he responded. Lifting up his hand once again, he unfurled it from it's gripping position, pointing his palm towards the ceiling as he extended it within your gripping distance. It took you a second of staring at his hand dumbly for you to register what exactly he was doing. “Do not allow me to keep you occupied then, Miss (F/N).”

Flicking your gaze from his hand to his mask over and over again, you hesitantly lifted your hand, your fingers loose. Gently placing your hand within his, another shot of blush made its way onto your cheeks. Your hand was noticeably smaller than his, your palm and fingers being dwarfed by his own. You could barely wrap your hand around his.

Once your grip was secure, Lord Vader wrapped his robotic digits around your grasp. Cue another shot of blush on your cheeks. His grip was strong, secure, stable.

Deep down within you, you wondered what it would feel like to have his hands on other parts of your body.

Helping you bring you to your feet, Lord Vader flexed his arm to pull you up off the crate. The strong motion definitely helping you to your feet, your legs only wobbling in protest for a moment before allowing you to stand again.

You were now awfully close to Lord Vader.

Only about a foot away, your hand still wrapped tightly in his.

Realizing that you had forgotten to pull your hand back, you blushed for what seemed like the fifteen-millionth time that day and slowly pulled it back. You kept your neck craned as you looked up at him, your height different now more apparent than ever. Looking right into the eyes of his black, menacing mask you mumbled out a quiet thank you, my Lord.

The two of you stood dead-locked in a galaxy-wide championship of a staring contest for a long while. The only sound that interrupted the silence between two of you were his breath and the distant rumbling of the engines of the Super Star Destroyer. Many thoughts darted through your head as you looked right at him, trying to see if you could see his eyes beneath the mask’s.

What exactly is his game here? Why didn’t he just kill me? Am I that important? Of course not, I’m just a mechanic, he could always get another one. Then why? I wish I could see his face. Don’t think that, (F/N), that would never happen. I want him to touch me again. STOP THAT, (F/N). I don’t want him to leave. I want…

Stop humoring yourself, (F/N). He sees you as his mechanic. Nothing more.

It was him that broke the silence again. A simple sentence, nothing more.

“Do not dawdle any longer, (F/N). I will return again for another report at a later time.”

You gave him a nod and a courteous yes, my Lord before he turned to leave, walking off yet again.

Sighing to yourself, you returned to your earlier position, wrapping your hand around the wrench that was still wrapped around the bolt from before. You had hoped that the bolt would have just magically loosened itself from the time you had fallen asleep to now.

With a brief complaint from your arms, you tried pulling the wrench towards you once again. Big shocker, it still didn't move. Cursing to yourself silently, you tried again. Want an even bigger shocker? It still didn’t move. Surprising, isn’t it?

Taking a step back to try and think of some other way that you could pry off this bolt, you shook out the pain from your hands, your brow furrowing.

You thought that you must be hallucinating as you stared at the wrench. Without you even touching it, the wrench had started to turn towards you, taking the stubborn bolt along with it. Your confusion only grew as it repeated this motion a few more times until, suddenly, and without warning, the bolt came undone, crashing on the floor with the wrench. The sudden noise made you flinch and jump back, your mouth opening in a silent yelp.

You were beyond bewildered. How the hell did that happen? Are you high? Hallucinating?

Quickly putting two and two together, you turned your body to the door, your lips parting. Sure enough, there he was, his hand extended it the direction of the wrench and bolt, fingers relaxed. You couldn’t believe it. You had heard the stories of this power before, his power, but you didn’t believe them. You thought it had just been people exaggerating the level of his strength. But, now, you knew that it sure as fuck wasn’t.

You should have been scared. You should have cowered in fear, knowing that all the legends you heard were true. Yet, you didn’t. You couldn’t, even.

All you could do was smile. Smile like a dopey, bumbling idiot and laugh in disbelief.

You had no idea what came over you.

Calling out a hasty thank you, my Lord, you hoped that you didn’t look as girlish and giddy to him as you felt. You hadn’t smiled like this in such a long time.

Offering nothing more than a long look and a nod, Lord Vader left the hangar, leaving you alone there once more.

You ate an extra ration that night, the ghost of Vader’s touch still lingering in your nerves.

How you craved for him to do it again.

TAGS: @spaghetti-666 , @soullesstaco , @arsonistvoyager , @robin-obsessed , @glitter-rian , @captainrexstan , @easterncryptid , @deviatedwinter , @roseangel013bf , @danicalifxrnia

#darth vader #darth vader x reader #anakin x you #anakin skywalker #anakin x reader #fanfiction #star wars #star wars x reader #star wars x you #star wars fanfiction #fanfic #star wars fanfic

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1-800-channie · 3 years

Text

Guardian Angel

PAIRING | Angel Chan & Female Reader

GENRE | Cute / Angst / Suggestive

TYPE | Long Fiction

WC | 5000+ Words

SUMMARY | “After suffering more than you could handle, God sends you a heaven made gift. He sent you a Guardian Angel. His name is Christopher Bang Chan and he is the most handsome creature you have ever laid your eyes on. Will you be able to live with him everyday without any kind of second thoughts? Will Chris be able to take care of you without falling for you? Something tells me that it won’t be. But if, the both of you fall in temptation, there is a punishment that will hurt more than death.”

[Part 1] [Part 2]

(100 Days Left)

Not everyone deserves to have someone look after them. Someone ideal who can prepare dinner after a long day of work, or someone who understands how you feel and will support you no matter what. Surely you weren't one of those people.

God always had his eye on you, especially considering you constantly prayed to him in tears, imploring him to support you in some way. You were extremely exhausted from all the crimes that occurred in your life. The cross was excessively heavy for you; your wasted body couldn't take it anymore.

It all happened on a rainy night. You were working on a recent design for a client. Your body felt all worn out from serving all night and day at the restaurant. Your eyes were burning though you couldn’t bring yourself to stop, not when the design was turning out so well.

As you looked out the sliding window, you noticed that it was raining. The chilly raindrops caused an aesthetic feeling that helped you feel inspired. The only light inside your apartment was from the laptop you were currently using. Outside however, the only source of light you saw was the stroke of lightning from the dark sky that alarmed you.

Ever since you were a young girl you had a fear of lightning. However, now that you were an adult, you couldn’t let it distract you no more, you had to continue working. You did your best to ignore the strokes of lightning outside as you continued to distract yourself for a little longer.

As your eyes carefully analysed the finished product, your mind wandered somewhere else. You remembered how you used to live in your hometown with your parents in a humble environment while working on a company of Web Design, something you studied for. The boss loved your hardworking and creative self. Therefore, when he got the chance, he gave you the main seat at the table of the company, in Seoul.

In about a month or so you moved to the massive city of Seoul. It was unusual for you, so many people and so much noise. It was recent, but after some time you became used to the weirdness. You lived in a magnificent apartment, five minutes away from work, which was thankfully paid for by the company.

Everything was going completely fine until the boss invested in the wrong company. When that company went down, the company you were working for also went down, causing your boss to be bankrupted.

That's when your world came crashing down. You lost the apartment you were staying in because it was way too overpriced for you to afford alone, and you didn't even have a place to work. To make things worse, your parents were going through a tough time back in your hometown, and you had sent them the money you had saved, leaving you with just a couple hundred dollars.

You were alone and lost in an enormous city. You had no place to sleep or work. You felt miserable and lost as you cried yourself to sleep for several days, sleeping on some cardboards that the people were throwing away.

You were tired of sleeping on the ground, on the fourth day, you summoned up some unknown energy and went to a public bathroom, where you showered and prepared yourself to find a new job.

You spent all day running around, walking from coffee shop to coffee shop. From one restaurant to another. By seven your body was exhausted. Especially because you didn't eat all day, so you sat down on the road.

Finally the answer to your prayers were heard. An elderly lady saw you miserably sitting down on the dirty ground and helped you walk inside her small restaurant. It smelled of rice cakes and kimchi and you liked it.

The eldery woman’s name was Kim Sohyun and she was eighty years old. But don’t be fooled by her age, she was fast and didn't stop moving. She always found something to do at the restaurant, even when it was as empty as a parking lot at night. Out of genuine kindness, she gave you some food and a place to stay. The apartment you stayed in was from her daughter that left Korea to go abroad and never talked to her mom again.

After that day, you took care of that adorable lady, learned how to cook and even started cleaning for her.

You smiled at the thought of the lady Kim Sohyun. As your mind came back to the present when you read the name of the person that asked you for the design, you got shy. He is a starting rapper by the name of Changbin. He had pretty brown eyes and a cute laugh that made your heart flutter.

When he told you he trusted you with his first album cover design you hugged him tightly, which caught him off guard, but he didn't mind. Not when it came to you. Changbin was around for a while before asking you to work for him. He knew your story, and you knew his.

A sudden loud bang echoed inside your silent apartment shocking you.Then suddenly everything was dark. It took you a while to recognize what happened, but as soon as you noticed that the power went off panic took over your small body.

Your computer is quite old and only works plugged to the electricity. Since the power went off, it means your computer is dead. Tears started to form at the corners of your exhausted eyes... All the work you already had done… Was gone.

The design you had been working on for days was totally gone.

You fell on your knees on the wood floor violently. Your frame curled up in a ball as you sobbed quietly, trying your best not to be too noisy and scare Lady Sohyun that is sleeping.

Now the only sounds audible from the inside were your sobs, and from the outside, the rain that started to calm down.

God, decided to reward you from being loyal and strong and sent someone to save you.

You didn't see it, but it was something so magical and special. There was an angel standing in front of you. His body was muscular and well proportioned, radiating light.

You noticed something was wrong from all the sudden brightness that escaped from between your fingers as you covered your eyes. And just like the curiosity killed the cat, you screamed so loud that you are afraid it woke half of the city.

In front of you, there was an absurd creature. His body was perfectly built, muscles visible on his pale body. His face was so magical that you were afraid that you had died and went to paradise. Golden hair, gloomy eyes, plump crimson lips, and a prominent nose. His frame was only covered by a thin cover that went from his shoulder to his waist, secured by a charming gold belt. His feet bare.

“What-what are you doing here?” You question getting off the wooden floor and taking a few steps back, startled.

“I'm your guardian angel, YN.” The creature explains, his voice low and noble. “Don’t be afraid…I'm here to take care of you.”

You stare at him with burning cheeks and uncertain eyes. Curiosity consuming you alive. You walk towards him slowly. He was so pure and bright, almost unreal. Something heaven-made.

“Can I touch you?” You ask innocently, just to make sure he is real.

“Go ahead, YN-ah.” The angels respond with a genuine smile.

Your fingertips were trembling as you caressed his cheek. The angel flinched because of your cold fingertips, scaring you for a few moments. His skin was silky and he felt genuine. His hair was also soft, but a bit dry and he smelled like nature. The scent was so different that you couldn't explain it. It prompted you with comfort.

“Oh my…” You confessed impressively. “I don’t have money to buy you food, and I don't have a place for you to sleep in… I'm sorry. I think you should go back to… hm… Heaven?” You say, confused. The beautiful angel laughs.

“YN, I don’t need to eat or sleep. I'm here to be your company, help you when you need it, take care of you.” Your mouth opens in a ‘O’ shape and you nod your head. Deep inside, you were still confused and uncertain.

“Hmmm, I think I'm going to sleep now. Could you, hm, not look at me? While I try to fall asleep?” Your cheeks were reddening again. The angel looks at you with love and accepts.

You lay down on your bed and cover your body, hiding completely. Your brain quickly tried to be reasonable and tells you that this was just a dream. Maybe you hit your head and passed out. Too scared to know the truth, you didn’t get out of the covers. As time slowly passed, you silently fell asleep.

It's cute how the next morning you wake up with your blankets almost falling off the bed and an amazing smell of eggs, toasts, and pancakes.

That's odd. Miss. Kim Sohyun never prepared your breakfast before.The weirdest thing was she didn't have these kind of ingredients. As you walked to the small kitchen, yawning and gently rubbing your sleepy eyes, there was a bare back facing you. You screamed, startled.

“Oh, good morning Y/N, did you sleep well?” The man asked, placing a glass of orange juice on the table.

“I thought it was all a dream…” You said to yourself, facing the floor, twisting your hair in annoyance.

“It’s not. I’m here to take care of you…” You stared at him, seriously. That was the first time he made your heart flutter.

After ten awkward minutes of him washing the dishes that were on the sink from yesterday, curiosity took the best of you:

“What's your name, Angel?” You asked, admiring his sturdy back. He laughed silently, then he jerked his head towards you.

“Oh right, how impolite. I forgot to introduce myself. I'm Christopher Bang Chan. I’m a mixture of Korean and Australian. I was moving to Korea when the plane I was in had a problem and crashed. I died there, I was twenty years old. This is why I still look like this and not older.” The last part, he narrated to you while facing the plates he was washing, avoiding your gaze.

“I'm so sorry…” You said in a low voice.

"It 's ok love. Everything happens for a reason…” Christopher says with a tender smile. “Now” He started talking again, finishing up with the plates. “You go to take a shower, and then get ready to work, I’ll clean the kitchen.” You looked at him surprised but did as he said.

“Wait, what will you do all day?” You asked, interested.

“I'll clean your house, try to fix your computer and then pray. Don’t worry about me, ok?” You nodded again, trying to be obedient.

( 90 Days Left)

As time went by you bought him some ‘human’ clothes, so he looked ordinary and you could walk around with him by your side. Chris, as you like to call him, looked handsome on the outfits you carefully pick him.

The truth was that his presence was now normal to you. Every time you opened your door, you greet the charming Angel, that's usually in the modern kitchen, cooking you dinner. Usually, after dinner, you washed the dishes while you obligated him to sit down and rest for a bit.

( 80 Days Left)

After a tedious day of work, you ate a delicious dinner and went straight to the bathroom to take a warm shower. When you were done, you sat comfortably on your downy bed while Chris brushed your hair. Usually while he did it, you informed him about your day, and today was no different. As his bony fingers grazed over your scalp trying not to willingly hurt when he was brushing harder, you eagerly told him about Changbin.

“He may seem to be a bit mean at first. He always wears black clothes… his makeup is always perfectly made. I'm jealous sometimes. His voice is nice because he can make it deep and serious or high pitched and girly to piss me off.” You giggled while remembering Binnie’s jokes from that today.

“That man seems important to you…” Chris stated with a gentle smile, even though something sparkled inside him. Could he be jealous of that man for being so close to you?

“Hmmmm, not as important as you.” You say positively and then turn your body so you could confront the timid boy sitting in the middle of your bed.

Chris looked at the white blanket that was resting on his legs as he played with his fingers. Did you just say that? Is he that important to you? The Angel was biting his bottom lip nervously. His heart was racing like crazy and you could almost hear it calling your name.

You moved closer to him, enough so when you extended your arm, your soft hand would cup his cheek. Chan immediately stared at you, trying to understand what were you going to do next.

A voice in your head woke you up and made you pull your hand away, suddenly feeling shy. Maybe Chris can’t feel love for someone, maybe not the same way humans do. And you were afraid of scaring him. An uncomfortable silence involves the both of you and you sign, closing your eyes and trying to calm down the urge to cry.

The truth is he makes you feel some type of way. His eyes seem to light up and turn brighter every time he sees you. Chris would carefully listen to all your complaining or sad words. His lips would turn to an adorable pout when you were bossing him around. His hugs were warm and safe, and you felt protected on them. His laugh was so innocent and contagious and also mentioning he has such a pure heart, filled with love only. The angel made you feel special and loved… You were getting attached to it.

You didn't want to admit it to him or yourself. Maybe you were starting to feel something for him. It was wrong. You and he could never be together, because he was your guardian angel, not your lover.

“I think… I'll go to sleep.” You said after being lost on your melancolic thoughts for too long.

“Oh, hm, ok… But you seem sad. What's wrong?” Chan politely questioned while getting off the comfy bed so you could lay down. Your hands felt unsteady, your stomach was aching in an unusual way.

“Nothing you can fix.” You coldly explained, intentionally trying to push him away. You needed some time alone.

“Oh… Ok. I'll be praying in the kitchen if you require me.” Chris winks at you. “Good Night, Love.” You bite your lip to stop the tears from slipping out. That damn nickname.

You tried to sleep. You did, but your heart was beating too fast and you couldn't stop thinking about his lips. Chris's lips were so plump and inviting, they seemed so soft and plush, so kissable…

Chan peaked at you, and noticed how restless you were, he approached you:

“Y/N, let me try to help you. Please, you don’t need to talk about it. I'll just be there for you.” The Angel insists, sitting by your side on your bed.

“Ok ok… I only accept because it's hard for me to sleep, and I have work tomorrow.” You finally gave in. Chan felt grateful, this was something he wanted for a while and was too shy to ask you.

You lay down on the bed again, closing your eyes and snuggling inside the warm covers. Chris was shy, but it was worth it. Chan lays down on the bed, under the covers and gets closer to you. Uncertain. His arm rested on your waist as he pushed you a little further against his chest.

Chan wanted to cuddle you. You smiled as an adorable blush painted your cheeks. He was warmer than the heavy covers, his embrace so safe and comfortable that you never wanted him to leave.

The Angel was feeling the same, shy but happy. Your body felt so tiny between his protective arms. He desperately wished to hold you forever because, somehow, you felt like home. Chan was scared, afraid of how he was starting to feel for the charming girl he had to look after. He loves to admire the way your smile gets wider when he makes a joke; how you get mad at him when he does everything at home alone and how pretty you look without even trying.

What if he fell for you?

( 70 Days Left)

“Chris come here…” You whined in the bathroom, your bandana was stuck in your hair and if you tried to pull it, it would most likely rip all your hair off.

The tall man came inside the bathroom in a rush, worried that something may have happened to you.

“What’s wrong, Love?” His melodious voice asked, admiring your grumpy face that reflected on the small, old mirror.

“My hair is tangled, and it hurts if I pull it. Please, help me.” You begged with puppy eyes, noticing how he changed from worried to relaxed in seconds.

The Angel walked behind you, and his slender fingers started to work on your messy hair. You could feel the warmth his body was radiating from behind you. His smell changed, because he was now using your body wash and shampoo. The smell of vanilla was amazing, you liked it in your skin, but when it came to him… It was special.

Chris was shaking, his fingers were uncertain and trembling. His breathing was uneasy and his legs felt like jelly. He could notice easily how you were biting your bottom lip, a cute pink blush on your cheeks and every time his fingers brushed against your sensitive neck, a long breath would leave your sensual lips.

The atmosphere inside the bathroom was starting to heat up, both of you not being able to control their body language and it was obvious. So obvious that both of you were crazy in love with each other.

“Done…” He said, his voice loud but shaky. Chris immediately called himself stupid for showing you that he is feeling flustered, but you just give him a soft smile and turned around, taking your bandana out of his hands and getting out of the bathroom in a rush, trying to calm yourself down.

You walked close to your window and opened it, feeling the cold breeze hitting your face and calming your heated body. Your heart was beating fastly and you were too timid to look Chris in the eyes.

The way he made you feel is not possible, you can’t feel like that. Though his eyes were so pretty, his lips were so inviting and his heart was pure gold… How could you stop yourself from feeling that way? A sudden call for your name made you come back to reality.

You walked to the front door and opened it. The kind woman that gave you a shelter was there, with a light mad expression:

“My oven is a mess, Hun, i didn't want to bother you on a Sunday but i need help with it.” She explained shaking her head in disappointment. “Could you please get downstairs and clean it?” She asked, her voice hopeful.

“Yes, i can do it. Give me just five minutes and i'll be there.” You smiled politely, she took your hands in hers and smiled, secretly, she was very grateful for you.

You got back inside the small place and called for Chris. He showed up with red eyes, like he was crying but he simply smiled at you, while making you sign with his hand for you to go help Miss Sohyun.

You did so, your heart beating fast once again, but this time because you know, something was up with the angel and you know he will never tell you what's wrong.

( 60 Days Left)

Some days passed by and you and Chris slept in the same bed together every day. Even him, that affirmed he didn't need to sleep, would get lost in your warmth and fall asleep. Cute little snores invading the bedroom and you couldn't stop giggling, from how precious he looked.

As your eyes scanned your window you noticed that outside was dark, despite being 9 am, it was raining. The heavy raindrops were hitting your window in the most deliciously, making you feel lazy. You looked back at Chris one last time and got off the bed, ready to prepare him a surprise for the first time.

At the kitchen you heated some milk and prepared some toasts that you filled with Nutella. You also picked up some grapes, just how you know he liked it. After a couple of minutes, everything was prepared on the table. There was: a candle with no smell lighted; some white napkins; the amazing toasts with Nutella; the grapes were washed and fresh; and the chocolate was already on the milk, turning out to warm chocolate what you know he will love.

You walked back to your bedroom to find him sleeping on his back, his face turned to the left as his hands rested inside his t-shirt, making it rise and show his toned chest. Immediately you blushed but weren't able to take your eyes out of him. You blamed the covers because they were all messy at the bottom of the bed.

“Chris~” You whispered, sitting next to his body on the bed. The angel just shifted a little in his sleep and reached out for you, pulling you by your waist to lay next to him.

You were biting your lip to stop the gasp that almost escaped your lips from the sudden action. The next thing he did was cling to you, one of his legs rested on top of yours and his head moved to rest on your collar bones, giving you access to his scalp easily.

Christopher was adorable, and you couldn't deny it, especially because he was making you feel things, things you couldn't explain. Your fingers started to massage his scalp and that woke him up.

“Keep doing that…” His lips escaped, but it sounded more like a moan. You continued it for a while, feeling him get relaxed under your touch. Softly you felt his fingers make subtle touches on your stomach, making goosebumps take over your body.

“Smells so nice… Did you prepare something?” He asked getting off of you. You pouted, feeling cold without his body there to warm you.

“Oh, yes. I made breakfast! I was almost forgetting about it!” You are the first to get out of the bed, and then grab gently his hand and pull him to the kitchen.

“Woah.” He gasped. “You didn't have to. You know i don't need to eat…” Chris reminded you, laughing awkwardly.

“Oh…” You said embarrassed. “I forgot it…” You looked at the floor, your anxiety eating you alive.

Chris walked silently towards you and, with his slender fingers, pushed your chin up. Causing you face him. Your eyes found his almost immediately and you found yourself blushing because of that simple action. In his mind, he would take you right there, kiss your lips and get rid of this stupid feeling consuming him every time he was close to you.

“What you did was sweet and i appreciate it, Love.” He whispered. “I will eat some because you made them with so much care, ok?” You nodded, too embarrassed to say anything.

Chris always does this, makes you hope he would finally make a move and then, he leaves you hanging.

( 50 Days Left)

It all started as a good day, the sun was shining brightly outside, besides the cold wind that made your hair a mess. Chris passed out next to you when you woke up, one of his legs still tangled with yours and his nose was close to your ear, making you hear his not-so-cute snores.

You decided to get up without bothering him, you ate something that was in your fridge and wrote him a small letter telling him not to prepare lunch because you weren't going to eat at home.

At work, Changbin was talking to you, and distracting you so much that you didn't notice the new couple that got inside the restaurant. Due to that they got mad for taking so long to take their order.

Of course, the old lady you work for was mad at you, and as a punishment prohibited Bin from coming to the restaurant for one week. You apologized with teary eyes, the guilt swallowing you alive. You stayed the rest of the day hidden inside the kitchen, as the old lady worked as a waitress today.

A cup accidentally slipped from your hand and broke into million pieces as it hit the floor.

She was mad at you again, telling you that she doesn't know what's up with you today, and she couldn't understand why you were so slow today. When she decided it was time to close the restaurant, you noticed it was raining outside.

Since you live just across the street you didn't mind it, but a car passed in front of you when you were sprinting home, making the water on the road hit you and go everywhere making you soaked.

The tears in your eyes were held back by your angriness, but as soon as you saw Chris' angelic face you broke down in tears on the spot. You fell on your knees while hiding your face between your hands.

“What's wrong, my love?” The Angel asked concerned, but you were too busy sobbing to answer him. “You’re soaked, what happened?”

This time you took a glance at him, red and puffy eyes.

“It was a car. As I was waiting to cross the street he passed on the splash on the street and soaked me from head to toe.”

Chris giggled little from your choice of yours but tried to hide his smile so you wouldn't feel bad.

“Come on, let's take a hot bath to make you feel better, alright?” You nodded, tiredly getting off of your knees and walking to your cold bathroom.

Chris started to take care of the water, letting it fill the bathtub as you stripped of your wet clothes.

“When you are done washing your body tell me because I'll be there to wash your hair and give you a light massage on the scalp and shoulders… ok-” He interrupted himself because on his way out of the bathroom he caught you only in your underwear. A blush decorated your face as his curious eyes stared at you shamelessly.

“Could you… hmm… stop… staring?” You awkwardly asked, trying to cover yourself.

“I'm sorry, you are beautiful. I couldn't contain myself.” He apologized, then shifted his gaze to his hands, too nervous to face you.

When he finally closed the door behind him you relieved a long sign. You got rid of your underwear quickly, and dived inside the warm water. As the sound of the rain outside reflected inside your small bathroom, you cried.

Your body was overwhelmed with so many emotions that you could not explain. Chris noticed your almost inaudible sobs and waited patiently until you calmed done to knock on the wooden door:

“May i come in? To wash your hair for you?” He asked in a low voice.

“Yes, you may.” You answered some minutes after, trying to calm your heartbeat down.

He was going to be washing your hair, as you stayed naked underwater. Chris gets inside without making any noise and knees down on the floor, in front of the bathtub as you let your back hit the board and force your head back, so he could have access to it.

The angel’s hands were magical and we're making you feel much better. The way he patiently washed your hair almost made you fall asleep on the spot. After your hair was clean, you strained your back and waited for him to pour water on you, so the shampoo would get off.

Chris was feeling something inside him he didn't know he could. He wanted to touch you, feel every inch of you under his fingertips. He wanted to kiss you passionately as his hands roamed over your beautiful body.

He was only facing your back, but he felt his body heat up and something getting weirdly hard on his pants. He had to ignore it? But the moan you left as soon as his fingers came in contact with your scalp once again made him call your name:

“Y/N, please. I can't take it anymore…” You turned off the water and turned around, not caring about him being able to see your chest, that had some shampoo on them.

“Chris, i can't do this either…” You whispered, staring at him in the eyes.

Even though his body was screaming for him to look at your nude chest, he kept eye contact with you as he got closer to you. It was now or never, the perfect moment to kiss you.

Christopher’s lips were softer than you thought, and you wanted to bite them. His heart-shaped lips molded perfectly with yours and complimented them.

They were pressed up against yours on a long peck that made you frustrated. So, tired of it, you grabbed his face between your small hands and forced him stronger against your mouth. Chan seemed to get the message, and his tongue came in contact with your bottom lip, trying to deepen the kiss.

When you finally felt his tongue against yours you moaned shamelessly, to lost in the feeling to care. He felt perfect for you, he felt like he was made for you… Why did you hold back, when you could have been kissing these lovely lips every day, all day?!

Your lips parted because of the absence of oxygen, and the smile that was displayed on his lips made your heart flutter. Something inside you yelled that he may feel the same for you, from more crazy that it seems.

“I'll wait for you in the kitchen, ok Love?” The Angel suddenly asked, getting up. He was trying his hardest to avoid your chest, but it was stronger than him. Chan got a glimpse of them as he closed the door, but it was enough to make the situation even harder for him.

What both of you didn't know is that what is given, can be taken back as well. Since the both of you committed a sin, The Gifter couldn't be more sure that he had to make the angel stay away from you as soon as possible.

A/N: Hello beautiful Stars! I know it's been a while, but I am back. Since I'm starting all over again, I decided to make a special first post. This fic was resting in my drafts all year, unfinished.

I finally finished it and I'm very happy for finally posting it. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I loved to write it.

Before I go, I need to give a special thanks to @xiaojunssmile for helping me revising my work. I appreciate you a lot, you are the best. I love you ❤

Rebloggs, likes and comments are always appreciate it. Thank you.

Happy 2021. I hope your new year comes with Heath and lots of love ❤✨

#stray kids #kpop #bang chan #chan #stray kids chan #chris bang #stray kids bang chan #bang chan smut #leader chan #skz chan

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prettyinlimegreenboots · 3 years

Text

Waiting Game

Many, many thanks to @thebarkeepwrites for being my personal cheerleader these last few weeks. You have been absolutely amazing as I've been in my slump. I'm dedicating this to you for being amazing!

Warning: hospitals, car wreck, and car accident

Seven days. It had been seven days since he heard his voice. Seven days of silence, not that it wasn't out of the ordinary. But he was used to him pipping up every now and then to add a sarcastic comment to whatever Race was talking about.

Throwing his head back against the chair, he sighed loudly, just wanting Spot to wake up, or at least move.

This whole thing started with a trip to the grocery store. They were cooking and there were two ingredients that they thought they had but didn’t. Spot offered to run to the store to grab them. He got to the store, safe and sound. However, as he left the store that’s when the nightmare started.

From what Race gathered from the police, Spot was pulling out of the parking lot when he was t-boned, directly impacting his side of the car. He was rushed to the hospital, where he had been unconscious for the last seven days, Race by his side the entire time.

A knock on the door drew his attention from Spot. Sighing, he lifted his head from the bed, eyes widening when he saw who was standing there. “Hey.”

In any other circumstance, Race would have laughed loudly at how awkward Jack Kelly looked standing in the middle of the door. Katherine stood behind her husband, nudging him into the doorway, before she breezed past him, wrapping Race into a hug. “How is he?”

“The doctors are hopeful that he will wake up soon. It’s just a waiting game for him to open up his eyes.” Race stepped back from the hug as he was pulled into a hug by Jack. “You guys didn’t have to come up here.”

Jack patted his back a couple of times. “Wild horses wouldn’t keep us away. How are you holding up?”

“Uhhh . . .” Race reached up and scratched the back of his neck, sighing. “I just want him to wake up. It’s been too quiet with him just laying there.”

Kat chuckled. “Spot wasn’t the most talkative person to begin with. He’s always quiet unless you get him going with whatever nonsense.”

“It's just too quiet in this room.” Race chuckled, dryly.

Katherine skirted around them to take a seat at the bedside, reaching over and picking up Spot’s hand, giving it a squeeze. She talked quietly to him as Jack gave Race a hard look. “Have you left this place at all?”

Shaking his head, he sat in a chair, giving Jack a look. “If it was Kat in that bed, would you leave?”

“Nah, you’d be dragging me from this room, much like I’m about to do.” Jack gave his best friend a look. “Come on, let’s go to the cafe.”

Race hesitated, looking at Spot and Katherine. “I, ugh . . .”

“Kat will be here the entire time. She’s not going to leave his side until we’re back.” Jack promised, clasping a hand on Race’s shoulder, gently leading him from the room.

The two walked silently down the hallway, the only sound they heard was the squeaking of their shoes on the linoleum floor. The two joined others in the elevator, taking them to the main floor. Jack guided Race along until they found the cafeteria. Jack pushed Race into a chair, leaving him to grab some food for him to eat.

Soon, Jack returned with a tray full of Race’s favorites. “Half of that needs to be finished before we go back upstairs.”

Without another word, Race started tucking into the food. Jack kept up a steady stream of one-sided conversation. Pushing the tray away, Race sat back in the chair, taking a long sip of Coke, raising an eyebrow at Jack. “Is that okay, mom?”

“Yeah that’s okay. Do you want me to pack some of this up for you later?” Jack asked, quietly.

Shaking his head, Race stumbled to his feet. “Can we go back upstairs?”

Nodding, Jack got to his feet, grabbing the tray as the two headed out of the cafe. Jack threw the food away before following Race back upstairs. Once back in the room, he threw himself into the chair opposite of Katherine with a sigh. Leaning forward, he laced his hands with Spot’s, giving both Katherine and Jack a look. “Thank you for everything you’ve done. I’m sure Spot will share his appreciation when he wakes up, whenever that may be.”

“Anything for you two.” Katherine smiled at him from the other side of the bed. “Do you need anything?”

Shaking his head, he sighed. “Just for him to wake up.”

Without another word, Katherine got up from her spot, walked around the bed, leaned over and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Please let us know if you need anything and when he wakes up.”

“Absolutely.” Race smiled. “Thank you for sitting with him while I got something to eat.”

She squeezed his shoulder before leaving the room with Jack in tow. Leaning forward, he placed his head on the bed as he gently squeezed Spot’s hand. “You’ve got to let me know that you’re still here. I miss you Spottie.”

Sighing loudly, Race’s hand smacked the bed with a groan. He didn’t want to think of a life without Spot by his side. They had been married for only three months, just moved into their first home together, and just started living their life together. Though they had been together for over four years, Race felt like everything was finally falling into place for them.

“We talked about starting our lives, Spottie. Kids, vacations, memories being made.” Race whispered. “You can’t leave me, Sean. It’s too damn soon. I’m supposed to have 60 plus more years with you, not just the four we’ve had already.”

Race’s eyes shifted to his still husband. Giving his fingers a squeeze, he brought them to his lips and kissed them. “I love you, Spottie. Dammit, you can’t leave me.”

Laying his head on the bed, he was soothed by the constant beeping of the heart monitor, letting it lure him to sleep.

Hours later

A moan dragged him from the deep sleep he was in. He blinked, trying to remember where he was. Blinking his eyes slowly, he recognized the hospital room he had spent the last seven days in. Sitting up, he stretched his arms and back before looking up at the bed. A small smile crossed his face. “Welcome back.”

“I’m not dead.” came the croaked voice as a bright smile crossed Race’s face.

Squeezing Spot’s hand, Race was on his feet, leaning over and pulling Spot into a long kiss. Spot moaned at the kiss but pulled back seconds later. “Racer, you’re going to kill me.”

“Not for a long, long time.” Race promised, leaning over and gently kissing him. “You scared me.”

Spot sighed, giving him a look as he reached for the controller to adjust his bed. “Can you call the nurse?”

Race nodded, pushing the button, looking Spot over. “Do you remember anything that happened?”

Spot was quiet as he played with the ring on Race’s hand. “I remember leaving the store, the bag of groceries in the backseat of the car. Anything else is all a blurry mess.”

Race was unable to say anything as a nurse came into the room to check Spot over. Several questions were asked, all of which Spot could answer. She adjusted his meds before promising that the doctor would be shortly, leaving the room a few seconds later.

“Can you tell me what happened?” Spot asked as the door shut behind the nurse. “Did I cause the accident?”

Race immediately shook his head. “No, no Spot. You didn’t cause an accident. Someone ran into your car. You’ve been in the hospital for the last seven days.”

“I didn’t cause the accident?” Spot’s voice was small, fear creeping into his voice.

Race looked at Spot, locking eyes with him. “Sean Patrick Conlon, I promise you that you didn’t cause this accident. You were the victim in this.”

“Ok. So what are the damages?” Spot looked at the cast on his foot and winced at the pain in his chest.

Race leaned over and kissed him. “Broken foot, couple of bruised ribs, and a concussion. From what I’ve heard, you’ll be here a few more days then released.”

“I hurt.” Spot pouted, giving Race a look.

Race bit his lip. “I’m sorry about that. Do you want me to get the nurse to increase your meds?”

“No, but will you cuddle with me?” Spot put on the puppy dog eyes as he attempted to scoot over on the bed.

Race gently got on the bed, as Spot laid his head on Race’s chest. Instinctively, Race’s hand started running through Spot’s hair as they both relaxed. Race thanking whoever heard his prayers that Spot was going to be okay. Pressing a kiss to his forehead, Race sighed, relaxed as he felt Spot’s breath on his chest as he drifted off to sleep.

Thank you for reading. Please let me know your thoughts about this!

#Newsies Fan Fiction #writing #Spot Conlon #Racetrack Higgins #newsies drabble #newsies fanfic

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marvelmadam08 · 3 years

Text

Baby Blues 16/?

Summary: Chris and Alex discuss Ace’s first Halloween.

Warnings: Fluff, Jealousy (is procrastination a warning?)

A/N: Happy Halloween!!

~~~~~~~

10 Weeks Old

Alex didn't know what to expect walking in her bathroom, but she wasn't expecting to see Chris holding Ace in front of the mirror, singing along to Bon Jovi "Living on a Prayer". Ace's legs swung and kicked off beat, and he stared back at Chris in the mirror.

“What are you doing?”

“Educating, next week it’s The Beatles.”

Alex sat on the bathroom counter “I just got off the phone with my Mom, she wants to know if we’re gonna dress Alexander up for Halloween.”

“Are we?”

“It’s kinda last minute isn’t it? I don’t even think I’m dressing up.”

Chris held Ace out to Alex “But you have to dress up Mama, it’ll be fun.” he said in a high pitched voice “For me?”

“Fine, what do you wanna go as?”

“Okay hear me out,” Chris spoke in his regular voice, and held Ace up as if he were presenting him “Ewok, I’m Han, you’re Leia.”

“I’m not wearing that bikini outfit from Return of The Jedi.”

“But you have to- for the accuracy.”

“If you wanna be accurate, the only black person in Stars Wars was Lando, but I always did look good in a cape. What did we go as last year?”

“We stayed in remember, and watched all those Stephen King movies.”

Alex laughed at the memory, she and Chris had fallen asleep and when she woke up there was a ten foot demon clown staring back at her. She screamed so loud, she woke Chris and he fell off the couch. And then Dodger started barking and growling at something that was outside. Which ended up being the neighbor’s scarecrow floating face down in their pool, the results of a prank gone wrong, or right depending on how you look at it.

“We’ll think of something.”

“We can look for costumes after I get home.” he looked down at his watch “Speaking of, I gotta go bud." Chris placed litte kisses on Ace's cheek before passing him over to Alex

"No kiss for Mama?" Alex pouted

Chris smirked and leaned in closer “Always a kiss for Mama.” he tilted his head to the side to kiss her cheek the same way he kissed Ace

"You are such a goof. Go before you're late."

"Okay." He leaned in to kiss her on the lips this time.

***

Alex paced back and forth in front of her laptop, the blank document and notepad stared back, idle and waiting for her next idea. However everything but writing was on Alex's mind.

She thought about dinner for later, if Ace was ever gonna stay asleep for longer than two hours at a time. Dodger's next appointment to the vet, which was either at 10 on Tuesdays or at 2 on the tenth, she worried she was getting it confused with Ace next appointment. Ace's Halloween costume, she questioned if she really wanted to celebrate this year. Taking Ace out with all the other kids, who carry germs, strangers being in his face saying how cute he looks in his costume. Alex wasn't a violent person, but if Ace got sick because someone was breathing in his face, she'd throw a bulk size pack of night quill and a tic tac at whoever was to blame.

She had gone full mommy mode after overthinking about Halloween, reading more than her share of mommy blogs, doctor suggestions, and then left a voicemail on Ace's pediatrician's phone asking for their advice.

And Alex was still in Mommy mode by the time Chris got home, laying on the floor with Ace for his tummy time, he was finally able to push himself up a little and look around.

"You're Mama's big boy aren't you." Alex smiled, Ace's head bobbed slightly, drooling all over his hand and blanket

"I thought I was Mama's big boy?" Chris sat on the floor next to Alex, Dodger curl up in Chris's lap

"You've been replaced by the cutest little guy in the world."

Chris chuckled "A worthy opponent. So I was thinking, maybe if you're up for it, we can ask my mom to watch Ace that night. We could go out for a bit, make it another date night?"

"You mean overnight?"

"Yeah." Chris said after a small pause

Alex sat up, lifting Ace into her arms. "I don't know babe, Ace isn't sleeping through the night just yet. Wouldn't that be a little unfair? And doesn't she have like half the kids in the neighborhood over for her Halloween party? It's too much."

"It's not really a party, but I see your point. How about Scott, he doesn't have a life."

"Chris." Alex playfully rolled her eyes "Ace isn't ready for a sleepover yet. And I'm not ready for a night away from him."

"Okay." Chris kept his face neutral, only nodding and scratching behind Dodger's ear. "What about the daytime?"

"Funny. I'm kinda in the mood for some pizza tonight? How about you?"

Alex handed Ace over to Chris while she got up from the floor. Ace twisted and squirmed in Chris's arms, whining for Alex instead.

"Yeah, pizza is fine." Chris bounced him and hummed softly. Ace's lip quivered and he turned his head in Alex's direction before crying again. "What's wrong bud? What happen? What'd I do?"

Alex reached out for him again, Chris quickly returned Ace to her. She held him close, while his head rested in the crook of her neck and settled his cries.

"He's probably just cranky. What's the matter? It's only Daddy."

He felt almost childish, realizing that he had to share Alex's time with Ace, and he suddenly didn't feel like sharing. Although, as a father, he knew that he'd be just as worried about leaving Ace with someone for the night, even if it was with family. He just wanted to have his wife to himself again, at least for one night. To watch a movie without Ace needing to be changed, have a dinner where Ace wasn't attached to Alex; be able to have sex, and not being limited to time between Ace's feedings and random cries for attention.

"Babe?" Alex tapped Chris on the shoulder

"Hm?"

"I said, what do you want on the pizza?"

He shook his head and moved Dodger out of his lap so he could stand up "You pick, it's fine."

"You okay?"

"Just tired, I'm gonna go hop in the shower." Chris half mumbled on his way out the living room, Alex watched him, shoulder's slumped forward and Dodger following behind him.

"I think you hurt Daddy's feelings." She whispered to Ace

#chris evans #100 days of productivity #sebastian stan #chris evans x black ofc #black ofc #bucky barnes #avengers #fanfic #henry cavill #halloween

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yelena-bellova · 4 years

Text

Don’t Be Afraid: Poe Dameron x Solo!Reader - Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Sixteen: Team Effort

Series Masterlist

Plot: Finn and Rose lay out their plan for Poe and Y/n.

Warnings: one or two curse words, semi-graphic description of violence and injuries, angst with Poe fluff interspersed

Word Count: 4.2k

A/N: How I managed to write a 4.2k chapter based on a five minute scene, I have no idea lol. This one was really fun to write though. Enjoy!

—————

“Okay, just give it to me one more time, simpler.”

Finn and Rose, a maintenance worker I’d seen around base, had just laid out an extremely complicated plan of how we could escape the First Order. Poe sat in the center of the room while I stayed seated at my mother’s side. Parts of it made sense and others were harder to understand. Tech was neither of our specialties, I could make things float and Poe blew stuff up.

“So the First Order’s only tracking us from one Destroyer, the lead one,” Finn began explaining once again.

“So we blow that one up?” Poe inquired, his eyes lighting up as he looked between Finn and I. Case in point, tech wasn’t his forte.

“I like where your head’s at, but no,” Finn replied.

I chimed in, “You’ve blown enough up for one day.”

Finn continued, “They’d only start tracking us from another Destroyer.”  “But if we can-“ Rose spoke up, only for Finn to talk over her.

Finn stepped closer to Poe, motioning with his hands, “If we sneak on board the lead Destroyer and disable the tracker without them realizing, then we can-“

“They won’t realize it’s off for one system cycle,” Rose stepped forward, “About six minutes.”  “Sneak on board,” Finn said as Rose pulled up a holographic schematic of the Destroyer, “Disable the tracker. Our fleet escapes before they realize.”

I had my chin propped against my fist as I watched a hunched over Poe absorb the information. It wasn’t the craziest plan I’d heard all day and with Finn and Rose knowing their stuff, we could trust them to have thought each step through. Poe hummed as he contemplated while Finn stared hopefully at us.

“It actually makes sense,” I commented neutrally, there were still a lot to think over if we went through with this. The fact that we’d be going behind Holdo’s back being a prime example.

Poe rose and took a few steps in my direction before turning around and waving his finger between Rose and Finn, “How’d you two meet?”

The two of them looked at each other and judging by their faces, there was definitely a story to their meeting they were dancing around,   “Just luck,” Rose answered innocently.

“Yeah? Good luck?” Poe asked, coming closer towards me.

“Not sure yet.”

“Poe, Y/n, we gotta do this,” Finn implored, “It’ll save the fleet and it’ll save Rey.”  Poe came and joined me next to Mom, looking between the two of us. He carefully slipped his hand over hers, the gesture warmed my heart. Poe had lost his mom at such a young age, I knew he had always seen Leia as that type of figure in his life. The possibility of losing her was a difficult weight for him to bear.

Loss. A concept I’d become overly familiar with over the past couple of days. Four days ago my mother was well, my father alive, our fleet secure and Poe never having left my side. Adding in the fact that Rey, Chewie and R2 were off who knows where and could be walking back into this mess, my anxiety had quickly blown through the roof. I needed to do everything I could to ensure my loved one’s and the Resistance’s safety, whatever that entailed. I inhaled to address Poe, but a different voice came out,

“If I may be the sole voice of reason,” 3PO interrupted, “Admiral Holdo will never agree to this plan.”  I looked back over to Poe and gave a half shrug, “We’re not going to come up with anything better.”  “Yeah,” he sighed and nodded, “You’re right, 3PO. It’s a need to know plan,” he turned around, “And she doesn’t.”  The protocol droid stammered, “That wasn’t exactly my-“  I stood up and went over to him, placing a hand on his metal arm, “3PO, I need you to go against every instinct you have right now. If you don’t trust them, trust me at least.”  “All right,” Poe agreed, strutting towards the table with the Destroyer holo projected above it, “You guys shut down that tracker, we’ll be here to jump you to lightspeed.”

“The question is,” I came to stand next to Finn, “How do we sneak the two of you onto Snoke’s Destroyer?”

“We steal clearance codes,” Rose suggested.

Finn shook his head, “No, they’re bio-hexacrypt and descrambled every hour. We can’t get through their shields undetected, nobody can.”

I chewed on a nail as I wracked my brain for anyone who could help us.

I snapped my fingers once it hit me, it seemed like Poe had just come to the same conclusion I had.

“Maz,” I declared, jogging over to the other side of the room and switching on the holoprojector. I punched in a few numbers and said a silent prayer that she picked up. The others crowded around me as we waited for her to answer,  “Do we know if she’s still on Takodana?” Finn inquired from my left side.

“No idea,” I replied, “It’s a long shot but if anyone could do it, it’s her.”

Just as I’d finished my sentence, Maz appeared in front of us,

“Baby Solo!” she greeted loudly, “I’m so glad to see you’re okay.”  “You too, Maz,” I smiled, “I wish I was calling under better circumstances but-“ 

“Poe Dameron! Alive and in love I’m assuming?”  I snuck a glance at Poe, catching the small grin he gave me, “Incredibly so.”

 Finn awkwardly cleared his throat, snapping us back into reality, “Maz, we need your help.”

“Back in trouble again? So soon?” she replied.

Finn laid out our plan for her in detail, explaining her part in sneaking him and Rose onto the Destroyer.

“Could I do it? Of course I could do it,” she exclaimed as she adjusted a gun in her hands, “But I can’t do it. I’m a little tied down right now!”

Blaster fire echoed around her and caused us to jolt backwards, 3PO and BB-8 letting out exclaims.

“Maz? What is happening?” Finn asked.

“Union despite,” Maz ceased her fighting momentarily, “You do not want to hear about it. But, lucky for you, there’s exactly one guy I trust who can crack that kind of security!” Max rolled and dodged a few shots, “He’s a master codebreaker,” she loaded her gun again, “An ace pilot, a poet with a blaster,” she fired a few blasts confidently.

“Oh my,” 3PO said, “It sounds like this codebreaker fellow can do everything.”  “Oh yes,” Maz replied, a distant look in her eyes and her voice low, “He can.”  The four of us awkwardly looked at each other before she began speaking again,

“You’ll find him with a red plom bloom on his lapel, rolling at a high stakes table in the casino on Canto Bight.”

“Canto Bight?” Poe repeated, looking to me and Finn defeatedly, “No, no, that’s…Maz, is there any way that we can take care of this ourselves?”  Maz adjusted her goggles and began adjusting a device on her wrist, “Sorry, kiddo. This is rarified cracking. You wanna get on that Destroyer, I only know one option. Find the Master Codebreaker. And Baby Solo?”

I looked up to Maz as she sighed, “I’m so sorry about Han.”  I exhaled slowly and gave a hint of a nod, “Thanks, Maz.”

We parted with a goodbye greeting in an alien language and Maz flew off on a jetpack, the holo cut out then.

Poe looked distressed at the thought of sending Finn and Rose to Canto Bight, not that I wasn’t. But I’d seen Finn in action, he was undoubtably smart enough to navigate the situation just as he had on Starkiller.

Finn held out a hand towards Poe and I, a cloaked binary beacon resting in it. I was about to ask why he had one, when I remembered earlier in the day my mother had mentioned how she’d given Rey an identical one. It was how she would find her way back to the fleet. Once again, Finn’s personal stake in this was to protect Rey. That was his driving force. His eyes pleaded with Poe, who took it after only a few seconds of deliberation.

“Okay, we need to get you guys on an escape pod,” Poe said, “The problem is that you’ll show up on our radars.”   “So we need to have someone on our side on the bridge who will cover for us,” I finished his thought.

Poe ran through a list of names in his head, “Connix is our best bet. If you can make sure they get to the pod unnoticed, I can talk to her.”  I turned to Finn and Rose, “You two should probably take BB-8 with you as well, if Poe’s alright with it.”

This was probably going to be the most difficult part of the plan; getting Poe to temporarily part with his beloved droid. He looked down at Bee and let out a grunt of acceptance, “Yeah, he’ll be able to help you guys.”  “We’ll take care of him, I promise,” Finn assured Poe, he’d looked out for Bee once already and could do it again.

Whoa, do I get a say in this at all?  “Would you rather sit here with Poe and I and wait for the Destroyers to blow up the ship or take a trip to Canto Bight and help save the fleet?” I asked as I rested my hands on my hips

…I say I go with Finn.

“Good choice,” I replied before looking back to Finn and Rose, “Let’s get you guys in a pod.”

They nodded and the five of us, made our way out of the room.  “I’ll comm you when I get a hold of Connix,” Poe said quietly to me before we parted down different hallways. I gripped my communicator tight in my fist.

Once it was just us, I turned my attention to Finn and Rose, “Okay, how’d you two really meet?”

“I was going to take a pod to get the beacon as far away as I could. To protect Rey,” he answered.  I chuckled quietly as we turned a corner, “You’ll go to the ends of the galaxy for her, won’t you?”

Finn didn’t say anything, just kept his eyes focused on our path ahead. But I had no doubt that his cheeks had heated up at my comment.

“Rose, how do you play into this story?”

“I stunned him once I figured out he was trying to escape, I was planning to…” she trailed off, scared to finish her sentence.

“I don’t bite, I promise,” I said as we made our way through a quieter hall, nearing the escape pod bay.

“I was going to turn him in for desertion,” she replied meekly, probably worried I’d dislike her for the fact that she’d wrongly accused my friend.

“Attagirl,” I patted her shoulder and she cracked a smile, I already liked her.

The escape pod bay was never guarded and didn’t have anyone but maintenance workers in it typically. That’s why I was so surprised to see someone outside the entryway.

“I’ll handle this,” I whispered before taking the lead and strolling casually towards him.  “Commander Solo,” the young man addressed me confusedly, “What are you doing here?”  “I’m giving our latest recruit a tour of the ship,” I answered easily while gesturing to Finn, “Everyone is required to know where the escape pods are so if you wouldn’t mind letting us through?”  The man looked me over, disbelief written over his face, “On whose authority? Shouldn’t you be on the bridge?”  I raised an eyebrow, I was no stranger to dealing with young cocky recruits, “My own authority. Last time I checked, I outranked you. Now step aside.”  As I attempted to move around him, he stepped in front of me, “I think I’m going to have to call someone down to fact check your story.”  “To fact check my…?” I scoffed and pinched the bridge of my nose, how the hell was I supposed to get this guy to leave? An idea formed quickly, though I wasn’t thrilled about attempting it but there weren’t any other options.

I sighed defeatedly and slowly waved my hand in front of his face, “You will step aside and let us through.”  He tilted his head and chucked heartily, “What the hell was that?”  I shook it off and concentrated harder, repeating my movements, “You will step aside and let us through.”

“Y/n, what are you doing?” Finn whispered from behind me, I waved him off with my free hand.   “Alright, I don’t know what weird shit you’re trying to pull, but it’s not working.” 

Ignoring his comment, I silenced all other thoughts in my mind and focused entirely on what I wanted him to do,

“You will step aside and let us through.”  Like clockwork, the asshole straightened up and said, “I will step aside and let you through.”  I waved my hand again, this time more confidant it would work, “You will return to your quarters and…take a nap.”  “I will return to my quarters and take a nap,” he repeated, promptly leaving us and heading to his given destination.

My lips quirked up at what I’d accomplished, I’d never tried to use a mind trick on anyone. I’d heard about them over the years and my uncle had mentioned them in stories he told me as a child. As weird as I felt, invading someone’s mind and bending it to my will, it would come in handy in situations such as these. I’d have to add it to my arsenal. Shaking my head to clear it, I led Finn and Rose into the bay.

“So, are you going to tell us what that was?” Finn asked slowly.

“Jedi mind trick,” I answered, searching for the pods, “I’d never tried it until now.”

“Wait,” Rose gasped, “Are you a Jedi?”

“Not a Jedi,” I answered just as quick as when Poe had brought up the subject, “But I have a lightsaber, it’s complicated.”

“Whoa…” she said under her breath as we approached a pod, I entered a code in the keypad to authorize their departure.

“Solo,” Poe’s voice came through my comm, “You there?”  “What’s the word, Dameron?”  “We’re clear.”  “Copy that.” I replied.

The pod doors opened as I pressed a button, Rose was the first to climb in but stopped in the doorway,  “Thank you for helping us,” she said, “Not a lot of commanders listen to maintenance workers.”  “Don’t mention it, it’s people like you keep this whole operation going,” I replied with a smile, “You probably do more work than I do.”  With that, she grinned and entered the pod leaving me and Finn alone. We both let out a heavy sigh, neither one of us were fond of the idea of being split up. Especially with Rey already on the other side of the galaxy somewhere.

I embraced him bittersweetly, “You better come back in one piece.” 

“I will,” he promised as he tightened his arms around my back. 

Finn had quickly wormed his way into my heart, into Poe’s too. He fit perfectly in the Resistance and among us, there was no question as to whether or not he belonged here. The thought of him not making it back caused tears to spring to my eyes. It was crazy to think I’d only known him a few days when it felt like saying goodbye to a lifelong friend.

“Listen,” I pulled back to see his face, “I haven’t thanked you for what you did on Ilum. You saved my life and I…”  “Y/n, you don’t need to thank me for-“  “Yes, I do,” I interrupted, “I will forever be in your debt for what you did. You allowed me to come back to my mom, to Poe, to this fight. So yes, I do need to thank you, Finn.” 

He looked so awkward accepting my gratitude, like it was one of his first times doing so. Then I remembered that the compliments Poe, Mom and I had paid him were probably some of the only ones he’d ever received. My heart hurt for him all over again.

“You’re welcome,” he replied with a sheepish smile before giving me another quick hug, “If you want to pay off that debt, just protect that beacon.” 

“You know I will.”  We parted and the only thing left for me to do was kneel down and hug Bee, “Stay safe, it takes two of us to manage Poe.”  Keep him safe while I’m gone.

“Easier said than done, but I’ll try,” I laughed.

If Rey gets back before we do, will you tell us?  “Of course, buddy.” I said running a hand over his head, “If we made it through the past few days, we can make it through this.”  With that, Bee rolled away into the pod behind Finn. I gave them and Rose a salute just before they closed the door, sealing themselves off from me. Yeah, if we made it through Jakku, Rathtars, Takodana and Starkiller, surely we could make it through this…

I hoped.

——————

Poe and I met back up in my mother’s med bay room, he had returned before I did. 3PO was still standing faithfully at the computers, monitoring Mom’s vitals.

“Any change?” I asked as I came to stand next him to read the levels myself.

“Unfortunately, there has been no change in the Princess, Mistress Y/n,” the droid responded.

That was as close to an inside joke as 3PO was capable of. Long ago when the Resistance had been formed and Mom took on the new title of General, 3PO had a hard time stopping referring to her as Princess. He still did it on accident sometimes. I’d told him that if we were talking just him and I, he could call her Princess. I’d always loved the thought of my mother being royalty as a kid and the title was still comforting to hear.

“Okay, thanks anyway,” I sighed, walking away to pull my chair next to Poe’s. He was still positioned at her legs, watching her intently, waiting for any sign that she was awake. I sat down beside him and laid my head on his shoulder, looping my arms through one of his.

“Finn and Rose get away okay?”  I nodded gently, my eyes never leaving Mom’s face as I silently pleaded with her to wake up.

“Don’t you have things to be doing?” I inquired softly, “I’m the one that Holdo grounded, not you.”  He chortled quietly before sobering back up, “Not really, I’ll go check in with a few people in a bit. Other than that, this is where I’m supposed to be.”  I snuggled a little closer to him, as much as the chairs would allow. His devotion to me and Mom was nothing short of heartwarming, I appreciated him more than I’d ever be able to sum up in words.

Without realizing, my eyes had begun to droop shut and I let out a small yawn. The exhaustion of the past few days hadn’t worn off yet.

Poe kissed the top of my head softly, “Get some rest, I’ll wake you up if anything changes with her.”  I sleepily nodded and allowed myself to drift off, my last thought was an image of Finn, Rey, Poe and I sitting around a cantina table laughing about our separate and shared adventures. 

———————

I found myself among the familiar flames once again.

The bodies were still strewn around me.

The thick smoke filled the air.

My lightsaber was clipped at my waist now.

A new single scream erupted this time.

I spun around and watched my younger self run to two bodies lying face down. She fell to her knees and wept over them,

“Mama! Papa! Wake up! Wake up!”  My heart broke at the gut-wrenching memory that was resurfacing, consciously and unconsciously. My parents death had faded over time till I couldn’t remember anything other than the tears I’d shed in the alleyway on Naboo. I hadn’t remembered finding their bodies or screaming their names. Not until now.

“Wake up, Mama! Wake up, Papa! Wake up!”  I cried forcefully as I watched the younger me lose her entire world. I began to stumble towards her just as a hand stopped me, pulling me back by my shoulder.

 “Y/n,” the calm voice said, undoubtably the unidentifiable figure in brown, “Don’t be afraid.”  My sobs wracked my body as I continued to listen to the younger me wail, “I thought I wasn’t afraid anymore.”  “Don’t be afraid,” the voice repeated, I could hear it clearer than I’d ever been able to. I could have sworn that I’d heard it before in my life...

Just as the hand let go of me, a piercing red blade shot through my abdomen. The air in my lung drained instantly, the pain searing hot as the hole burned through me. As it was violently ripped out of me, I was turned around to face a maskless Ren. Just as I’d left him, blood trickled down the side of his face where Rey had cut him,

“Don’t be afraid,” he gritted out, “Of what you could be.”  I attempted to scream, but nothing came out. The only noise was the younger me crying out, “Wake up! Wake up!”

—————

“Y/n, wake up!”

I awoke gasping for air, Poe was knelt in front of me with his hands gripping my arms. After I’d blinked a few times, I could see there was concern etched deeply in his face. I was still panting relentlessly, trying to slow my breaths but failing miserably. I looked around frantically at my surroundings, we were still in Mom’s med bay room. Turning to her, she was in the same position she’d been in when I’d fallen asleep. Safe to assume there were no changes while I’d been out.

“You’re okay, I promise.” Poe whispered as I continued to try and catch my breath, “It was a dream, you’re okay.”  I ran my hands through my hair and placed my elbows on my knees, Poe’s hands slid down to hold my calves. He allowed me all the time I needed to calm down, but I couldn’t do so hunched over in a chair. I needed to move. I rose from my seat and walked quickly over to the window, trying to focus on the stars we were passing. 

“Mistress Y/n, are you quite alright?” 3PO asked with concern.

“3PO, shh,” Poe reprimanded through his teeth.

I shook my head and waved Poe off, “It’s alright, I’m okay, just…a little shaken.”  “Can I be of service in any way?”

“No, but thank you, 3PO.” I replied, looking over my shoulder at the droid. He nodded and returned to his task at hand.

Poe hesitantly made his way towards me, I chuckled breathily at his caution and motioned him over. As I turned back to gaze at the stars, his arms wrapped around my waist and his chest pressed against my back. I leaned back into him, enjoying the warmth that seeped through the layers of clothing and how his comforting scent surrounded me. I laid my arms across his, my hands coming to rest on top of his. In the moments where I felt like I was free falling, Poe was the soft patch of earth for me to land on. I knew he’d catch me every single time.

“Do you remember your mother?” I asked out of nowhere, my breathing finally having calmed down.

“Yeah, not as much as I wish I did,” he answered wistfully, “My dad has holos of her back home, those help keep the memories alive.”  I hummed as I continued staring out the window, scouring every corner of my brain for a better memory of my family than the one I’d just been gifted. Nothing. I couldn’t remember my father’s smile, I couldn’t remember my mother’s melodious laugh. Not a thing. Just the blood seeping from their chests and my piercing screams.

“Why are you asking?”

 “I don’t remember anything about my birth parents except their death,” I answered calmly, “I wish I could remember who they were.”  “Is that what your dream was about?” Poe craned his neck over my shoulder so he could look at me.

I nodded but was still too shaken to turn away from the stars, staring at them seemed to be keeping my panic at bay.

“I think…I think they may have been Force users,” I said.

Poe was silent for a few seconds, simply intertwining our fingers and rubbing his thumb over the back of my hand. He was probably searching for the right thing to say in a situation that was so new to him,

“How can you know that?” he finally asked, “Can you know that?”  I shook my head, “I don’t know, it’s just a…feeling. It was just a theory I had but for some reason after that dream, it feels very real.”

Poe dropped his chin to my shoulder and I rested my head against his. I had a sneaking suspicion that this might be our last moment of peace for a while. I tried to drink it in, savor it, because waiting outside this bubble we’d created for ourselves was chaos.  

“This plan has to work,” I breathed, “I couldn’t save my parents, I couldn’t save Dad, but I’ll be damned if I can’t save the Resistance.”

----------

A/N: And the plot thickens...I promise not to string you guys along for too much longer as to who the parents are but ugh, I love a good slow build. I’ve also figured out a schedule for chapters, tentatively there will be a new chapter every Friday. It could change and I could drop two chapters in one week sometimes but for now, every Friday.

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