#I had trouble picking good colors for Ben's clothes

[tohjwcc]

So I tried a new art style ish. Mini Big Ben is traumatized. Hope he's not hearing toro's rawr in his nightmares anymore :'(

And btw guys, I can't draw dinos for my LIFE, also I didn't even have anything to look at/draw from, so this is Toro from my head lmao.

So, enjoy Ben and a very pretty toro (/j)

[babyxbunnyx]

Have you ever thought about being gay? Pt. 2

Summary: The day after working on the project.

Relationship: Ben Gross x Male Reader

Warnings: none

Word count: 1969 words

Explanations: (h/c) = hair color, (e/c) = eye color, (y/l/n) = your last name, (y/m/n) = your moms name

A/N: Alrighty so here is part 2 to my story "Have you ever thought about being gay?". Its quite longer than part 1 and I'm surprised its almost at the 2000 words mark. Part 3 will follow soon, featuring the actual date between reader and Ben. Hope you'll like it!

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When they woke up the next day, (Y/N) was still laying on top of Ben. The (younger/older) blushed and sat up. "S-Sorry if I invalidated your personal space." Ben chuckled, before sitting up. "Don't worry (Y/N). If I wanted you to move I would have said something. Now you better call your mom and tell her to come over. I still have to explain why you stayed the night." The (h/c) boy smiled and nodded. "She is so gonna kill me."

He grabbed his phone, taking a deep breath before calling his mother. After a few seconds, she picked up. "You are in a lot of trouble young man! Have you any idea how worried I was?! Where have you been?!" The (h/c) boy moved the phone away from his ear, even Ben could hear her screams coming from the phone. "Mom I am really sorry, I was working on a group project with my classmate Ben at his place and we didn't notice how late it was. We finished at 11pm and he offered to let me sleep over since he didn't think it was safe walking home for me yesterday. I am really really sorry Mom, I promise it won't happen again." After his little speech was over, he took a momant to catch some air. "Okay.. if you are telling the truth you won't mind handing the phone over to your classmate." (Y/N) sighed, before handing the phone to the brown haired male. Ben looked at him confused, before taking the phone. 'She wants to talk to you' the other whispered.

Ben nodded, before he started to speak. "Hello Miss (y/l/n). This is Ben Gross, (Y/N)'s classmate. I am truly sorry for yesterday. We were so focused on the project we forgot about what time it was." Ben fidgeted with his shirt. "Well I suppose I can excuse this one time. I would like to see the project though." Ben smiled, relaxing a bit. "Of course Miss (y/l/n)! I'd be happy to show it to you. (Y/N) will send you my address shortly. We'll see you soon." The woman on the other end of the phone nodded to herself. "Thank you. See you soon."

With that, they both hung up and Ben gave the other his phone back. "And? How did it go? Was she furious?" Ben put on a neutral facade. "She's coming over. You should send her my adress." (Y/N)'s face began to flush. He started to panic until he heard some laughter. He gasped, realizing what Ben had done. "You ass!! I was scared man!" Ben couldn't stop laughing. "I'm sorry but I had to! She will be coming over and you should send her the address. You aren't in trouble, she just wants to see the project and pick you up." The brown haired boys laughter toned down, turning into a sly grin seeing the other boy beginning to pout.

"Meanie.." The (h/c) quickly sent his mom the address before getting up. He took off the shirt Ben gave him and started to get dressed back in his own clothes. "My mom is most likley gonna be here in a few minutes. You should probably get dressed if you wanna make a good impression." The (shorter/taller) giggled as Ben rushed to get dressed and fix his hair.

Not long after, they heard the doorbell and rushed downstairs to greet (Y/N)'s mom. "Hey Mom! Again I am so so sorry!" Miss (y/l/n) embraced her son, smiling seeing her son was okay. "Hey its okay dear. I am glad you are safe and spent time on your project. I can let that one slide. Just text me next time something like this happens, okay? I was worried about you." She looked over towards Ben with a straight face, making him stiffen up a bit. "Thanks for talking my son out of walking home." She put out her hand towards Ben. "I'm (y/m/n)." She smiled warmly allowing Ben to relax again and shaking her hand. "Of course Miss. It felt like my duty to talk him out of it. Now you wanted to see our project right? Its not finished yet but (Y/N) made some smazing scetches for the poster. I have never seen someone better than him." While (Y/N) blushed at the praise, his mom smiled warmly. "He is truly amazing at art. He got it from his father. And please, just call me by my first name Ben." The brown haired nodded, before taking his two guests up to his bedroom. While (Y/N)'s mom looked over the project, the (taller/shorter) smiled at Ben. "She likes you. She usually doesn't offer first name base so fast." (Y/N) whispered. This made the other look at the (younger/older) surprised. "Really? I'm glad she likes me then. She's really nice." (Y/N) nodded, before looking at his mom. "Those sketches are really good honey. Have you decided if you wanna get into the art school yet? I'm sure you'd like it there.. your dad went there too." She smiled. "I.. I haven't decidet yet. I don't wanna leave my friends mom.. I.. I know it would make dad proud if I left for art school but.. I don't know.. do you think he would be dissapointed if I didn't go there?" The (h/c) looked down to his feet. "Oh Honey no! Your dad would be proud regardless if you go or not! If you don't want to leave than it's okay! Its your life baby, so you get to decide where you want to go or what you want to do! He would be so proud seeing how far you have gone." With that, she pulled her son into a hug. "We should head out now. Again, thank you for letting my son stay the night. I hope I will meet you again soon, Ben." She smiled and Ben returned that. "Of course (y/m/n). It was really nice meeting you. Get home safley." And with that, (Y/N) and his mom left.

Once they were on their way, (Y/N)'s mom smirked. "So.. you and Ben huh?" The (h/c) face went pale. "W-What no!" She giggled. "Oh come on dear. I saw how your eyes sparked. There is something going on between the two of you. I'm your mother, I know you better than you think" She smiled warmly. "O-Okay fine.. we may have a date tomorrow.." His mom gasped. "I knew it! When is it? What are you gonna do? Have you decidet what to wear yet?" She gently ruffled her sons hair. "Okay stop! One thing at a time mom! He's picking me up at 2, I actually don't know what we'll do and no I haven't decided what to wear and I could really need some help deciding.." He smiled at his mom, knowing helping him would make her happy. "You can count on me dear. I hope Ben will make you happy in the future. He's a nice young man." She smiled warmly at her son. "He is already making me happy mom.. I'm just a little scared.. what if he wants to keep me a secret in school? I think I'm his first boy experience..." She gently put her hand on his thigh. "Oh honey if he won't show you off at school he isn't worth your time okay? Just have fun tomorrow and don't let those thoughts get you down." (Y/N) smiled at those words. "Thanks mom. I love you." "I love you too dear."

Short after, they arrived home and the (e/c) boy went upstairs to his room. He laid down on his bed, giggling to himself. 'I have a date with Ben tomorrow!!' He couldn't help but feel happy about that. He dreamt about dating his crush for so long now and tomorrow his dream will come true. How could he not be overly exited? After a bit, he managed to calm down enough to start with his homework. Yet the upcoming date with Ben never left his mind.

After a few hours, his mom called him down for dinner and the topic 'Date with Ben' got brought back up. "So.. have you thought about what kind of style you want to go with for the date?" (Y/N) looked up. "Hm.. I think I wanna bring out my love for art a bit?" He looked at his mom, making sure he understood what he meant. "And I want it to be something cute!" His mom nodded. "How about those old overall pants you never wear? We could customize it with some of your fabric paint? You know, paint some stuff on it, putting splashes of paint? And pair it with your black converse and a simple black T-Shirt? So you'd look cute and artsy?" "That sounds amazing! Lets get straight to work after dinner so the paint can dry for tomorrow! Thank you so much mom!" The middle-aged woman smiled. "Of course dear. Anything for you."

After dinner, they went back to (Y/N)'s room to start on the pants. While the (h/c) boy got the paint ready, his mom spread out the pants on a few sheets of parchment paper. "Any idea what you want to do?" The boy nodded. "I wanna start with some blue, green and purple splashed all over those pants and then draw some daisys on the pockets." He said exited. "That sounds amazing! Lets get started then shall we?" (Y/N) nodded and they started to splash the color on the pants. After the front was all covered in paint, (Y/N) started to draw daisies on the front pocket. After that was done, they decidet to take a small break so the paint could dry enough to flip the pants over. "This already looks amazing. Ben is gonna fall straight in love with you honey." (Y/M/N) smilled proudly. She felt happy for her son. "Thank you mom. I better hope he will, I like him a lot." "Alright lover boy, lets get some snacks and hot chocolate. I have to take a break, my back is killing me." They laughed, walking in the kitchen to grab  snacks and hot chocolate.

They laughed a lot, talking about some rude classmates, (Y/N)'s friends and (Y/M/N)'s coworkers. The (h/c) could feel his tension fading away. "I think the paint should be dry enough by now. Lets finish it, hang it up and go to bed. You'll have an exciting day tomorrow." (Y/N) nodded, making his way back to his room to finish the pants. Together with his mom, it was done in no time. They giggled with each other and hung the pants up to dry. "Good night dear, sleep well." "Good night mom, you too!" With that, his mom left and (Y/N) was left alone in his room. He picked up his phone, seeing a new text from Ben. He smiled, before opening it.

Benji<3: Hey, got home safe?

(Y/N): Heyy, yeah got home safe! Sorry for the late awnser, I was working on something with my mom hehe

Benji<3: Oh? What were you working on? Show me!

(Y/N): You'll see tomorrow Benji! It's a surprise!

Benji<3: Oh come ooon (Y/N). I don't wanna wait!

(Y/N): Nope. Not a chance. I'm heading to bed now, sleep well Benji! See you tomorrow!

With that, he put away his phone and tried to sleep.

Benji<3: Sleep well (Y/N) see you tomorrow <3

[byneddiedingo]

Rainer Werner Fassbinder and Peter Chatel in Fox and His Friends (Rainer Werner Fassbinder, 1975) Cast Rainer Werner Fassbinder, Peter Chatel, Karlheinz Böhm, Harry Baer, Christiane Maybach, Adrian Hoven, Ulla Jacobsson. Screenplay: Rainer Werner Fassbinder, Christian Hohoff. Cinematography: Michael Ballhaus. Production design: Kurt Raab. Music: Peer Raben. I have a feeling that Fox and His Friends seems much less exotic or sensational to viewers today than it did in the mid-1970s, given the steady movement of depictions of gay men into mainstream entertainment. At the time it created outrage, not just from defenders of the heterosexual norm but also from the gay community, which found much of it distorted and unflattering. But Rainer Werner Fassbinder's story is not about being gay, it's about being exploited, about mistaking predation for love. Fassbinder's Franz Biberkopf, known as "Fox" from his gig as "Fox the Talking Head" in a sleazy carnival act, is a classic naïf who is taken for all he's worth -- which is the 500,000 Deutschmarks (a bit under $125,000 in the day) he won in the lottery. Fassbinder the director doesn't make it clear that the well-dressed guys Franz meets after one of them, Max (Karlheinz Böhm), picks him up outside a public lavatory, are intentionally trying to fleece him, until Eugen (Peter Chael), whose father's printing business is in financial trouble, sees a way to persuade Franz to rescue the company with a sizable investment and promises of part ownership of the firm. It could be, of course, that Eugen just gets a kick out of sleeping with the working class Franz. But he throws over his current lover, Philip (Harry Baer), and takes the rough-hewn, slightly homely Franz into his home and bed. Is Eugen telling the truth when he tells Franz that he's being kicked out of his apartment for being gay? It would be entirely plausible in the place and time. Or is it a lie that gives Eugen an opportunity to persuade Franz to buy a posh new apartment, and to furnish it with opulent antiques from Max's shop? And to go along with Franz's new image as a haute bourgeois businessman, he of course needs new clothes from Philip's fashionable shop. None of this exploitation feels premeditated except in hindsight, as Franz becomes Eliza Doolittle to Eugen's Henry Higgins -- though with less overt success. The resulting film is a superb tragicomedy, one of Fassbinder's best films, I think. Fassbinder turns out to be as good an actor as he is a writer and director, giving Franz just the right blend of naïveté and street smarts. I think the ending of the film is a shade heavy-handed, but the rest of it is full of extraordinary satiric moments: The horrifying scene in which Eugen brings Franz to dinner with his parents. The vacation in Morocco, where the man* Eugen and Franz pick up on the streets is refused entrance to the Holiday Inn Marrakech -- though wouldn't a pretentious bourgeois like Eugen have chosen a tonier hotel? -- because it doesn't admit Arabs. (The employee refusing the entrance, himself an Arab, suggests that if they want boys, he could provide some from the hotel staff.) And the moment of truth in which Franz realizes he's been conned is shattering. Michael Ballhaus's vivid color cinematography is complemented by Kurt Raab's production design, especially in the garishly overdressed apartment which includes a chandelier hanging so low that guests have to walk around it, that Eugen puts together with the most expensive pieces from Max's antique shop. Only after Eugen and Franz break up does Eugen reveal that he hates the place: He has clearly condescended to what he thinks an uncouth working class guy would think is the height of fashion. *Played by El Hedi ben Salem, the star of Ali: Fear Eats the Soul (1974), who had been deported to Morocco after a bar fight in Germany. Brigitte Mira, ben Salem's co-star in that film, also has a cameo as the shopkeeper who originally denies Franz admittance to her store to validate his lottery ticket until the suave Max flatters her into it.

[kissbentennyson]

Hi can i request a one shot of no watch ben x reader where they watch a scary movie because the reader likes them but ben is low-key terrified of them. In the end ben has trouble sleeping so the reader cuddles with him until he falls asleep

Thank you ☺️

*vibrates in slasher fan* Yesssssssssssssssssssssssss, also, normalize dudes being comforted.

Black Christmas

No watch! Ben x Reader | Reader's gender is never mentioned.

You were practically shaking with excitement, as a light Christmas carol played on grainy audio. This movie was old, 1974 as you had told him previously. You were so excited, and spent the whole day expressing that while trying to keep yourself from spoiling anything. Swirly white letters appear on screen, “Black Christmas' '. That relieves some of the anxiety in his gut.

“Is this… A Christmas movie?” He says, hesitantly. There's a light giggle as you snuggle into his side. “You could say that.” And that brought the anxiety right back up. His arm comes around you as the camera switches to first person, the point of view crawling up the side of the house. You chuckle a little bit as his arm tightens around you. “You gonna protect me from the killer?” His wide eyes shoot down at you against his chest, lips press flat slowly curve into a nervous smile. “Uh, yeah.” Is said with a just as nervous chortle, but you feel him swallow hard.

He was not very good at hiding his fear, never had been. It was cute though, that he actually thought that you didn’t know he was scared. Luckily enough for him, this movie had almost no jump scares. However, deep down you wanted to hear him scream at Jason Voorhees popping out of nowhere… maybe next movie night.

The movie fades into the more calm parts, the party, the call… and then onto Clair’s room. As she calls out for the sorority house cat, you can feel him tense up under you. “Claud… is that you puss?” You feel him take a deep breath under you, but you were too engrossed in your favorite movie. “No, it’s not. Get outta there…” He whispers. And then Billy pushes his way out of the closet, grabbing Clair by the neck with a plastic clothing cover. He jolts under you, and you can’t help but choke down your laughter.

“Not funny!” “Is so!”

-

“Wait, so he’s still in the house?” “Yep.” “But so is Jess.” “Yeah.” “The last shot- Does she die!?”

You shrug, picking up the empty snack containers. “Don’ know. It’s called an open ending for a reason.” Walking away to throw the trash in the can, you inadvertently leave him alone in the living room. Ben rushes to his feet, following after you. He clears his throat when he’s up behind you. “So, did Paul kill that cop- or was it Billy?” “Paul, Billy doesn't leave the house any time after he enters it.” The questions were an obvious distraction from the dark and quiet house. “So the little girl who was murdered, that wasn’t Billy?”

“No, she went missing the afternoon after Billy entered the house- You’ve been asking a lot of questions, Are you okay?” You look up at him, brows knitting with concern. Your boyfriend’s eyes widen as his cheeks tinting a warm pink color, an awkward smile spreading. “Uh, yeah. I’m fine!” Immediately you don’t believe it.

After cleaning up, you both retire to your bedroom. You were already tired and ready for bed, your boyfriend however… You hit the light, falling heavily onto the bed next to him. Normally, your boyfriend sleeping over would have raised hell itself. But, your family isn’t home, and won't be for a few days. The room was lit by the street light shining in the window and pale curtains, providing a comfortable dimness for you. Rolling on your side to face him, you can feel just how stiff he is.

“So, what did you think?” you ask, your boyfriend swallowing hard down a cotton dry throat. “Ben?” He clears his throat. “Uh, it was okay. I just don’t think it’s my thing-” A loud thump sounds from above you in the attic, Ben shooting up straight with a sudden gasp. You groan, but not at your boyfriend. “Great, the squirrels are back… I’ll text my mom in the morning to call the exterminator.” His eyes are wide and locked on the ceiling, like at any moment something would come down through it. He had always been a little skittish, but this was way worse.

You gently place a hand on his shoulder, causing him to look back at you. “It’s just some rodents- not a deranged asylum escapee. I promise.” his lips are pressed flat in a semi-neutral expression, trying to hide that he’s afraid. “Oh baby…” You whisper. “C’mere.” As you open your arms, he lays back down with his head by your chest. You scoop his head into your arms, curling up around him. Face burying into his hair. In that moment, you felt him relax in your arms. His curling around your waist.

“I’m sorry, I should have known better.” You say in a hushed voice, running your fingers through his hair. He sighs into the soft cloth of your shirt, letting you play with his hair. “I’m alright, I just…” He buries his face deeper, trailing off completely. Your cheek presses flat to his crown, a soft pout forming on your lips. “I know, I know. I’m sorry.”

Guilt flooded you like a clogged drain in a rainstorm, this was your fault. You had been so excited to share your interests with him that you hadn’t even stopped to think on how it might affect him- especially with him being naturally excitable. “I’m really sorry babe. I should have thought it out before I made you watch it with me.” You squeeze him lightly. He could have said no, and he wasn’t the biggest people pleaser- he just has a real hard time saying no to you.

“Next time we’ll both decide what to watch- or, we could just go on a Sumo Slammers marathon. Okay?”

You look down at your boyfriend, his face snuggled into your chest, and curled up in your arms. Petting his hair gently, you can feel him sleepily nod. You let out a light sigh, he was already falling asleep.

[hakasims]

The Most Important Review of Every Single Marwan Kenzari Film

If you’ve seen this one about Luca, you know the drill.

Now, Marwan’s brand is a little less defined than Luca’s but I managed to find similar tropes in a lot of his films. Also, rather than copy myself and give you a redundant Marwanmeter, I decided instead to recommend which Luca character best pairs with each Marwan character for your crossover pleasure. Let’s see if we ship the same things! Some of them are crack. You’re welcome.

(all gifs again by the awesomely amazing @weardes​ who did not ask to be my gif factory but life’s a bitch)

Het zusje van Katia (2008)

Will you miss him if you blink? Kinda. They talk about him a lot but his actual screen time is like 43.7 seconds. Also can I just say... he’s supposed to be from Italy?? The boy says literally one (1) Italian word, and you’ll never guess what it is. (Obviously, it’s “bella” like there’s a chance he could’ve said anything else.)

Is he hot? Painfully hot.

Is he naked? There’s this one scene where he’s wearing the sluttiest pair of speedos I’ve ever seen in my entire life.

Does his hair look great? Actually, yes. Perfect hair, perfect beard, he looks amazing.

Does he fuck? Yes, a lot - off screen, including an M/M/F threesome he presumably, probably, most definitely initiated.

Best paired with? From what I’ve gathered, this hoe ain’t loyal, so the best course of action is to find him a Luca that would benefit from a one night stand with no strings attached and wouldn’t fall in love with him. The obvious choice here is Valerio from Slam - Tutto per una ragazza. They meet, they fuck, then Giac makes his 4-hour drive back to Pisa, and they don’t see each other again until the next time he’s in Rome. Everybody’s happy, especially the two sluts in question.

De laatste dagen van Emma Blank (2009)

Will you miss him if you blink? Yes, absolutely.

Is he hot? Very.

Is he naked? Almost constantly.

Does his hair look great? He’s got those cute short curls, he looks so good.

Does he fuck? That’s literally why he’s there: to fuck and to die.

Best paired with? Man, I wish I had something to work with here. The only thing we know about him besides his sexual prowess is his affinity for white suits and toy helicopters. And as far as I know, those might be the exact things Fabrizio from Nina finds hot in guys. So like, why not?

Loft (2010)

Will you miss him if you blink? He’s the fifth most important character.

Is he hot? Yeah, sure.

Is he naked? There’s a scene where he’s wearing underwear and a tank top but it somehow makes him look like a kindergartener.

Does his hair look great? It looks quite nice.

Does he fuck? Yes, though I wish he didn’t.

Best paired with? Tom is a very violent person and a drug addict. He does messed up stuff to his sexual partners I’d rather he didn’t do to any of Luca’s characters. Feel free to use him for your sadistic fantasies or as a villain or whatever.

Rabat (2011)

Will you miss him if you blink? No, he’s one of the three leads.

Is he hot? Oh yes! And cute!

Is he naked? He’s at the beach wearing nothing but boxer shorts.

Does his hair look great? He’s got this extreme undercut thing that would look ridiculous on anyone less pretty, so like no, he doesn’t have great hair, but also like it’s Marwan, you know what I mean?

Does he fuck? Before he embarks on a road trip with his friends, he has an offscreen threesome with two girls he picked up at a wedding. Slut.

Best paired with? Gabriele from Waves. They’re both sweet guys who could meet in some Tunisian port and decide to sail the Mediterranean Sea together.

Black Out (2012)

Will you miss him if you blink? Not unless your blinking is very deliberate.

Is he hot? Not really. He’s a dirty cop with a shitty moustache and oral fixation.

Is he naked? No, but I wish he was: his clothes are awful. Marwan is 29 in this movie and he looks 50!

Does his hair look great? Nope. They took Marwan’s usual short hair and made it not work somehow.

Does he fuck? No.

Best paired with? The one thing Luca’s characters all have in common is that none of them come off as bootlickers. All of them are either too soft for such a relationship or wouldn’t waste their spit on a cop.

Wolf (2013)

Will you miss him if you blink? No, he’s the protagonist.

Is he hot? *gestures wildly at the gif*

Is he naked? He’s got quite a few shirtless scenes.

Does his hair look great? It’s nothing special but suits his character well.

Does he fuck? Oh yes.

Best paired with? Hear me out. I know that some people ship him with Fabio, but in my opinion that pair, while hot, doesn’t work. Here’s my pitch: Cesare from Non essere cattivo. The drug connection is still there, but in this case Majid’s problem-solving skills won’t fall on deaf ears. Cesare needs a daddy, ok? Majid can be a daddy when he needs to, especially when he has a soft boyfriend to care for. And Majid needs soft, not psycho.

Hartenstraat (2014)

Will you miss him if you blink? No, he’s the protagonist once again.

Is he hot? Painfully.

Is he naked? There’s that iconic scene where he’s wearing nothing but black boxer briefs and boots while carrying a tray...

Does his hair look great? He’s got Joe-like curls and looks like what every male romantic lead should aspire to look like and then cry because they all fail.

Does he fuck? There’s one very unfortunate sex scene played for laughs. I’m pretty sure he’ll need therapy afterwards. I certainly do.

Best paired with? Paolo from Il padre d’Italia. Paolo deserves the best boyfriend, and who’s better than Daan, an extremely hot man who cooks? They both have daughters, so they can talk about that, I guess, and Paolo can finally have a family. Honestly, this is so wholesome I just made myself cry.

Lucia de B. (2014)

Will you miss him if you blink? For sure.

Is he hot? He’s a cop. Again. But he looks good.

Is he naked? Fully dressed, but man are his clothes ugly. Is that a cop thing?

Does his hair look great? He has slightly longer curls, which is fine and the best thing about this character.

Does he fuck? ACAB. (I know this doesn’t answer the question, I just wanted to make it clear.)

Best paired with? See my bootlicker comment from earlier. While Detective *checks notes* Ron Leeflang isn’t explicitly corrupt, he’s obviously a dick, so the best I can do here is recommend any Luca character that has ever been in trouble with the law for any fics about power imbalance you want to write but aren’t comfortable with a nice Marwan playing the villain.

Bloedlink (2014)

Will you miss him if you blink? Oh no, he’s there the entire time.

Is he hot? In a weird way, yes.

Is he naked? So, so, so naked. Like, leave nothing to the imagination naked.

Does his hair look great? I’d say that little rat tail is the exact opposite of great.

Does he fuck? Probably more than is good for him. I should also add that he’s canonically queer in this.

Best paired with? Rico is a pathetic loser in need of someone who’s got his life together and has a lot of experience dealing with fuckups. Enter Loris from Il mondo fino in fondo. He has a stable job and a savior complex, and with his little bro gaying it up in Chile and not needing him anymore, all he wants right now is someone to fix. I should be a fucking matchmaker in real life, for real.

Pak van mijn hart (2014)

Will you miss him if you blink? Undoubtedly.

Is he hot? No. The whole point of his character is to be the lesser choice compared to a guy who looks like a completely ordinary bland white dude...

Is he naked? ...so of course he isn’t naked! What, are they gonna take this poor woman, show her Marwan Kenzari’s post-Wolf body and expect her to choose her deeply mediocre ex? Please! They’re gonna dress him in the dorkiest clothes possible...

Does his hair look great? ...and make him wear the most awful wig that was clearly run over by a truck.

Does he fuck? No. As you can observe, they tried really hard to make him unfuckable, but honestly, he seems like a perfectly nice guy.

Best paired with? You know what? Mattia from La solitudine dei numeri primi is in desperate need of some sweetness and normalcy. I’m sure Richard will treat him with kindness and respect.

Collide (2016)

Will you miss him if you blink? He’s the fifth most important character. Out of five.

Is he hot? Very hot.

Is he naked? Not for a second! What’s up with American movies where people aren’t just casually walking around naked without any plot necessity???

Does his hair look great? His curls are so cute you guys! Look at them!

Does he fuck? Not explicitly.

Best paired with? Fabio from Lo chiamavano Jeeg Robot. Again, the drug connection is there, but Matthias is soft enough not to butt heads with Fabio and, by the end of the movie, rich enough to satisfy his cravings for good living and fame. Also look at how good their color coordination is with those dark wine red clothes! Sometimes planets just align, okay?

Ben-Hur (2016)

Will you miss him if you blink? Yes, especially if you aren’t watching the background.

Is he hot? Your usual Marwan hot.

Is he naked? No.

Does his hair look great? His typical short curls with a twist. I think the forehead area is supposed to invoke the Caesar cut? I don’t know. It looks fine when not hidden under that dumb helmet.

Does he fuck? No.

Best paired with? A better script and a much better director. (Seriously, what is this blocking?)

The Promise (2016)

Will you miss him if you blink? He’s there a decent amount in the first half of the movie and then almost completely disappears in the second half.

Is he hot? Very much, yes.

Is he naked? Unfortunately, no.

Does his hair look great? He’s got short curls again, but this time they’re fashionably styled, it’s magnificent.

Does he fuck? Oh yeah! And there’s no way he isn’t bi or pan in this. No way.

Best paired with? Roberta from L’ultimo terrestre. Listen, Emre Ogan may be a slut but he’s a gentleman, okay? He’d treat Roberta right and he’s got daddy’s cash to spare on hundreds of gorgeous white dresses for her.

The Mummy (2017)

Will you miss him if you blink? He’s there, but barely.

Is he hot? Dangerously hot.

Is he naked? Not once! Instead we get a naked Tom Cruise literally no one asked for.

Does his hair look great? It’s your basic professional short hairdo.

Does he fuck? No.

Best paired with? Malik is a member of an organization tracking and destroying various monsters and historical artefacts related to them. Guido from Tutti i santi giorni speaks four languages, including Latin, and is a literature and ancient history nerd which makes him a valuable asset. Malik can fight and protect; Guido is bumbling and in need of saving. Guys, this writes itself.

What Happened to Monday (2017)

Will you miss him if you blink? No, especially not in the third act.

Is he hot? He’s okay.

Is he naked? Very naked.

Does his hair look great? They shouldn’t have greased his curls back. He looks like another victim of Fabio Cannizzaro’s stylist. Also I wish he’d either shaved or finished growing out that beard.

Does he fuck? He fucks and he fucks good. He’ll go down on you, he’ll deflower you slowly and gently, he’ll choke you if you want him to, he’ll spoon you all night, he’ll give you emotional support, he’ll murder people for you - he’s down for whatever.

Best paired with? There’s one Luca character who needs a lot of sex and even more emotional support. Alright, most of them do, but I’m thinking of Ettore from Lasciate andare. He needs it, okay? Good dicking, good spooning, a good ear, a fine piece of ass to cry into - you get the gist. Most importantly: someone who’d love him for who he is and with whom he could relax and be himself. (Also, I see you, people comparing him to Fabio. Shame on you for sleeping on this soft boy and judging him based on his appearance.)

Murder on the Orient Express (2017)

Will you miss him if you blink? He’s kinda always present, being very French.

Is he hot? Very hot.

Is he naked? No, but I’m willing to forgive that because he looks so good in his conductor uniform.

Does his hair look great? He never takes off his hat.

Does he fuck? No.

Best paired with? Mickey Miranda. They’re both murderers morally dubious characters who would look hot together. What else do you need? (Again, I see you, people who want Pierre for Roberta because he’s a “nice guy”, and I know for a fact you didn’t watch the movie. Spoilers, I guess.)

The Angel (2018)

Will you miss him if you blink? No, he’s the protagonist.

Is he hot? Oh yes.

Is he naked? Not once, but you won’t regret it because he’s wearing excellently stylish 1970s clothes.

Does his hair look great? It looks fantastic. The sideburns (not yet seen here) are a good touch.

Does he fuck? He can definitely get it, but he’s loyal to his wife.

Best paired with? As the most aesthetically coherent and fashionably hot pair in this post, Ashraf and Primo are a no-brainer. Can you imagine Primo calling him “Angel” in different contexts? When he’s being intimidating, not realizing how palpable the sexual tension between them is, and later not even hiding his arousal? Sometimes things just work because they’re hot. That’s all, folks.

Aladdin (2019)

Will you miss him if you blink? No, he’s the main villain.

Is he hot? It’s not like he went viral for being the “hot Jafar” or anything.

Is he naked? No! Fucking thanks a lot, Disney.

Does his hair look great? He has a buzz cut under that turban but he looks good in the turban, so that’s something.

Does he fuck? It’s a Disney movie, so he doesn’t fuck - explicitly or otherwise - but he still comes off as a thirsty bitch.

Best paired with? Jafar ends the movie as a genie who’s obligated to grant his master three wishes but is enough of a petty bitch to exploit the hell out of the “gray area” and screw them over Wishmaster style. My unconventional pair for him is Lui from Ricordi? So many scenarios with distorted memories and magic-induced mindfuck. So many possibilities for awesome and messed up crossover gifsets! Don’t say I never give you guys anything.

Instinct (2019)

Will you miss him if you blink? No, he’s very prominent.

Is he hot? I hate myself for finding him hot but I do.

Is he naked? He’s playing basketball shirtless in one scene, shaking his sweaty boobs everywhere.

Does his hair look great? His weird mohawk-like thing is honestly terrible, but if anything can make it work, it’s Marwan’s bone structure.

Does he fuck? Um, I’m pleading the Fifth on this one for the sake of good taste.

Best paired with? Prison. A very lonely, Luca-less prison.

The Old Guard (2020)

Will you miss him if you blink? No, unless blinking in your case means sleeping through the gloriousness that is the first ever canonically gay couple in an American action film.

Is he hot? Painfully.

Is he naked? Shirtless in one scene.

Does his hair look great? Soft curls courtesy of Luca Marinelli’s tireless lobbying.

Does he fuck? Not on screen, but you can just tell by the way he looks at his husband and reads impromptu poetry right to his face. And everybody knows nothing kindles the fires of passion quite like murdering homophobes together.

Best paired with? If you have to ask, you’re clearly reading this by mistake. In which case, kudos for finishing such a long and confusing post, now go watch The Old Guard and cry at the beauty that is The Immortal Marriage.

[lightsovermonaco]

His Good Sweater: Chapter 12

Masterlist

Winding down from the frenzy of the last chapter... Thanks to @acollectionofficsandshit​ for being my bestie and beta reading! This would have never happened without her ❤

Word Count: 5.9k

Recommended song: "I Don't Care" by Fall Out Boy

“Mon amour, wake up.”

Pierre’s sleep-heavy voice rouses you from the best sleep you’d had in a long time. You’d fallen asleep to the sounds of his even breathing under the soothing touch of his thumb tracing patterns on your side.

You crack your eyes open to see him silhouetted by the white light of the waning moon, his bare chest left uncovered by the blanket slung low over his hips. The sight alone has your mind instantly jumping into overdrive, fighting the need to sleep with the need to continue ogling the bare skin a foot from your face.

“I let you sleep as long as I could,” he says softly, reaching behind him for his phone. “We have to be on the M1 in about half an hour.”

“Mmmph,” you groan, snuggling back under the blanket and closer to him, chasing the warmth radiating from him. “The sun isn’t even out.”

His chuckle shakes the bed. “I figured you would say that which is why I made you breakfast and picked out your clothes. All you have to do is brush your teeth and get dressed.” 

You hum appreciatively and press a kiss to his bare sternum. “Is this how you’re going out today? Because I won’t complain but you might cause a few heart attacks.” A kiss to your temple is a small reward for your comment, as well as a concession.

"Don't worry, this is reserved only for you." He stretches an arm above his head, grinning when your eyes immediately are drawn to the way the muscles ripple and pull under his skin. You stare shamelessly as he flexes a little for your benefit, the action going straight to your head. 

"As it should be." You bite your lip and let your fingertips dance over his chest, memorizing the way it rises and falls so predictably with each deep breath. Against your better judgement you trail kisses up over his pectoral and spot them along his shoulder, dragging another light chuckle from him.

"My love," he warns, voice tinted with mischief, "we don't have time."

"Oh I think we do." You continue your path over his collarbone and to the hollow of his throat. Taking advantage of his biggest weakness, you flick your tongue over his prominent adam’s apple. The move has his hand engulfing your upper arm, giving you a warning squeeze.

"As wonderful as this is" -he sucks in a sharp breath when your teeth graze his neck- "if I'm late Horner will kill me."

"What's new?" You say, but draw back. The mere mention of his name made you see red and shattered the moment. "Do you really want to go back to Red Bull after how they treated you?"

"No," he admits, slipping an arm around you and tugging you up and into a sitting position, taking advantage of the momentary lapse of lust. "But if I want a shot with a top team when my contract is up, I don’t have much choice."

"Where do you see yourself going?"

Pierre studies you as you slip into the clothes he had selected for you. Nothing fancy, just an AlphaTauri branded navy and white hoodie and some light wash jeans. You don't miss the way his lips twitch upward when you notice it's his hoodie, his last name embroidered in block font on the cuff a dead giveaway even if the hoodie hadn't been ridiculously oversized on you.

Cheeky bastard.

"I think I would look good in sunshine yellow," he remarks. You make a show of looking him up and down under the pretense of imagining him in a Renault branded hoodie or their signature black race suit. Truthfully it was just another excuse to drink him in like the fine wine he was and recall how he had tasted on your tongue last night.

He would look good in any color on the grid but you don't grant him the satisfaction of pointing that out. Instead, you lean forward to toy with the waistband of the jeans he had hastily buttoned seconds earlier. "You and Daniel get along just fine." You snag him by the belt loops and yank him forward back onto the bed. "I think you should go to McLaren.”

“I’d still look good in orange.”

You wind your fingers under his waistband. “I think you’d look best wearing nothing at all, actually.”

“The time,” Pierre protests lightly when you pop open the button and undo the zipper. He groans when you yank the denim down around his thighs, finally submitting to your touch and lacing his fingers in your hair. Your lips explore the planes of his abdomen, any and all thoughts of speed abandoned on your end. "If you don't hurry up we're gonna be late."

"Maybe you'll just have to drive fast. I hear you’re good at that."

**********

"So how is it that they got your car all the way to London?"

"It's got its own private jet."

You roll your eyes and smack the hand resting on your thigh. His response is a light squeeze and a chuckle before he continues, "They've got a few spares they keep around for when drivers come to town. I can't be seen in a Mini or it would cause a scandal."

"Oh yes it would be quite tragic." His hand charts a dangerous path along your thigh. He knows exactly what he's doing as he slots a thumb between your legs and presses it tight to the apex of your thighs.

You snap your knees shut, effectively trapping his hand "Now you're just being cruel."

"Only dishing out what you did this morning," he points out and wiggles his hand free to rest on your knee instead. The message was clear: he had shaken you well enough for his liking and was perfectly content to leave you frustrated until he could get you home.

“So catch me up on what I’ve missed,” you say, determined to distract yourself from Pierre’s slight teasing. “What’s new in the life of the rising star in Formula 1?”

“Rising star,” Pierre mumbles and rolls his eyes. “Not yet, my love. Getting there, but not yet.”

“Please, you’re too modest. Last night when you fell asleep- you were out like a light as soon as your head hit the pillow, don't give me that look!” Pierre picks his jaw up off the floor and shakes his head as you continue, “I read plenty of articles that called you the next big thing, right up there with Max.”

The comparison didn't seem to sit right with him. He shifts in his seat, rolling words over on his tongue. “I’m sure you’re caught up then. I haven’t done anything really besides train and race.”

“I did notice you’ve beefed up a bit.”

“Yet another reason to thank Pyry.”

“At this point I should send him a fruit basket for his trouble.”

“Maybe you should.” Pierre grins, hand leaving your thigh for a split second to upshift. “What about you? How’s year four treating you?”

“Ugh, don’t get me started,” you groan. “My senior project is already killing me and I’ve only just started it. We have to design a building from the ground up- I mean I like architecture but I’m trying to be an engineer, not an architect. I dunno why I have to be the one to design a building! At this point it’s just a brick box.”

“Sounds challenging,” Pierre notes, flooring it when he merges onto the highway. Though the speed makes your stomach flip, you don’t miss a beat.

“My team doesn’t do much either, I’ve been doing most of it. I could rant for hours about it.”

Pierre glances at the clock, then back to you. The blue of his eyes is blocked by his signature purple tinted sunglasses, shielding them from the rising sun that casts him in a warm orange glow. “Humor me. We’ve got time.”

The hour and a half drive was by no means dull with Pierre's teasing touches and endless string of questioning along the way. He asked after every aspect of your life that had transpired in the last four months, only stopping you once in a while to interject with an opinion or anecdote.  He didn't stop at your life either, even asking after Ben's relationship. You'd been happy to report that he had indeed wooed his crush and had officially asked him to be his boyfriend.

"Those secret French lessons paid off," Pierre jokes as he pulls up to the imposing glass fronted building that served as Red Bull Racing's headquarters. The sweeping curve of the entrance was flanked on either side by two-story red and yellow bulls; proof that the team's dramatics extended far past the track. Anyone approaching for the first time would have been intimidated by the sheer size of them that suggested they were ready to stomp on their competition at a moment’s notice.

“Guess it’s time.” You sigh and undo your seatbelt and fiddle with the buckle, doing your best to stall. There was no reason to be this nervous. You were no one to these people; the focus would be entirely on Pierre. You would be an afterthought, not that you minded because it made it easier to fade into the background. 

Pierre picks up on your hesitation in a heartbeat. “I’ll keep them off your back,” he promises and you nod, the single sentence taking the edge off. “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.” You reach for the door handle but Pierre tsks and you pause.

"You know better." You bite your lip to keep back the grin fighting its way to the surface as he comes around to open your door. He offers you his hand and you gladly take it and are pleasantly surprised when he threads his fingers through yours and heads for the entrance.

The atrium serving as the lobby is breathtakingly gorgeous. You had to hand it to the interior designer; they knew what they were doing. Sleek white marble floors are accented by red and yellow leather chairs scattered in small groups throughout the grand space. A tiered circular modern interpretation of a chandelier hangs above to offer guidance to the accountants, engineers and artists that weave through the lobby on their way to their respective wings or offices.

A waist high, glass front cabinet of drivers helmets serves as the reception desk. The unmistakable scent of a fresh cup of coffee hits you as you approach and the secretary hands a steaming paper cup to someone before they scurry off, presumably to a private office if they were important enough to warrant special attention. The first rays of morning sunlight glint off the silver Red Bull logo inlaid in the black marble behind the woman at the counter, making you squint.

"Bonjour Monsieur Gasly," she says in perfect French. "Ça va?"

"Bien," he says simply and switches to English for your benefit. "Has Christian come through yet?"

"He has," the woman says, glancing sidelong at you. Whatever conclusions she draws about you are insignificant enough that she writes you off immediately, angling her body towards Pierre and resting her chin in her hand. The posturing puts her ample chest on display, nearly spilling out of her billowing blouse, but Pierre's eyes don't wander. "He's not expecting you yet. Voulez-vous un cafe?"

"I'm good." The woman may have been determined to alienate you but Pierre was having none of it. Pierre turns to you, a grin playing on his face. This was your first test as an official couple and he intended to see how you handled it. "How about you, my love? Coffee?"

The woman's eyes slip to where your hand remains clasped in his. She cocks her head so slightly you think you might be imagining it until Pierre's grip tightens, a silent encouragement. Your confidence soars. If this was how Daniel's girlfriend felt when the two of them were out, you finally understood why they didn't hide. It was a rush knowing that everyone wanted Pierre but he only wanted you. No matter how blatantly women threw themselves at him, there was no doubt in your mind that he would never give a single one of them the light of day.

It was about damn time you afforded him the same unwavering commitment as he had shown you.

"No thank you," you reply sweetly with a mocking smile directed to the woman. You lean in and drop your voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "You might want to fix your shirt though, it’s… slipped. I know I'd hate for that to happen to me and no one tell me, especially at work. I don't think I'd ever recover from it."

Her face immediately turns scarlet as she stands straight and folds her arms over her chest. "If I were you-"

"Let Horner know I'm here," Pierre interrupts and it's somehow the hottest thing he's ever said. His purely commanding tone leaves no room for argument. 

"Of course," she replies with a sharp smile in your direction that makes your spine stiffen. "Good luck. Christian is in rare form this morning."

"Just ignore it," Pierre murmurs and sweeps his thumb over the back of your hand as he leads you across the cold marble and down a carpeted hall. "You handled that well.”

“I may have gotten a few pointers from Daniel’s lover.” Your soft smile doesn’t quite reach your eyes. The short interaction had sapped most of your confidence, leaving you on uneven footing. “I would rather not have to deal with that again soon though.”

“I can handle the women easy enough when I know I’ve got you to come home to.”

The tightness in your chest eases further when the hall opens into another startlingly white space, this time packed with rows and rows of navy cubicles. But that's not where your attention is drawn- instead, your gaze is immediately snagged by the case of trophies towering high along the back wall. Cups of every shape and size shine within, each one representing a different podium for the team achieved in various years and tracks.

"There must be over a hundred," you breathe, mesmerized by the glinting silver and intricate craftsmanship. The case was easily thirty feet tall and you had to crane your neck to catch a glimpse of the ones in the top row. Each one told a story of blood, sweat and tears, each one earned by a driver who had made countless sacrifices to be where they were and finish on a podium.

"A hundred and eighty five to be exact," he counters, laughing at your amusement. "Your inner architect is screaming isn't it?"

"Only a little." 

Pierre laughs outright at your white lie and tugs you along. "You can stare on the way out. I'll even show you which ones were Max's."

"Did you memorize what all his trophies look like?"

"Hey, meetings with engineers get boring. It's one of the more interesting ways to occupy your time when they are going on and on about fluid mechanics and thermodynamics- you know, stuff you understand but not me."

"Oh whatever, you enjoy those meetings and you know it."

"Only a little," he quotes.

People recognize him as you pass and some nod or give a simple greeting as they go about their morning but no one stops him to chat. The air feels a bit hostile, like no one knows what to do with him now that he's walking through the building after a nearly two year absence.

"Do you miss it?" You ask after he smiles at someone for the millionth time. 

"I miss the team," he admits, "but not the management culture. My team was great- they supported me any way they could but it didn't help that Horner didn't exactly encourage them to believe in me. It's hard to crank out results when there's no one on your side."

"I'm on your side," you point out, nudging him with your hip. "You've got me forever, no takesies backsies."

"I'm grateful for it," he murmurs and gives your hand a squeeze. He hadn't let go once; not when he had to open a door or the two of you had to walk single file to let people pass.

The building was a labyrinth and if it wasn't for Pierre you'd have been lost the moment you set foot inside. He navigates the twisting halls with ease, having no need for the countless signs posted along the way.

He leads you up a set of steel stairs after what seems like ages. When he knocks on a heavy oak door, his grip on your hand turns possessive like he suspects the office’s occupant would try to rip you away from him. 

“Morning.”

God, even the one word makes rage simmer in your veins. The voice precedes the man and Christian Horner swings open the door, a plastic smile splitting his face. He doesn't bother acknowledging you with a greeting, instead addressing his driver directly.

“I wasn’t expecting you to bring a guest.”

“A pretty face was needed around here,” Pierre snaps back without missing a beat. You bristle, free hand curling into a fist. If there was one person you didn’t mind teaching a lesson to, it was Horner. He had little respect for anyone he viewed as disposable- up to and including “underperforming” drivers.

Christian raises an eyebrow. “Sure. She can wait out here- you and I have terms to discuss.”

Fine, Horner wanted to play dirty? So could you. When it came to staring him down, you became fearless. He was the one person you refused to let intimidate you.  

Drawing on your newly minted confidence you smile up at Pierre and silence the protest forming on his tongue with a grin. “Gimme a kiss, race winner.”

Pierre doesn’t hesitate to press his lips to yours. Cupping a hand to the back of his neck you draw him in and nip at his lower lip. The hand on your hip tightens at Christian's scoff but Pierre makes no move to break away. You linger a moment longer than necessary to drive your point home: you didn’t care what Horner had to say about you, you were here to stay and he would have to get used to it.

Pierre gives you a small, blissed out smile before dropping your hand and following Horner inside. The door clicks but doesn't shut all the way, Pierre leaving it cracked for your benefit.

Uninterested in eavesdropping on small talk, you lean on the metal railing to observe the research and development garage coming to life on the floor below. Hybrid engines in various stages of disassembly dot the space, small teams of mechanics and engineers tweaking components to reduce weight or increase horsepower. Pistons and valves are scrutinized and exchanged before being placed under stress to test their strength.

An FIA official in a red jacket wove through the garage to observe and jot notes down on a clipboard. He looks over the shoulder of an engineer pouring over formulas on a whiteboard, startling him when the official asks a question. Someone calls your name from below and you search for the origin, finally spotting the woman and waving back at her.

Management may have their qualms with Pierre but it was clear there were still some within the team that had his back. They were likely the same ones that knew he would have to leave the Red Bull umbrella to find any semblance of success. They may not have possessed the guts to stick their necks out for him when Horner had cut him but they were at least happy to see him back around headquarters.

"You sure you'll rise to the challenge?" Horner's question drags you back to the mezzanine. 

"I'll take seventh. I'm only a few points away and we have plenty of races left."

He had five races to catch up to be exact. Pierre currently was comfortably ahead of the pack in ninth, Sainz was only three points ahead in eighth, and Norris ten points beyond in seventh. It would only take a DNF or two from his rivals and a few podiums to pass them up.

"Right," Horner starts. "There's a reason you've done so well this season and it's not luck. You've been racing exceptionally well and I don't want that to change."

"If there's something on your mind just get on with it." Pierre's voice is calm and collected in a way yours wouldn't be if you had been in his shoes. You've been dying to rip into Horner since the day he wrote Pierre off.

"There's been a fire in you the past few months since she has been gone-"

"Leave her out of this."

The tone sends a chill down your spine. It maintains the same level headedness that Pierre had perfected over the years and you had come to expect when he was backed against a wall, but it was laced with an unspoken threat. The intent was clear: he would walk out and abandon his chance for a seat at Red Bull if it meant protecting you.

You creep to the door to peer through the crack. Horner crosses his arms, a sly smile on his face. "You would sacrifice your chance at a championship winning seat for her? Everything you've worked so hard for, gone in a flash, because of her?"

"Without question," Pierre answers immediately. The conviction and commitment behind it nearly makes you stumble. "I'm sure there's plenty of other teams that would love to have me after the season I've had. She’s not going anywhere, so either you stop disrespecting her or I walk out."

You clench your fists, ready to burst in and demand Pierre stop being a fucking idiot. His long term plan saw him at another top team that would take care of him and nurture his skill- a long stint at Red Bull Racing was never in the cards. It wasn't an environment for everyone. Some people like Max thrived in it, letting the toxicity roll off their backs but for Pierre it was a cruel form of punishment. However, a seat at Red Bull for the 2022 season could mean the difference between an offer from Alpine and an offer from Haas when his contract was up for renewal. 

The idea of seeing his number stickered to the floor in a Red Bull garage excites and intimidates you. Last time he hadn't been given the chance to prove himself. Would they still hold that against him? Knowing Christian, he probably would. On the other hand, it meant that they admitted their mistake in cutting him mid-season, whether they said it outright or not.

Pierre's redemption day was on the horizon and you couldn't wait to see the look on Horner's face when he finally won. And the longer Christian stays silent, the more potent the urge to throttle him grows. 

Christian gives a slow clap. "Now there's the unwavering commitment that was missing during round one."

Your heart hammers in the dead silence as papers are shuffled. "Here's the contract. Terms are as discussed, you secure seventh in the world championship in 2021 and the second seat at Red Bull Racing is yours for the entire calendar in 2022. No demotions, substitutions, or shuffling of drivers unless medically necessary or mutually agreed upon by all affected parties."

"And the same spec car as the number one seat," Pierre insists, spine straight. "Same strategy." 

Christian waves a hand. "Yes, that's in there too. Feel free to take a moment and read it over."

He does, allowing Christian time to pour a knuckle of whiskey and set the glass before Pierre. He pours himself an identical glass and waits until Pierre signs and initials all the boxes before raising it in acknowledgement.

"Congratulations. Welcome back to Red Bull- conditionally."

Pierre leaves the glass untouched and remains silent, staring his potential future team principal down. He gives the man no margin to question his abilities further, conveying all he needs to with a look that would have had you shaking at the knees. Even if you can't see his face, wrath radiates from him in waves and you wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of it when it explodes.

"Right then." Christian lowers the glass, his fake smile vanishing. "I look forward to seeing what you can do."

"Don't worry. I'll deliver."

You step back and allow him to set the mood as he exits the office and slams the door behind him. Pierre sighs and scrubs a hand over his face. "You heard all of that right?"

You nod. "You wouldn't have really walked out, right?"

"I almost did."

He says it like it's the most obvious thing in the world. Like you should know that he would choose you over all of this, that all of his dreams and everything he had sacrificed to achieve them thus far meant less to him than you did. How many times did he have to prove his unwavering commitment before you realized it was true?

Pierre laces his fingers through yours, the heat welcomed by your ice cold skin. It was as much a comfort to you as it was to him. "I just have to grab some things from Max's office and then we can head out."

His jaw is still set after his stand off with Christian and you want nothing more than to ease his mind. Publicly comforting him with a touch to his chest or a kiss to his neck was out of the question so you settle on temporary distraction.

"Hey, you know what I want to see?"

"What's that?"

"That room full of all the old chassis. You know, the one that they hold all the fancy virtual events in? I wanna see those."

"I think I should be able to get you back there." He veers down a hall and you yelp, pulled along by his momentum. His attitude brightens a little at your laugh. The grin he throws your way is your own personal sun, warming your soul. 

"Hey- hold on." You pull him to a stop and lead him into an alcove. The inch of space between your chests is charged with electricity, begging to jump from one to the other.

"Can I help you?" He asks and grins down at you.

"No," you say nonchalantly. "Just wanted to be selfish for a second."

You rise up on your tiptoes to press a kiss to his lips. He melts into you, one hand coming up to cup your jaw while the other finds the small of your back. You side your tongue over his lower lip and he presses you against the door leading to who knew where and opens his mouth to you. You sigh into the kiss, arms winding around his neck and losing yourself in him.

Now that you had gotten over your anxiety, everything was so much easier. You know there's press roaming about the building and any number of them could pass by at any moment but you genuinely couldn't care less. Let them talk; you were over caring what anyone thought or said.

All that mattered was the man beneath your fingertips. You would endure a lifetime of insults if he was the one to soothe the wounds afterwards. As long as you both were happy, no one could come between you ever again.

Pierre pulls away when someone passes by and coughs quietly.  "You're trouble," he murmurs, leaving an arm propped next to your head and effectively caging you in.

"And you're dangerous," you tease, tugging on his hair and exposing his throat enough to nip at it once. "Together we're the perfect pair."

He groans and leans away. "Keep that up and I might have to stay in London an extra week."

You slip out of his grasp and give him an unrestrained grin. "Don't threaten me with a good time." You spin on your heel and set off down the hall, swaying your hips a little more than necessary.

"You know where you're going?" He calls after you.

"Someone will point me in the right direction, I'm sure."

"Someone like me." He catches up to you and once again takes your hand in his. He was enjoying showing you off almost as much as you enjoyed hanging on him.

"Maybe we should head right to Max's office and hurry home, huh?"

"Maybe-"

"Pierre, there you are."

You both turn to a woman hustling up the hall after you. She’s slight and her brown curls bounce as she jogs to where the two of you pause at a bend. You glance up to Pierre to see if he's just as confused as you are.

"Hey Mary," he says cheerily. "How are you? Sorry I didn't check in with you when I got here."

"Oh it's fine- why aren't you in the Alpha samples I sent?” The woman props a fist on her hip and tips her head to the side. “I think I got your size right now that I’ve laid eyes on you. I was hoping for a shoot today since you've finally come by."

It takes you a moment to register that she's addressing you. You shoot Pierre a look and he offers you a tentative, closed off smile. "Um, what Alpha gear?"

The woman's chocolate brown eyes go wide. "The ones I've been sending to Pierre. Hoodies, dresses, jackets. All the stuff from the new line. They have been sending the samples to you, right?"

"Um, yeah I've gotten them," Pierre says, rubbing his neck. "I haven't given them to her though."

"Oh, I see!” Pink tinges Mary’s cheeks. “I must have missed a memo. I just thought that you'd want to do a shoot with her today, since we already had a quick one planned for you. After all, you talk about her all the time."

"He does?"

Mary nods. "Oh yes, we've all heard plenty about you. You're lucky to have someone so enamored with you. I just dropped off some more samples in Max's office as a little thank you for letting us steal him so often-"

"Okay, thank you Mary," Pierre says abruptly. "I'll get back to you on that."

Pierre steers you away and down the hall. "What was she talking about? Why would they want me to come by for a photo shoot?"

Pierre runs a hand through his hair and pauses outside Max's office. The Dutchman must have been away because Pierre pulls out his key and fits it in the lock. "I just- come on."

He waves you inside and you obey, letting him close the door and grant you some semblance of privacy before continuing. 

"I never formally told anyone that we broke up. Most people came to their own conclusions once they didn't see you around for a while. Some people didn't get the message. Obviously Mary was one of them. I would still talk about you, I couldn't help myself. There was one shoot where Yuki and I were together and he mentioned off hand that you'd be a good brand ambassador. I tried to explain that it wouldn't work but Mary wouldn't hear it and she just kept sending me more and more samples.”

You draw a breath and interrupt his rambling. “But where-”

"I had it all in a box in my office but I struggled to concentrate with a reminder of you hanging over my head. I sent it over here to Max and that's where it's sat ever since. I used the excuse that Max was in town more often than I was and no one read too far into it."

"Why didn't you tell me?" You whisper. "I would've taken them. I'm sure you got an earful from Mary."

"Would you have?” Pierre pauses, your silence in the face of his frustration speaking volumes. “I waited four months to hear from you. Tell me that sending you thousands of dollars in unreleased merch wouldn't have made you even more hesitant to come back to me."

Not knowing what else to say, you let your gaze fall to the carpet. Sending you expensive things would have felt something like a bribe, like he was trying to influence you with fancy clothes.

Pierre shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter, it’s in the past now. We can take it home today and you can wear it when I take you for dinner and Alpha will get the press they’re after. Everyone will be happy.”

He wasn’t happy. That much was plain to see. He hadn’t been able to stomach seeing something intended for you, even that minute of a reminder had been too much for him to bear. God, you had thoroughly wrecked him. You were lucky that there were still enough pieces of him left to heal. 

“I didn’t realize you were hurting so bad,” you say, voice barely above a whisper as you cross the cramped space to him, stepping over piles of strewn paperwork carefully so as to not disturb whatever random order they were placed in. You don’t dare reach out to touch him as his shoulders slump, any and all forward momentum he’d gathered suddenly sapped.

“It’s one of the worst things I’ve ever gone through.”

Unable to let him suffer alone with his thoughts, you wrap your arms around his middle and let your cheek rest between his shoulders. “I didn’t mean to alienate you. I was waiting for you, too.”

“You needed space and I gave it to you.” His hand rests on your arm with a gentleness you’ve come to expect when he lays himself bare like this. “There were so many times I almost gave in to the impulse and just messaged you but I made myself wait. I didn’t want to rush it and make things worse. You always need time to think things through- I knew you would come around eventually. It didn’t make it any easier though.”

You rub soothing circles on his side as you blink back the tears that spring to your eyes. “I’m sorry I put you through that. I’m sorry I took so long and I’m sorry I made you wait. It had to have been torture-”

He turns in your embrace and cups your chin, forcing you to look up at him. The pad of his thumb sweeps across your cheek, the metal of the ring on his middle finger biting into your flushed skin. “It’s alright. You had a lot to sort through and I had to respect that.”

“We lost so much time-”

“Hey,” he says softly, ducking his head to meet your eyes. “We’re together now. If there’s one thing I’m sure of it’s that you can’t let missed opportunities control you or else you’ll never be happy.”

You nod, swiping your sleeve under your eyes. “What did they send?” you ask, nodding towards the box overflowing with tan and navy threads.

“Pull up a chair,” Pierre suggests, “there’s a lot.”

You roll over Max’s desk chair and tug on Pierre’s arm. Once he gets the picture and sits, you settle in his lap. He winds an arm around your middle, the close contact already soothing your frazzled nerves.

“That better?” he murmurs.

“Much better.”

@seasidetom @flashcal @limp-wrist-max @sunshinesewis @lifeofzoemichael @ninuffi @perfectfantasies22 @lamboleglerg @ladyperceval @0forgottenparadise0 @evie-pr @avsensio @ninuffi @ricciartodododo​

If you have asked to be tagged in the past and I missed you I apologize! Just comment below and I’ll get you added for future updates. Thanks for reading ❤

[fangirl-writes]

Mommy?

Roger Taylor x Reader

Warning(s): Smoking, swearing, references to sex.

Notes: DISCLAIMER - Fake Wife. Fake Child. All things said and implied in this fic are fictional and have nothing to do with real life. No hate towards any of Roger's Previous or Current Relationships.

I imagined 80s!Roger, but you can go for Ben!Rog if it suits your fancy.

(PS This Roger Can Fuck Me Up)

Summary: After Roger's son mistakenly calls you mom, Roger begins to realize some things about you.

Roger was tired.

The moment he walked into the studio, you could tell.

His sunglasses were covering his eyes, but he was slightly hunched, his hair was a mess, and he only muttered a ‘morning’ instead of his usual boisterous announcement.

The other boys almost didn’t notice his arrival, too focused on tuning their instruments or going over some lyrics. It wasn’t until his son, Alexander, screamed at the sight of you did they look over.

“Hey, the little man is here,” Brian said with a smile as the boy let go of his father’s hand to fling himself into your outstretched arms.

You stood up and propped him on your hip before giving Roger a look. It wasn’t the first time he’d come in like this.

He turned away from you and started to head for the drum set.

“Hey,” you said, grabbing him abruptly by the elbow. “Are you okay?”

He didn’t meet your eyes through the dark sunglasses and was suddenly very interested in the color of the carpet. “Yeah, m’fine.”

“Rog-”

“Really, Y/N, m’fine. Just drop it, okay?”

You released him, not satisfied with his answer, but you didn’t want to get him going this early in the morning. It wasn’t worth it.

Alexander pulled at your necklace to get your attention.

You smiled at him, pulling the chain gingerly from his fingers. “Let’s go sit down, and we can watch your daddy and uncles practice, okay?”

Alexander nodded excitedly, and you took a seat on the couch in the control room, so it wasn’t too loud for the little boy’s ears.

Alexander’s mother, Cheryl, wasn’t exactly the perfect wife and mother. She and Roger had been involved in an unhappy marriage for quite some time now. You absolutely loathed the woman.

At first, all the boys thought you were just jealous, but over time they came to see her for what she truly was and never doubted your judge of character ever again.

Cheryl was one of those women who liked the celebrity life more than the celebrity. She liked Roger for his money and his fame, not just because he was Roger. It was despicable. They fought nearly every night, Roger would sometimes drink himself into a stupor, and poor little Alexander would call you on the phone to tell you that “Daddy’s had too much juice.”

He never said anything about Cheryl, but she was never there when you came over.

You’d known Roger wanted her only for a good shag the moment you’d met her and he’d accidentally called her Crystal.

“Really, Rog, it’s never going to last if you can’t even remember the girl’s name. And honestly, she seems like a bitch.”

You and Roger were sat outside Freddie’s place, passing a cigarette between you.

He glared at you. “Oh? And what’s your fuddy-duddy boyfriend’s name again? George? Jacob?”

“Jeremy, actually. But I’ll tell you a secret,” You said, leaning closer to the drummer. “I don’t think it’s going to last either.”

You took a drag from the ciggy.

“Shall we bet on it then?”

You laughed, the smoke exhaling from your mouth. “What?”

“Bet on it. Whichever of us dumps our piece first owes the other. Mm. Twenty?”

“Twenty?” You leaned even closer to him, nose to nose and voice just above a whisper. “Quite low for a Rockstar, don’t you think?”

Roger hummed in agreement, looking at your lips with desire behind his eyes. “Perhaps...”

You ran a finger across his jawline. “Unless, of course, you desire something else from this bet?”

He licked his lips before taking the bottom one between his teeth. “Maybe I do...”

“And what would that be?”

“I think you know very well what that would be.”

“Do I? Maybe I need a reminder.”

“Ah, a reminder...”

He was so close now. You could smell the scotch he’d stolen from Freddie’s cabinet on his breath over the tobacco. It was as intoxicating as the drink.

He was about to inch forward again when-

“ROGIE!” Cheryl called from inside. “Where have you gone?”

You scowled as Roger immediately pulled back from you and took the cigarette from your fingers, taking one last drag before snuffing it out with his shoe.

“Coming, er-”

“Cheryl.”

“Cheryl!”

Of course, you’d lost the bet because Cheryl became pregnant, and you didn’t think you could stand Jeremy for another nine months. Sometimes you thought he married her just to spite you.

You were a different woman then, and he was a different man. You grow up, and you change, and you get over petty feelings for someone you couldn’t have.

“It doesn’t fucking need slowing down! God, it’s fucking creeping at the moment!” Roger shouted.

The boys began bickering back and forth, causing Alexander to stir in your arms.

You laid the boy out on the couch and entered the recording room. “Would you be quiet! Alexander just got to sleep, and you’re arguing over a stupid pacing problem. Pick it up, slow it down, who the hell cares! Just be quiet.”

Brian and Roger shared a look before muttering to themselves and returning to their instruments.

“Thanks, mum,” John called from his chair. 

You stuck your tongue out at him.

Roger pulled off his sunglasses to rub a hand down his face, and you caught a glimpse of the dark circles under his eyes. You frowned. Oh, how you wished you’d been wrong.

He caught your eye, looking guiltily away from you. Confirming all of your suspicions.

“I think we should take a break,” Freddie said, noticing your silent conversation.

All the boys seemed to agree and put their instruments down to follow you into the other room.

You picked up Alexander again and he moved against you.

“Shh, it’s okay, buddy, go back to sleep.”

The boy cooed against you, snuggling into your shoulder. “m’kay, mommy,”

Your mouth dropped open, Brian ran into the control board, John dropped his newspaper, Freddie’s eyes were wide, and Roger looked like he was going into shock.

You cleared your throat and rubbed Alexander’s back, swaying back and forth to put him back to sleep. Too surprised to say anything.

Roger seemed in the same boat because he wouldn’t stop staring at you, even after he’d sat down. It made you slightly nervous.

“Where’s Cheryl today?” Freddie asked, barely hiding the smile on his face behind his coffee cup.

You glared at him. He pretended not to notice.

“She uh-” Roger still wouldn’t stop looking at you. “Went out with some friends...I think. Wasn’t home when I got up.”

You scoffed. Of course, she wasn’t. Was she ever there?

Roger had just come to the same conclusion. It was no wonder his son called you mommy. When was the last time Alexander ever woke up to Cheryl being there? Or when he went to sleep? He couldn’t remember.

But he could remember you being there.

He guiltily remembers all the nights that Cheryl drives him to drink, and Alex has to call you for help. No little boy should have to use the phone, let alone memorize your number.

But you always came.

He started to wonder how many dates you had to cancel, how many friends you had to bail on. Just because Roger couldn’t get ahold of himself.

Had you always been that beautiful? He wondered, watching you stroke Alexander’s head. ‘Course you had. He could remember in the early days when you and him...

“I think I’m gonna divorce her.”

The words were out of his mouth before he had a chance to think about it.

Brian choked on his coffee, John looked up from the newspaper with his eyebrows raised, and Freddie looked positively gleeful.

You were looking at him with wide-eyes.

“Is that so?” Freddie replied, barely hiding his joy. “Well, I can’t say I’m surprised. You know, I always thought you and Y/-”

Brian elbowed him in the ribs.

The tables had now turned. You were avoiding Roger’s eyes while he stared at you intently.

Suddenly, a memory came flooding back to Roger. One blocked by his drunken brain.

“Roger,” You said, shaking his shoulder. “Come on, Rog, talk to me,”

Instead of replying, he garbled something sort of like words and you sighed.

“Well, at least you’re not dead. Come on,” You threw his arm over your shoulder and hefted him from his seat at the kitchen table.

Roger grumbled. “Alex...where’s-”

“He’s in bed. He called me.” There was bite in your voice, but he was too drunk to really notice.

“Mmmm...good. Always so good, y/n.”

You rolled your eyes. “God, you need a shower. Vodka, really? Picked the fucking worst thing to get wasted on.”

You dragged him into the nearest bathroom and dropped him in the shower before turning on the cold water.

“Bloody hell!” Roger yelled and you smacked your hand over his mouth.

“Keep shouting and you’re gonna wake up your son. Bet he’d be really overjoyed to see his father sitting in a shower fully clothed. Bet he’d ask a lot of questions-”

He smacked your hand away. “Yeah, yeah, I get it.”

“Good. Now undress.”

He seemed to get shy for a moment, surprised by your request.

You rolled your eyes. “Come on, Rog, you can’t do this yourself, and it’s not like I haven’t seen you naked before.”

Seeing your logic, he relented and started undressing. Pulling his shirt over his head and handing it to you.

You smiled at him, taking it and setting it on the counter next to the sink.

He fiddled with his belt, grumbling as his fingers wouldn’t remember the action  that they’d done a thousand times before.

You set your hands on his gently. 

He looked up at you. “Let me.”

He dropped his hands and watched dumbly (and a little embarrassedly) as you undid his belt easily and pulled down his trousers.

Normally, he’d make a joke or cheeky remark about you wanting to get into his pants, but something about that night seemed to screw his mouth shut long enough for his eyes to really see you.

When he was finally naked (there was some trouble with the socks, he fell, you laughed, Roger cursed, you told him to shut up), you turned on the water again as he sat on the floor of the shower.

Roger swore under his breath. “Still gotta be fuckin’ freezing?”

“Yes. It’ll help sober you up,”

He pouted as you sat back down with the shampoo, conditioner, and soap, crossing your legs under you.

You placed a hand on his shoulder and gently pushed him back underneath the stream of water to wet his hair. “You really need to stop doing this. One day, I might not be available.”

Roger hummed in response as you guided him back forward, removing your hand to pour the shampoo into it. “I know.”

You rubbed your hands together to make suds before running your fingers into his hair. “Honestly, I don’t know why you don’t just divorce Cheryl. She’s never there for you, and she’s definitely not there for Alexander like I-”

You didn’t continue, blushing mildly, but Roger understood what you were gonna say. ‘Like I am.’

Your fingers lathered the shampoo over his scalp and massaged his head. He felt like he was on cloud nine at the feeling of your hands running through his hair.

He whined when you stopped and you grinned. “Gotta rinse, ya big baby,”

He did as he was told, leaning back into the water without your help.

You smiled before getting up and sitting on the edge of the tub to help him get all of it out as well as washing the suds from your hands.

You repeated the notion with the conditioner.

“Think you can handle washing your body without help?”

Roger smirked. “I don’t know. I might need you to come and shower with me. Only way to really get me all.”

You rolled your eyes. “Okay, you’re definitely sober now. I’ll get you some new clothes and throw the other ones in the laundry.”

Roger missed you when you left.

He missed the feeling of your fingers in his hair.

It was weird. You two had had sex in the past, but it felt like that was the most intimate thing that you’d done. Roger felt taken care of. He hadn’t felt like that since...well since he was a kid.

Cheryl had never made him feel that way. They hadn’t even ever showered together, their intimacy was only sexual, it wasn’t loving or soft like-

Like you.

"Roger? Hey, Roger!”

He snapped out of his daze as Brian clicked his fingers in front of his face.

“You zoned out on us there, buddy, you okay?”

Roger blinked rapidly for a minute. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good. I was just lost in thought, I guess.”

“Please,” You finally spoke up. “You’re tired, Roger. We’ve all noticed.”

But you were the only one who would say anything.

“Y/N I-” He stopped. Unsure of what to say.

You were looking at him expectantly, curiosity filling your pretty (e/c) eyes. Did they always shine like that before?

“I- uh...” Why couldn’t he say anything? Why was it so hard to say what he was feeling? Was it because the guys were right there?

You sighed. “Roger, I really need to pee, so if you could take Alexander while you figure out what it is you need to say to me.”

You handed Alex gently over to Roger’s arms, the little boy’s sleep going uninterrupted. 

You left the room, and once you were out of earshot, all the boys turned to Roger with raised eyebrows.

“What?”

“Are you okay?” John asked.

“What? Of course, I am, what do you mean?”

“Well, for starters, Alexander called Y/N ‘mommy,’ and then you totally shut down. Like you stared at her for a good fifteen minutes.”

Roger felt the heat rise to his cheeks.

“Then you said you were going to divorce that retched Cheryl, which I hope you were serious about, by the way,” Freddie said.

“Of course, I was serious about it. I think it’s time I got rid of ‘er. Honestly, Y/N’s been telling me for years-”

All the boys started grinning.

“What?”

“Are you sure there isn’t anything else?”

“What? Do you menaces want me to say I’m in love with Y/N? Because you already fucking know that.”

Brian handed John a few bills.

Freddie clapped his hands together. “Well, finally! Honestly, I’ve been waiting for you two darlings to get together and honestly-”

“Fred!” You scolded, coming back into the room just as Alexander sat up from Roger’s chest.

“Daddy?” The boys said sleepily. “Daddy, where’s mommy?”

You frowned. “Alexander, you’re mommy is-”

“Right here,” Roger said, making you look at him with surprise.

Alexander gestured with his hands for you and you picked him up off of Roger, who was grinning ear to ear.

“You think you’ll ever want to be a mother?” Roger asked, running his fingertips along your arm. The two of you were laying in his bed, cuddled up together, his gray sheets the only thing covering your bodies.

“That’s an odd question, considering,”

He rolled his eyes. “Just answer,”

“Someday, yes, with the right guy,” You replied. “What about you? Any plans on becoming a daddy?”

He smirked at you. “Well, I mean, occasionally-”

You lightly smacked his chest. “You know what I mean.”

He chuckled a moment before looking down at you. “Yeah. Someday. Not soon, though. My life’s too unpredictable right now. I’m hardly in one place.”

You hummed. “You still find time for me.”

He kissed your temple. “I’ll always find time for you.”

“And I’ll always be there for you,”

Looking back on it, Roger had been in love with you even back then. Friends didn’t do what you two did. What a fool he was for not acting on it. Perhaps he’d been afraid of love.

But, now, looking at you, he wasn’t afraid at all. His heart was full.

“Roger, what’re you-”

“Can I talk to you? Outside?”

You nodded, not about to turn him down.

You passed Alexander to John before following Roger out of the studio.

You stopped just out front and watched as he dug into his pocket and pulled out his lighter and package of cigarettes, taking one out before offering the pack to you.

You shook your head. “I don’t do that anymore.”

He smiled, stuffing them back into his trousers and lighting the cig. He breathed in deeply before exhaling, the white smoke falling from his lips. “I shouldn’t.”

“I know. I’ve told you,”

You had a strange sense of Deja Vu as you watched Roger smile, pressing the cigarette to his lips.

You shivered, crossing your arms, goosebumps crawling up them.

“Here,” Roger shrugged off his leather jacket and draped it over your shoulders.

Accepting the offer, you slid your arms in the sleeves and pulled it tight. It was surprisingly warm and smelled like his cologne.

He reached over and grabbed your hand, intertwining your fingers.

You looked over at him as he took another drag from the cigarette.

Suddenly frustrated, you plucked it from his fingers and extinguished it with the heel of your boot. 

He turned to you, surprised, sunglasses covering his eyes. You reached up and pulled them off, revealing his tired blue eyes to you.

You sighed, reaching up and running your fingers through his soft hair. “What are you doing, Roger?”

“Trying to work up the guts to tell you I love you.”

You were shocked, hand stilling at the back of his neck. “You- you do?”

He smiled. “I think I always have. Just never realized it until now.”

You laughed, tears coming to your eyes. “I don’t know what to say,”

“How about that you love me too?” Roger replied, his own eyes watering.

“I love you. Rog, I’ve loved you for years.”

He pressed his forehead against yours, a soft laugh passing his lips. “Well, that’s a relief. If only that was it. If only we were ten years younger and I was gonna take you back to my hotel room and show you exactly how much I love you.”

You laughed. “Sorry, Rockstar,” - you placed the sunglasses back on his head - “but you’ve got a kid I adore to take care of and a nasty wife to divorce.”

“Ah, well, right now, all I wanna do is kiss you like I’m twenty-five.”

He leaned closer to you, nose bumping with his. His breath smelled like tobacco, but it was the furthest thing from your mind.

“And perhaps I’ll let you,”

This was all he needed before advancing the last few inches and pressing his lips to yours.

It was different than how you had kissed in the past. This was new. It was full of love and longing. It made your heart ache with happiness as you clung to him.

Roger sighed into the kiss, absolutely blissful. You tasted sweet, just like he remembered. His hands slid up your back, the leather of his jacket cold against his fingers.

“Mommy! Daddy!”

It almost pained Roger to pull away from you.

You grinned, turning around to see Alexander running out of the door towards you. John was standing in the doorway, mouthing an apology as Brian and Freddie peaked over his shoulder.

You bent down, brought the little boy into your arms, and stood back up to look at Roger.

He couldn’t help but smile as his two favorite people beamed at him.

Roger ruffled Alexander’s hair, making him giggle.

Freddie grinned from behind John. “What a perfect family.”

Brian shook his head with a small laugh. “It’s not over yet.”

“Far from it,” John added.

Freddie waved their comments off. “Well, right now, I think they look pretty happy. In fact, Brian, would you do the honors?”

Brian brought his camera to his eye and snapped a photo. 

[clouditae]

Let’s Escape Reality

Jungkook x reader | pg15 | oneshot | barista au | christmas party | fluff | angst | mentions of death

Word: 5.6k

Christmas has become a holiday you never look forward to. Divorced parents, multiple parties to attend, but he’s always there to remind you that it never hurts to be a kid again

[Tuesday, December 24th, 10:15pm] Mom: Hey sweetie! Can’t wait to see you tomorrow morning! Your father always wakes up closer to the afternoon so he can wait while we have you all to ourselves! 

[Tuesday, December 24th, 11:48pm] Dad: Hi baby, hope you had a great time with us today and we can’t wait to see you tomorrow whenever your mother let’s you go!

It’s currently five in the morning, your eyes barely open and thoughts not wanting to deal with your parents right now. It’s always the same with those two; one parent complains about the other. “Your mother is always so naggy” or “Your father never listens”. Always putting you in the middle whenever you talk to them or whenever you’re with them. They need someone to listen to them as they bash the other, and that happens to be you or your siblings. The daughter they created. All you want is for this day to end already, and it just started.

Forget the Christmas morning and lunch with your parents, forget wrapping the gifts you got for your family, friends and the person you picked to be secret Santa for. Forget the Christmas party you have later on today. Screw all of it. 

Rather than going to see the other messages you got from your siblings, you open a different message.

[5:26am] Kook: Gooood morning beautiful! Can’t wait to see you at the party tonight <3

You can’t help but smile, feeling more calm than you did going to bed last night. You take in a deep breath, finally getting out of bed to take a shower and begin your morning on Christmas day. Plugging your phone into its charger on the nightstand next to your bed, you head into your bathroom where you start your shower. You take off your clothes, bringing your hand under the running water to feel the temperature. When it’s to your liking, you step in, letting the warm water run down your body. Thoughts run through your head as you close your eyes, taking in deep breaths to not have a breakdown. 

Ever since your parents divorced, life has been difficult. It’s been four years since their divorce, but it always feels like yesterday when they announced it�� separately. It was hard on not only your parents, but you and your siblings as well. Whose party do you go to? What is supposed to be happening New Years? Birthdays? Simple lunches that your parents fought over because one somehow figured out the other made plans with you. You felt like a toy they were fighting over; never considering how you’re feeling or how your brother and sister are feeling. 

You suppress the urge to cry as you quickly take your shower. Once finished, you get out and put on pajama pants and a shirt, putting your hair up in a towel to dry before making your way towards your room to begin wrapping presents. You begin with the long distance lamp you got for you and your best friend. She always seemed upset at the thought of moving to New York for work and leaving everyone here, so you got her that best friend touch lamp that changes colors for both lamps when you touch it. 

”She’ll cry when she gets it,” Jungkook told you last year when you almost bought it but didn’t. Your best friend was supposed to move to New York last year, but things happened and she did not leave. 

“I don’t think she’ll cry,” you tell him, staring at the picture of the lamp on your phone. 

“How much do you want to bet?” he challenges.

You chuckle at the memory. Guess you’ll see if today you lost that bet. You write your friend's name on the present, placing it to the side before moving to your mom's present. You begin to wrap the gift, thoughts going back to Jungkook. You wonder what he’d say when you’re at the store staring at an alarm clock you were considering getting for your mom at first. He’d probably lecture you. You think further back to when you first met Jungkook three years ago.

You sigh, entering the café with your friends. How much longer are they going to argue about team Clarissa or team Dante? In the end they’re both going to cry over the season finale. 

“I’m telling you, Mina, Sophie is totally going to end up with Dante! He’s sweet and only wants to make them happy!” your friend Rory argues, walking up to the long line. 

Mina only laughs challengingly, “Yeah right. Clarissa is the one for them. She’s been there since the beginning and she confessed her feelings for Sophie compared to Dante who acted cold and was a dick to her!” 

“That’s because he has trouble letting himself feel something for someone again! It’s your typical troubled bad boy!” Rory protests, shaking his head before crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Will you two keep it down? You need to remember we’re in public and no one wants to hear you gushing over two fictional characters,” Ben sighs, rubbing his temples. He’s clearly done hearing this conversation just as much as you are. They’ve been arguing since all of you got into the car to get coffee. 

Mina sighs, “Fine. We’ll stop for now, but the second we get into that car, you’re gonna regret ever being on Dante’s team.” She pokes at Rory’s chest. 

“You’re on,” he replies in a quieter tone, taking a step forward as the next customer goes up to the cashier and places their order. “Changing the subject,” Rory begins, now looking at Ben, “I know you’re a coffee fanatic, but why bust a mission so far out of our way to get coffee when there are a million stores closer?”

Ben smiles, eyes lighting up in realization. “Remember how I’ve been telling you for weeks that I want you guys to meet my friend Jungkook?”

“Yeah, but you never bring him anywhere when we actually get together. I still think you’re making him up,” Mina theorizes, looking up to meet Ben’s eyes. 

“Ha-ha,” he mocks. “But no, Jungkook is real and he works here. I thought that the best way to meet a busy kid is to find them at work. Plus he makes a pretty damn good cappuccino.” Ben shrugs, gesturing with his head for the three of you to move forward. 

“Does he work eight jobs or something?” you can’t help but ask. Ben has been talking about you three meeting this Jungkook non stop for almost two months, but never once has Ben actually brought him over. Ben’s excuse as to why Jungkook has never been brought over is because Jungkook is busy. 

“No. He has six older brothers, so he’s always with them. They help him with everything he could need, and how to be a better barista is one of them.” Ben can only shake his head as he chuckles.

“Damn. Their parents got busy,” Rory whistles. 

“They’re not blood related; they just grew up together.” 

“Next in line,” a voice calls. You look to the front of the line, realizing that you’re next. The four of you quickly walk up to the woman behind the counter. She smiles her customer service smile and asks, “What can I get you today?” You all give your orders to the brunette behind the counter, Rory and Mina buying the most expensive drink they can get. She repeats the order back. “Is that correct?” she asks, earning a nod from Ben who is paying. “Okay. Your order should be ready soon!” 

You follow the group to the side closer to the pick-up counter where Ben’s name will be called. “So where is your best friend?” Mina asks, eyes scanning the staff behind the counter. 

Ben looks behind the counter where Mina’s gaze remains. “Hmm. He’s probably in the back or on break,” he answers, turning back to look at her. “He’s real.” 

Rory and Mina can only chuckle at the determination Ben is giving. “Okay, okay.” 

“So are we going to start doing secret Santa? I’m telling you, it’s a great idea,” you voice, pushing your idea on the crew once again. 

You’ve been dedicated to having secret Santa since last Christmas. It’s something you have always wanted to do, but didn’t have enough friends to do it with. Even now you don’t have enough friends to do it without it being easy as to who was picked by which person, but if you find enough people willing, it’ll be a great idea to try out. When they say nothing you add, “C’mon! You can even invite your friends to join and hang out with us at the party.” 

“Five people is still not enough, Y/N,” Ben says, shaking his head while giving you a sympathetic look. 

You groan, “That’s why you invite some of your friends over so that we can all get to know one another and then ask who wants to join the present exchange.” You then cross your arms over your chest. “You guys always say you want to do something with friends only, and here I am presenting to you with a pretty good idea.” 

They stand in silence, looking lost in their thoughts at your words. Finally, Ben is the first to sigh and say, “Fine. I’ll ask him and find some other friends.” He points to you. “But you’re planning the party for all of us to meet and the party for the secret Santa.” 

It’s Mina’s turn to exhale. “I’ll ask around.” 

You turn to Rory who only nods. Breaking out into a huge smile, you say in a singsong tone, “I’ll have everything ready. I promise.” 

“Order for Ben,” a disembodied voice calls. 

You all turn to the pick-up counter to see four cups in a drink carrier. Following Ben, you watch him drag the carrier closer to him. You don’t see him look up and smile as he says, “Hey.” You tear your eyes away from the cups where yours lay in wait for you to devour and look up to see Ben’s attention on the person behind the counter. He turns to the three of you. “Guys, this is Jungkook. Jungkook this is Rory, Mina and Y/N.” 

Jungkook is for sure real, but he doesn’t even look real. He’s tall, almost as tall as Ben, but not quite there. His cherry red hair is brought back into a bun, some of it draping around his sculpted jawline. His round, coffee brown eyes glances at your friends before landing on you, a smile gracing his lips. “Hello,” he says in a silvery, husky tone. 

You feel how Mina sounds when she replies, small and taut. Ben is friends with this God like figure? It’s not that Ben isn’t good looking—it's more that you’d have to be either very beautiful or funny as hell to be friends with someone like Jungkook. You’re putting him on a pedestal when his personality could be horrible.  

“So, my friends—mainly this one,” he begins, nudging your arm with his shoulder, “wants to do a secret Santa and since we need more people, Y/N is going to throw a party beforehand so we can all get to know each other. You interested?”

Jungkook can only smile for a moment, expression clearly taken aback from the sudden invitation to a party where he’ll only know one person. He looks to you, his smile a bit more genuine and answers, “I don’t mind going. Just tell me when.”

You smile at the memory as you turn off the ignition to your car and get out. You stand in front of your mom’s house, letting out a small sigh before opening the trunk and pulling out the presents you got for your mom and one for your siblings. You stack the presents on top of one another, realizing that you’ll have to make trips. However, to your luck and the sense of a sibling in trouble, your brother appears beside you. 

“Well if it isn’t my favorite sister,” he says, giving you a side hug before grabbing the stacked presents from you. 

You chuckle, “If Cal heard you say that, she’d throw a fit.” Grabbing the other gifts and items you bought, you close the trunk and follow him up to your mom’s two story house. You make your way up the walkway towards the decorated front door. Your mom goes above and beyond when it comes to decorations. The outdoor has lights lining the roof, two inflatable snowmen were on the snow-covered lawn, and as you get closer to the steel entry door, it’s decorated with a garland running along the window and door; a wreath hanging above the entrance. 

The door flings open to reveal your mom. She smiles widely at you, crows feet forming at the eyes. “Hi, honey,” she says in her nasal voice, opening her arms out for you to walk in to. You smile, juggling the items in your arms as you wrap them around her waist, hugging her tightly. “It’s good to see you.” 

“Hi, Mom.” You release her, but she doesn’t seem ready to let go of you just yet. It’s understandable since the last time you saw her was around a month ago, but your arms are getting tired from holding all the heavy objects. “Okay—Mom, my arms hurt.” 

She chuckles, removing herself and her grip around you. “Sorry.” She grabs the items from your left hand. “Why don’t we put these under the tree and have breakfast?”

You follow her out of the entryway and into the living room where the Christmas tree stands. It stands in the far left corner between the stand and the couch. It’s tall and decorative with old ornaments you made when you were a kid. The television is playing a Christmas movie you forgot the name to. It’s old, but the scenes play in your mind like a record. Your sister sits on the couch facing across the television. She looks up to you as you follow your mom across the room and place the presents under the tree. 

“Well if it isn’t my favorite sister,” she calls, getting up from the couch, making her way around the coffee table in the middle of the room and wraps you in a just as tight hug as your mother’s. 

“I’m your only sister,” you explain, patting her back before she let’s go. 

“But that’s what Nathan said right?” she inquiries, laughing when you don’t deny fast enough. “That’s what he told me when I came.” 

“You’re both my favorite sister,” he defends, shrugging his shoulders as he walks to the island that somewhat separates the kitchen and living room. He grabs a piece of bacon from the plate placed in what looks like a field of plates. 

“We’re your only sisters and can you not eat until we’re all at the table,” Cal groans, shaking her head as she goes to the island to grab the plates and place them at the table in the dining room to the left of the kitchen. 

Nathan says something you can't understand due to his chewing, but he nevertheless grabs the plates and follows Cal’s lead. You do the same, grabbing a plate full of pancakes and another plate full of eggs, placing them at the center of the table. Once everything is set, you take a seat next to Cal, your mom and Nathan sitting across from you. You chat with one another as you fill your plates with a little bit of everything. You listen to their stories as coffee, milk and orange juice is poured into cups. 

Your mom took advantage of the three of you being in the same room as her as she tells you about that one day at work where one of her students laughed so hard at their own prank that they farted and that resulted in urinating themselves a bit. “I don’t understand why I chose to be a teacher, but here we are,” she sighs, taking a sip of her coffee. 

“You should have been a nurse,” Cal chimes, shoving a piece of toast in her mouth. You glance between your mom and Cal, waiting for the tension to rise. With Cal being exactly like your mom; hard headed and with the same attitude, they always butt heads and sometimes ruin whatever get together you have. 

“Elena is pregnant,” Nathan suddenly blurts. You stare at him wide eyed. Usually when your mom and Cal get into arguments, Nathan will come up with some stupid comment to ease the tension, but this one was a lot bigger than his usual lies. 

“What?” you mom whispers.

“Yeah, Nathan. At least come up with a believable lie,” Cal chuckles. 

“Uh,” he begins, adjusting himself in his seat, “today’s not a lie. Elena is pregnant—the doctor told us a few days ago.” He brings his hands up and shakes them lightly, somewhat looking like he’s doing jazz hands. “It’s a Christmas miracle. Merry Christmas,” he says in a tremulous tone. 

You, Cal and Nathan wait in anxious silence for your mom to say something. She’s silent for a moment before smiling, eyes getting glossy and tears streaming down her cheeks as she reaches forward and hugs Nathan in a tight grip. “I’m going to be a grandma,” she cries. 

Cal nudges you with her shoulder. “We’re gonna be aunts,” she tells you, eyes wide and clearly in shock. 

“I’m going to be an uncle!” Jungkook yells, wrapping his arms around you from behind while you’re trying to fold your laundry. “I can’t believe it.”

You giggle, “I know, I know. You’ve been screaming about it since Seokjin first told us.” Jungkook introduced you to his brothers six months after meeting him. Six months after that you were asked to be his girlfriend and now in nine months time, you’ll be a not legit aunt. 

“I always thought Taehyung would be the first to have kids since he’s such a kid person, but since Seokjin is the one with a wife, it makes more sense.” He smiles at you as he removes his grip from around your waist and takes a seat on your bed where your folded clothes lie. “I’m going to spoil that baby and ruin Seokjin’s life with how spoiled that baby is.” 

“Well you’re about to ruin my neatly folded clothes with your determination to spoil a baby that hasn’t been born yet,” you laugh, grabbing his arm and pulling up off your bed.

You’re not sure why that memory came to you all of a sudden. Maybe it’s because you’re going to be an aunt in nine months. Maybe it’s because you’re going to spoil that baby like Jungkook always talked about and did when Haru was born. Maybe his dedication rubbed off on you. 

“We should probably head out,” Nathan’s voice rings, bringing you out of your thoughts. “Dad’s lunch is starting soon.” You follow in suit, getting up from your spot on the couch in the living room. You grab the remaining wrapping paper that was torn apart off the floor, tossing it in the trash where the rest lay. Grabbing the presents everyone got you, you place them carefully in a bag, feeling the weight of it drag your arm down. "Bye, Mom. Thanks for the presents and breakfast." Nathan gives your mom a tight hug. 

You smile at your mom as she releases your brother and opens her arms for you to walk into. “Come by more often, yeah? You only have one mother you know,” she lectures, rubbing your back affectionately. 

You chuckle. “Yes, yes. I’ll come by and visit more often.” Saying goodbye to your mom, you get into your car and follow your siblings to your dad’s house on the other side of town. All five of you used to live in the middle of the city; a nice cozy home where you shared so many memories. Your parents divorced and your father moved up north while your mother moved south. Both completely away from one another where they never have to see each other for any reason other than something important happening to you or Cal or Nathan. 

Twenty minutes later, you pull up to the driveway of your dad’s house. Just like your mom’s, your father’s house is decorated with lights, and other types of decorations on the outside. You can only imagine what it looks like on the inside with your dad’s new girlfriend always being extra when it comes to Christmas. More than your mom. Grabbing the rest of your siblings presents and your dad’s gift from the trunk, you follow Cal and Nathan to the front door. Cal knocks on the door and a few seconds later the door opens revealing your dad with red frosting all over his lips. 

“Hey,” he begins, voice booming with excitement, “I’m glad you guys made it just in time! We’re putting frosting on the cookies.” Your dad moves to open the door more for you three to enter. 

“Put frosting on the cookies or eat the frosting?” Nathan asks, placing a finger on his chin where a small dab of frosting stuck and wiped it on his apron. 

Your father laughs, “You know me, I can’t help myself when it comes to frosting.” 

The day goes on as you spend a few hours at your dad’s place. You talk about what you’ve done since you last saw one another, Nathan being a future father, and how long the lines were for the recent Christmas movie that came out in theaters. You opened the presents and ate the cookies they made—they were actually good. Everything was peaceful, and for the first time, you spent Christmas without one of your parents saying something bad about the other. 

That is until your dad made a joke about your mom and you decided it was time to leave. You say your goodbyes once again, and left the house. You’ll wait for your father’s apology text; you’ll tell him to stop acting like a child and grow up about the divorce, and that’ll be the end of that. Your mom may hear about it, and you’ll have to tell her the same thing. 

It’s your endless circle of bull. 

You show up to Rory and Mina’s place earlier than usual. When you knock on the door, a surprised Mina opens it, but it immediately disappears when you shake your head at her. You enter the small, comforting house as Rory walks up to you and hands you a glass of eggnog. You drank it like you’re dehydrated. You just want today to be over already. 

“We were just about to decorate the tree if you want to help,” Mina says, holding up some ornaments. 

“You’re barely doing it on the last day?” you question, placing the glass on the coffee table before following her to the tree that was also in the corner of the living room. 

“This is our friend tree,” Mina starts, tone defensive, “we already have our actual tree up in the den.” 

“An actual tree?” You grab an ornament from her hand and hang it on the “friend” tree. 

“We have one for the family, and we have one for our friends. All ornaments for this tree has pictures and stupid things from you guys,” Rory explains, lifting an ornament picture of Ben. Taking a closer look you see that it’s a picture of him in the middle of taking a bite out of his burger. HIs mouth opened and his eyes looked wild and hungry as he ate. You can’t help but laugh. “Remember his face when we first put it up on the tree? He was pissed.” Rory laughs along with you. 

You remember that memory. Ben lectured you guys for a while. As you continue to decorate the tree, you can’t help but remember your first time putting up a tree together with just Jungkook. It was your first Christmas as a couple and he wanted to help you decorate your tree at your apartment. 

“I say we don’t put lights on your tree,” he grunts, struggling to untangle the Christmas lights. 

You grin as you watch him before pulling out another box of decorations. “You almost got it,” you encourage, clearly finding this amusing. 

“If you keep smiling like that I’ll just leave you here to do this yourself,” Jungkook warns, glancing at you with a small hint of playfulness. 

“Okay. Sorry, sorry.” You go over and sit across from him on the floor. Grabbing the other set of lights, you untangle the knot with him. “Thanks for helping me by the way.” You glance at him, watching a small smile grow at his lips. 

“Christmas is my favorite holiday. The decorations, the present wrapping, opening the presents, and a bunch more,” he explains, a look of victory on his face when the lights untangle. “Why aren’t you as excited as I am?” 

You give Jungkook an awkward smile. You never told him about your parent’s divorce, but you suppose now would be a good time as ever. “Uh…” you trail off, handing your still tangled lights to him. “My parents divorced, and now they’ve ruined all of this by talking bad about one another and always trying to keep you from doing something with the other parent. They just ruined the whole… family thing Christmas is about.” 

Jungkook is suddenly to his feet, the lights untangled once again. He looks down at you with determination. Holding his hand out for you, he announces, “Well today I’m going to make you love the whole process of Christmas all over again.” 

“What?” you chuckle nervously, slowly reaching for his hand. 

He grabs it, startling you as he pulls you to your feet. You don’t have great balance with the force he causes when pulling you as you fall into him. He wraps his arms around you as you look to meet his eyes. He smiles his toothy smile, placing a small kiss on your nose. “Let’s decorate the hell out of that tree.” 

You can feel the heat rise in your cheeks. You should be used to this by now, but every time he does something cute, you’d only act like it was the first time he’s ever done it. “Okay,” you mumble, feeling him release you from his grasp, but you’re only disappointed it ended so soon. 

Walking to the tree, you watch Jungkook as he gets on the step stool and starts at the top of the tree to wrap the lights around. You stand on the other side, grabbing the lights to bring it around the tree and back into his hands. Finishing the first lights, Jungkook gets down and grabs the second set of lights, but not before pulling his phone out of his pocket and browsing through it before you hear a familiar song play through the Bluetooth speaker you have sitting next to your television. You smile as he looks at you. Suddenly he starts dancing to the Christmas song playing. Swaying side-to-side, snapping his fingers, he looks like he’s never danced before. You can't hold back your laughter as you watch him dance his way back to the stool to finish wrapping the tree in lights. You bob your head to the song as you help him with the lights, then the garland and finally the ornaments and star. 

Everything is ready. Ready for presents to go under and pictures to be taken. You’re going to be one of those people who takes a picture of their tree, but Jungkook thinks of something better and takes your hand in his, bringing you closer to him. He wraps an arm around your waist, the other holding your hand to your chest as he sways side-to-side with you. Placing a hand on his shoulder, you rest your head on his shoulder as well. The two of you danced in silence for a while, even though some songs were upbeat. 

“I love you, Y/N,” Jungkook whispers after a few more seconds of silence. 

You don’t hesitate, and maybe that’s what shocks you the most as you answer, “I love you, too.”

Everyone is gathered in the living room, talking and laughing about everything. It’s getting hard to have everyone hang out, but you’re grateful to see familiar faces smiling. Some are running late or won’t be showing up at all, and it hurts you just a bit to know that you’re all growing and maturing as time goes on. You won’t be seeing these people as often as you used to or wish to. Eventually they’ll just disappear out of your life and move on with their own. Enjoying everything that comes their way while you struggle to stay afloat with everything happening in your life. 

You get up from your seat, telling the few who notice you try and leave that you only need air. That you’ll be back in just a sec. Once outside in the spacious backyard, you take in several deep breaths. There are plenty of times where you wish you had their lives—any of their lives. They get over their parents divorce, or their family is still one. They don’t have to mature so early in life, and they enjoy the little things. They love their job. They’re happy where they’re at, but always willing to strive for more. 

Your life only crumbles. 

Closing your eyes, you imagine Jungkook walking out the back door to comfort you. He’s always concerned and late at every important event. He lights up your world when you struggle to swim above the roaring waters. 

Opening your eyes, Jungkook stands in front of you, your favorite smile plastered on his face. “I see you’ve missed me,” he says, a hint of teasing in his tone. You can only roll your eyes at him. “Do you want to build a snowman?” he suddenly questions. “It seems like you forgot the meaning of Christmas.” 

You scoff, “Are you Jack Frost or Santa or something?” 

Jungkook shrugs. “I may be.” He walks past you and more to the middle of the lawn, getting on his knees. “So are we doing this or what?”

You sigh, clearly giving in to him like you always do as you walk up to him and get to your knees. You gather as much snow to the middle, creating a bigger pile and forming it into a ball. When the two of you decide it’s just big enough, you start to form a smaller ball for the middle section. 

“Tough day?” he asks, eyes focused on forming the ball. 

“More like year,” you confess. 

“Look,” he begins, slowly picking up the ball and placing it on the bigger one, only for it to somewhat break apart, “fuck—life has been rough for you. For the years I’ve known you, you are always the one to take everything in. No matter how hard and tiring it is, you have to just make time for yourself only. Don’t let your parents get to you; tell them off once in a while. They’re adults, too, and they have to know that putting the kid in the middle of their ridiculous fight is getting them nowhere. Also you need to have fun, too. You’re in your twenties and acting like you’re forty-something is not the answer. I don’t like telling people I’m dating a grandma.” 

You stare at him in shock. “Grandmother? That’s—how—” You have no idea what to say to that. So, instead of saying anything, you grab a handful of snow and shove it in his face. “Shall I tell people I’m with a kid then? I don’t think they’ll like that.”

With his eyes closed, he is frozen from the impact. He wipes at his eyes, clearly in shock as he stares at you. “I see this is how we’re starting our night.” You don’t have time to react as a handful of snow was shoved in your face. 

It’s an all out war with him as the two of you go to opposite ends of the yard and hide behind trees as you throw snowballs at one another. Clearly you’re both bad seeing as for the following ten minutes, you both hit each other once during the entire fight. Jungkook catches you off guard when he suddenly lies on the floor, stretching his arms and legs out and begins to sweep them in a semicircle. You drop the snowball and walk over and lie next to him, creating your own snow angel. 

From the corner of your eye, you see him get up and look down at his masterpiece. He looks pleased before looking over to you. He gives you a sad smile. “I know life is hard, and I know me not being here is harder, but know that even though I’m not here, I’ll always be with you. I love you so much, Y/N, and you’re going to do amazing things in life. But you need to be a kid once in a while. How else am I to appear?” He chuckles. “Bring me an Christmas tree ornament yeah?” 

You wipe at your tears. “Yeah.”

That’s how you spend your Christmas with Jungkook at the secret Santa party, and that’s what he’d say if he was still here. But he’s not here.  

“Y/N?” You open your eyes to see Rory, Mina and Ben standing around you. “Everyone left and the cemetery should still be open. Ready to see Jungkook?” Ben asks, holding his hand out to you. 

You let out a shaky breath and reply, “Yeah.”

[dettiot]

the town on the prairie

When he stepped off the train, the first thing Ben Kenobi noticed was the fresh, strong wind. It made the prairie grasses sway, tossing the wildflowers that bloomed among the grasses. It caused the little meadowlarks to dip and soar as they sang their song. 

And it filled his heart with gratitude for God, for creating such a world. 

“Mr. Kenobi?” 

Turning his head, he saw a few men gathered in a clump. The one who spoke revealed himself to be a young man, several years younger than Ben himself, who smiled and tipped his broad-brimmed hat at him. “Welcome to Kalevala.”

“Thank you,” Ben said, tucking the carpetbag with his clothes under his arm and extending his hand. 

“Anakin Skywalker,” the young man said with a hearty shake, before turning to the other men. “This is Mr. Rex, the blacksmith, Mr. Dex of Dex’s Hotel and Restaurant, Mr. Kryze who runs our general store and is the justice of the peace, and finally, Mayor Palpatine.” 

Shaking hands and exchanging greetings, Ben did his best to make a good impression. These were clearly the leading men of town, and if he wanted to stay in Kalevala, and make the Congregational Church a success, he would need their support. 

“Mr. Kenobi, it’s a pleasure to have you here,” the mayor said, speaking last of the group. “Kalevala is a godly town, to be sure, but the presence of a minister leading services can only be a positive.” 

There was something about the elderly man that troubled Ben. He was saying the precise words that Ben would have expected him to say, but . . . they had no feeling behind them. 

What a strange feeling, Ben thought as he did his best to shake aside his thoughts and stay in this moment. 

“Thank you, sir,” Ben replied instead. “I want to start services as soon as possible.” 

The mayor smiled. “Just what I hoped to hear. You’ll have to talk to young Anakin here about the progress on the church building; he’s in charge of it.”

Anakin looked like he was barely out of his teens, but then, Ben supposed the prairie made you grow up fast. 

“I’ll be takin’ you over to the hotel to get you settled,” Anakin said. “Here, let me--”

He reached out to take one of the two carpetbags that Ben was carrying. Unfortunately, the young man grabbed the one with all of Ben’s books. 

“This way,” Anakin said, barely showing any discomfort at the heavy load, as he took off walking. 

Nodding quickly to the other men, Ben hurried after Anakin. “Mr. Skywalker, you don’t need to carry my bag--”

“Nothing to it,” Anakin said, his smile free and open and easy. “Like the mayor said, the church building is comin’ along. I thought you’d want to prioritize that, before your house. So we’ll be puttin’ you up at Dex’s until the church is finished and I can get your place done. Shouldn’t be more than a few weeks--month at most.” 

“Thank you,” Ben said, surprised at the young man’s informality and ease. It made him feel stiff and upright, but . . . he didn’t know how else to be. 

“What brings you to the prairie?” Anakin asked, picking his way along the road between two lines of pine buildings, their false fronts making each edifice look taller than it actually was. 

Even though Ben had answered that question truthfully whenever he was asked why he was going to the wilds of Dakota, instead of staying at a church in New York, he found himself being more honest with this young man. “I wanted to see the frontier. To . . . to feel like I was making a difference in a place where vices aren’t so evil.” 

Anakin’s face, even shadowed by his hat, seemed to darken. “I thought all vice was evil and a sin.” 

“They are,” Ben said, trying not to fidget with his carpetbag. “At least, they are all evil to different degrees. A liking for drink, feelings of envy or jealousy or unkindness . . . those are simple. Easy to understand, easy to address. But vices such as a need for power, the manipulation of the truth, vanity and pride and hypocrisy . . . When men think they do not live on God’s Earth and they take pleasure in their vices, it is hard for a man of God to work against such a mindset.” 

He supposed Anakin must think him a coward, since Ben was thinking the same thing of himself. He rushed ahead. “I worked in a city in New York, where powerful men made all the rules. They would gladly offer up a hundred dollars when a flood wiped out peoples’ homes--yet if a beggar came to their door, they would call out the dogs. And I found myself longing to be in a place that wasn’t so built up and old.” 

“Huh,” Anakin said. “Guess I never thought about it like that.” 

A strained silence fell between them, only punctuated by the sound of the town around them. As he caught sight of the signboard advertising Dex’s Hotel and Restaurant, Ben squared his shoulders. “I apologize for talking so much.” 

“No apology necessary,” Anakin said, pushing open the door of the hotel and holding it for Ben. He whipped off his hat and smiled at Ben again. “You’ve given me somethin’ to think about. I nearly went into the ministry, myself. A preacher wanted to adopt me when I was small, but I stayed with my mom. I couldn’t leave her.” 

As soon as Ben was through the door, and before he had finished digesting this unexpected bit of news, Anakin stopped holding the door and hurried over to the front desk. “Mom?” he called out, his smile growing truly brilliant when an older woman, short and with dark, gray-streaked hair, appeared. 

“Hello, Ani,” she said with a smile, before looking at Ben. “Hello, Mr. Kenobi. Welcome to Dex’s.” 

“Thank you,” Ben said, approaching the woman and finding himself growing more at peace than he had been in quite a while. Her brown eyes were warm and knowing, making Ben feel measured without being judged. 

Then she smiled and dipped in a shallow curtsey. “Mrs. Shmi Skywalker. Let me get you your room key so you can rest after your journey.” 

“I appreciate that, Mrs. Skywalker,” Ben said. “Your son was very kind to listen to me talk his ear off on the way from the train station.” 

Mrs. Skywalker smiled brightly at her son, who looked both sheepish and unrepentant. “Ani has always been so curious.” 

“So was I--and still am, I must admit,” Ben said, his shoulders relaxing. 

“Curiosity is a good thing,” Mrs. Skywalker acknowledged as she handed him over a key and two folded towels. “Hotel guests get their meals in the restaurant. It’s after lunch now, but I’m sure we can get you some tea and a sandwich to hold you until dinner.”

Ben was ready to demur about needing any food, even though his stomach felt very empty, when Anakin suddenly straightened up and began smoothing his wind-mussed hair. 

Mrs. Skywalker gave her son a fond look, then glanced out the window. “Although plans do change.” 

The door of the hotel opened and Ben turned to see two young women enter. They were quite dissimilar in appearance: one was petite and brunette, with warm brown eyes and an air of kindness and quiet strength. When she looked at Anakin, her whole face lit up with a happy smile. 

Her companion, however . . . she was tall and long-limbed, graceful and strong. Her hair was the color of sunlight on a winter’s morning and her eyes were like chips of blue ice. Her eyes met his and Ben wondered why he felt an instant spark. She seemed so reserved and distant, like an ice goddess from a children’s fairy story, yet . . . he didn’t think that was who she truly was. 

“Good afternoon, Miss Amidala, Miss Kryze,” Mrs. Skywalker said. “I see you couldn’t wait to meet our new minister.” 

“Well, Satine did and I just came along,” said the brunette woman, finally tearing her eyes away from Anakin.

Ben did his best to juggle his carpetbag, his hat, and his room key and towels, before he finally thought to place the last three items on the desk in order to face the ladies with a free hand. 

“Good afternoon. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” he said, wondering which one was Miss Amidala and which one was Miss Kryze. “Miss Kryze, are you related to the Mr. Kryze who runs the town general store?” 

“He’s my father,” the blonde said, tilting her head as she looked at him. 

Unlike Mrs. Skywalker, there was definitely judgement in her gaze. Ben did his best to withstand her scrutiny, feeling thankful when the brunette--Miss Amidala--stepped forward with a friendly smile. 

“I’m Padme Amidala,” she said, offering a gentle curtsey. “I’m the schoolteacher.” 

“Ben Kenobi, miss,” he said, bowing to her. “Perhaps later we could talk about any religious instruction I might offer to your students. Or perhaps a Sunday school.” 

“That would be wonderful,” Miss Amidala said. She glanced at her friend and laughed softly. “Satine, perhaps you should introduce yourself now that you’ve gotten a measure of Mr. Kenobi.” 

Miss Kryze gave Miss Amidala a look, then turned back to Ben. “Satine Kryze, as you’ve probably figured out by now. Mr. Kenobi, what is your position on heathens and atheists?” 

Ben blinked a little. “Atheists? People who don’t believe in God?” 

She nodded. “Do you think people who believe in other Gods, or don’t believe in God at all, should be left alone and not preached at, or do you think they should be forced to endure your church services and give lip service to things they do not believe in?” 

It was such an odd question, one he had been totally unprepared for. He knew what the teachings of his Church was, how the other ministers who had taught him would respond. He thought for a moment, and then realized he didn’t want to just spout cliches. 

“Speaking for myself alone . . . I don’t think anyone responds to being preached at,” Ben said. “I think if someone has different beliefs or does not even believe in God, that is their faith, not any different from the faith I have in God and His great works. I would hope we have advanced past the idea of all of us needing to believe the same things in order to live in a community together. However, I hope the church here in Kalevala can do good for all of its residents, regardless of their beliefs.” 

He paused, and couldn’t help a small smile. “And maybe they might want to listen to a sermon or two and see if there’s anything I might offer to them as spiritual comfort.”

“Ahhh, and here comes the stick to go with the carrot,” Miss Kryze said, her nose wrinkling. “Charity should not come with strings.” 

“Did I say that?” Ben said, doing his best to hold on to his temper. “I don’t believe I did, Miss Kryze.” 

She tossed her head. “Ministers are all alike. Full of expressions of piety and goodness, but just as venal and vengeful as any man.” 

His blood boiled at her casual dismissal. He knew he should turn the other cheek, try and defuse the growing tension, but . . . but . . . 

“I suppose you must be an atheist, Miss Kryze. Rest assured that you could lose everything tomorrow, and I would still pray for you and do everything in my power to help you, even if you kept insulting me the whole time,” Ben retorted. 

“We cannot look to God to save us,” Miss Kryze said, stepping closer to him. “We can be a community without piety or faith, simply by relying on our shared bonds as humans and workers in a world determined to crush us.” 

“Without faith, there is nothing,” Ben said, hearing how loud his voice was and unable to lower it. 

Suddenly, Mrs. Skywalker appeared, taking Miss Kryze’s arm. “Please, you’re both causing a disturbance. I’m sure neither of you are at your best at the moment, so perhaps you could continue this conversation later.” 

Miss Kryze looked immediately regretful. But when her eyes met Ben’s again, he knew her regret was for being loud, not for her actual words. 

“I apologize, Mrs. Skywalker,” she said quietly. 

“Having strong opinions is nothing to apologize for,” she said with a gentle smile. “It was very entertaining to watch you two. Perhaps we could start a debating society in town.”

Miss Kryze looked intrigued, but then let out a soft laugh that sounded like bells ringing. “My father would love that.” 

“I thought so as well,” Mrs. Skywalker said, her eyes dancing with mischief. At that moment, Ben could see the resemblance between herself and her son, given their physical disparity. 

Miss Kryze looked at Ben again, one eyebrow arched. “If I haven’t scared you off, perhaps we could continue this discussion another time?” 

Ben bowed a little, grateful to have regained a hold on his temper and remembering the need to not ruffle anyone’s feathers. “Of course, Miss Kryze.” 

She frowned for a moment, like she was confused, before she turned and then cleared her throat loudly. 

Miss Amidala, who had drawn close to Anakin, straightened up and blushed quickly. She gave a flustered smile to Anakin, who smiled back at her like she was his sun, and then followed Miss Kryze out the door. 

Anakin drifted over to stand beside Ben. “Isn’t she something?” he said, gazing out the window at the two ladies. 

They were talking to another young woman, allowing Ben and Anakin to watch them both. And even though Ben knew that Anakin was talking about Miss Amidala, he found his own eyes drifting towards Miss Kryze. 

“Yes . . . she is something,” he said quietly.

End.

My Star Wars Fic Masterlist

[carewyncromwell]

Is that a Cinderella AU part I see? Yes, yes, it is! And one hopefully not as dark and devoid of hope as the last part...

Charlie’s castle carpenter tunic is based on this design; Bill’s castle guard uniform, referenced in a previous part, is based on this real uniform from 16th century France, though with a Royaumanian-worthy blue/red color scheme. My headcanon is that Charlie (who’s described as stocky in the books) is 5′5″, only two inches taller than his “unofficial twin,” Carewyn, while Bill is a friggin’ giant the tallest of the Cursebreaking squad at 6′1″ (one inch taller than Ben Copper at full height and the same height as his actor, Domhnall Gleeson!). The entire Cromwell family is on the smaller side, with Charles as the tallest at 5′10″. Oh, and yes, the Cromwells are all a piece of work, but Charles is indisputably the worst apple in the bushel. 😒

Previous part is here -- whole tag is here -- Katriona “KC” Cassiopeia belongs to @kc-needs-coffee -- and I hope you enjoy! 

x~x~x~x

Carewyn was discovered outside by her aunts Pearl and Claire and uncle Blaise and brought inside. When they interrogated her about why she had returned to the estate in the middle of the night, however, Carewyn was unable to answer them. She was unable to speak at all -- nor was she able to eat, drink, or sleep. Instead she simply settled down in a huddled ball on her old cot by the fireplace and stayed there, her arms around her knees and her eyes devoid of all light or awareness. 

Whatever had happened, Charles seemed to have determined Carewyn would be of no use to him in the palace, the way she was -- and so, at dawn, he sent a messenger to the King and Queen, telling them that she’d taken ill and would have to remain at home in the interim. 

Carewyn’s cousins at first took some vindictive pleasure out of bullying her, now that she was back under their roof. Arsen and Kain actually picked Carewyn up off the ground and pushed her around like some human-sized doll while Elmer sang a mean little song he’d written about her --

“Cindy-Cindy-Cinderwyn, the finest of her class --

The duchess of the dust and soot, her kingdom’s made of ash!

She went to court; oh, did they chortle, snicker, and guffaw --

So Cindy-Cindy-Cinderwyn ran home, crying, ‘Mama!’”

Before long, though, her lack of a reaction seemed to make it not so fun of a game. Within two days, Tristan, the youngest of Carewyn’s cousins, actually threw a tantrum because Carewyn completely ignored him splashing his paints all over her. 

“What’s wrong with you!?” the boy screamed, beside himself. “Why won’t you get mad at me?! Why won’t you run away and cry?! Why are you so -- so -- WEIRD?!”

Blaise was most perturbed when his son actually burst full-on into tears. Clenching his jaw furiously, he brought an arm around Tristan and swept him back inside and away from the vacant-eyed Carewyn. Then he went straight to the dining hall to speak to Charles.

“Father, something must be done about Winnie,” he hissed. “This is not normal.”

Pearl leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing. “Her behavior is shameful. To think the Cromwell blood runs through the veins of that girl...”

“It’s pathetic, that’s what it is,” said Claire in sycophantic agreement. 

“Winnie may be a pathetic thing, but she is our thing,” Blaise shot back fiercely, “and she’s practically dead as she is.”

He turned to Charles. 

“We’ve already lost Lane and sent Jacob off,” he said in a quiet, cold voice. “Are we to simply let Winnie waste away?”

Charles had his hands folded in front of him on the table. At Blaise’s words, his own almond-shaped blue eyes -- identical to his children’s and nearly all of his grandchildren’s -- narrowed. 

“I must admit, it is a shame that Carewyn has stopped being useful,” he said lowly. “Iris may still be a set of eyes for us inside the palace, but she’s hardly clever enough to do much of anything on her own that’s useful.”

Claire actually looked hurt. “Father...Iris just sent us a letter this morning. Was it not useful to you?”

Charles’s eyes were very cold upon his daughter. “Hardly. She spent a good chunk of it complaining that Carewyn did something to the Prince, before leaving the palace...clearly trying to make excuses for her own failure to hold Prince Henri’s attention.”

Claire’s eyes welled up with shame and she hung her head. 

“It wouldn’t be the first time that Iris has blamed Winnie for stealing one of her suitors’ attention,” said Pearl seriously, “but we have yet to get any explanation about why she’s returned to us against your instructions. And Claire and I did hear a horse galloping away, that night. Could it have been Prince Henri?”

Blaise scoffed. “Doubtful. You think a Prince would ever favor a plain girl with no dowry or status?”

“You warned Winnie yourself that the Prince could want her as a conquest,” Pearl said darkly. “Heartbreak would more than explain her current state...”

The idea made Blaise flush with rage. 

“Whoever rode that horse, it was not the Prince,” said Charles very smoothly. He rose to his feet, picking up his dragon-headed cane and strolling over to the window to look out. “From what my informants have told me...Prince Henri was at the Royaumanian army camp that entire night.”

His children all straightened up, taken aback. 

“At the war front?” said Pearl, shocked. 

“Yes,” said Charles. “It quite upset their Majesties. Even more so when he returned to the palace in the morning dressed like a commoner and declared to them and the entire royal court that he intended to open up peace talks with the soon-to-be King of Florence.”

“Soon-to-be King?” said Blaise, his eyes narrowing to slits. “Then the old one kicked the bucket?”

“Yes...and it turns out the replacement Crown Prince is something of a populist. From what I’ve heard, his very first decision as future monarch was to ask every Florentine nobleman to -- should they wish to remain at court -- donate a portion of their wealth to him, so that he could then use it to buy a feast and custom-tailored clothing for his soldiers.”

Charles was clearly offended by the idea. Blaise was too.

“Uppity brat,” he sneered. “I guess that’s what’s you get, when you choose a bastard peasant as your future king...”

Pearl, however, looked a bit more cynical. “Seems rather unwise, to antagonize those who come closest to you in status...”

“On the contrary,” said Charles. “It’s most shrewd. As Blaise said, the boy was the King’s illegitimate son. That would offend the standards of just about anyone of good breeding...thus it would be foolish to try to court them for approval. A rat can communicate best with other rats -- and sadly, a swarm of rats is just what you get, when they gather: a band of filthy, hungry, disgusting creatures who will eat away at what we hold dear.”

His blue eyes flashed. 

“And now our Prince fancies becoming allies with such vermin.”

Claire looked uncertainly at Pearl and Blaise. Both of them looked perturbed. 

“If the War ends, there’ll be less money in the future for us,” Blaise growled. “Our investments in armaments built this estate...”

“My investments, Blaise,” Charles said in a very cool voice. “Do not forget that even the ones done in your and my son-in-laws’ names were still orchestrated by me.”

He pushed his palm down into the top of his cane, his long fingers trailing over the metallic snout of the dragon-head handle. 

“It’s far worse than that, however. The Royaumanian royal family’s financial troubles was what has lent me their ear from the beginning. Gave me access to their decision-making -- gave me some leverage in coaxing them to join our two families. Should the King and Queen become friends and allies with Florence’s new royal brat, they may get the idea to redistribute their courtiers’ wealth as he has, to alleviate the nation’s debts...meaning we not only won’t be bringing in as much money as before, but that we’ll also have to submit to parting with what we already have, just to indulge in petty charity.”

Charles’s eyes narrowed upon his reflection in the ice-trimmed window. 

“Our family’s chance at ascending into royalty...at the absolute, irreversible power owed us...is slipping away.”

Claire got up and tried to comfort her father by taking hold of his shoulder. “But Father...surely there’s still some hope? If Iris -- ”

But Charles warded Claire off with the back of his hand, sweeping across the room. 

“If your daughter thinks that a mere maidservant was able to captivate the Prince more than her, then perhaps it’s the maidservant who I should enlist in getting our family what we deserve.”

He shot a look over his shoulder at Pearl. “Fetch Carewyn and bring her to me.”

Pearl dragged Carewyn up to the dining hall by her arm. The ginger-haired Cromwell hadn’t changed clothes or washed since she’d returned home, so her face was covered in cinders and her forest green and white dress was still splashed with the paints Tristan had thrown on her. 

At the start, Charles feigned concern, saying he hated seeing his granddaughter looking so ill and unhappy, but his words barely penetrated Carewyn’s mind. They were just more lies -- just like everything else out of his mouth. She should know...being a liar herself. So she didn’t say a word in response. She made no response at all. And soon enough, Charles did come around to what he really wanted. 

“His Highness is set to make a fatal error...but you have his ear. We need you to return to your duties in the palace and ensure that he does not trust the Prince called Cosimo.”

Carewyn’s lightless, empty eyes ran over her grandfather’s face for a long moment...but she did not answer. 

“This is a noble duty, child,” said Charles. Although he put on a smile, it did not touch his eyes. “This is your chance to protect both your family and your country. The Florentines have been our enemies since before your mother was born...and now they seek to feign honor long enough to lure our Prince into their jaws...”

He brought a hand down onto Carewyn’s shoulder. 

“Jacob would be proud, knowing you were helping him in his fight against them.”

Carewyn stared at Charles. Her almond-shaped blue eyes were as dark and turbulent as two miniature hurricanes. And yet, she did not speak.

Charles tilted his head, raising his eyebrows and considering her expression with that cold, detached smile. “Come now, my dear...will you not speak to your grandfather? I do so hate to see you like this.”

Carewyn’s gaze drifted away as Charles’s eyes bore into her -- and yet the silence dragged on with neither breaking it.

Pearl, Claire, and Blaise, for their parts, were becoming all the more unsettled by Carewyn’s lack of a response. Blaise actually strode forward and shouted at her.

“You will speak when spoken to, you ungrateful little -- !”

He made as if to strike Carewyn, but Pearl grabbed his forearm and held it back, flashing him a warning look before turning her righteous anger onto Carewyn. 

“Your grandfather requires your services, Winnie,” Pearl said very sharply. “Don’t you have something to say to him?”

Even with this, however, Carewyn didn’t say anything. Then, with as much energy and emotion as a ghost, she stepped back and out of Charles’s grip and turned to go. 

Something flickered in Charles’s expression. 

“I did not give you permission to leave,” he said very softly. 

But Carewyn didn’t answer or turn around. Claire had to block the doorframe to keep her from leaving the room. 

“Your grandfather said you’re not allowed to go,” Claire said, her voice trying to be sharp but instead sounding rather unsettled. 

Carewyn stared at Claire with those hollow, empty eyes in silence as Charles approached her from behind. 

“You will do your duty to this family, child,” he said. It was striking how much scarier his voice sounded, when it was quieter -- Charles Cromwell was the sort of man who didn’t need to shout in order to be intimidating. “After all...that is the pact we made when I took you and your brother in, is it not?”

He took hold of Carewyn’s shoulder, whispering in her ear.

“Do not forget that everything you have is because of my charity. I have no desire to punish you...but I shall withdraw my kindnesses, if I must.”

Carewyn was very still. Then she once again broke out of Charles’s grip and tried to move past Claire. 

Before she could get far, however, Charles snatched her up by the hair. With a strangled cry of pain, Carewyn was thrown to the ground with astonishing force, Charles’s fist clenched fast around her hair. 

“Your head is not the only thing in my hands, Carewyn,” he reminded her very coldly. “I hope you remember that.”

He wrenched her up onto her feet by her hair, and Carewyn had to clench her teeth to keep herself from crying out again. 

“I have been very patient with your theatrics...but I grow weary of coddling you. Should I send some message to Jacob, so that you behave? Perhaps if your head is not one you will defend, perhaps his is...”

“Liar.”

The word escaped Carewyn’s mouth as a wispy, hollow rasp, and yet it was enough to make everyone in the room stiffen. Somewhere out in the hall, one might’ve caught a quickly stifled intake of breath. 

Carewyn’s eyes, although so dark, seemed to have gained an odd gleam in the back of them, like flaming cinders in a dying fire, as she stared up at Charles. 

“You’re a liar,” she said again, her broken voice as rough as sandpaper in her throat as it rose in volume. “I know your life isn’t bound to Jacob’s. Any spell you could’ve had cast on him would have broken at midnight, the very night you sent him away -- the very night you ripped him away from me and sent him off to War against his will!”

Her blue eyes flared with hatred. 

“That’s why you’ve never once gotten word from him -- because there’s no word you could receive from him at all! Admit it!”

There was a horrible silence. Pearl, Blaise, and Claire all looked from Carewyn to Charles and back. 

Charles bore down upon his granddaughter, his face as cold as some ivory mask with hard, diamond-like eyes. 

“So that’s what this is about,” he said softly. “Assigning blame. Very well, Carewyn...let us discuss this. You came to me as a child, sobbing and distraught beyond words...begging me to save your brother’s life when he was already on death’s door. You had nothing to offer me at that time, nor did your brother -- and yet I, out of the goodness of my heart, agreed to take you in. All I asked was that you show proper gratitude...a term you accepted at the time, and yet now have seen fit to break.”

He yanked Carewyn up by her hair and threw her into the table with a WHAM. Carewyn cried out in pain, before crumpling to the floor in a heap. 

“I spent a good deal of my own money and discarded my own honor to try to find someone to save your brother’s life, if only to bring the light back to your eyes. Jacob was brought back to health and you were reunited with him, just as you’d hoped. And yet now you seek to demonize my wish that you show gratitude? That I collect on the debt owed me?”

He brought the heel of his shoe down on Carewyn’s shoulder with force, slamming her face down against the floor. 

“And worse,” he whispered, “you wish to demonize the fact that, all these years, I was too grief-stricken to tell you of your brother’s passing?”

Blaise, Claire, and Pearl all stiffened. Only Claire, however, looked shocked. 

“Jacob is...dead?” she whispered shakily. 

“I knew such a revelation would be crippling to a fragile, weak heart such as yours,” said Charles, his diamond-like eyes very hard upon the back of Carewyn’s head. “I knew that the knowledge that your brother died the morning after his departure, and that his body had to be burned with every other prisoner in those barracks instead of receiving a proper burial...would break your heart.”

Carewyn had started to shake. Her face had lost all of its color, and the flicker of rebellion she’d shown mere moments ago had gone out. 

“You’ve never been a stupid girl, Carewyn. You really should have figured it out years ago...and yet, like a child who believes in Yuletide gift-givers, you latched onto your brother’s memory even when all logic said you shouldn’t. I’m certain everyone else in this family saw through my pretense -- knew that it was merely something to placate you, soothe your temperamental emotions. They always have made it difficult for you to see things clearly.”

Charles's eyes narrowed. 

“You were the one who disregarded your duty to the man who put a roof over your head, clothed you and fed you. Perhaps the truth wouldn’t be so crippling if you had simply done as I wished...rather than chase after a ghost.”

Tears streamed down Carewyn’s face. Although her eyes were so hollow and she shook so badly, however, the grief inside of her was not just numbing. It had grown to such an extent that it for a moment made her lose her head completely. In a violent move, she wrenched herself off the ground with a mad scream and threw a fist right at Charles’s face. Unfortunately Carewyn had never been particularly strong -- and so Charles was able to seize her wrist, twisting it away from him and holding her back with little difficulty. 

“Blaise,” said Charles icily. “Fetch the whip.”

Blaise looked stricken. “Father -- ”

“The child requires discipline,” he said without looking at his son. “I will not have her thinking that following her brother’s example is acceptable behavior.”

Blaise closed his eyes and bowed his head. Then, with a grim look on his face, he swept from the dining hall. 

When he entered the hallway, he found all of Carewyn’s cousins (excluding Iris, who of course was still back at the palace) huddled up against the wall. They’d clearly been listening to every word...and for once, none of them looked the least bit amused. Their faces were all very pale. 

Blaise considered them all for a moment in silence. Then he brought an arm around his son and led him away. 

“Come, Tristan. You will return to your room and stay there until I come fetch you.”

Everyone at the Cromwell estate tried to block out the screams of pain that echoed out of the dining hall. After just under an hour, Charles finally stopped, whether out of physical tiredness or just having finally spent his temper, and bid Pearl and Claire to carry Carewyn up to the tower room at the back of the estate. Charles didn’t want her to leave that room again until she was prepared to behave appropriately. 

Carewyn had expected Pearl and Claire to simply throw her on the floor and leave her there. Instead, however, Pearl sent Claire to go fetch some towels and cold water, and she hoisted Carewyn up onto the worn feather cot on the far end. Her aunts then removed her torn dress so that they could clean the open gashes Charles’s whip had delivered to her back. 

As far back as Carewyn could remember, her aunts had never liked her. Her mother Lane had even told stories about her siblings and how Charles had pressured his children to compete against each other their whole lives. When Carewyn had moved in, Pearl had refused to look her in the face for over a month...and thanks to her daughters’ dislike for Carewyn, Claire had always treated her niece just as coldly. And yet, now...for some reason, they sat with her.

“...Why are you doing this?”

Carewyn couldn’t see either Pearl or Claire’s faces while she was lying on her stomach, but she heard the mattress give a light squeak, as if Claire had shifted slightly to look at Pearl. 

“Don’t you think you’ve questioned your elders more than enough already?” said Pearl in a very hard voice. 

She brought a cold cloth up to the largest gash on Carewyn’s shoulder, dabbing at it lightly. 

“You may be a stupid, arrogant, pathetic girl, Winnie,” she said quietly, “...but I know the pain of losing one’s sibling.”

Carewyn felt some pity in her heart despite herself. 

“Thank you,” she murmured. 

Pearl scoffed. “Thank me by doing as your grandfather says.”

Carewyn closed her eyes. Then she turned her head away from her aunts and didn’t reply.

Taking her silence as a refusal, Pearl withdrew quickly and hoisted herself up off the worn mattress. 

“Come, Claire.”

Claire hesitantly inched herself up off the mattress too, fetching the bucket of water from the floor as she went. Carewyn could see her glance back at her, when she reached the doorframe. 

“Your grandfather bid you stay in here until you behave,” said Claire, and her voice sounded almost reproachful. “Please don’t make him punish you further.”

But Carewyn did not make any move or sound. And so Claire closed the door behind her, and Pearl locked it with a loud CLACK behind them. 

Once Pearl and Claire descended the stairs of the tower, however, they caught the sound of raised voices from outside the open manor door. One of the voices they recognized as Blaise’s -- the other, they couldn’t have known, belonged to Charlie Weasley.

When Carewyn’s friends learned that she would not be returning to the palace, they all reacted with concern. They knew how crippling the revelation of Jacob’s death had been, but the knowledge that she was back with her family, rather than at the palace where they could help her heal, well...that only made the whole affair worse. Clearly, as KC pointed out, the King and Queen probably wouldn’t have been that lenient toward a servant who was unable to work and had no reason to suspect anything malevolent in Charles wanting to “take care” of his granddaughter. After all, Andre himself had also presumed Carewyn was well-treated by her family, before he’d been forced to conclude otherwise. 

“I’ll tell them the truth -- ” Andre had said forcefully, but Badeea only shook her head sadly.

“It won’t help, your Highness,” she murmured. 

KC nodded grimly. “Carewyn is Lord Cromwell’s ward, Andre. Her only possible legal guardian and benefactor. That means she belongs to him, whether we like it or not. No matter how badly she’s treated, or what she’s told you about him, he’ll still have that power over her. And as long as he’s a Lord with more financial capitol than our entire family does combined...the King and Queen won’t want to discipline him.”

Bill and Charlie, however, just couldn’t accept this. So after their scheduled duties, they visited the Cromwell estate themselves, requesting to see Carewyn. When Blaise tried to turn them away, the exchange got more heated.

“I’ve already told you that Winnie will not see you,” Blaise said, his blue eyes flashing at the two brothers. 

“We’d like to hear that from her, please,” said Bill, but his politeness had a noticeable edge to it. 

“She is in no condition to entertain anyone, least of all a pair of peasant boys who presume to trespass on our land and make demands. Now get out.”

“We’re not leaving until we see Carey!” Charlie said fiercely. 

“You will leave now, or I shall see to it that you are thrown out,” snarled Blaise. 

“Go ahead and try it!” said Charlie, getting right up in the blond man’s face. 

“What’s all this now?”

Charles Cromwell had emerged from the open door of the manor. Dashing out after him were Pearl and Claire. 

Blaise’s eyes flared. “A couple of troublemakers who’ve come looking for Winnie. ‘Westley,’ they call themselves -- ”

“Weasley,” corrected Bill. His eyes were narrowed as he faced Charles. “Bill and Charlie Weasley. We worked in the palace with Carewyn -- we heard she was sick and came to see her.” 

Charles glanced at Pearl and Claire out the side of his eye, before his eyes swiveled back over to the two Weasleys. 

“...I’m afraid my dear Carewyn is resting upstairs.”

“May we see her, please?” Bill said. Once again, his words were polite, but his voice was very firm and pointed. 

“No,” said Charles. “You may not.”

His eyes narrowed upon Bill’s freckled face. One could wonder what he saw in Bill that day -- whether it was the protective “big brother” affect that reminded him of his deceased grandson Jacob, the sincere devotion Bill felt for his granddaughter Carewyn, or simply the pure distrust and dislike toward him -- but whatever it was, it served to make the Lord’s face that bit more mask-like as he considered the ginger-haired castle guard.

“‘Bill Weasley,’ you said your name was? Well, Mr. Weasley...you can be rest assured that Carewyn is being quite well taken care of, here with her family, where she belongs.”

Charlie’s eyes flashed. “Somehow I doubt that.”

Charles raised his eyebrows very coolly. 

“We know all about what you did to Carey, Cromwell,” said Charlie. “We know full well how you ‘take care’ of your family...unless you think Jacob would actually speak on your behalf, if he were still alive?”

Charles, amazingly, didn’t react at all to this, but it only served to make his mask-like face that much more unsettling. 

“No one feels Jacob’s loss more than I. And I should thank you not to question that, boy.”

His eyes flickered from him to Bill. 

“I don’t know what Carewyn has told you...but I’m afraid I must apologize for it, all the same. The child has always had a difficult relationship with the truth...she’s often spun tales to...try to make herself seem more appealing, to the people around her.”

“Takes a liar to know one, I guess,” spat Charlie. 

Pearl’s eyes flared. “You have some nerve to speak to a nobleman thusly -- ”

“Pearl,” Charles soothed her, but his voice was hardly warm or comforting. Instead his eyes bore into Charlie with a darker glint. “You do yourself and your brother no favors in insulting me. I could have been kind and offered to send word, when Carewyn was well enough to see you...but I can see clearly that the both of you would be a toxic influence on my granddaughter, should I allow you to associate with her.”

“Toxic?” repeated Charlie, his voice rising. “You son of a -- !”

“Noble bloodline, unlike you,” Charles Cromwell said in a very low, foreboding voice. “One with enough money and influence to force you to comply with my wishes, if I must.”

Charlie wasn’t intimidated. “You do that, and we’ll tell the whole world about what you did. Reckon you won’t have quite so much respect from everyone, once they learn you used magic to trick Carey into staying under your thumb -- ”

“A dangerous accusation for anyone to make,” said Charles, his foreboding voice deepening further. “More still for a boy relying solely on the flawed testimony of a maidservant...and belonging to a family so impoverished by its size that they’d have no means to rebuild, in the event of some unforeseen tragedy...”

Charlie’s eyes widened dangerously. He looked like he wanted to punch Carewyn’s grandfather right in the face, but Bill took hold of his brother’s shoulders from behind, in a gesture that seemed to be both holding him back and expressing support. 

Charles’s eyes -- the same color and shape as Carewyn’s, but infinitely crueler -- flashed up at Bill.

“I can tell that you -- like me -- are the sort of man who wishes to protect his family, Bill Weasley,” Charles said coldly. “If you wish to do so...then you will ensure that neither you nor your family comes near mine again. Do I make myself clear?”

Bill and Charles glared at each other for a very long moment, silently burning brown on icy, diamond-like blue. 

“Crystal,” Bill murmured at last. 

Charlie looked up at Bill, horrified. “Bill -- ”

“Come on, Charlie,” Bill cut him off quietly. “Let’s go.”

Bill steered Charlie away and off of the Cromwell estate. Once they’d cleared the gate, Charlie whirled on his brother.

“Bill, you can’t be okay with this! If old Lord Cromwell won’t let us see Carey, then something’s gotta be wrong! We can’t just -- ”

“I know,” said Bill.

Glancing over his shoulder, he walked with Charlie a few more feet to make sure they were out of earshot. Then he said quietly, 

“Charlie...make up an excuse for the King and Queen about why their carriage is going to need more time to fix than you thought. We’re going to need it.”

[scary-lasagna]

What would EJ, Ben, Toby and Dark Link look for in an s/o? (Personality, appearance)

Lord I wrote alot lmao

EJ

Personality

He enjoys people who are mellow and quiet.

Loud people annoy him and drain all of his strength.

But he'd rather have someone loud who accepts his eating habits than someone who's quiet and judgemental.

He'd also want someone who's willing to give him space when he needs it. He's a strict introvert and needs to be alone sometimes to recharge all of his energy.

But Jack would appreciate someone ho's willing to cuddle when he is. He loves his s/o and wants to be in their arms whenever he can.

He wouldn't mind an s/o that's clever and intelligent. EJ happens to be more logical, so conversations with a more clever-than-average s/o would be ideal to him.

Even if he doesn't talk that much.

Even if he might not like it, a jokester would suit him well. Jack still has a dumb-silly teenager still inside of him, and an s/o that jokes around and likes to have fun might bring out that side of him.

Appearance

He's not picky appearance-wise, given he sees himself as a living rotting turnip.

Poor boi has low self-esteem.)

And he finds himself lucky someone is attracted to him in the first place.

But he'd like someone with a little bit of thiccness. Thighs to rest his head on and hips to pull towards him on lazy Saturday mornings.

Brunettes and blondes also tend to catch his attention.

He also thinks tattoos and body mods are cool as hell.

And he wouldn't mind someone non-human for that matter. He's a demon, and he might like someone who he can relate to without that voice in the back of his mind reminding him that a human so may judge him more for being a monster.

BEN

Personality

He'd rather be with someone who won't get on his ass for being a lazy fuck all the time.

And of course, they'd have to have a lot in common for it to work out.

He'd prefer a gamer s/o, like him. Gaming is a huge part of his life (unlife?), and he'd like to spend it with someone he likes.

If not, they should be willing to try so they can bond and have fun together sometimes.

BEN would also love someone that jokes around alot. He's a little shit himself, so he's going to be pulling pranks on his s/o anyways.

But once they get him back??? Oh lord it's on.

I guess cooking is a personality trait??

He loves food, and he'll love anyone who can cook a good meal. Bonus points if it's healthy, which means that they care about his well being since he eats junk food all the time.

Appearance

BEN is a dirty blonde, so he likes darker colored haired people.

Like, brunettes and red hair. But the occasional blonde might be able to strike his eye.

BEN is a thighs and ass kind of guy, so he's going to prefer a thicc s/o.

Someone he can comfortably cuddle with and snuggle up to at night.

He'd also rather have a more innocent/pure looking s/o.  Someone with bright eyes and he couldn't help but hug them cause they're so cute. But deep down, they're really the most badass person you've ever seen.

He'll dig that. But other than that, he’s not too picky as long as you don’t look like Jeff or smth.

Toby

Personality

Toby would like someone who he can be able to relate to.

Someone with a troubled past like his, and someone who understands what he's been through and what he's going through.

He'd like a relationship where they can always build off of each other to become better people.

But there are points where he's going to require someone to ground him when he starts to spiral.

Anxiety attacks are frequent with toby, and he's going to need someone to calm him down when they strike.

That goes the same with his bipolar disorder. He's able to get angry and depressed and everything in between over simple things. His s/o should be ready to deal with these and help him feel better.

Toby is also clingy so his s/o should be able to deal with that as well, along with his clumsiness that he's not able to help.

Appearance

Our boi isn't too picky when it comes to appearances.

As long as you don't wear clown make-up or look hella scary, he'll find himself thinking you look more beautiful as the days roll by.

But he'd prefer someone a little more on the lean side.

Toby is skinny himself, so he'd like someone that would match his body type.

Expect him to pick his s/o up on the regular tho.

He loves to feel the frame of their body against him.

But Toby likes anyone with soft hair that he can pet.

Or smooth skin compared to his rough-looking hands.

But if you have a cuddle-worthy buddy, he'll gladly sleep on you.

Dark Link

Personality

Dark is emo as hell.

Like, to the point where you get a lil bit of second-hand embarrassment from what he says sometimes.

He's also quick to anger, so he'd like someone who can deal with that.

Someone's who's level headed and can be able to calm him down.

But if he gets too rowdy, he'd like someone tough to put him in his place.

But once he gets in a relationship, he gets very protective over his s/o.  And he'll throw some rounds with someone who insults them.

In light of that, Dark would like someone who plays along with this and lets him be the lead in the relationship.

Appearance

You know the 'big tiddy goth gf' meme?

Yeah, that's what he looks for in an s/o.

Dark hair, dark clothing, etc.

He doesn't mind weight either way, but he wouldn't like anyone who's too under/overweight.

But if he had a choice, he would pick an average weighted s/o. Not to thicc or skinny. But full enough so he can get some squeeze their hips when he pulls them close.

He'd also like someone physically strong, he play-wrestles and rough houses a lot. So he doesn't have to worry about hurting his s/o if he's the one being pinned.

[mosswillow]

The People You Love Chapter 13

A/N: Hey, look at me not being lazy and adding the chapter to Tumblr too.

Warnings and Tags: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Arranged Marriage, Alternate Universe, Eventual Smut, Protective Ben Solo, Alpha Ben Solo, Omega Rey (Star Wars), Mating, Cycles/In Heat, Mating Bond, Knotting, Angst, Enemies to Lovers, Emotional, Hurt/Comfort, Dubious Consent, unconscious medical procedure (chapter 6), Emotional Hurt, Suicidal thoughts (very mild no actual planning) ch 8, Did I already mention emotional hurt?, Emotional hurt (once more for good measure.) Slow Burn, Implied/referenced attempted suicide (not described in detail) (not Rey) (ch 15), some violence, Attempted Kidnapping, Attempted assault (ch 14)

AO3 link

By clicking keep reading you confirm that you’re an adult over the age of 18

The seconds tick closer to midnight and Rey gets to work digging through her room. She finds a bag and fills it with some papers from her file, clothes, the money card Leia gave her, and toiletries. Minutes before it’s time to run the room becomes clear, like she put on a pair of glasses. It’s sharp and bright, every detail jumping out at her. The specs of dust in the air float around her and she stares at the room taking in every detail. Her head starts feeling light and she realizes she’s stopped breathing. There’s hesitation. Anxiety. Maybe it’s fear or maybe guilt, she doesn’t know. Her mind turns to what will happen to the Solo’s. She knows, even though she doesn’t want to admit it, that running away from them will fuck their lives up. The moment she leaves her room she’ll be doing something she can’t take back.

It takes several deep breaths and hyping herself up to cut the bracelet and climb out of the window. The climb down is easier this time. She hits the ground after a few short minutes and starts running, making it down the street before she has to stop to catch her breath. She feels elated, free and happy, the world is open to her.

Then the initial adrenaline rush dissipates and her heartrate settles. She’s left alone in a dark alleyway. It’s a sliver of freedom and she wonders if it will be worth it. She hopes so.

She makes her way to the closest bus stop and reads the map, running her hand over the spot where Finn and Poe’s house is. She knows it’s where she needs to go. It’s the only way she can think to get home.

“Where to honey?” A tired looking woman says.

Rey almost turns around and goes back. What if the letter says something she doesn’t want to hear? What if something terrible happens? She takes a deep breath and hands over her money card before climbing in a large bus to start her journey. The island was an illusion, it held a life that did not exist. The illusion is broken now and all that’s left is the reality that the facade was built around. Rey is tired of everyone knowing more about her than herself. Even if something horrible happens or if what she finds out breaks her heart she has to go. She can’t live her life knowing that there’s truth out there and she didn’t go find it when she got the chance.

-o-

It takes over twenty four hours to finally reach the charming little house she once knew. Rey was so focused on getting away that she hadn’t considered how it would feel to be back. As she stands outside hyping herself up she goes through a range of different emotions. Anger at first that they gave her away without even talking to her first. Then she feels a sense of loss thinking about how much she cared for them, how she felt loved and safe and like she was part of a family. She misses that feeling and it hits her that she may never feel that way again.

She waits until she’s sure they’re fast asleep before walking to the back door and trying the handle. It turns easily; they never did lock the doors. She tiptoes through the house and stops at a picture frame. It’s her, she doesn’t even know when it was taken. She picks it up and looks at it, almost feeling guilty about what she has to do.

“Your mate called, told us when you would be here. He wants you to call him.”

Rey jumps and looks over to see Finn and Poe standing across the room. She puts the photo down and makes eye contact.

“Are you going to call him now?”

“Do you want us to?”

“Does it matter?”

Finn slowly walks towards Rey and she backs up in response looking at Finn with distrust and heartbreak. He stops and slackens his shoulders.

“We should have told you before he showed up here, we were afraid you would run off.”

Rey crosses her arms and takes another step back.

“Why are you here Rey, are you ok?” Finn asks.

Rey looks back and forth between Finn and Poe before dropping her arms and giving up.

“My grandfather left me something on the island.”

There’s a pause and then Rey watches their eyebrows raise in unison as they understand.

“You need our boat.”

Rey nods.

“So you were just going to steal it?”

She nods again.

“I was going to bring it back after.”

“We could get in a lot of trouble for helping you, you know that right?” Poe says.

Rey walks over to the couch and plops down putting her face in her lap. Finn comes next to her and rubs small circles on her back.

“We’ll take you there,” He says quietly.

Rey pauses for a moment as his words wash through her. She feels a mix of relief and resignation. Even in the time she was on her own she still had to rely on others. She puts her arm around Finn and leans against him. Maybe relying on others isn’t a bad thing and fighting the instinct to form attachments only ends up leaving her hurt. She doesn’t trust Finn and Poe, at least not the way she did before but she also isn’t angry.

“Thank you.” She whispers

They don’t waste much time. Poe makes a sandwich for Rey and they hitch up the boat. It’s a long and cold ride to the island. Seeing land is a relief and yet Rey finds herself unable to move as they dock. The night she left was one the most difficult of her life. Flashbacks play in her head and she half expects a group of men to come running at her from the house.

“Do you want us to come with you?” Poe asks

“No,” She breathes before steadying herself and starting the walk to the house.

The island looks exactly the same and somehow wildly different than what she remembers. As she looks around at all the familiar rocks and trees she begins to understand that the island isn’t what’s different, She is. Her eyes have changed, giving her the ability to see the headache inducing complexity of shapes and colors that were blended and muddied before. Beautiful memories of her childhood sit beside the knowledge of lies and control. She can see it all and it overwhelms her.

It doesn’t take her long to find where the letter is hidden. She opens it with shaky hands and reads the last words her grandfather wrote to her.

-o-

Rey,

You probably have so many questions and I’ll do my best to answer them before I have to do what I have to do. I’m going to die now, I’ll make sure they kill me or I’ll shoot myself. I can’t be brought in and questioned. If they find you they’ll use you against me until I crack. There are people who count on me, what I know could bring down an entire organization.

You’re what’s called an Omega. The medication I give you suppresses it, but even with the medication it’s who you are. Omegas are kind and caring, meant to serve others. They’re also strong and resilient, I know you’ll escape this island. I’ve included directions to a safe house that I had set up just in case. Rey, I only have one month of medication for you. When it runs out you’ll go into what is called a heat. It will be painful but you’ll be ok. Do not leave the safehouse after you run out of suppressants. People will be able to tell you’re an Omega and you will be in danger. I have it arranged for someone to bring food and supplies to you for as long as you need it. You won’t have to worry about anything and can spend as much time as you need living there, even your whole life if you want.

There’s a family, the Solo’s. A man, Ben Solo, was assigned to be your mate when you were just a little girl. They’re a good family and one day when you're ready they’ll protect you and love you. There's a file about them at the safehouse. They’re the ones who are here now but their issue isn’t with you, it’s with me. They think that I’ve been hurting you for the past several years.

You’re probably wondering why, why didn’t I tell you about any of this.

Twenty years ago I made a decision that ended up haunting me forever. I gave the go ahead to kidnap the child of a politician, one who was my friend. My men tortured this child and sent him back to his parents broken. We needed to get a law passed that now feels so trivial. I lost my soul that day and five years later, in direct consequence to that choice I lost my son and his wife, your parents. They tried to take you too that night to return the favor, thankfully they didn’t succeed. That boy is now a man and what I didn’t consider 20 years ago is that I may have been creating a monster, and by monster I mean someone exactly like me. Be careful Rey, there are people in this world who want to hurt you. It’s not fair but life never is.

I brought you here after your parents died vowing to keep you safe, to raise you right and give you a childhood away from pain, one I hadn’t given your father. I was supposed to hand you off to the Solo’s when you turned eighteen but the day you presented as an Omega and I saw your pain I did something rash, I gave you my suppressants. I just wanted a little more time with you but as soon as my medication wore off all those feelings of inadequacy and failure to protect your father came crashing back. I let myself spiral into my Alpha biology. Even as I write this I feel a sense of intense need to protect you. I failed to protect my Omega and failed my child. I can’t fail you Rey. I kept telling myself that one day I would have to let you go but every time I thought about it I just couldn’t. It may be selfish but I couldn’t let go of you. It turns out that life isn’t worth much without the people you love, and I love you Rey.

I hope I did the right thing. I hope that when you come out of your hiding place and find this letter you’ll understand why I did everything I did.

I love you Rey

-Grandfather.

Rey lets the letter fall to the ground. She starts taking steps back until she hits the wall. She doesn’t know what she was expecting, for there to be some explanation that would make everything ok, that would refute everything she’s been told about him. It doesn’t.

What hurts her now is that she doesn’t feel anger. He was her captor, lied to her just as much as everyone else in her life. If he was standing in front of her now she would scream at him and lock herself away. She would run from the island and not look back. He’s not in front of her though, he’s dead, and she loved him. She feels deep and true love for someone who murdered, tortured, lied, a criminal. How can she love someone like that? Her chest tightens and she starts feeling lightheaded.

What if she had stayed hidden like she was supposed to that evening? What if she came out and found the letter, had time to process everything and decide when and if she wanted to call the Solo’s.

She feels tired and trapped. It doesn’t feel good to be back on the island, it feels just as much a prison as the Solo’s house and she wants to leave. She gathers the letter and directions to the safe house.

She has one more thing she has to see, hopefully she’s able to. Hopefully the cleverly hidden security system wasn't found during the ransacking of her home. She walks to the hidden cabinet and uses her thumb print hoping that it will let her in.

And it does.

-o-

“Where is she?” Ben asks.

“Don’t worry Solo, we’ll find your little Omega after we deal with him.”

Knight. She didn’t know he was there. She didn’t notice any of them that night, only Ben, only her Alpha.

“You can come nicely.” Knight gives a sly smile as he pulls out a gun

“Or not.”

Sheev pulls out a pistol in turn and Ben looks back and forth between the men.

“You have three seconds to leave before I start shooting… Three,” Sheev starts.

Knight smiles and Ben's eyes widen.

“Two,” He continues.

“Don’t,” Ben cries but it’s too late. The shot is firing off and Ben is standing there shocked, looking at the blood pouring out of sheev.

“One,” Knight finishes.

“You weren’t supposed to kill him.” Ben says.

“He was torturing your girl wasn’t he?”

“I wanted but… This is not… You aimed for his head… You murdered him.” Ben says. He looks away from the scene and his eyes land on something.

“Rey.” He breathes “Don’t you fucking go near her Knight.” He yells before running out of frame.

-o-

Rey doesn't even react, her mind won’t let her. She slowly turns off the monitor and walks to her old bedroom, looking around at the mess all over the floor. She finds her little stuffed stingray and stands there with it for a few minutes before walking all the way to the ocean.

She wades in, holds the stuffed animal to her chest, and lets herself feel. She feels everything all at once, from her parents death to the moment she stepped out of that window, the good and bad. There's use in objects that comfort, that remind someone of their past and where they came from. There’s also use in letting go. In realizing that there’s no going back and the only way forward is to say goodbye. In taking a quiet moment to thank an object before letting it go. It’s symbolic but sometimes symbolism can be so strong that it becomes reality.

“I love you,” She whispers.

Rey lets the little stingray fall into the ocean and be carried away and with it goes a weight she’s held in her for as long as she can remember.

She makes her way back to the boat, stopping when she sees a little flower. She leans over and picks it wavering with it for several moments before putting it in her bag.

“Did it go well?”

Rey settles in the boat and gives a small smile.

“Yes, I think so at least.”

-o-

Rey is exhausted by the time they arrive back. She doesn’t feel safe there though. The safe house isn’t far, a few hours to walk. She can make it, she knows she can. She may fall over from exhaustion by the time she arrives but she has to go.

“we can give you a ride wherever you need.”

“It’s better you don’t know where I’m going, safer that way for all of us.”

Poe disappears inside of the hose and Finn pulls Rey into a hug. Poe comes back and stuffs some food in her bag before joining them in the hug. He looks at her awkwardly.

“He wasn’t coming after you. He knew where you were. You used a money card Rey, they can be tracked.”

Rey bites her lip and looks down feeling dumb for not knowing that.

“I think he genuinely just wanted to know you’re safe. There was something he wasn’t saying, I don’t know.”

“Thank you.” Rey says as she pulls away.

It’s bittersweet, seeing them and now leaving. Rey takes a step back and then turns away.

“Stay safe Rey,” Finn calls out as she walks slowly down the driveway.

She turns back and gives one last smile and wave before turning on the road.

[ms-march]

12 Days of Turn- “Snow”

Levi Tallmadge is back (if you can’t tell already) for the prelude of events given in the 12 days of Turn piece posted a few days ago.  This one follows the very first meeting of the Levi and Adrienne in New York City.  If there was anything that might have confused you about the first piece, this should clear it up entirely.  The series of events from “Cookies” take place after the week in NYC as a direct prelude.  Once again this was created with the assistance of @culper-spymaster​ and if you enjoy it: like, comment, and/or reblog!

Adrienne Fairfax sat bored in her carriage as it trod along the road to York City to visit her godfather before he returned to England.  It was winter time once again in the colonies, and she was going numb in her face and toes with the chill that seeped through the windows.  They stopped the previous night in Connecticut and would press on till they reached the city today.  Adrienne did not have the heart to force herself into an inn somewhere amongst this horribly small township they were passing through.  They were clearly unaccustomed to passersby; the attention of every person the carriage passed was drawn to the carriage windows, attempting to determine who was in the carriage.  Having had enough of the prying eyes, Adrienne moved to close the curtains before making eye contact with a boy that looked far too similar to a Major that she knew, causing her hand to pause on the curtain as she passed the boy, never once breaking eye contact.  When the boy was out of her sight, she shook her head to clear her thoughts of him and finished closing the curtain. She arrived at the ferry way into the city not shortly after, a sentinel accepting the papers and walking towards the carriage to verify the contents.  Adrienne, who had not been paying attention, was startled by the knock on the window, pulling her from her boring analysis of the cushion's fabric.  She moved to open the curtain by her face to speak to the officer, "Is there a problem, sir?" Having realized that she was alone in the carriage, the officer stepped back from the window, "Not a single one, my Lady.  I hope your journey through Setauket was not too disagreeable." The officer then tilted his hat to her and waved the coachman to continue onto the ferry. 'Setauket,' Adrienne mused, 'Perhaps that boy was indeed related to the intelligence Major.'

The city was a harsh contrast, and ironically symbolic, to itself.  One side having proper colleges, churches, stately townhomes, military barracks, and full taverns, while the other housed hovels and ash, people barely making it by to the next day and most without more than the clothes on their backs and a blanket to cover themselves with at nights.  Adrienne was glad that the curtains were drawn to her left.  She did not wish to witness such poverty but found delight in peering past the curtains on her right, towards the grandeur of the city.  She was scheduled to retrieve her godfather from the ship he would head back to England on, and they would dine at a tavern.  She would have to stay at the tavern because General Howe had not foreseen the absence of the matron she was planned to stay with from the city. Adrienne was pulled from her state of curiosity by the halt of the carriage.  She straightened up, smoothing her skirts and hair as the door opened, and a smile spread wide across her face as the man sat across from her. "Godfather," she laughed gleefully, "How glad I am to see you!" He chuckled, "And I you, my dear.  I am delighted to see that you are returned to me, if only for a few days, in good health." She chatted pleasantly with him, her enthusiasm showing how young she really is.  The carriage pulled to the front of a tavern owned by a man Howe had called Rivington, and they climbed out, Lord Howe first.  Once she was flat on her feet, she finally was able to give the older man a peck on the cheek as he patted her cheek with affection.  Adrienne accepted General Howe's arm as she was led into the tavern.  She stayed closer to him than usual, not feeling comfortable in the setting of the tavern. "Relax, my dear," he patted her arm as he led her to the counter at a leisurely pace, "I assure you it is safe here.  You will not be bothered nor harassed in the slightest." She nodded to him, attempting to seem confident but refusing to release his arm, and, thankfully, he did not protest.  The attendee at the bar seemed to be a Quaker man, whose sullen and reserved mood seemed contrary to the city itself. "How might I help you, sir," he spoke, addressing her godfather, but sparing a skeptical look to Adrienne. "One room for the next week, man." The Quaker looked between them, "Will that be two keys, then?" Adrienne paled at the insinuation and looked to Lord Howe, who laughed freely at the man's comment. "No, Townsend," Howe spoke, "Just the one for my goddaughter." The Quaker suddenly seemed far more at ease with her presence, either from eagerness to be in the brothers Howe's good graces or the assurance that she is a Lady of honor.  He wordlessly passed a key across the counter when another man approached them, Rivington, if she was correct. "I am afraid we find ourselves completely booked as of this purchase, madam.  Do forgive us if the tavern is a bit rowdy these next few days.  Should you need anything, Mr. Townsend and I would be more than willing to oblige you, my Lady." Adrienne smiled politely at the man.  She was correct in assuming the man was indeed Rivington. "I am delighted to hear you say so," she nodded her head politely to Townsend, her arm never leaving the General's own, "Sirs." Lord Howe laughed heartily, "Barely an hour in the city, and you are already drawing the attention of the room, my dear." Adrienne flushed pink and smiled politely at the officers looking curiously at the pair before swallowing thickly and turning to her godfather, who called for her belongings to be brought to her room.  Howe led her to the table by the window and called for two flutes of cherie, and Adrienne allowed herself to be comforted by his presence rather than think on what shall happen come nightfall when she is left alone. The door opened once more, and Adrienne paid it no mind, not looking away to see who had joined them.  She remained this way till Lord Howe left briefly to relieve himself and a young man, a familiar young man, helped himself to the empty seat at the table.   Adrienne was shocked by the boy's boldness, gaping at him in a mix of shock and rage before collecting herself well enough to speak. "Sir, you are aware that this chair is not available? " "Yes," the boy replied, raising an eyebrow at her as he casually drummed his hands on the edge of the table. "But you're acting like I should care." He replied, looking her dead in the eyes. "Sir, I must protest-" He snorted, "Sir, she says." He picks up Lord Howe's empty glass as if he is examining it, "Has anyone ever told you that you're-" "Polite?" "Stuffy." They spoke at the same time, causing a higher level of tension between the strangers.  Adrienne narrowed her eyes at the boy when she finally moved to speak, straightening in her seat and adjusting her posture, "Then what shall I call you, if not, sir?" "Levi," he gave her a lopsided grin, "Everyone just calls me Levi." "I will not," she spat sharply, "Call you by your Christian name.  I have not yet known you for a whole of five minutes!" He fixed his gaze on her, his eyes trailing her face before he finally scoffed slightly, "Christian name.  My Pops would like you." The sour glare he received, in turn, seemed to only make him amused, a humorous huff escaping him before he continued, "Tallmadge." "What?" she questioned with a furrowed brow. "The name you asked for, Levi Tallmadge. Don't wear it out," he told her.  His eyes darted quickly around the room; if she had blinked, Adrienne would have missed it, "Look, I need you to give me the key to your room." Adrienne could feel how quickly the color drained from her face and began to protest before he continued. "I just need the room," he clarified, "You just booked the last one available, and I need it." "I am sorry, Mr. Tallmadge," she raised a brow at him and began her question, "But you are aware of how taverns work?  As in, I come and pay for a room on a first-come, first-serve basis?  It is not I that can be blamed for your tardiness." "Yeah, it kinda is," Levi replied, "If you hadn't driven through Setauket in your fancy carriage and caused a big hoo-ha, I would have been here first." "Well," she replied haughtily, "It is not my fault all of Setauket stops for one fancy carriage.  If you had not been snooping around in the business of others, we would not be having this conversation, would we?" He huffed indignantly, "Girls. You think you know everything. It's none of your business why I need to 'snoop' around." Adrienne smiled politely and brought her glass to her lips as she spoke, "Well if you happen to be a 'little squirt getting into more trouble than he should' then I shall be sure to inform the Major you have done a marvelous job in scouting out British ladies for the cause." The boy's eyes grew wide, and he leaned into her slightly. "How did you know that?" he questioned with a serious tone, "Who told you about Ben?" "Ben," she replied with a slightly lower voice, "Told me about Ben." Levi cursed under his breath so she could not hear it before speaking to her with an accusation laced into his tone, "Why on earth would he tell you? You're pretty, but I've seen better.  And Benny Boy needs to shut his trap before someone takes a short drop and a sudden stop." Adrienne clenched her jaw but declined to comment on his statement.  The boy was high in anxiety as he spoke again, "I don't have much time left before Howe gets back-" "I know," she replied smugly. He rolled his eyes, clenching his jaw as well, "Are you going to give me the room or not?" "For the cause?" Adrienne questioned. "No.  Well, yes, but officially no," he replied. "Then, why?" "Because I am here to petition Clinton for assistance in a privateering problem back in Setauket," he responded honestly. "And perhaps this petitioning shall take a week?" she asked him, sipping the wine in her flute once again. "A week?" the boy asked, surprise in his voice, "Why the hell would it take a week for a petition?" Adrienne blanched slightly, causing him to roll his eyes once more and gesture to her for an answer. "Well, some things cannot be done in a week," she made eye contact with him before shifting her gaze out the window, "And some things can." Levi sputtered, "Are you-" "I could use a valet," she turned back to him, "Do you think yourself capable of such duties?" "Look, I'm sure you're great, lady, but I don't really have time for that," he said. "What a shame," Adrienne tsked, "It would have covered your room, and I do not think that any soldier would dare question the valet of Lord Howe and his goddaughter on why he is in places he otherwise should not be." She looked him up and down before nodding to an emerging figure, "Like in Lord Howe's seat." Levi turned around to see who she nodded at, swearing as he realized that Howe was returning. "Fine," he agreed, "I'll do it." "Lovely," she smiled and handed a bag of coins over to him, "I shall see you tomorrow." "Pesky women," Levi muttered as he rose to leave.

Levi snatched the bag off the table and made for the door, avoiding Howe as much as possible.  When he finally made it out on the street, he shook his head, weighing the heavy bag in his hands. That girl was going to give him a headache if this was how she usually acted. 'Well,' he thought, 'That's not at all how that was supposed to go.' Levi gave a crooked smile to the bag as he hid it, 'On the bright side, I think this should be more than enough for my plans.'

Adrienne woke early to the sound of soldier's boots in the hall. "At least George's aides were courteous enough to be quiet in the mornings," she complained to herself as she rose, wrapping her dressing gown around her shoulders, and walked to the window.  Adrienne called for a pot of tea, perching herself on the windowsill, taking a sip from the cup as she looked down at the streets below.  Hoards of people passed through, not giving her so much as a glance, that is until she made eye contact with a smirking blonde leaning on a storefront below.  His eyes gave her a once over before he raised a brow.  Adrienne flushed pink and pulled her dressing gown over her shift before placing down the cup and rising from the windowsill to dress herself. She finished straightening out the pink silk of the gown as she climbed down the stairs, draping her cloak over her shoulders and tying it. "Mr. Townsend, should my godfather come looking for me, tell him I am on a walk with the valet I enquired for." The man nodded with his back to her before turning around to face her, "You enquired for a valet?" "Yes, sir," she called to him as she opened the tavern's door, "He was selected by your own recommendation." Adrienne then slid out the door before he could object and across the street to meet the boy, Levi, where he stood. "You know," she spoke to him as he continued to lean on the wall, "It is improper to spy on a lady in her bedclothes." "It's not my fault you sleep in so late. I've been here for hours waiting on you." "Nothing is ever your fault, is it, Mr. Tallmadge?" she asked. Adrienne pursed her lips as he shrugged nonchalantly. "Eh...Most things are, but the key is not getting caught," he replied. "Secondly, This is an incredibly early hour, Mr. Tallmadge." He scoffed and rolled his eyes, forcing himself from his leaning position. "Yes, of course," he conceded, "For someone who's never worked a single day in their life." This time she rolled her eyes, "Well, you have dragged me out of my pajamas.  What do you need?" "Oh," he shrugged, "Nothing." He laughed at her, indignation, "I'm messing with you.  I promise." "You better be." "Oh, relax.  I did have a reason to show up so early, but I'm not gonna tell you what it is," Levi looked her up and down, suppressing a laugh, "Though maybe I should have.  Would hate to ruin your lovely silks." She furrowed her brow, "If we are to go that far, would we not be better advised in a carriage?" "No," he snorted, "A carriage would be the worst possible idea." He spoke as he began to walk away down a side street. Adrienne rushed to keep pace with him, jogging after him. "Will you slow down?" she called, provoking a laugh to escape from his lips as he halted in place. "I cannot walk that fast in heels," she complained, trying to catch her breath as she stood beside him.   He nodded as he continued walking once more, "You should buy some boots." "Oh," she pouted, rushing after him again, "Will you slow down?" "Nope!" he shouted back to her.

When they began to approach the charred structures, Adrienne rushed forward to grab his arm, causing him to turn casually to her, "Yes?" "Are you sure?" she swallowed thickly, her eyes drifting to the disheveled figures huddled around an open campfire, "This is somewhere we should be?" He raised a brow, teasing her, "Getting scared, Princess?" "Yes," she admitted, "Shouldn't you be?" "Nah," he dismissed her, "But if it helps you any, you can take my arm." She nodded meekly, reaching to take his arm, stepping close to him, "Thank You." He strolled between the houses while Adrienne struggled to keep her skirts from the ash-covered cobblestone. "Where are we going exactly?" she asked. "Nowhere specifically," he replied, "I'm looking for a someone, not a somewhere." "And I needed to come with you?" she questioned shortly before groaning, "All this walking has hurt my feet." "Quit your whining," he dismissed, "If we don't find him soon, I'll bring you back to your plush carriage, I promise." "That is assuming I can make it back before I collapse," she grumbled. "You really don't lift a finger, do you?" "Of course I do.  I have to call for a servant somehow," she joked, face impassive, but lips pulled up into a humorous smile. Levi did a double-take, asking her, "My God, does she joke?  Like actually joke?" He stirred his face from hers and shook his head in amazement, "And here I thought you incapable of laughing." "Well," she spoke impassively, "What can I say? I have forgotten my manners after walking through ash for so long." "I could leave you here," he warned. Adrienne's head snapped to him quickly, her hand tightening around his arm. "You would not dare," she threatened. "I would," he threatened, "And I will."  Levi's eyes trailed across the side of a heavily charred building before locking onto their target, "There he is." "Oh, thank heavens," she sighed with relief, "Hurry and do whatever business a 12-year-old could have in this part of the city so that we might return to civilization." "Thirteen," he corrected, "And already your height." "Height means nothing," she replied haughtily. "Only to the short," he replied, trekking across a plot of charred grass. "Mr. Tallmadge," she called after him, her eyes shifting to the people whose eyes darted to the Adrienne at her shouting before she swallowed and lifted her skirts, rushing after him.  She approached him as he talked to a dirty-faced boy; Adrienne could barely see him beneath the heavy layer of ash and dirt that coated his face, hair, and what she assumed might have been clothes at one time.  Their conversation was held in low voices, but the boy Levi had been talking to stopped talking altogether when she approached. "I thought you said it would only be you," the boy accused Levi. "Well," he scoffed, "I thought it would just be me, too." He turned to Adrienne, "Would you mind waiting over there?" He nodded towards the area in front of the porch, where more dark figures stood lurking.  Adrienne swallowed and went to protest, but Levi cut her off, pointedly, "Now." Adrienne swallowed, wrapping her cloak tightly around her as she walked over towards the porch, staying a safe distance from it and the people on it.  She tried not to eavesdrop on Levi's conversation, which wasn't hard considering how low they were speaking, but her eyes kept drifting over to where they crouched.  She watched Levi nod, clap the boy on the shoulder and hand him over a handful of coins from his pocket.  Adrienne scoffed at this.  Of course, it was her money.  How could it not be?  She should be mad at his use of her coin to pay off some urchin, but she found herself unable to work up the anger as he approached her. "Sorry about that," he said, moving his arm out as she grabbed hold of it once more. "I didn't mean to order you around so harshly.  The arrangement with Henry is incredibly sensitive.  You saw how jumpy he is." She pursed her lips but conceded to his concerns, "I understand.  Does not mean that I enjoy being forced around." "Around by me or around these people?" "Could it not be both?" He shook his head, "Well, at least you've finally admitted they're people." "I never said they were anything other than," she replied as they walked on. "But you treated them like it." Adrienne opened her mouth to protest but soon closed it when she realized she could not honestly argue against his remark. "That's what I thought," he said, letting silence fall over them until he sighed, "Let's get you back to the Tavern." "Yes," she replied stiffly, "My godfather will surely be missing me."

When they returned, Levi held the door open as she walked in, only to be greeted by a disgruntled Howe.  He rose from his seat to greet her, taking her by the arms and inspecting her person before he spoke, "Good lord, my dear, where have you been?" "I went on a walk, godfather," she replied sweetly as Levi walked up behind her, "Might I introduce the valet I inquired for, Mr. Levi Tallmadge." She stepped to the side so that Howe could see the boy. "A valet, my dear," he looked at Levi before he raised a brow back at Adrienne, "Are you sure this lowlife could fit such qualifications?" She jutted her bottom lip out in a pout as she complained, "Godfather, you are unfair to the both of us." "I must ask, my dear.  I meant no harm to you," Howe chided her gently, "Does he have experience?  Recommendations?  Something that would soothe my old soul?" She hesitated before clearing her throat, "Yes, godfather." Her eyes shifted to meet Levi's, a plea for assistance in her eyes, "He was the valet for-" "Major Edmund Hewlett of His Majesty's Royal Army," Levi cut in. Adrienne nodded and added, "And he has a recommendation from Mr. Townshend as well." Howe humphed, allowing a moment before he sighed, rubbing his temples, "Very well then, boy.  Go fetch the carriage." Levi nodded and headed outback. Adrienne sat down at the table Howe had been seated at, with him joining her shortly after. "I must also ask," Howe spoke, "What provoked such a long walk, my dear?  Your feet must ache." "They do," she affirmed him, "But I suppose I was far too distracted by the pretty things that can be found in such a city." The carriage pulled around the front of the tavern, and the two stood, leaving out the door. "Well then, What pretty things might I buy for such a pretty thing?" Adrienne's godfather asked her as they approached. Adrienne laughed sweetly, and Levi rolled his eyes, muttering to himself. "I do believe I have room in my belongings for a new gown," she hesitated, "Or two." Levi's judgemental eyes met hers as he helped her into the carriage, and Adrienne swallowed, giving him a smile. "Thank you," she whispered and sat down inside the warmth of the carriage.

They arrived at a well-kept millinery shop, and Lord Howe sent Adrienne and Levi inside as he remained outside, talking to an officer she did not recognize.  Levi kept his distance from the shelves and items displayed throughout the shop as Adrienne ran her hands over a blue and white pinstriped silk. "Blue?  Are you sure that is wise in Tory town?" Levi joked from behind her, causing Adrienne to smile slightly. "Well, unfortunately, it seems to be a color that is quickly consuming my life," she sighed. "I doubt that," he replied, "I'm sure in a few years you'll be happily married off to a boy in red." She sighed, disappointment unintentionally laced in her tone, "Sooner rather than later, I'm afraid.  And to a boy in blue." Levi did a double-take, stepping closer so he could see her face as he talked. "No way. You're way too British for any of them." "My intended would agree with you," she said, turning to face him now, "Lieutenant Colonel John Laurens, aide-de-camp to General Washington." "I have never heard that name," Levi admitted. "Which is saying something. I know a little about everyone." "He is the son of one of the most wealthy families in South Carolina.  His father is Henry Laurens," she spoke.  Levi opened his mouth to speak, but Adrienne cut him off, "Yes, the same Henry Laurens who just finished his term as President." Levi looked around the room quickly before turning to her, "First of all, you really need to lower your voice before someone hears you.  Secondly, you really go big or go home, don't you?" "That is my father," she smiled at the thought of him, "Viscount William Fairfax only accepts the best for his family." Levi conceded with a nod, "Give us ruffians a chance.  You might be surprised by how likable we can be." "That is it," Adrienne exclaimed at the boy's words, "I knew you seemed familiar!" Levi's eyebrows scrunched together, "Huh?" "I know who your brother is, but you do not remind me of him very much," she explained, "But you do remind me of a very particular Lieutenant that was always with him." "A Lieutenant," Levi asked, still confused. "Lieutenant Caleb Brewster and I were good friends," she continued, "As I hope you and I may still be." Levi scoffed, laughing, "Is this your way of apologizing?" "I never said that," Adrienne replied, attempting to stifle a laugh. He shook his head in disbelief, "You really know Caleb?" She nodded, "Yes, I do indeed." "How?" This time it was Adrienne's turn to glance around the room, replying slightly quieter than she had been before. "He taught me to shoot.  And throw his hatchet," she told him, smiling, "Though not in that order." Levi laughed loudly, drawing a glare from the shopkeeper.  He apologized to the man quietly before turning back to Adrienne, "He let you touch his hatchet?" "Yes," she replied, "Though I have no idea why.  If I were him, I would have done anything but, considering he only stepped in after I shot your brother in the foot." Levi bit his hand to stifle the roar of laughter that was about to escape from his lips. "You shot Benny?" he asked with a mix between amazement and amusement, "Like actually shot him?" She huffed jokingly before nodding. "It was not intentional," Adrienne defended, "But yes, I did shoot him.  Thankfully McHenry is an excellent surgeon." "When?" Levi asked, "When did you shoot him?" "Late January, at the Valley Forge encampment." "Ah," Levi groaned, "I can't believe I missed that!  And only by a few weeks too." "Oh," Adrienne flushed pink, turning back to the fabric suddenly, "I am afraid I was completely indisposed from Christmas till halfway through January." "Oh," he hummed curiously at her sudden actions, "Can I ask why?" "I was trying not to die from a bullet wound and the subsequent infection that followed." "Oh.  That sucks." "Yes, indeed."

[missjosie27]

Year 3 Part 5- To Hogsmeade

Hey, guys! Another chapter is here! Hope you like it

True to her word, Professor McGonagall granted him access to Hogsmeade upon learning of his marks in charms.

“You have kept your end of the deal, Mr. Grant. With your permission slip, I will allow you to join your classmates this weekend in Hogsmeade.”

She said this with a limited smile, a rarity for the strict Transfiguration master though David privately thought she still didn’t look thrilled by the idea. He wondered if Dumbledore had been involved in this whole situation. Still, he wasn’t one to push his luck…most of the time.

“Thank you, Professor McGonagall,” he said.

“And Mr. Grant. Do try to enjoy yourself as opposed to finding more trouble.”

They had gone in a group- Rowan, Ben, Charlie, Penny, Chiara, Tonks, and himself. Some of the Ravenclaws were just in front of them while the Slytherins, predictably, were way behind.

 “You did it,” Rowan told him excitedly. “You’re going to Hogsmeade and all the bells and whistles that come with it.”

“And you’re brother too,” Ben added.

“Perfect excuse. We need to take a visit to the Three Broomsticks anyway. You have got to try butterbeer, Ben. First one is on me.”

David was still a bit miffed at McGonagall’s parting remark, but it didn’t dampen his spirits too much. His immediate mission was accomplished and now he could spend a day goofing off and find out more about Jacob. It was a win-win.

“Personally, I can’t wait to check out Zonkos,” Tonks said with a rather mischievous smirk on her face.

“What’s Zonkos?” Chiara asked.

“Only the finest supplier of prank and gag items known to wizardkind,” she responded excitedly. “And exactly what I need to surprise a certain librarian and a certain caretaker.”

“There’s also Honeydukes!” Penny pipped up. “My mom took me once when I was little. I’ve always wanted to come back and try their strawberry chocolates.”

“What do you reckon we should do first, Dave?” Rowan asked. “I know you need to talk to Madam Rosmerta. Do you have a preference?”

Up until now, David hadn’t spoken as he was mulling over that same question. They had until sundown to return to the castle which was plenty of time to both explore and talk to Rosmerta. He didn’t have to meet Hagrid until just after lunch.

“Let’s go visit some of the shops,” he said at last. “I don’t have to go to the Three Broomsticks right away. It’s pretty packed in there right now anyway.”

“I like the way you think, Dave!” Tonks grinned. “Let’s go!”

For older students such as Bill (who was with a couple of friends in his year) the novelty had worn off a bit. For those making their first visitations or only been once before, it was a wonderland. Though the day was windy, it was also bright and sunny, and those days were going to be few and far between in the highlands of Scotland as the year went deeper into Autumn.

The village itself wasn’t all that different in appearance than a standard muggle one, however there was one key difference and that was magic. Only witches and wizards lived here and it livened up the atmosphere considerably. Colorful posters announcing deals or sales adorned the little shops and taverns. Children laughed and played in the street. There was a flurry of activity every which one looked and from everything the third years had heard, the first impression did not disappoint.

Tonks had a field day in Zonkos and stocked up on items such as biting tea cups, frog spawn soap, and dungbombs. Against his better judgment, David also bought a couple dungbombs to be used at his own discretion and entertainment. The discovery of Penny’s sweet tooth was quite evident as she could barely stop eating the honeydukes chocolate and Tonks had to calm her down from an enormous sugar high. Chiara and Penny were also very fixated on Madam Puddifoot’s Tea Shop, as it was a popular getaway for Hogwarts boys and girls looking to take each other on dates. The boys (and Tonks), however, weren’t as keen and simply allowed the girls to swoon over the potential romanticism before they moved onto a dress shop.

“I don’t get why they care so much,” Ben whispered nervously.

“It’s just girl stuff,” David muttered back. “Don’t try to understand it, just nod your head and change the subject as quickly as possible.”

“Bill says we’re going to be the ones on those dates in just a couple years,” Ben responded. “Is that true?”

“My brother is pretty popular with the ladies,” Charlie cut in. “He may tease sometimes but he doesn’t bullshit. He’s probably right. Speaking of, he told me to meet him over at the Shrieking Shack. Supposedly the most haunted building in Britain and he wants to show it to me. Anyone want to come?”

“I’m in!” Rowan said eagerly. He never turned down an opportunity to hang out with Bill. “How about you Ben?”

The blond boy fidgeted heavily with his hands.

“Haunted buildings really aren’t my cup of tea.”

“Come on, Ben. We’ll all be there,” Charlie encouraged. “Just us mates. Dave’s coming too right?”

“Actually, it’s almost past one. I can’t keep Hagrid waiting too much longer.”

Rowan nodded understandingly.

“Don’t wait another minute. We’ll rendezvous later at the Three Broomsticks later on.”

“You know where it is right?” Charlie asked.

Truthfully, David didn’t know where it was at all, but he figured he’d find his way. It was a village not the streets of London. It couldn’t be that hard.

“Yeah, I know where I’m going. I’ll see you guys later.”

“Good luck, Dave!”

The other three boys made their way north to the location of the shack while David went on his way. He figured he would come across a sign or some other landmark indicating the inn but the wind was picking up and it was taking a toll on his sight and movement. He looked up towards the sky; still sunny but clouds were rolling in and the little warmth received from the sun would soon be overcast. Zipping up his red hoodie jacket, he resolved to press forward.

Can’t be that far right?

Suddenly, a voice called out to him.

“First time in Hogsmeade?”

To his right he saw a tall, black boy regarding him with both friendliness and mild amusement. David vaguely recognized him as a Ravenclaw in his own year. He decided to approach him.

“How’d you guess?”

The Ravenclaw gave a grin.

“You have that look about you. Excited, cold, and not exactly sure where you’re going. I’m Andre Egwu, by the way.”

He offered out his hand, which David took.

“Oh yeah, I remember you from flying class. You’re also the keeper on the Ravenclaw Quidditch team if I recall correctly and pretty damn good at it. People talk about you as much as Charlie or Skye.”

“Charlie and Skye deserve the attention. Especially given that Gryffindor won the Quidditch Cup pretty handily last year. But Quidditch is a passion of mine and I hope to play in the professional leagues someday. That’s why I wear my Pride of Portree scarf every chance I get to go to Hogsmeade. Best team in the league.”

David, knowing his Quidditch couldn’t deny that. Portree had won the British league for three years running.

“So they are. But you make it sound you’ve been here before.”

“It’s because I have. My parents take my sister and I to Hogsmeade even when we’re not in school. Gladrags Wizard Wear is one of my favorite places to shop for clothes.”

David resisted the urge to chuckle, instead choosing a tone of surprise.

“I didn’t think top Quidditch blokes were fashion aficionados.”

It was true. Glancing at Andre up and down it was clear that this was a person who cared a great deal about his appearance. In addition to his scarf, he wore a fleece jacket with the collars up, dress jeans, and a very nice pair of what looked like Italian shoes. In addition to that, his hair was expertly cut into a fade. To say he was stylish was an understatement.

“Clothes make the wizard,” Andre replied with gusto. “The better you look, the better you feel, the better you are at Quidditch. Or in your case, curse breaking.”

“I take it you heard about that, then?”

It was a stupid question. Almost everyone in Hogwarts had. But broad acknowledgement for the accomplishment as opposed to being seen as potentially mad still took some getting used to. But the emotion on Andre’s face wasn’t just admiration, it was gratitude.

“That cursed ice had me trapped in the Quidditch changing room until you broke that curse inside the vault. You saved my life.”

“Think nothing of it. I had plenty of help from my friends.”

Andre smiled and he reached into a bag by his side.

“Well as a token of my thanks, I’d like to offer you this scarf. It is quite blustery out here today and when I saw you shivering down the street, I couldn’t pass up the opportunity.”

David gladly took it. It was made of a very quality wool, patterned in dark gold and red, his house colors. Quite thoughtful, indeed.

“This is brilliant, Andre. Thank you.”

“A stylish gift for a worthy curse breaker such as yourself,” the black teen affirmed. “I’ll say this for sure: it won’t be hard for you to find a date or a girl to take to the next ball.”

He couldn’t resist laughing this time, thinking back to Penny and Chiara fawning over Madam Puddifoot’s tea shop.

“It’s a bit early to be thinking about, no? I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

“Never too early to start thinking about girls,” Andre replied with a wink. “It may seem ridiculous to you now, but you’ll start to notice sooner rather than later. And when that day comes, my door is wide open.”

David’s first impression of the Ravenclaw lad was certainly unique but he certainly sensed no ill will from him. Just that his interests seemed to be ahead of most people their age.

“I’ll take you up on that someday. Thanks, Andre.”

“Don’t mention it.”

They shook hands once more and he prepared to depart. But before he did, he turned around one last time.

“Uh, by the way, where’s-”

“The Three Broomsticks?” Andre smiled knowingly. “Fifty feet up the hill to your right.”

Interesting guy that Andre Egwu

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The Three Broomsticks had a reputation that preceded it. It was a cozy, lively atmosphere filled with patrons of all sorts, a bustling tavern frequented by locals and tourists alike. Inside was a building largely made of fine wood, filled with various tables and booths. There was also a second floor for private parties but most people appeared content to mingle with the crowd. In fact, it was so packed David was fairly certain it would have taken him quite a bit of time to find any standard human being.

Fortunately, Hagrid was not a standard human being and spotting him was a simple matter. As soon as they caught sight of each other he waved a huge hand.

“David! Over here!”

Sifting through the crowd, he managed to squeeze through two rather portly men, one of which had a walrus-like mustache and a glass of fine wine in his hand. Ducking underneath the outstretched jovial arm, he finally made it to where Hagrid was standing. 

“Welcome ter the Three Broomsticks!” he said in his usual cheerful tone. “What do ye think so far?”

“Seems like a lot of fun,” David remarked with a smile. “Is it always this packed?”

“Aye. It’s very popular. The students pack it even more on weekends such as this. Though ye get used ter it.”

Just then they were interrupted by an attractive, curvaceous woman with long, flowing blonde hair and a pretty face. She wore an ankle length dress and a plain apron but her cheeks were naturally rose and held a natural, festive glow.

“Hello, Hagrid! Good to see you again.”

“The same ter you, Rosmerta. Lookin as lovely as ever.”

“You’re sweet as always. Can I get you all anything?”

David couldn’t be sure but he thought Rosmerta’s eyes lingered over him for a half second longer than normal.

“A round of butterbeers, please.”

Sensing a chance to ask questions, the young Gryffindor tried to introduce himself.

“Madam Rosmerta I was wondering if-”

“Half a moment, dear,” she quickly interrupted. “I’ve got other tables to attend to. Be back soon.”

Visibly deflating at her departure, Hagrid noticed this and tried to cheer him up.

“Not ter worry, David. She’s a busy woman runnin’ this place. She knows who ye are and she’ll tell ye everything ye want ter know about yer brother.”

Realizing it would do no good to mope or complain, David supposed there was nothing more he could do until the bar matron returned.

“You’re right, Hagrid. Can’t wait to drink one of those butterbeers.”

The giant man looked down on him with a curious eyebrow.

“Never had one before? I thought ye were from a wizard family, Dave.”

“I did when I was little, but it’s been awhile. Mum won’t let me have anything in the way of sweets.”

He and Hagrid grabbed a table and talked like this for about fifteen minutes, sharing details of each other’s lives not previously known, though the latter was a tad more vague with his answers. David thought nothing of it, however and was content to laugh and share companionship with the gamekeeper, who was good company. He made a silent note to interact with him more often.

Soon enough, Rosmerta returned with a tray of butterbeers in hand.

“Cheers, Dave!” Hagrid said, clinking their glasses, almost toppling over the contents of his friend’s butterbeer. Taking a sip, a wave of sweet, warm, frothy goodness engulfed his senses. It was easily one of the tastiest concoctions ever invented in the history of wizard kind.

“Just as good as I remembered,” he said, giving a satisfied sigh.

“I’m glad you like it, dear,” Rosmerta said kindly. “I apologize for hurrying off earlier. Busy weekend. What would you like to know about your brother?”

David was slightly surprised.

“How did you know who I was?”

“It wasn’t hard to figure out,” the bar maiden said with a knowing twinkle in her blue eyes. “You and your brother look very much alike. That look of surprise you gave me just now was reminiscent of what he used to do. Plus, I must admit Hagrid filled me in a bit beforehand.”

Though siblings, David never came across many people who commented he and Jacob looked similar. His older brother was much broader, with a different shaped nose along with brown eyes as opposed to his own hazel-blue. Nevertheless, he supposed it would make sense Rosmerta might recognize him. Perhaps she saw something others did not. 

“David wanted ter ask ye a question or two about Jacob,” Hagrid explained. 

“I can spare just a few minutes,” Rosmerta smiled. “What would you like to know?”

Where to start? So much of Jacob was a mystery to him now and any information he could garner was a boon not merely in the quest to find the vaults but to satiate his own desire for that knowledge. 

“Madam Rosmerta, I heard you knew him in his time at Hogwarts. What was he like? Did mention anything about the Cursed Vaults?”

A nostalgic look came across her pretty features.

“I remember Jacob quite well...quiet boy. Very sweet. He spent a lot of time at the bar scribbling in notebooks.”

That certainly perked his interest.

“Notebooks you say?”

“Aye. Then one day a pair of Ministry officials showed up, grabbed him by the hood of his robes and dragged him out the door. They demanded he hand over any information he held on the vaults, but they found nothing. Only thing he left behind was a black quill.”

Another black quill

“Madam Rosmerta do you still have that quill? I’ll do anything to have it, I swear.”

That emitted a chuckle from the curvy innkeeper.

“Settle down, Dave. I’ll go look in the back. I never throw anything anyway so it should be around somewhere.”

“Thank you so much!”

“Think nothing of it,” she replied kindly. “Though it may take awhile longer. There are still a lot of customers to service and it’s quite cluttered in my office.”

“I’ll wait as long as I need to, Madam Rosmerta.”

“Very well then. I’ll score up another round for your table while I’m at it. Be back soon, dear.” 

David did his best to engage in further conversation with Hagrid to temper his impatience. It was best not to push his luck while he still retained some of it. If the gameskeeper suspected or believed he might be after the vaults again, it wouldn’t take long for Dumbledore to find out and that wouldn’t be good for anyone. Which also begged the question once more: was he still interested in the vaults themselves? Or just his brother? Perhaps the two were intertwined.

Before he could think about it more, Rosmerta returned about an hour later, black quill in hand. 

“Here you are, hun. Sorry it took me a little while to find. But it’s yours now. Use it well.”

Ecstatic happiness surged through David and he took the quill a little too quickly.

“Er...sorry. Thank you Madam Rosmerta.”

But the blonde woman took it in stride with understanding.

“Any time, David. And next time you’re here I may need some help. Would you be okay waiting tables now and again?”

“Think nothing of it.”

She gave one last sweet smile and waved goodbye.

“It was very nice to meet you, David. When you find Jacob, tell him I said hello.”

He nodded while Hagrid beamed at him. 

“Fine woman, Rosmerta is. Yeh can always trust her ter help people when they need it. Just promise me you won’t do anythin reckless with that quill.”

David nodded even if he had no idea what information the quill possessed, he was quite convinced in the moment nothing ill fated could come of knowing its contents.

“Of course, Hagrid.”

“You know, Dave, you should come by me hut some time. Fang’s gettin big now and we love havin guests over. I could bake a batch o’ me rock cakes.”

He had no idea what rock cakes were or even how good Hagrid was at cooking but he couldn’t help but appreciate the genuineness of the man. In the course of his Hogwarts career, he single handedly saved him from Devil’s Snare, alerted him to the spreading cursed ice, and helped him whenever he asked for it. The least he could do was return the favor.

“I’d love to, Hagrid. Just send me an owl and I’m there.”

The giant man clinked his glass once more, this time sending the contents all over his new scarf.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He reunited with his friends a short time later as the sun settled into the west, signaling that it was time to return to Hogwarts. Charlie, Bill, and Rowan were discussing their foray into the Shrieking Shack while Ben preferred not to talk about it. Penny and Chiara continued to giggle over Madam Puddifoot’s (and boys they’d take there which David didn’t really pay attention to). Tonks hung back with David, talking loudly over the wind about the black quill.

“So the Ministry found nothing on him?” the pink haired witch snickered. “That is the ultimate prank.”

“More so than that. It means they never knew what he was truly up to. He must have somehow hidden his notes within this quill.”

“You can do that?”

“Professor McGonagall’s been teaching me about all kinds of transfiguration this year, including switching spells in our advanced lessons. Definitely possible to turn a book into another unidentified object.”

“That’s some pretty advanced transfiguration,” Tonks said, clearly impressed.

David shrugged.

“Guess it runs in the family. McGonagall says I’m the best she’s seen in a decade.”

“Well I’m already a master at transfiguration,” the Hufflepuff said waggling her eyebrows, changing her appearance to that of a duck, to a koala bear, to that of Celestina Warback. 

“You got original material left?” David yawned.

“Wanker. Anyway what do you think the quill contains? Can I see it?”

He obliged by pulling it out of his left jacket pocket. 

“Nothing too out of the ordinary. All we have to do is use ‘repifarage’ to untransfigure it and…”

“You lot aren’t going to be untransfiguring anything.”

Out of the shadows in front of the entrance to the school stepped Argus Filch, the Hogwarts caretaker, looking as grouchy and unpleasant as ever. And judging by his expression he’d overheard everything they were talking about. Quick as a flash for someone who clearly suffered from rheumatism, he snatched the quill out of David’s outstretched hand.

“Hey! Give that back That belongs to me!”

“Not anymore it don’t,” Filch leered towards him. “I’ll be addin it to the collection of confiscated contraband to my office. Professor Snape’s orders of course…”

David highly doubted the cantankerous old man had any such orders and seizing one of his legitimate belongings was surely out his purview. Feeling himself becoming furious, he gripped his wand in blind rage before Tonks gripped his arm and shook her head in an effort to calm him.

“Now beat it ya nasty scallywags. On with ya!”

They ducked a swipe from Filch and ran off, but not before David cursed up a storm once they were far enough away.

“Language, David. I didn’t know you knew such colorful phrases.”

“You would too if you had an older sibling...and just had the one chance of finding said sibling robbed from you by a quivery old git.”

“Patience, my hot blooded Gryffindor friend,” Tonks told him. “All we have to do is simply get the quill back.”

“Yeah? And how exactly do you plan to do that?”

Tonks grinned at him with a smile that practically radiated mischief. 

“Leave that to me. If there’s one thing I know how to do, it’s taking the mickey out of Filch.”

[world-of-horrors-au]

Horrors au - Horrors appearance headcanons

Jeff:

Same general coloration as expected - black hair, pale skin, etc. He was born with brown hair and dark blue eyes, but when he was born as a Horror, his body transformed. It had nothing to do with bleach, fire, or bullies.

He did give himself a 'smile' when he was born as a Horror, however it got horribly infected, and was eventually sewn up once he was picked up off the streets. There are scars where the cuts once were, along with one at the deepest part of the infection site.

Can't grow a beard, rip

Actually, he's completely hairless other than his head.

6'2 feet tall

Eyes look either gray or pale blue depending on the light

Clothing wise, the white bloody hoodie is how he's mostly pictured in the media. And he does wear white sweatshirts or hoodies when he wants to make an impact.

Around the others, though? Soft pajama bottoms in solid, dark colors, thin t shirts or sleeveless shirts, no shoes, even in the depths of the Forest. Will wear a dark hooded overcoat over his clothes in the rain.

Eyeless Jack:

Gray skin

Small, pointed ears

Traditional empty sockets full of black ooze. Despite the lack of eyes, he can see in his own way.

Brown hair, and lots of it. His hair grows very fast and thick. He doesn't bother to cut his hair until it's at his waist but does shave. He has semi permanent stubble on his face.

6'4

His mask is blue, of course, and stained from his mask. There's a faded smile painted over the mouth, just a thin, happy line, and a jagged cut on one eye hole where Briar attacked him during his first meeting.

He has wings. Draconic in style, they seem to shrink and grow as needed. They are the same color as his skin, with a blue tinted membrane and black stud like bumps on the top ridge and back.

His fingers and toes turn into claws at his command, turning black and sharp. Otherwise they are human like, with normal, blunt nails. His feet can transform into talons, five claws in front and one in back.

He doesn't have many different types of clothes. His black pants, dark shirt and hoodie are something of a uniform to him. He has multiple copies of each item.

No shoes. They get in the way and can be painful to try and transform his feet through.

Ben:

Blonde, fair skinned, freckles. Eyes are there but entirely black with a red pupil that grows and shrinks with his emotions.

Being a digital being, however, he can and does change his appearance with ease, and completely without warning.

One day, blonde hair just touching his next. The next, long blonde hair streaked red and in a spiked, sky high ponytail. The next, he's covered with tattoos, and his hair is a mohawk the color of the trans flag. The only thing that he doesn't change while being himself is his eyes.

Can be any height. Today he's 5'3. Tomorrow, 6'9. Doesn't like being too tall, he has trouble holding his form together.

He can transform himself into any person he has personally interacted with, or has a good amount of footage/photos of. When disguising himself, he does change the look of his eyes, but he dislikes it.

Yes he is trans, more info on that when his hc post comes out. He passes completely as male, looking next to nothing like he did while alive. He can transform into a woman if needed but he hates doing it as it gives him bad dysphoria and he'll need to abandon having a form at all to recover for a while.

Clothing is whatever the fuck he wants, it's all digital just like him. Catch him walking around in a crop top and a floor long neon green fur coat, or a graphic tee with two middle fingers over the boob area, or black pleather tights and a red sleeveless turtleneck. Whatever it is, it's probably not subtle.

He sometimes goes around naked to try and embarrass Briar. It almost always works.

Laughing Jack:

Doesn't look much different from how he's normally viewed. Tall monochrome clown man with ragged black hair, a pointy striped nose, and sharp teeth. His fingers are similar to Eyeless Jack's in that he can turn them into claws, only his claws are much bigger, and even when normal, the ends of his fingers are pointed, with sharp nails.

Is a living doll, whether that's obvious on the surface or not, so when you hug him he is soft and warm and a bit fuzzy under his clothes. Considering he's the cruelest of all the Horrors, it's very... weird.

His nose looks deadly sharp but in reality, when you press against it, it crinkles like foil, springing back into shape as if nothing happened when released. Press it in all the way and you will hear a honk. But don't. He hates that.

Anything he puts on magically becomes black and white, and regains its color when he takes it off. Similarly, anything he puts on magically becomes his size, which is good because this mofo is 7'3.

You will only see one color on this guy, and that's red - blood from his victims, or red from blushing. The guy doesn't have blood so there's no reason for him to blush but he does and it's probably better not to think about it too hard. (There's no reason for him to be able to eat either. Don't think on that either.)

Being a toy, he doesn't sweat. Blood tends to fade away off his body naturally. He hates water but will tolerate showers so long as he's not alone.

He likes patterns, textures, and anything fitting his antique/clown aesthetic. He will sometimes wear skirts and dresses for no reason other than he wants to. But all the patterns have to clash and everything must be extra as hell.

Briar:

Long black hair, down to her shoulder blades, gray eyes, fair skin with freckles on her cheeks, running down her neck to the rest of her body.

She keeps her hair in a ponytail most days, preferring a high placement, but if she just doesn't care she'll put it near her neck.

While she bears a passing resemblance to Jeff coloration wise I swear to God that's not intentional, I promise they're not related.

Fit. Despite loving her sweets, she eats as healthily as she can and goes on morning and evening runs, along with a quick body weight workout before work every day.

Her ears are pierced, though she never wears anything more remarkable than colored studs. Sometimes she'll wear silver roses.

Stretch marks. She was overweight as a child and teen and while the weight is gone, the stretch marks are still there. They're mostly on her sides, thighs and back. She's very sensitive about them due to years of bullying and comments from family members but tries not to let on about that.

Has many scars from early encounters with the early Horrors. While they are almost unnoticeable among humans, the intentionally caused scars, like the one on her shoulder where Eyeless bit her, become darker in their presence.

Sometimes paints her nails but prefers to not spend the effort unless something important is coming up.

She hated shaving her legs and never did it unless she had to. But like with Jeff, her body hair is falling out and not growing back in. Briar wears pants or leggings while out in public, just in case people catch on.

Her clothing preferences are casual but feminine. Mostly pants, short sleeved or three-quarter sleeved shirts. Mostly they're for warm weather as she lives and works in coastal South Carolina, but she's building up a collection of warmer jackets for the Forest, which is very, very different than the beach life her human coworkers love.

She loves roses and vine designs but in subtle amounts, she's not a fan of big patterns. Likes purples and blues and yellows with black and white. And lace, again in small amounts. But really she wears whatever she thinks is pretty.

Has army boots where she laced them up with lacy fabric trimmings from a work friend's sewing project. She never wears them anywhere because she'd hate to see them ruined.

Her work scrubs are either covered with cats, plants, or just solid colors. She thinks wearing cats on clothing can be tacky if it's too cartoony but she's working at a vet office, she may as well wear the colors proudly.

Secretly she thinks you're never fully dressed unless you've got some cat hair on you. She hasn't owned a cat since moving to South Carolina after college.

[freddiesaysalright]

Dancing With Ben Week 3

A Ben Hardy x Reader Fic Disney Night - Jazz

Summary: Reader is one of the pro dancers on Dancing With the Stars. It’s her second season on the show, and this time, her partner is none other than Ben Hardy. Will they win the Mirror Ball? Maybe they’ll win something even more meaningful!

Word Count: 3K

Tag List:  @psychosupernatural, @someone-get-a-medic, @twigleektribute23, @ionlyhavepicturesofflowers, @asquiresofftime, @caborhapch, @iwasnothingbutacityboy, @a-kind-of-magik, @anxious-diabetic, @royalblueviper, @toms-irish-girl If you’d like to be added, let me know!

Week 1  Week 2

Week 3 here we go!!!

Disney night was a favorite of yours. It reminded you of childhood and the night was always joyful. Also, you got to take a break from rehearsal one day and go to DisneyLand. You were really looking forward to spending the day at the park with Ben, even if the cameras were following you around for most of the day. 

“Are you ready to have a fun Disney day?” you asked eagerly as you entered the park.

“I am,” he chuckled, looking at you.

You felt like a little kid again. You donned Minnie Mouse ears and everything for the day. You hardly noticed the way Ben gazed at you, like you were positively the sweetest thing he had ever seen. You took his hand and led him over to Cinderella’s castle, where you would shoot some things for the video package.

You stood with him in front of the castle, and faced him. “So, what was your favorite Disney movie as a kid?”

“I always loved The Jungle Book and 101 Dalmations,” he said. “I was into the animals.”

“No princesses, huh?”

He shook his head. “Nah.”

“You do know you look like a Disney prince, right?”

He laughed, throwing his head back. “I guess so.”

“It’s not a guess, Hardy, I’m right,” you insisted with a smirk. 

“Which prince am I going to be this week, then?” he asked.

“Actually, we’re doing something different,” you told him. “You and I are doing a jazz routine to Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious from Mary Poppins.” 

“I can’t believe you said that without messing up,” he said, impressed. “Do it again.”

“Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious,” you said.

“One more time.”

“Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious.”

“Oh, you’re good.”

You giggled. “Thank you.”

“So, what do I need to know about jazz?” he asked.

“It is very fun and very Disney,” you said. “One step you’ll have to know is the Charleston.”

“Show me, coach,” he said.

You slowly walked him through the basic Charleston step. The camera guys got a shot of you doing it together for the package. Ben already had it down, blowing you away with how easy most of this came to him. Then, you headed out to enjoy the park.

“Do you like roller coasters?” you asked.

“I love them,” he said. “You?”

“I love them!” you agreed. “Oh, we’re gonna have so much fun today.”

You took his hand again and led him to the first ride. The line wasn’t terribly long since it was the middle of the week, but it was still Disney, so tourists were crowding the park. Ben held your hand throughout the ride. Even through the first drop, when your hands were in the air, they were intertwined. You looked quickly at each other before it went down, your stomach turned, and you screamed together. When you clamored off the ride at the end, your legs wobbled, but Ben held you up.

You continued through the park this way - hand in hand. You were heading to get some food, when a tiny hand tapped your knee. You looked down and saw a weepy little girl, looking desperately up at you. She was wearing a Cinderella dress, but her tiara was askew in her hair.

“Excuse me,” she sobbed. “Can you help me?”

“Yeah, honey, what’s wrong?” you asked, kneeling down to her level. 

“I’m lost,” she said with a sniffle. “I can’t find my mommy.”

“Where did you last see her?” Ben asked. 

“By the castle,” she answered.

You were in Toontown, so it wasn’t terribly far. It was still a long way for a girl her age to go alone. 

“Alright, we can walk you back over there and see if we can find her,” you said.

“O-okay,” she stammered with a nod.

“What’s your name, lovie?” Ben questioned gently.

“Laci,” she said.

“I’m Ben, and this is Y/N,” he told her. “It’s nice to meet you, Laci.”

The corners of her mouth  twitched upward as he smiled at her. 

“Can you hold our hands?” you suggested. 

“Hold on, I’ve got a better idea,” Ben said. “How’d you like to sit way up high on my shoulders, Laci? That way you can see your mum from wherever she is.”

Laci nodded enthusiastically. Together, you hoisted her up until she was settled on his shoulders, legs dangling on either side of his head. He held her ankles. At last, she laughed.

“Lean forward, lovie,” he said. “Don’t want you to slip off.”

“Okay!” she agreed brightly.

“That was a quick turnaround,” you said to Ben under your breath. 

“Kids love to be tall,” he replied simply. 

“Mr. Ben, why do you talk funny?” Laci asked from her seat atop him.

You grabbed his arm and snickered. “Mr. Ben!”

He chuckled. “Well, I’m from another country. England.”

“Oh!” she said. “Like Harry Potter!”

“Yes, like Harry Potter,” he said, smiling. 

“Do you know him?” she wondered.

“Not well,” he answered. “We’ve met, but, as you know, he’s a rather busy person.”

They carried on back and forth and you looked on with admiration. A pang of irritation went through you as you overheard the camera guy and producer exchange a few words.

“Are you getting this?” the producer asked.

“Yeah, they’re gonna love it,” said the camera man.

You made your way back to the castle and Ben instructed Laci to be on the lookout for her mother. You kept your eyes peeled as well for a woman who might be distressed. Laci wiggled on Ben and gave an excited cry. He gripped her legs tighter to keep her upright.

“There she is!” she said. “By the statue!”

You squinted and saw a pretty blonde woman up ahead. She looked frantic and was calling out. You jogged ahead, so you could lead her back to her daughter. 

“Hi!” you called. “Are you Laci’s mom?”

“Yes!” she sighed. “Is she with you?”

“Yeah,” you assured her. “And she’s fine, don’t worry.”

At that moment, Ben caught up. He lifted Laci off his shoulders and lowered her to the ground. She hurtled toward her mother and wrapped herself on her legs.

“Thank you!” her mother cried. “I stopped in a shop to grab one thing, and the next thing I knew she was gone.”

“She came right up and asked us for help,” you said.

“Seriously, thank you so much,” she said. 

A beat passed as she looked at you. “Aren’t you two on Dancing With the Stars?”

You smiled. “Yeah! I’m Y/N, and this is Ben Hardy.”

“I thought I recognized you,” she said. “The whole family are big fans.”

“We hope that means you’re voting for us,” Ben joked.

She laughed. “Of course! Especially now, after what you’ve done. Is there...anything else I can do for you guys to thank you?”

You and Ben exchanged a surprised look.

“No, nothing,” he assured her. “Really, she was no trouble.”

“Then can I just ask for a picture?” she said a little sheepishly.

“Of course!” you agreed.

She picked up Laci and put her on her hip. Ben took her phone and you all leaned in for a selfie. He snapped the photo and returned her phone to her and she thanked you again and again. When you parted ways at last, Laci in her mother’s arms, she waved to you over her shoulder, until she was out of sight.

“What a sweetheart,” you cooed. You turned to Ben. “And you! You really were like a Disney prince!”

He looked at the ground. “No, I wasn’t. I was just being a good person.”

“You literally swept her off her feet,” you said.

“I do the same thing to you every week,” he teased, winking at you.

It made you stop in your tracks. You caught your breath and then kept on walking. Shortly after, the cameras were gone and you and Ben were free to enjoy the rest of the afternoon however you liked. You packed as much as you could into the day, since Ben had actually never been before. You had an absolute blast on all the rides, sometimes holding tightly to him as you went. A few other people recognized you and asked for pictures as well, which you happily agreed to.

Finally, you stopped to eat something. You picked a restaurant in the New Orleans Square and sat down to eat. As you waited for your food, you chatted some more.

“So, are you excited for this week’s dance?” you asked.

“I’m always excited to dance with you,” he replied, and you hoped he missed the color that flooded your cheeks. “But I am excited for this dance. I’m actually a bit relieved to not be a prince character.”

“Why?” you wondered.

“Well, I feel like it’s how everyone sees me,” he explained. “The hot guy or whatever. I want to be known for my performance, not the way I look. It’s why - when I have a choice - I always choose to remain clothed.”

You cocked your head to the side with a questioning look. He laughed at how cute you were.

“For example, when I did Woman in White, there was a scene where I could have had my shirt off,” he said. “I chose to keep it on because I wanted people focused on the scene. Not my body.”

“Are you insecure about it or something?” you asked, incredulous at the idea.

“No, not at all,” he answered. “I’m proud of my body and all that but I don’t like being objectified. Ogled.”

“It makes you feel like the reason you get parts is because you’re eye candy,” you summarized.

“Yes, exactly,” he said. “I want to be recognized for my talent.”

“Ben, you are a very handsome man,” you said, holding out your hand, which he took. “But you are so much more than that. You’re really talented. Not just at acting, but dance now too. Even more than both those things, you’re genuinely one of the sweetest people I’ve ever met. It’s probably what I like most about you.”

“I appreciate that,” he said. “Really.”

You enjoyed dinner together and you realized your newfound respect for Ben. He took his art really seriously. He had fun, but he was intent on doing things the right way. You admired him greatly for it.

The next day, you began rehearsals. Ben was enthusiastic as usual as you broke down the basics for him. One fun thing about this routine was that you were doing a lift where he had to flip you over a cane. It was whimsical and interesting. Ben was incredibly careful with you. Luckily, he was strong and only dropped you once. You laughed on the floor when he fussed and wondered if you were okay. 

“I’m fine!” you insisted. “Believe me, this happens all the time. Do you need a break?”

“Yeah, maybe a short one,” he said.

You sat down and grabbed some water, allowing him to shake it off. At that moment, Sasha entered, carrying a gossip magazine. You raised an eyebrow at him.

“Look what I found!” Sasha teased. “You two were really cozying up at Disney, eh?”

He handed you the magazine and you opened it to the page he had dog-eared. You groaned when you saw it. It was you and Ben at the restaurant holding hands. The text speculated you were in a relationship, and also implied how it would break James’s heart that you had “moved on.”

“Looks like you two are the couple of the season,” Sasha said.

“I’m happy to take some of the pressure off Sharna, but this is ridiculous,” you said. It usually was Sharna who was rumored to be dating her male partners on the show. 

“Yeah, Y/N was just being nice to me right then,” said Ben. “We were really just having a moment of genuine friendship.”

“You know how it goes,” Sasha said. “The press has to come up with some scandal if they can. Unless of course it’s true.”

You smacked him on the arm. “Don’t you have some rehearsal you need to be at, Mr. Bottom Two?” 

Sasha feigned offense. “Oh, she’s feisty. Good luck, Ben!” 

He left with a laugh and without the magazine. You kicked it into the corner. 

“Let’s get back to work, shall we?” you said. 

Ben smiled and agreed. 

He picked up the routine well. You worked extra hard to get the parts where you tossed his cane and your umbrella down to perfect timing. By the time dress rehearsal rolled around, you were feeling great. You were getting fitted for your dress. It was the white one, similar to what Julie Andrews wore in the movie, but with a little more sex appeal. Your neckline was a deep vee, and the red bit really cinched in your waist. The skirt only went just past your knees and you couldn’t resist doing a twirl and getting the layers floating around your legs.

You heard Ben gasp in the doorway. You beamed at him. 

“Wow,” he sighed. “You look…”

“Practically perfect in every way?” you finished.

He nodded. You naturally made you way to his arms and settled there. 

“You look pretty good yourself, handsome,” you said, straightening his bow tie. 

“Thank you,” he said. 

“Are you ready to kill it?” you asked. 

“It’s only dress rehearsal,” he laughed.

“No excuses, Hardy,” you said, poking his chest. “Give me everything you got, remember?”

“Yes, coach.”

You made it through dress rehearsal without a hitch. You were sure you and Ben would be getting even higher scores this time around. It was going so smoothly. 

The time came for the performance. You and Ben were going right in the middle of everyone else, which was fine with you. You were certain he’d stand out. Tom started to introduce you.

“Next up, take a look at Ben and Y/N’s experience at Disney, where they faced an unexpected visitor,” he said.

The video package showed you and Ben talking and then they included finding Laci. You rolled your eyes. Ben actually watched the video this time, and he smiled at Laci’s face.

“She really was cute, wasn’t she?” he said.

You nodded. “Well, she and her mom are voting so let’s do them proud.”

You got set up as the video faded to black, the music started, and you began your routine. 

You and Ben leapt around that dance floor like Mary Poppins and Bert were right off the screen. He got every step. He nailed the small lift, and you felt like you really brought some fire to that jazz. When you finished, you embraced, before heading over to the judges, very much out of breath. 

“Once again, I’m shocked,” Carrie Ann began. “Seriously, jazz can be so hard, and Y/N pulled no punches with that choreography.” She added a few notes about footwork.

“I won’t lie to you, Ben,” Len began, but then he broke into a smile. “I really, really liked that dance. You went in there, gave it some welly, and you performed a real jazz number. Well done.”

You and Ben laughed and squeezed each other. 

“I loved that dance,” Bruno agreed. “You were bouncing around, and you really captured the essence of Mary Poppins and Dick Van Dyke in that movie. And honestly, you behaved like a real Disney hero for that little girl in the park. Well done, Ben!”

They all clapped for you as you headed to the skybox to talk to Erin and receive your scores. The other pros and contestants high fived you guys as you came through, finally stopping in front of the camera.

“Great job, you guys!” Erin said. “Honestly, Ben, you and that little girl had my heart just melting. What exactly happened there?”

“Y/N and I were walking and the girl - Laci - literally just walked up and asked us to help her find her mum,” he explained. “She was so sweet, so we helped her out, and luckily, her mum wasn’t too far away.”

“Still so, so cute,” she said. “Let’s see what the judges thought.”

You waited while the scores came in. All three of them scored you a nine. You screamed with joy and leapt into Ben’s arms, wrapping your legs around his waist. The three nines placed you at the top of the leaderboard. You felt like you were in the clouds. Between the dance, the scores, and the thrill of being in the lead, nothing could bring you down. Ben was exactly the same. You couldn’t stop hugging each other. 

“You did it!” you cried. “I’m so proud of you!”

“We did it!” he returned. “Together!”

You got warm all over from the sentiment. 

Finally, it was elimination time. You and Ben joined the other couples on the stage as you waited once again for Erin and Tom to go through couple by couple to tell them who was in danger. You gripped Ben’s hand so tight, you were sure his fingers were bruised. 

“Ben and Y/N,” Erin said. “I’m sorry, you guys are in danger tonight.”

Your mouth fell open and you looked at Ben. He swallowed and pulled you under his arm. He kissed your forehead and you closed your eyes. You held tightly to him, fearing you may not get to hold him again. 

“I’m sorry,” you whispered.

“It’s not over yet,” he said, sounding more confident than he looked. 

You waited. There were three couples total in danger. You and Ben, Sasha and his partner, and Lindsay and her partner. 

“The couple that is leaving us tonight is…” Tom began.

You gripped handfuls of Ben’s jacket, sending a silent prayer that you wouldn’t have to let him go yet. You weren’t ready. 

“Sasha and…”

You sighed with relief, but did not let go of Ben. He didn’t release you either. You held each other for a long moment. The others were already moving to say goodbye to Sasha and his partner. You and Ben looked at each other and then joined them, noticeably behind. 

“That concludes Disney night,” Tom said to the camera. “Thanks for joining us and come back next week to see what our stars come up with for country night!”